How Mascara, Meltdowns, and Margaritas Was Born….

It didn’t start with a margarita, but it probably should have.

Three and a half years ago, I found myself sitting in the ruins of a life I didn’t see coming apart — a mom of five, reeling from a divorce that knocked the wind out of me and shoved me straight into the kind of darkness you don’t talk about at PTA meetings. What followed was messy. Brutal. Necessary.

Therapy cracked open the pieces of a past I’d kept duct-taped together for far too long — years of hurt, a mother wound that still bleeds, and the kind of emotional abuse I’d been quietly surviving in the background of my entire life. Then she died. And suddenly, I was grieving a complicated relationship I never truly had while raising five very different, wildly amazing humans and trying not to pass along all the trauma I never signed up for.

This space, Mascara, Meltdowns, and Margaritas, is part healing, part humor, and part survival. It’s my way of untangling the chaos, one story at a time. I’m sarcastic, emotional, sometimes extra as hell, and powered by caffeine, Disney lyrics, and Taylor Swift songs that hit too hard. I cry in the shower, scream in the car, laugh at my own jokes, and love with everything I have left.

So if you’re here — tired, overwhelmed, healing, or just hiding in the pantry with a drink while your kids argue over who looked at who wrong — pull up a chair and pour a glass.

We’re getting through this life together, one meltdown at a time.