Bridget, we are standing with you publicly because what happened in your comments deserves a public response.
At the Appleberry Prison Foundation, we walk alongside families navigating incarceration and reentry every day — mothers, grandmothers, wives, children, fathers. What we have learned in this work is that the families who carry this experience are not a monolith. They are white, Black, Brown, rural, suburban, urban, wealthy, poor, college-educated, GED, religious, secular. The one thing they share is the crushing weight of a system that punishes them alongside their loved one, and a culture that tells them to be quiet about it.
You broke that silence. At the exact moment most white middle-class mothers in your position hide their sons in shame — bury the story, scrub the social media, lie at dinner parties — you sat down and told the truth in public. That is not clickbait. That is the work. It is the work because you are who you are, not in spite of it. The stigma we are trying to dismantle lives loudest in the communities that believe incarceration only happens to “other people’s” sons. Your voice reaches rooms ours cannot.
The comment leveled at you is the exact divisive logic that keeps families like the ones we serve isolated. When we decide in advance who is “allowed” to grieve a child’s incarceration, who is “allowed” to write about reentry, who has “earned” the right to speak — we do not protect marginalized families. We abandon them. We tell the Black mother and the White mother and the Brown mother that they cannot stand in the same room together, cannot recognize each other, cannot build the coalition that is the only thing that has ever moved the meter on criminal justice. Them-versus-us thinking does not redistribute power. It guarantees the people in power keep it.
Your ACEs score, your stepfather, your mother in jail, your teen jury trial, the part-time jobs you worked through graduate school while raising three children — none of that was owed as proof. You should not have had to lay it on the table to earn the right to speak about your own son. But, the fact that you did, with that much clarity and that little self-pity, is exactly why your writing matters.
To the families reading this who recognize themselves in Bridget’s story and are scared to speak… you are not alone. There is a growing community of us who refuse to let shame be the price of admission to the conversation about our loved ones. Your story belongs to you.
By the way… this is coming from some of those “black people on Substack”.
Bridget — enjoy your son’s homecoming. Reentry is sacred, hard, beautiful work, and it deserves your full presence. We are cheering from Washington State.
Bridget, this landed right in our hearts. You are not alone — not now, not on the hard days of reentry that no one warns you about, not when the next troll shows up in your comments (and they will, because you are doing work that matters).
We forever have your back. Full stop. When your voice gets tired, ours will be right here. When you need a family who already speaks this language fluently, you have one in Washington State. And when you are ready to build something bigger together — coalition, advocacy, a louder chorus of mothers who refuse to be quiet — we are in.
Go love on your son this weekend. We will be holding the line. 🧡
Oooh, I got goosebumps. I'm gonna take some time off Substack this weekend and it is so great to know you and others are out there doing the damn thing. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!!
I am grateful for your writing. I only found it two days ago and yet it has felt like a very sweet and refreshing glass of water for my parched soul.
My son has been in and out of the system for nearly 20 years of his 34 year existence on this planet. The first few people I told, in need of support and understanding, were from my church. We attended this place for EVERY service as a family unit. It was our closest community. Sadly, we became the shunned, the faithful were worried we would sully their spirits and corrupt their children.
I embraced the shame of the situation. What kind of a mother could I have been if this is what happened to my son? I believed that I was deserving of the behavior of our church family and lived in the ostracization. I didn’t know anyone who had a loved one in prison and kept the secret to myself.
After having read about your son’s release yesterday, I preemptively told several of my new associates from community I have been involved with in the past few months. It is a group of women who share a common hobby and for the most part, very similar socioeconomic backgrounds: mostly white, privileged, conservative, educated women.
The conversation began organically and I realized, I have nothing to be ashamed of and if these people are judgmental and choose to withdrawal from me, that is a them problem. I’d rather know now, early on in the relationships then to find out years later after having invested in the friendships.
Shockingly, several ladies revealed that they too have had their sons incarcerated for various amounts of time due to mental health and addiction issues.
Your willingness to be vulnerable in your writing gave me the courage to also speak with authenticity about my situation and in that mpment my
Oh my goodness. This gives me absolute confirmation that we have to be willing to share these stories, no matter what we look like, because others are hurting in similar ways. I'm sorry you're felt alone. I know that feeling. You're NOT! Thank you for adding this to my week... your presence here means so much.
Renee, your words found their way here — under our comment rather than directly under Bridget’s piece — and we want you to know they did not get lost. Bridget said she is taking a much-deserved break from social media this week as her son begins reentry, but when she returns, this will be waiting for her, and we have no doubt it will move her the way it has moved us.
In the meantime, please let us hold what you just shared. What you described — being shunned by the very church family that should have been the first to gather around you, carrying that shame quietly for years, telling no one because there was no one safe to tell — is a story we hear again and again in the families we walk with at the Appleberry Prison Foundation. The cruelty of being made to feel that your child’s struggles are a referendum on your worth as a mother is one of the deepest harms this culture inflicts on the women who love someone inside. It is not yours to carry. It never was.
And what you did this week — preemptively naming your story to a new community before they could weaponize their assumptions — is one of the bravest things a mother in your position can do. The fact that several of those women answered back with their own quiet stories, tells you something important. You are not the only one in that room. You never were. The shame was just doing its job, keeping everyone silent and separate. You broke it open. For them too.
Your son is so fortunate to have you. Twenty years of loving a child through that system takes a kind of endurance most people will never understand. We see you. And when Bridget comes back, we suspect she will too. 🧡
Renee, I read your comment last night and have been thinking about it since. I do not have an incarcerated child and don't want to pretend that I know what it's like. But I do have a young adult child who has struggled deeply with mental health, addiction, and chronic health issues, and all of that has led to seasons of shame and isolation. I'm also committed to a church community, and while I've had mostly positive experiences in sharing our struggles, I've also been hurt at times.
As someone who cares a lot about parents caring for teens with challenges and someone who cares about the church being what it was intended to be, I'm really sad that you had that experience. I'm so sorry you were shunned when you deserved support, love and community. That was the opposite of what the church should be. I know it's not uncommon, but it's so contrary to what Jesus talked about.
I love how you described both finding your people and releasing shame that wasn't yours. And I love that you're speaking up here. I'm glad to know a piece of your story.
I'm glad that you worked up the nerve to share. I had a similar experience in my church of over 15 years where I raised my youngest 5 kids. When I approached my friend who was head of women's ministry about sharing the testimony of my daughter’s addiction, she said there wasn't really a need for it. Sadly several women from the church contacted me afterwards to tell me how their daughters had struggled. My daughter gave me permission to share her story and sometimes it feels like I'm getting something from it which I hate. But as I read posts and comments like these, I realize that our stories are needed!
It is true that community and support are necessary. There are so many of us- mothers, siblings, spouses, daughters, loved ones of the incarcerated. We serve time as well in our own suffering and silence.
The very thoughtful and eloquent comment by Appleberry Prison Foundation, Bridget and you - having compassion and understanding…it all provides encouragement. It builds the very connection we need to repair the brokenness of the situations.
My ex-con dad told me never to go mouthin- off at people because you never know who you’re dealing with-they might just clean your clock for it. (I still don’t know what cleaning your clock has to do with being punched , but still)
Bridget, the force of this essay comes from refusing to let anyone reduce your life, your son, or your advocacy to a convenient caricature. You name something important about justice-impacted families: silence often protects respectability while leaving people alone with shame, fear, phone calls, court dates, prison visits, and all the ordinary heartbreak that never makes it into policy language. I was especially struck by “I refuse to let Other be Other,” because that is the moral center of the work you are doing here. Thank you for telling the truth from the complicated middle, where pain, privilege, accountability, advocacy, motherhood, and public courage all have to be held at once.
Bridget, that is exactly why your voice matters. There are people who need more than analysis or outrage; they need someone willing to keep telling the truth while also making room for embrace, dignity, and belonging. Keep talking. The people who have been made to feel alone inside these systems need witnesses who refuse to disappear when the story gets complicated.
Please send me an address where I can send you the "Best Mom Ever" mug!!! But seriously, I was angry when I read this and then realized anger is not what I really feel. I feel sad. EVERY day of my life (not exaggerating) the words, "why are people so mean" comes out of my mouth. When I read something like what she posted I think my God how unhappy she must be. I've been on Substack for awhile and you are the first I've seen posting about an incarcerated child. Who gives a damn what your motives are! Keep posting <3
Exactly it. When I calmed down, I was sad for the collective us. Sad that this is why people hide. Sad for her that she lives her life so petty, so divisive. We have to stick together, and that's how we get through.
Dang, I just love your editorials, especially using D’s words in the conclusion that “her” comments toward another person would not fly in prison. She would have immediately been punched in the throat!!! I could actually see that taking place and I would have applauded 👏 The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree (you being my niece and 1/2 daughter genetically as an identical twin). To me: that’s incredible and you are too❣️
Ooooh this had me in a fury of feelings and I don't mean fury in any light way at all. I am so comforted to read this post as you took the words right out of my mouth, although they started with some really loud curse words you've made your point in a much more sophisticated and firm manner. Being white and working to take trauma education and healing into prison alongside my white husband who spent just under three decades incarcerated, I have certainly come across my share of... shall we say... negative nancy's? I have 6 ACEs, and I've met an incredible amount of people with horrifying heartbreaking stories inside and I work to advocate for those voices every day. And guess what? Some of them, too, come from a seemingly "good" life for what we see on the surface. I highly appreciate your vulnerability of sharing your story here, and laying it all out on the table so to speak. I bet that coffee tastes damn good because you know what it's like to not take anything for granted and that is a lesson we should always be reminded of. I am proud of you for the work you do and we need more people like you here. I am grateful your son is home and look forward to staying connected to your story. It's a breath of fresh air to read your words, I'm over here fist pumping the air as your cheerleader so keep going! More of this, please. :)
I had to edit some cursing out. It took some writing time to get it out and calm down. I know you know. Thank you for your support, your knowing what this feels like (not that I want that for you). 🖤
It's a shame that she couldn't present her concerns with the goal of understanding and challenging your points. Comments like hers aren't made for a meaningful discussion. They honestly have no meaningful qualms. Maybe she had a fair point in the weeds of her insults? we could have learned something new from her? Nope. Such a waste.
Agreed! We might see eye to eye on more than we don't but she had a very ineffective way of sharing her concerns. Now anything helpful she might have contributed, if she contributes in helpful ways, is lost to me and anyone reading here.
I am blown away by the disrespect and arrows this woman shot your way. Angry and sad with you at the blow, the rudeness, the complete misunderstanding of you and your mission. I almost don't know what to say.
Except I'm super proud of you for continuing to speak out and glad to be your friend. You are courageous and strong and wise. I loved how you said, "I speak out precisely because I am white and middle class." Thank you for speaking out not just for your son but for so many others.
Thank you for continuing to care - and take collect calls from inmates who aren't your son.
So glad this woman's comment also pales in comparison to the growth of this platform and how many families it will touch.
My father was in prison before I was born and I found out when I was a teenager when I found a newspaper article about it. That’s how much we didn’t talk about it. That shame has coursed through my family, the silence distancing siblings and half siblings, fueling addictions and self destruction. I refused to stay quiet about it. The first freelance article I ever published was about this discovery. When my Dad died less than 10 years after he left prison and six after I was born, he told my mother the cancer was the guilt . (Involuntary manslaughter, a car accident, a young woman died weeks before her wedding). I am excising that guilt when I write.
Enough! I am punching her in the throat metaphorically. How ‘bout a Best Black Sheep Mom Ever mug? Or at least a black sheep on the mug. Misfit Lit Book Club merch please. All those high horse women need to fall off into piles of poop.
Well sure I'd love to win a mug from you! Best part of this post (aside from learning that so many other people have now discovered you & your Substack) is the pic & caption at the end -- coffee w your son. I'm so happy for your Bridget! (And as for the commenter who said, among other things, that "you are using your personal story to become a published writer" --- THERE'S NOTHING WRONG W THAT! So much of writing begins with the personal. There is also zero shame - and whole lotta good business sense -- is using your Substack to promote & share your personal writing, to build a "platform" & a following for your personal writing & to support your author/book aspirations -- which will 100% help a whole lotta of other ppl, regardless of what Ms. Commenter said)
I love you for this. I had a writing guru say the same this week. We are in the position these days of having to do the work of promotion, if we want to change lives. You're kind to remind me that it isn't shameful to do so. My biggest "why" is to help others feel less alone... so, yeah, I think everything I'm doing is of out integrity. And yes, YOU deserve a mug!!!
Bridget, we are standing with you publicly because what happened in your comments deserves a public response.
At the Appleberry Prison Foundation, we walk alongside families navigating incarceration and reentry every day — mothers, grandmothers, wives, children, fathers. What we have learned in this work is that the families who carry this experience are not a monolith. They are white, Black, Brown, rural, suburban, urban, wealthy, poor, college-educated, GED, religious, secular. The one thing they share is the crushing weight of a system that punishes them alongside their loved one, and a culture that tells them to be quiet about it.
You broke that silence. At the exact moment most white middle-class mothers in your position hide their sons in shame — bury the story, scrub the social media, lie at dinner parties — you sat down and told the truth in public. That is not clickbait. That is the work. It is the work because you are who you are, not in spite of it. The stigma we are trying to dismantle lives loudest in the communities that believe incarceration only happens to “other people’s” sons. Your voice reaches rooms ours cannot.
The comment leveled at you is the exact divisive logic that keeps families like the ones we serve isolated. When we decide in advance who is “allowed” to grieve a child’s incarceration, who is “allowed” to write about reentry, who has “earned” the right to speak — we do not protect marginalized families. We abandon them. We tell the Black mother and the White mother and the Brown mother that they cannot stand in the same room together, cannot recognize each other, cannot build the coalition that is the only thing that has ever moved the meter on criminal justice. Them-versus-us thinking does not redistribute power. It guarantees the people in power keep it.
Your ACEs score, your stepfather, your mother in jail, your teen jury trial, the part-time jobs you worked through graduate school while raising three children — none of that was owed as proof. You should not have had to lay it on the table to earn the right to speak about your own son. But, the fact that you did, with that much clarity and that little self-pity, is exactly why your writing matters.
To the families reading this who recognize themselves in Bridget’s story and are scared to speak… you are not alone. There is a growing community of us who refuse to let shame be the price of admission to the conversation about our loved ones. Your story belongs to you.
By the way… this is coming from some of those “black people on Substack”.
Bridget — enjoy your son’s homecoming. Reentry is sacred, hard, beautiful work, and it deserves your full presence. We are cheering from Washington State.
Whew, preeeeeaaach! You said it even better. Thank you for reminding me that we're not alone and shame isn't required. Love you for it.
Bridget, this landed right in our hearts. You are not alone — not now, not on the hard days of reentry that no one warns you about, not when the next troll shows up in your comments (and they will, because you are doing work that matters).
We forever have your back. Full stop. When your voice gets tired, ours will be right here. When you need a family who already speaks this language fluently, you have one in Washington State. And when you are ready to build something bigger together — coalition, advocacy, a louder chorus of mothers who refuse to be quiet — we are in.
Go love on your son this weekend. We will be holding the line. 🧡
Oooh, I got goosebumps. I'm gonna take some time off Substack this weekend and it is so great to know you and others are out there doing the damn thing. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!!
I am grateful for your writing. I only found it two days ago and yet it has felt like a very sweet and refreshing glass of water for my parched soul.
My son has been in and out of the system for nearly 20 years of his 34 year existence on this planet. The first few people I told, in need of support and understanding, were from my church. We attended this place for EVERY service as a family unit. It was our closest community. Sadly, we became the shunned, the faithful were worried we would sully their spirits and corrupt their children.
I embraced the shame of the situation. What kind of a mother could I have been if this is what happened to my son? I believed that I was deserving of the behavior of our church family and lived in the ostracization. I didn’t know anyone who had a loved one in prison and kept the secret to myself.
After having read about your son’s release yesterday, I preemptively told several of my new associates from community I have been involved with in the past few months. It is a group of women who share a common hobby and for the most part, very similar socioeconomic backgrounds: mostly white, privileged, conservative, educated women.
The conversation began organically and I realized, I have nothing to be ashamed of and if these people are judgmental and choose to withdrawal from me, that is a them problem. I’d rather know now, early on in the relationships then to find out years later after having invested in the friendships.
Shockingly, several ladies revealed that they too have had their sons incarcerated for various amounts of time due to mental health and addiction issues.
Your willingness to be vulnerable in your writing gave me the courage to also speak with authenticity about my situation and in that mpment my
Oh my goodness. This gives me absolute confirmation that we have to be willing to share these stories, no matter what we look like, because others are hurting in similar ways. I'm sorry you're felt alone. I know that feeling. You're NOT! Thank you for adding this to my week... your presence here means so much.
Renee, your words found their way here — under our comment rather than directly under Bridget’s piece — and we want you to know they did not get lost. Bridget said she is taking a much-deserved break from social media this week as her son begins reentry, but when she returns, this will be waiting for her, and we have no doubt it will move her the way it has moved us.
In the meantime, please let us hold what you just shared. What you described — being shunned by the very church family that should have been the first to gather around you, carrying that shame quietly for years, telling no one because there was no one safe to tell — is a story we hear again and again in the families we walk with at the Appleberry Prison Foundation. The cruelty of being made to feel that your child’s struggles are a referendum on your worth as a mother is one of the deepest harms this culture inflicts on the women who love someone inside. It is not yours to carry. It never was.
And what you did this week — preemptively naming your story to a new community before they could weaponize their assumptions — is one of the bravest things a mother in your position can do. The fact that several of those women answered back with their own quiet stories, tells you something important. You are not the only one in that room. You never were. The shame was just doing its job, keeping everyone silent and separate. You broke it open. For them too.
Your son is so fortunate to have you. Twenty years of loving a child through that system takes a kind of endurance most people will never understand. We see you. And when Bridget comes back, we suspect she will too. 🧡
Renee, I read your comment last night and have been thinking about it since. I do not have an incarcerated child and don't want to pretend that I know what it's like. But I do have a young adult child who has struggled deeply with mental health, addiction, and chronic health issues, and all of that has led to seasons of shame and isolation. I'm also committed to a church community, and while I've had mostly positive experiences in sharing our struggles, I've also been hurt at times.
As someone who cares a lot about parents caring for teens with challenges and someone who cares about the church being what it was intended to be, I'm really sad that you had that experience. I'm so sorry you were shunned when you deserved support, love and community. That was the opposite of what the church should be. I know it's not uncommon, but it's so contrary to what Jesus talked about.
I love how you described both finding your people and releasing shame that wasn't yours. And I love that you're speaking up here. I'm glad to know a piece of your story.
Solidarity, dear friends. 🖤
I'm glad that you worked up the nerve to share. I had a similar experience in my church of over 15 years where I raised my youngest 5 kids. When I approached my friend who was head of women's ministry about sharing the testimony of my daughter’s addiction, she said there wasn't really a need for it. Sadly several women from the church contacted me afterwards to tell me how their daughters had struggled. My daughter gave me permission to share her story and sometimes it feels like I'm getting something from it which I hate. But as I read posts and comments like these, I realize that our stories are needed!
I’m sorry you experienced that, Rosemary.
It is true that community and support are necessary. There are so many of us- mothers, siblings, spouses, daughters, loved ones of the incarcerated. We serve time as well in our own suffering and silence.
The very thoughtful and eloquent comment by Appleberry Prison Foundation, Bridget and you - having compassion and understanding…it all provides encouragement. It builds the very connection we need to repair the brokenness of the situations.
Thank you for sharing!
*Ahem*
F**k 'em
I had more colorful language in the drafts... so, thank you for recognizing the sentiment.
Only if the mug says Best BLACK SHEEP Mom ever. Maybe a Substack artist listening in can design it?
Brilliant. I am actively looking for a designer or artist!! Calling all Substack talent! 👀
You did good. As my dad used to say, “there are more horses asses than horses.”
😂 Gotta love a dad who speaks truth. Indeed there are.
I think the internet and world for that matter would be a better place if people still had a fear of being punched in the mouth.
Maybe you're right....
My ex-con dad told me never to go mouthin- off at people because you never know who you’re dealing with-they might just clean your clock for it. (I still don’t know what cleaning your clock has to do with being punched , but still)
And TBH, sometimes it’s warranted.
Bridget, the force of this essay comes from refusing to let anyone reduce your life, your son, or your advocacy to a convenient caricature. You name something important about justice-impacted families: silence often protects respectability while leaving people alone with shame, fear, phone calls, court dates, prison visits, and all the ordinary heartbreak that never makes it into policy language. I was especially struck by “I refuse to let Other be Other,” because that is the moral center of the work you are doing here. Thank you for telling the truth from the complicated middle, where pain, privilege, accountability, advocacy, motherhood, and public courage all have to be held at once.
I'm gonna keep talking... as long as there are people to embrace. So, forever.
Bridget, that is exactly why your voice matters. There are people who need more than analysis or outrage; they need someone willing to keep telling the truth while also making room for embrace, dignity, and belonging. Keep talking. The people who have been made to feel alone inside these systems need witnesses who refuse to disappear when the story gets complicated.
Please send me an address where I can send you the "Best Mom Ever" mug!!! But seriously, I was angry when I read this and then realized anger is not what I really feel. I feel sad. EVERY day of my life (not exaggerating) the words, "why are people so mean" comes out of my mouth. When I read something like what she posted I think my God how unhappy she must be. I've been on Substack for awhile and you are the first I've seen posting about an incarcerated child. Who gives a damn what your motives are! Keep posting <3
Exactly it. When I calmed down, I was sad for the collective us. Sad that this is why people hide. Sad for her that she lives her life so petty, so divisive. We have to stick together, and that's how we get through.
👏👏👏 This is exactly how true change begins 👏👏👏
I'm with you!! Let's do this.
Dang, I just love your editorials, especially using D’s words in the conclusion that “her” comments toward another person would not fly in prison. She would have immediately been punched in the throat!!! I could actually see that taking place and I would have applauded 👏 The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree (you being my niece and 1/2 daughter genetically as an identical twin). To me: that’s incredible and you are too❣️
Ooooh this had me in a fury of feelings and I don't mean fury in any light way at all. I am so comforted to read this post as you took the words right out of my mouth, although they started with some really loud curse words you've made your point in a much more sophisticated and firm manner. Being white and working to take trauma education and healing into prison alongside my white husband who spent just under three decades incarcerated, I have certainly come across my share of... shall we say... negative nancy's? I have 6 ACEs, and I've met an incredible amount of people with horrifying heartbreaking stories inside and I work to advocate for those voices every day. And guess what? Some of them, too, come from a seemingly "good" life for what we see on the surface. I highly appreciate your vulnerability of sharing your story here, and laying it all out on the table so to speak. I bet that coffee tastes damn good because you know what it's like to not take anything for granted and that is a lesson we should always be reminded of. I am proud of you for the work you do and we need more people like you here. I am grateful your son is home and look forward to staying connected to your story. It's a breath of fresh air to read your words, I'm over here fist pumping the air as your cheerleader so keep going! More of this, please. :)
I had to edit some cursing out. It took some writing time to get it out and calm down. I know you know. Thank you for your support, your knowing what this feels like (not that I want that for you). 🖤
As a white lady and mother with no trauma nver ever, not once, absolutely not ever, would love a Best Mom Ever mug.
I better start a list! Thank you for being here. 🖤
It's a shame that she couldn't present her concerns with the goal of understanding and challenging your points. Comments like hers aren't made for a meaningful discussion. They honestly have no meaningful qualms. Maybe she had a fair point in the weeds of her insults? we could have learned something new from her? Nope. Such a waste.
Agreed! We might see eye to eye on more than we don't but she had a very ineffective way of sharing her concerns. Now anything helpful she might have contributed, if she contributes in helpful ways, is lost to me and anyone reading here.
YES to the Best Mom Ever mug!!
I wanted to stand up and cheer reading this. So impressed with you and so grateful we connected! ❤️
Ma'am, you're getting as many as you want for free. Love you, dearly, and thanks for having my back this week. 🖤
I am blown away by the disrespect and arrows this woman shot your way. Angry and sad with you at the blow, the rudeness, the complete misunderstanding of you and your mission. I almost don't know what to say.
Except I'm super proud of you for continuing to speak out and glad to be your friend. You are courageous and strong and wise. I loved how you said, "I speak out precisely because I am white and middle class." Thank you for speaking out not just for your son but for so many others.
Thank you for continuing to care - and take collect calls from inmates who aren't your son.
So glad this woman's comment also pales in comparison to the growth of this platform and how many families it will touch.
Awww, thanks Serena. Thanks for pivoting my perspective to see who benefits by this writing. So glad to be your friend as well, it's an honor. 🖤
My father was in prison before I was born and I found out when I was a teenager when I found a newspaper article about it. That’s how much we didn’t talk about it. That shame has coursed through my family, the silence distancing siblings and half siblings, fueling addictions and self destruction. I refused to stay quiet about it. The first freelance article I ever published was about this discovery. When my Dad died less than 10 years after he left prison and six after I was born, he told my mother the cancer was the guilt . (Involuntary manslaughter, a car accident, a young woman died weeks before her wedding). I am excising that guilt when I write.
Oh wow. You absolutely are. Thank you for sharing here. I look forward to reading more.
Here’s what I wrote most recently. https://thelongversion.substack.com/p/how-can-i-not-go-to-prison-when-a?r=1nd1u&utm_medium=ios
Enough! I am punching her in the throat metaphorically. How ‘bout a Best Black Sheep Mom Ever mug? Or at least a black sheep on the mug. Misfit Lit Book Club merch please. All those high horse women need to fall off into piles of poop.
😂😂😂
Well sure I'd love to win a mug from you! Best part of this post (aside from learning that so many other people have now discovered you & your Substack) is the pic & caption at the end -- coffee w your son. I'm so happy for your Bridget! (And as for the commenter who said, among other things, that "you are using your personal story to become a published writer" --- THERE'S NOTHING WRONG W THAT! So much of writing begins with the personal. There is also zero shame - and whole lotta good business sense -- is using your Substack to promote & share your personal writing, to build a "platform" & a following for your personal writing & to support your author/book aspirations -- which will 100% help a whole lotta of other ppl, regardless of what Ms. Commenter said)
I love you for this. I had a writing guru say the same this week. We are in the position these days of having to do the work of promotion, if we want to change lives. You're kind to remind me that it isn't shameful to do so. My biggest "why" is to help others feel less alone... so, yeah, I think everything I'm doing is of out integrity. And yes, YOU deserve a mug!!!