’s an unpredictable BITCH!

PTSD is a funny creature, just when you think that you have it under control. Something comes out of the blue to shake your world up and dispel you of that notion completely. We are never really in control, we may think we are, but it is an illusion, a fantasy if you will. We cling to that fantasy like a life raft, when in all reality we need to let it go, and understand that we are just along for the ride.

Last Wednesday I was running errands, minding my own business, checking things off my to-do list one by one. My monthly waxing appointment in Florence, pick up prescriptions at Walgreens, get Cat Litter for the picky babies, get my car inspected in Buckland then go back to Greenfield and have Sheila the Nail Goddess fix my nails.


As the phrase goes “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I accomplished everything but the car inspection and getting my nails done. I was driving up Route 2, minding my own business, headed to Mohawk Repair so that Keith Alletson could inspect my car.

This sure feels like HELL🔥

As I approached the intersection of State Street (on my left). I began to turn, and that is when all hell broke loose.

I was rear ended by a car traveling at a high rate of speed. My car began to roll, I remember the first roll, but that’s it. The brain blocks out things that it doesn’t want us to remember. When I came to, my car was back on its wheels, there was a man in a yellow safety vest knocking on the windshield, all of the side curtain airbags had deployed, and there was glass everywhere.

I don’t think she will pass inspection now

I unlocked the door as he requested, and they scooted me out under the airbag, telling me that EMS was on their way. They carried me to the grass, and I asked them to call my husband. He came blowing up to the scene in less than 2 minutes.

If any of you know me personally, you know I don’t drive a vehicle or even ride in one without my sunglasses on. The force of this accident shot my sunglasses off my face, and my flip flops off my feet!

Sunglasses and Flip Flops..never leave home without them

EMS arrived, collared me, put me on a gurney and transported me to the hospital. Mark’s arm was all torn up from getting all my personal effects out of the car, and the kitty litter that I put in the back hatch, ended up in the backseat on the floor.

At Baystate Franklin I was Ultrasounded, and CAT Scanned from head to hip. I sustained a concussion, bruising and soft tissue injuries, scattered like an accident road map, up and down my body.

But worse than any of the physical injuries, I feel like emotionally I am back where I was when Connor died. All the hard work I have done to get to where I was on 7/28/2020 has been stripped away. In one swipe, by a careless driver, who wasn’t paying attention.

3 of us in happier times

The questions keep running through my head, questions that I don’t have any answers to, but they are on a repeat loop, nonetheless.

1. Why did I walk away from my accident and Connor didn’t walk away from his

2. Why didn’t we buy him a safer/newer car? One that had all the newest airbags and safety technology.

3. Was he riding with me (I always think he is) and did he save me and decide that it wasn’t time for me to come visit him yet?

4. I wish I had answers to these questions, but I also know that some questions just don’t get answers. Asking them is fruitless and painful.

My handsome Connor

What I do know is that physically my 2018 Nissan Rogue saved my life. My poor baby took the impact of the accident and crumpled like she was supposed to. Unfortunately there is no way for my brain to easily un-crumple after thatt accident. It will take time, hard work and therapy to put Humpty Dumpty’s pieces emotional pieces back together again.

Too much broken glass..too many shattered

End of an Era



     For what has felt like most of my parenting life I have been involved in Colrain Cal Ripken Baseball. Kyle started playing when he was in 3rd grade, he honestly played because all of his friends played, not because he loved the game. Connor tagged along to practice with him and instantly fell in love with the game. He practiced with Kyle’s team even though he was way to little to play.
     The first year Kyle played, Mark was a “helping coach”. From then on he was an actual rostered coach. It soon became known that I knew how to keep score, a highly prized ability. After that the book was mine, along with everything that came along with it. Keeping the crew of kids under control, let me tell you, its like herding cats. 14 little boys and girls under 10, all excited to play a position, or swing the bat. But someone needs to make sure they wear helmets and don’t swing the bat near each other. Someone needs to make sure they get to their field position and that they don’t bat out of order.


     Very shortly I learned to carry a bag of tricks with me. It was soon nicknamed my “Mary Poppins Bag”, it had my score book, pencils, a pencil sharpener, erasers, snacks, drinks, an umbrella, a piece of plastic to keep my score book dry. It truly was a never ending bag of stuff.
     As both boys progressed through the age ranks, I continued to keep score. Connor played Summer Competitive Tournament Ball for 3 years. That bag went with me. Kyle graduated from elementary school and chose to play Golf in Middle School. Mark and I took over the league. I still kept score and carted the “Mary Poppins Bag” around.


     Finally in 2012 Connor graduated from Elementary School, he continued playing baseball in Middle School.  We have spent 2 years trying to find someone to take over the league…with no luck.
     Finally this year we have found wonderful people to take our place. Tasha and Ray. They love the game as much as we do, and have young kids, and I can pass my “Mary Poppins Bag” to someone who will need it, and put it to good use. It is the end of an era, I am both sad and happy to see it go.