My Superpower

“Everyone has a Superpower.”

October 17th, 2025

Following the release of my debut book, The Deafening Sound of Sorrow, I wanted to use my last blog in the series to acknowledge the people, my people, who have supported me in my life, and not just with my writing.

To the love of my life—

Even with all the words that I have managed to weave together to just write, I find it hard to pick out the right ones to describe my husband. The best I can come up with is he is a man of very few words, but so many actions. With his lack of words, he makes up for—a thousand times over—by the quiet sacrifices he has made for the people he loves the most. If you want to discuss feelings, emotions, or debate a hot topic of the day—he is not your man. But if your car has broken down, you need a tool, a loan, or a bone crunching bear hug—he is your man. Even though he has not read a single word I have written in the thirty-five years we have been together, he has always been my quiet strength, my pillar to lean on when life’s toughest lessons have tried to knock me down. And, no matter what, Gene has stood by me regardless of what words have carelessly fallen out of my mouth.

To Jarrit & Kaitlynn—

My kids have been and will always be that beacon of moral light for me to strive towards, to do better—to just be better. They have challenged me at every stage of parenting and at every age while rearing them to grow me into a better human being. Whenever I have wanted to give up, to crawl into bed to pull the covers over my head, or to get in my car to just drive away, they have anchored me, reminding me of my life’s true purpose — to be their mother.

To my friends—

I am so blessed to have collected so many amazing friends by my side.

To my chosen hometown best friend: Thank you for the countless years of friendship while walking beside me through every stage of our adult lives—mountains and all . In my darkest moments, you found a way to make me laugh. Your support, your kindness, and your perfectly timed jokes have been a light that always lifts me up.

My blonde (look alike) neighborhood bestie who would annoyingly demand that I feed her separate ingredients of my books while I wrote, instead of having the patience to wait for that perfectly prepared supper. She has taught me to laugh at the silliest things, to patiently repeat answers to questions that she asked me just moments before, and she has forced me to jump up to dance to the beat of the weirdest songs.

To my forever beautiful friend, who I take the time to remember every so often. During our friendship years she once wisely advised me to picture my words as if they were a dinner plate that I could smash into a thousand pieces, impossible to take back or put back together. To learn to teach myself how to put that plate away on the highest shelf—out of my mouth’s reach.

To all my childhood friends who have bobbed and weaved in and out of my life throughout my life, “. . . for all those times you stood by me, for all those truths that you made me see, for all those wrongs that you made right. . .” you can pick up what I am writing down.

My two high school best friends who have kept tabs on me throughout my adult life. Both knowing me since the Gingerbread House days, and who have stubbornly supported my writer’s dream from the very first time I had dreamt it. Just by them being there, in my memories from my past, in my present, and knowing that they will be there with me far into our futures simply because of The Power of Three.

To those Business Assistants who I led during those chaotic years at that power plant. Because of them, I would learn about My Superpower. Each one of them having their own unique individual talent. The power to proofread, the power to time keep, the power to meet key performance indicators, the power to spread positivity, or just the power to organize a workspace complete with labels. I came to learn, from them, about my own superpower; my words, written or spoken. Ultimately, they taught me to use my power for good, not evil, as they had witnessed, on several occasions, my mouth getting the rest of my body into all kinds of trouble.

To those DECENT Managers and my favorite HR Specialist (YOU know who you are)—

Thank you—for your meaningful leadership and steady support during my time at that power plant. For your unyielding defense, and for coaching me to tug lightly (not yank) on the reins when corporate dysfunction ran the show. When Mafia Managers did their best to shut my mouth for good, you reminded me to choose my words carefully while standing my ground.

It was the decent managers (and my favorite HR specialist) who helped me chart a path through that corporate jungle—sometimes grabbing me by the shoulders, lifting me up, dusting me off, and nudging me forward. Please know this: when I tilted my head to watch my back, I knew you were quietly watching it too.

With gratitude—may your coffee always be strong and your meetings mercifully short.

To my two favorite cousins—

I am so grateful that our family ties have remained intact as we forged ahead, separately, but tethered together throughout our adult lives. I’m thankful for our lasting cousin friendship, along with our heavy therapeutic discussions that have helped scar over the wounds of our combined challenging childhoods. Together, we have managed to navigate towards a healthier, more positive future when it came to growing our own families.

And finally to ALL those weirdly special writers—

Those whom I’ve had the honor of meeting, who took precious moments away from their own writing time to critique and edit my work, and who offered up literary acts of kindness along the way—from the bottom of my heart, I thank each and every one of you:
that regal lady,
that aloof gentleman,
my mentor (you know who you are!),
my BRW editor,
that local famous author,
and of course, that tall, blond “friend” of mine—the one who writes depressing, dark fiction and always sees the glass as half empty.

Thank you all.

Up next: The end. (spoiler Alert: Until my next book…)