I’m Tammy.

I’m a mother of five, and two of my children are no longer here. Dustin and Kayla. Their lives ended too soon, and their absence is a permanent part of mine. Grief after losing a child is lifelong, and when it happens twice, it becomes compounded. Old pain resurfaces alongside the new.

Later in life, I realized I’m autistic. The understanding came slowly, like pieces settling into place. It didn’t change who I am. It helped me see myself more clearly.

I’ve lived long enough to know that life rarely goes the way we imagine, and these realizations (about loss and about myself) are part of that.

This blog is where I write about all of it: compounded child loss, grief, and the quiet ways late-realized autism shapes how I experience and navigate it. Masking, capacity, boundaries, and finding honesty in the aftermath.

These pages are where I make sense of what can’t be undone and honor what remains. I write plainly, without performing or smoothing the edges. No forced lessons, no tidy resolutions. Just language for what it’s like to keep living after life changes. The still-unwritten parts of a life that keeps unfolding.

I’m just here to follow where they lead.

If any of this resonates, you’re welcome here. 💙

If you’d like to reach out, you can do so on my Contact page.

Ready to explore the writing? See posts by topic → Topics page.