Homeschool – Simple Southern Mommy

Sometimes, life gives you a crossroads… and sometimes it gives you a quarter.

In August 2024, we got some big news: Sparky’s company would be relocating operations to the Charlotte area—right near the border of North and South Carolina. It stirred something in us. We’d been living in a difficult housing situation for a while, and my health had been declining without clear answers. We’d been praying hard for change—for healing, for hope, and for home.

Then came January, and with it, a name for what had been plaguing me: Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. That diagnosis changed a lot, but it also brought clarity. We found ourselves wrestling with the possibility of another big move. Would we really uproot again? Could we? The last time we took a leap like that, I was five and a half months pregnant, moving from California to Texas on nothing but faith and a dream.

We brought the idea to our family here in Texas—and wouldn’t you know it? North Carolina and South Carolina were already on their radar too. It was like the Lord had been laying a trail of breadcrumbs.

One night, Sparky and I were sitting up late, like we used to do before the kids—music playing, hearts open. And then it came on: Heads Carolina, Tails California. We looked at each other and smiled. I picked up a quarter and flipped it. Heads Carolina. Again. Heads Carolina. Over and over again. Tails wouldn’t show up if I tried.

For us, it became:
Heads Carolina, Tails Texas.
And Texas… it just wasn’t coming up.

When we told Big Mac, he tried flipping it too—several times—and all he could land was heads. He’s been the most hesitant. Texas is all he’s ever known. But even he started to notice the pattern.

Then came another sign: I learned the Medical University of South Carolina is leading groundbreaking Ehlers-Danlos research. Right there—where we were being called.

We took a relocation trip a couple of weeks ago, and from the moment we arrived in the Carolinas, it just felt right. The air, the peace, the people. We clicked instantly with our real estate agent, part of a team that specializes in helping families like ours make these life-changing moves. It didn’t feel like we were scouting—it felt like we were coming home.

And today… Sparky got the email.
It’s official.

We chose Heads Carolina.
We’re moving in Summer 2026.

After I published my first post—Three Trips and a Lightbulb Moment—I thought the flood of memories might slow down.

They didn’t.

In fact, they cracked wide open.
Because once I started seeing myself clearly, there was no stuffing it all back down.

💊 Starting, Stopping, and Starting Again

I was first put on ADHD medication in 4th grade, and I stayed on it through college.

Then came adulthood—and with it, impossible systems.
Refills were harder. Appointments trickier. Stigma louder.

So I stopped.

And for a while, I managed. I got married, had babies, held it all together the best I could.

Until I couldn’t.

🌫 The Fog I Didn’t Know I Was In

After Small Fry weaned, I restarted meds.

It was like someone turned the lights on in a room I didn’t know I was living in the dark.

I could finally:

Finish a task without switching tabs in my brain.
Clean the kitchen and remember why I walked in.
Respond to chaos without feeling like I was unraveling inside.

I remember thinking,

“Oh. This is how other people feel every day?”

⚠️ Then Came the Headaches

Two weeks in, I had three migraines in five days.

The stimulant wasn’t a good fit for my body.

We tried a few other options and eventually landed on Strattera.

I knew it was the one when Small Fry dumped an entire bag of flour across the hallway and into his room…

And I didn’t yell.
Didn’t freeze.
Didn’t cry.

I just… cleaned it up.

Calm. Present. Functional.

That had never happened before.

💥 The Setback That Shook Me

Around Mother’s Day 2017, I had a sudden gallbladder attack.

At first, we thought the medication might be to blame.

So I stopped it.

We tried switching again, but nothing else worked the same.
Eventually, I went back to Strattera—because it didn’t just help my focus, it helped my anxiety too.

I stayed on it for years—until 2022, when life got hard again.
Really hard.

Like many moms, I put myself last.
And my brain? It went right back to survival mode.

🛒 The Walmart Message

It was February 2023 when I realized something had to give.

I was standing in Walmart.
Foggy. Tired. Scattered. Spent.

And I knew if I didn’t message my GP right then and there, I’d forget again.

So I did. Right in the aisle, between groceries and brain fog.

We restarted. Adjusted the dose—especially after my RNY surgery. My stomach couldn’t handle the full dose at once.

But we figured it out.

Because I need this medication.
Not to feel “superhuman.”
Just to function like other people already do.

🧠 The Truth About ADHD in Adulthood

The world still treats ADHD like something we outgrow.
But I haven’t outgrown anything.

I’ve just gotten better at pretending—until I can’t anymore.

I know what it’s like to:

Spiral in silence.
Forget a load of laundry five times in one day.
Lose the words in the middle of a sentence.
Feel guilt for things you can’t control.

And I’m done living under that shame.

I know what my brain needs now.
And I’m not apologizing for it anymore.

🏫 Homeschooling Was Never the Plan—Until It Was

I swore we’d never homeschool.
Said I didn’t have the patience.

But after COVID, I saw the writing on the wall.

I saw the push to isolate desks, to enforce silence, to box in every behavior—and call it support.

I saw Big Mac being nudged toward the same cracks I fell through.

And I said no.

Just for a year.
That was the plan.

But one year turned into more.
Because for the first time, we were building a system that worked for them, not against them.

💬 What I Know Now

ADHD wasn’t something I outgrew.
It’s something I finally understand.

This journey taught me:

Medication is not weakness—it’s access to my own mind.
Support isn’t always found in systems—it’s built in small, sacred spaces.
The stories we’ve buried hold the key to healing.

Last week, I shared these stories with my therapist.
I told her I hated journaling. She smiled and said:

“You’re doing it now—just in your way.”

She’s right.

This isn’t just a blog.
It’s my story—finally told.
Unmasked. Unapologetic.
And maybe, finally, understood.

Tag: Homeschool

🪙Heads Carolina: A Leap of Faith and Fireflies

💊 When the Lightbulb Finally Turned On: My ADHD, My Meds, and the Misunderstandings That Still Sting