On April 7th, everything changed.

6:00am: I woke up to a notification on my phone from the local news saying that three people, in my hometown, were found dead in their home. I quickly searched the address in Google Maps hoping the address didn’t lead me to a home of someone I knew. Nothing on the map looked familiar. Relief. I went on with my morning routine, showering and getting ready for just an ordinary Friday.

6:30am: Mom was up and getting ready. I showed her the news article and asked if we knew anyone in that area of town, just to make sure my lack of knowledge when looking at map didn’t give me any kind of false hope. And man, did it give me some false hope. Mom knew the area. The area where some of our family friends lived. The family friends that lived right next door to one of my best friends, Tawni.

7:03am: I text Tawni… “Hey! I just saw the news this morning. Are you alright? I wasn’t sure if it was your street or not that they found them on”. Then the waiting game began. As the minutes passed, I could feel the anxiety growing more and more. There’s no way she’s still sleeping. She should be up getting ready for work by now. Why isn’t she texting me back?

7:10am: I got a call from my best friend, Mollie. It was a three-way call with her sister. “Have you heard from Tawni?” “Did you hang out with her last night?” “Did she stay at Joe’s last night?” So many questions. So many emotions. So much anxiety. Still no answer from Tawni. The news was now showing pictures and videos of Tawni’s house. Our minds were now thinking the worst. Mollie had messaged Tawni’s boyfriend to see if he knew anything and we were anxiously waiting for a reply. Next thing, all I hear is “He’s typing! He’s replying!” and then a heart-wrenching cry of despair sounded from my phone. A sound that will forever haunt me.

“Tawni’s dead.”

It felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach and I lost all the breath in my lungs. I dropped to the floor, sobbing and trying to catch my breath. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. The whole time my mom was there trying to find the words to say to three girls who just found out their best friend was dead.

I finished getting ready and headed to work. I knew there was no way I was going to make it through the day but sitting at home by myself would be the worst thing that I could do. On the half hour drive to work, I was calling our closest friends, telling them the news. I didn’t want any of them have to hear about this from the news or Facebook.

When I got to work, I walked straight to the office with red eyes and a broken heart, looking at the ground the whole way. I sat in my desk chair, staring out the window, numb. A few minutes later, my boss walked in. I struggled to say what was going on. It’s unbelievable that I’m even saying this. “My best friend is dead.” And all the emotions came flooding to me again. She closed the door and just let me cry. I felt so weak. So vulnerable. So helpless.

I couldn’t take her up on her offer to leave for the day. I had to be at work. I had to keep my mind busy. I had to try and go on with my day like normal. But how.

As I was walking the kids to the bus, one of the girls noticed my tear-filled, red eyes and asked what was wrong. “Oh, it’s just my allergies.” I wish that were the case.

After taking the kids to school, I had time to compose myself and really get my mind into a stable place. I had the choice of being in the infant room or the 4 year old room until the next teacher came in. The infant room was the choice. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about them asking me what’s wrong.

I was sitting in the rocking chair, feeding one of the infants their morning bottle when I received another notification from the local news. They were looking for Tawni’s brother, Chase. All of the theories of what happened were beginning to come together. It was in the back of all of our minds that it happened like this. Not only did they put out a search for Chase but they had confirmed the three victims that had been murdered.

My phone started blowing up with messages and phone calls. People were sending their condolences and prayers. As much comfort as it should have been giving me, it was overwhelming. Eventually, it was too much and I put my phone on silent and back in my pocket. Next time I checked it, I was up to 30+ messages. I was going to get sick. I called into the kitchen to have someone step in for me while I ran to the bathroom. I couldn’t do it anymore. It was all too much. An hour later, I was heading home.

I met up with a friend who I hadn’t seen in almost a year. We spoke no words when we saw each other, just a long hug.. full of tears. We drove to my house and turned on the news waiting for updates. The news at noon. This was when everything turned into a reality. Pictures of Tawni and her parents showed up on the screen as the three found dead. Then video of the their home with the police and CSI vehicles in the front yard and a close up video showing Tawni’s car parked in the garage. This is something that is only supposed to happen in the movies. This isn’t supposed to be something that happens in real life. Let alone to people I know.

The rest of that day… actually, the rest of that next week all mashed together into a blur.

Saturday morning, I had a funeral for a close family friend and Saturday night, we held a candle light vigil for Tawni and her parents. Tuesday morning, I had another funeral for my cousin and that night was the visitation for Tawni, Mark, and Charla. And Wednesday was the funeral for the three. I was nothing less than exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically.

In a matter of 5 days, I had attended the funerals of 5 people. FIVE.

The visitation of the Nicholsons was by far the hardest to attend though. It took so much to even enter the room where the three’s caskets sat. The caskets and the flowers that laid upon there were perfect for each of the three. When it came time to walk to Tawni’s casket, it was like my feet were glue to the floor. I couldn’t get myself to walk any closer. After several minutes of just blankly staring at her casket, I moved. Now standing in front of this white casket covered in pink flowers, I couldn’t get myself to leave. Her picture on a stand right next to it. Her perfect, glowing, beautiful smile. Gone forever.

Don’t ask me how the hell I got through SPEAKING at the funeral but I did. I don’t do public speaking but somehow I got up in front of a room full of people with my closest friends to speak about Tawni. To honor our best friend. To spread love and comfort to all those there that day.

Fast forward two and a half months and here I am. Remembering every little detail and stuck in a dark hole of unhappiness.
And that’s why I’m here. To help get these feelings out so I don’t bottle them up any longer. To put these unspoken words out there. To help find myself and find my happiness again.


A letter to Chase.


It’s hard for me to give you any of my time or thoughts after what you did. I use to have some sympathy for you and all my hate was toward the demon that is inside of you that caused all of this. But during the trial, you saying you were jealous of Tawni and her successful life – her graduating from college, getting a great job, and the relationships that she had in her life – and that she didn’t struggle the way you did in life. That’s bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. You know that her anxiety affected the way she did things and the relationships she had. School was not easy for her. Going out and doing things with her friends wasn’t easy for her. Being in a relationship with the man of her dreams wasn’t easy for her. So don’t pull the “she lived an easy life” card there. You took so much away from her they day that you murdered her life. Like your Aunt Cindy said, her life will forever be paused at age 24. She will never get married. She will never have children. She will never get to experience life’s greatest moments because of you.

I do not wish for you to live an awful life because I know having to deal with the fact that your family is no longer here is enough. But I hope and I pray that these demons in your head subside and you receive the help that you’ve been longing for.

With a broken heart,


One of the worst things to happen after going through something tragic are the nightmares. It’s like your mind wants you to suffer by making all of your “what-ifs” into a visual. A graphic visual. 

Tonight, I woke up to one of the worst ones yet. 

Tawni was still alive and in the hospital, recovering. She was covered in a white sheet.. completely covered. This was so I couldn’t see the gunshot wounds to her face. She was unconscious and couldn’t speak. She was Tawni in the most un-Tawni way. 

I was constantly visiting her bringing the latest celebrity gossip and the cutest puppies I could find. Where I found these puppies I cannot tell you and I guess that just the -magical- part of dreams or in this case, a nightmare.

I woke up in disappoinment and heartache. I woke up with some hope that the dream was real and Tawni was still here. 

But she’s not. 

The tears flooded my eyes. 

And my heart and that little bit of hope is crushed.



I need help.

I have all these thoughts running through my head of ways I can try and feel something different than the pain that is in my heart. I’ve drank. An every day, three week drinking binge. I’ve cut. Not deep enough to cause serious injury, just enough to feel a different kind of pain. I’ve tried to over-medicate with the antidepressants I’ve been on. But nothing helps. Nothing rids the pain of this heartbreak. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to cause heartache for my family and friends. I just want to feel something other than the pain I’ve been feeling for these last five months.

I need help.

New details.

New details were released from a local news station yesterday. Details that could have been kept in the court room, not out for everyone to hear. Especially the loved ones of the three who are now gone.

The news released that the three were all shot in the head with a shotgun. We knew he used a shotgun, which was disgusting itself. But he shot them in the head. What the fuck. Why the hell does this information need to be released to anyone but the ones in the court room? Do people actually want to hear these kinds of things on the news? No. Why can’t the media share more uplifting stories. Stories that will be smiles to our faces instead of sadness to our hearts? I just don’t understand.

My heart broke all over again last night.
And it hurts.
It physically hurts.

I keep playing different scenarios out of how that night went down.
And with new details arising, the scenarios get a little more graphic.

He didn’t shoot three people in the head at once. So who was the second and third to go? Who had to stand there and watch or hear their loved one get shot… by a shotgun… in the fucking head.

I can’t.





The darkness.

I’ve found myself in this dark hole twice before but never in this deep. It’s never been to the point where the things that I loved most no longer bring happiness to my life. I used to love going to work every day and now it’s a struggle to even get out of bed.. not the common it’s-6-in-the-morning struggle but I-really-don’t-want-to-do-life-today struggle. I had so much passion for soccer and loved getting the chance to grow in the passion with coaching every Spring. But this spring was different. It was hard to do these things that I once enjoyed so much.

You would think that hearing of a friend’s engagement or the birth of a new baby would bring a little bit of joy to my life. But it doesn’t. It sends me deeper into this hole of darkness. I can’t help but get sad thinking of all the big life events that you are missing out on and won’t get to go through yourself. A week and a half later and we would have been celebrating your own engagement. We should be planning your wedding, bridal showers and a bachelorette party. We should all be sitting in Sam’s living room, drinking wine and Pinteresting ideas for your wedding. But we aren’t and will never get the chance to. We will never get to see how beautiful of a bride you would have been.

That is why I can’t escape the darkness.

Because the things that should bring joy to my life are not.
The things that you should be here to experience but will not.

It’s almost like a guilty feeling when I start to feel some kind of happiness.

I was in denial the last two times I was stuck in this darkness. But this time, I know I’m stuck and I’m struggling to get out.