Let’s get one thing straight right off the bat: I avoid drama not because I’m scared of you—but because I’m deeply, respectfully, and wholeheartedly scared of me.
Now, before you clutch your pearls, let me explain.
You see, some people are naturally calm under pressure. They meditate. They journal. They light a sage bundle and whisper affirmations into the void. Me? I’ve got a different system—one that involves recognizing the red flags before I turn into a full-blown hurricane with a driver’s license.
There’s a phrase I’ve lovingly coined: “zero to prison.” And no, it’s not a joke I take lightly. It’s just that I know myself. I’ve spent years learning how to self-regulate, breathe through conflict, and walk away when the heat rises. Not because I can’t clap back, but because I know that if I do… well, someone’s going to need bail money. And I like my weekends free, thank you very much.
The Real Reason I Keep the Peace
Here’s the truth no one tells you: choosing peace is not weakness—it’s self-awareness. It’s knowing that your tongue is a sword and your temper is nuclear. It’s realizing that not every battle is worth the energy, especially when you’ve worked so hard to heal, to grow, and to protect the calm you fought like hell to earn.
I’ve been through enough chaos in my life to know I don’t want to be the source of it anymore. I’d rather light a candle than light someone up (verbally, of course). I’d rather set boundaries than set the record straight with a scream. Because that old version of me? She’s still in there. And she can still throw down if needed—but these days, she prefers throw pillows and herbal tea.
What Drama Really Costs
Drama is expensive. It costs you your peace, your sleep, and sometimes your dignity. And when you’ve finally gotten your mind, body, and spirit into alignment, you realize just how precious peace really is. It’s not that I won’t defend myself—oh, I will. But I now ask myself, “Is this worth stepping out of character for?” And 9.5 times out of 10, the answer is nah.
A Spell of Self-Control
For anyone out there who feels this in their soul, here’s a little mantra:
“I choose calm not because I can’t raise hell, but because I’d rather raise standards.”
So to the ones who think silence means weakness, or that avoiding drama means you “won”—bless your heart. I’m not running scared. I’m just protecting you from meeting the me I’ve buried under years of growth and therapy.
Closing Thoughts Let’s normalize walking away, setting boundaries, and sipping tea instead of spilling it. Let’s be the kind of women who know their power and use it wisely. And if you ever catch me in the middle of a storm, know this: I tried really hard to avoid it. 😌
Until next time, stay calm, stay grounded, and remember—sometimes peace is the real flex.
Why I won’t apologize for wanting to be hot, healthy, and whole again.
You know what I’ve finally decided?
I’m not going back. Not to the shame. Not to the silence. Not to pretending I’m okay when my body is screaming that I’m not.
Yes, I may miss the days when my jeans zipped without prayer and I could survive on cereal and sarcasm. But this isn’t about nostalgia — it’s about reclamation.
There’s a version of me that existed before the exhaustion, before the puffiness, before the bloodwork that read like a warning label. She was fierce. She was vibrant. She laughed louder and walked taller. And for a while, I mourned her like a death.
But now? I see her differently. She’s not gone. She was buried—under hormones, survival mode, motherhood, trauma, and everyone else’s needs stacked on top of mine.
And I’m telling you right now:
I’m digging her out. And she’s coming back better.
✨ I will not apologize…
For wanting to feel confident in my own skin again
For wanting to turn heads, even if just my own in the mirror
For wanting my energy, my libido, and my damn waistline back
For saying no to burnout and yes to balance
For refusing to shrink my dreams while my body expands
Some people will say:
“You should just accept yourself.” And I do. I accept that my body is doing its best — and I’m doing mine, too. But loving yourself doesn’t mean giving up on yourself.
I love my body enough to fight for it. I love my future enough to want a healthy, vibrant version of me in it. And I love myself enough to say:
I’m not settling for survival anymore. I want vitality.
💥 The comeback isn’t about going back in time.
It’s about bringing her forward — the girl who knew her worth long before the world tried to shrink it.
And I’m telling you… I’m not going.
Not back to being small, silent, or sick.
Not back to apologizing for wanting more.
Not back to dimming myself so others can shine.
This chapter? It’s my mic drop. This book? My mixtape. This life? My stage.
I walked inside — not storming in like a discount reality star, just calmly, confused, and Southern polite — and asked:
“Hey, I think I was overcharged. I used my debit card, but it looks like I was charged the credit card price?”
Now let me be clear right here and now: I’m not a Karen. But I am a crazy Southern woman — raised with a mean-ass brother and a mama who taught me real quick that if someone raises their voice at you, they better have a reason. And this man? He had none.
Instead, he looked me dead in the face and snapped:
“It’s not my problem. If you don’t like it—get out of my store.”
Then he raised his voice — louder this time — like I was the problem:
“GET OUT OF MY STORE NOW!”
Let. This. Be. Known. As a Southern woman, this will NOT go without reason. I’m gonna do what we Southern women do best:
Raise hell. With receipts.
And Lord, I hate to do it, I really do — but I gotta say it straight:
This motherfucker raised his voice at me. And ohhh hell no. F* that.**
He didn’t even try to explain the charge. He didn’t ask what happened. He just acted like I was some rich, clueless woman who should shut up and swipe again.
No sir.
He found the wrong one. I’m not rich. I’m not clueless. I work hard for my money — blood, sweat, and taxes.
And yes, if needed…
I will fight a man over principle.
(Not physically, y’all… unless he swings first, in which case: we goin’ full Waffle House scramble-fest and I’m not apologizing.)
Let me know if you want me to put that quote on a bold graphic like:
“I work hard for my money. I’m not rich. But I will fight a man if I have to — verbally, legally, or with a frying pan, depending on the tone.” — A.L. Childers
The Shell station on Wilkinson blvd near the Bojangles is hoodwinking people with their money!
There’s an elephant in the hiring room, and it’s time someone talked about it. Every day, bright and hardworking people scan job listings, only to be met with an all-too-familiar slap in the face: “Bachelor’s or Master’s Degree Required. Pay: $15/hour.”
Let’s pause for a moment and ask—what message are you really sending?
Degrees Are Not Dollar Store Commodities
Education has always been a path to better opportunities, stability, and a brighter future. People invest years, tens of thousands of dollars, and a mountain of effort to earn a college degree. Many leave school with student loan bills that rival a home mortgage.
When you post a job demanding those credentials but offer pay that barely covers groceries, it doesn’t just come across as tone-deaf—it’s demoralizing. You’re telling the very talent you want: “Your investment in yourself means little to us.”
To quote one brave candidate: “If you want to pay peanuts, you should also be prepared to work with monkeys.” And you know what? They walked out—and who could blame them?
The People Have Spoken: Here’s What They’re Saying
From recent conversations online, here’s what real people—your potential hires—are saying:
“That’s high school student money.”
“They want degrees and five years’ experience for $15/hour.”
“A cashier at Publix in Miami now makes $19/hr.”
“Stop asking for a person with a car when you’re paying $15, plus part-time hours.”
“McDonald’s pays more than that. So does Costco.”
“It’s a clown show—high expectations, low pay.”
“Student loans for a $25/hour job? LMAO.”
“I didn’t go to college for five years to get paid less than a kitchen worker.”
“A librarian job wanted a master’s degree—for $16 an hour!”
“Entry level + two years’ experience, for $15? Good luck.”
“Why would a paralegal with years of experience apply for less than they make as a legal assistant?”
“Most degrees today aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on—if this is the return.”
These aren’t isolated complaints—they’re a groundswell of frustration from every corner of the workforce. College grads are training baristas, experienced paralegals are skipping legal jobs, and tradespeople are making far more than their degreed friends.
It’s Not Just About the Money (But It’s Also About the Money)
When you require a degree for a wage that won’t cover rent, you’re not just missing out on talent—you’re eroding trust and credibility as an employer. The best and brightest see right through it, and they walk away.
Let’s be real: If you want a candidate with a Bachelor’s or Master’s degree, pay them a wage that respects the journey they’ve taken. If you can’t afford that, reconsider your requirements. Look for potential, work ethic, teachable skills—not just a piece of paper.
Entry-Level Shouldn’t Mean Entry-Pay Forever
It’s also time to end the game of “entry-level” positions that demand years of experience and advanced degrees. If you’re not offering a clear path to growth, a living wage, or even respect for basic life costs, why would anyone invest in you as an employer?
Today, high schoolers make $17/hour at fast food joints. That’s the new baseline. Anything less for a college grad is a hard pass.
What’s Next? A PhD to Work the Fryer?
If this sounds dramatic, consider: job ads for restaurant workers or cleaners are starting to require degrees. It’s only a matter of time before a doctorate is needed to operate a cash register or pick strawberries.
What You Can Do—Right Now
Re-examine your job requirements. Is a degree truly necessary, or can you train a motivated worker?
Match wages to qualifications. If you want the best, pay for the best.
Offer real growth. Employees want careers, not dead ends.
Value skills, not just paper. Sometimes experience, creativity, and hustle outshine formal education.
Dear Employers: If you’re not willing to pay a living wage, don’t require a degree. If you want degree-holders, be ready to compete for them. Otherwise, you’ll keep losing great talent to companies that do.
It’s time to wake up. The world—and the workforce—have changed.
Looking for honest conversations and more real-world career insights? Check out TheHypothyroidismChick.com and explore books by A.L. Childers—because your journey, and your worth, matter.
Growing up in a small Southern town means living where everybody knows your name—and sometimes, your business. Some of us grew up on the outskirts of belonging, watching the “in-crowd” from a distance, wondering if we’d ever find our place. I know this journey all too well.
My childhood was shaped by hand-me-downs and whispered judgments, by dreams that always seemed just out of reach. I wasn’t born into privilege, but into a patchwork family stitched together by resilience, laughter, and the kind of loyalty you never forget. It wasn’t always easy being the “poor cousin” or standing on the outside of the circles I thought I wanted so desperately to join. Over the years, I learned the value of staying true to myself—and the power of the friendships that find us when we least expect it.
There are stories within us that go untold for years. Stories of surviving the hard days, of finding our voices, of protecting others when we barely knew how to protect ourselves. For me, the true magic happened in the moments that didn’t make the yearbook: standing up to bullies, sneaking out with my best friend on summer nights, and discovering, with every heartbreak and reunion, that I was stronger than anyone realized—including myself.
Losing my closest friend years later left a scar that never truly healed. But even in that grief, I found gratitude for every wild, beautiful, and chaotic memory we shared. Her laughter still echoes in my life. Her courage continues to inspire every page I write.
I’m not here to tell you I’ve figured it all out. But I am here to say that every outsider, every “different” kid, and every person who’s ever been counted out deserves to take up space and tell their story. The world is full of people who will try to measure your worth by your background, your mistakes, or the shoes you wore to school. Let them. You’re not living for their approval. You’re here to build a life you’re proud of.
My story is for anyone who’s ever felt unseen—but refused to be broken. It’s about loving who you are, no matter where you started, and finding joy in the places others told you to hide. If you’re reading this and nodding along, know this: you’re not alone. And your story is worth telling.
Stay tuned—I can’t wait to share more with you.
Want to follow along or hear more about this journey? Check out my latest work, stories, and more at The Hypothyroidism Chick and join me as we rewrite what it means to belong, together.
A.L. Childers Published Author, Advocate, and Your Partner in Thyroid Health
Disclaimer
The information and recipes in the blog are based on the author’s research and personal experiences. It’s for entertainment purposes. It’s only. Every attempt has been made to provide accurate, up-to-date, and reliable information. No warranties of any kind are expressed or implied. Readers acknowledge that the author does not render legal, financial, medical, or professional advice. By reading this blog, the reader agrees that under no circumstance is the author responsible for any direct or indirect loss incurred by using the information contained within this blog. Including but not limited to errors, omissions, or inaccuracies. This blog is not intended to replace what your healthcare provider has suggested. The author is not responsible for any adverse effects or consequences from using any of the suggestions, preparations, or procedures discussed in this blog. All matters about your health should be supervised by a healthcare professional. I am not a doctor or a medical professional. This blog is designed as an educational and entertainment tool only. Please always check with your health practitioner before taking any vitamins, supplements, or herbs, as they may have side effects, especially when combined with medications, alcohol, or other vitamins or supplements. Knowledge is power; educate yourself and find the answer to your healthcare needs. Wisdom is a beautiful thing to seek. I hope this blog will teach and encourage you to take leaps in your life to educate yourself for a happier & healthier life. You have to take ownership of your health.
The views and services offered by Thehypothyroidismismchick.com are not intended to be a substitute for professional medical assistance but as an alternative for those seeking solutions for better health. We do not claim to diagnose, treat, prevent, or cure any disease but simply help you make physical and mental changes in your own body to help your body heal itself. Remember that results may vary, and if you are pregnant, nursing, taking medications, or have a severe condition, you should consult a physician or other appropriate medical professional before using any products or information on this site. Thehypothyroidisimchick.com assumes no responsibility for the use or misuse of this material. Your use of this website indicates your agreement to these terms. Our full disclosure, terms of use, and privacy policy.
The information on this site is not intended or implied to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. All content, including text, graphics, images, and information on or available through this website, is for general information purposes only. Opinions expressed here are the opinions of the writer. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay seeking medical treatment because of something you have read or accessed through this website.
This site is designed for educational purposes only and is not engaged in rendering medical advice, legal advice, or professional services. If you feel that you have a medical problem, you should seek the advice of your physician or health care practitioner. For additional information, please see our full disclosure, terms of use, and privacy policy.
“Some people are born into love. Some have to find it, borrow it, or be rescued by it. Me? I was blessed by uncles who filled the cracks with gold.” —A.L. Childers
I wasn’t born into a love story. I was born into a riddle.
A riddle wrapped in confusion, half-truths, and one very complicated woman—my mother.
I was born without a father. Not metaphorically—literally.
There was no man in the waiting room. No doting husband holding a camera. No signature on my birth certificate. Just my mother, her stories, and eventually… my questions.
And when I asked who my father was, she handed me three names like she was picking lotto numbers.
“It’s either him… or maybe him… or possibly that guy from Fort Bragg.”
One of them, she said, had my exact birthmark—on my chin and on my butt. Yes, I checked. Apparently, that’s how paternity was confirmed in our family: not by DNA, but by matching skin stamps.
Another man I tracked down years later. He was married to a girl my age and had a house full of kids. He said on the call while his young wife was in the background yelling, “I’m not your father.” I told him, “Good—because I was about to ask for backdated birthday gifts and college tuition.”
And the third? He was just “around.” Whatever that means in mom-speak.
But here’s the kicker: my mother is a dream-talker. She tells stories that melt into each other. Truth and fiction hold hands in her mind. One version becomes another before you’ve even had time to process the first. She speaks with such confidence that even the lies sound poetic.
Three Possible Fathers and One Birthmark
When I look back on those moments now, I don’t feel angry—I feel untethered. Like a balloon that never had a string. But somewhere in the background, there were people trying to ground me. Trying to hold me steady.
They just weren’t the people you might expect.
A House I Could Have Called Home
If there’s one memory that haunts me—not because it happened, but because it almost did—it’s the moment I wasn’t adopted by Uncle John.
When I was a baby—with a clubfoot and a mother already struggling with a five-year-old son—my Uncle John and his wife Vickie offered to adopt me. They had two sons already but longed for a daughter to complete their family. Vickie was a nurse, kind and capable. Uncle John worked for Frito-Lay as a delivery driver. They had a loving home, a loyal dog, and more than enough room in their hearts.
They wanted me. They chose me. But my mother said no.
Maybe it was pride. Maybe fear. Maybe guilt. I’ll never truly know.
So I stayed. And the life that might have been was quietly folded up and put away.
The Men Who Did Show Up
Even though I never had a father, I had three uncles—John, Jimmy, and Buddy—who filled the silence in their own ways.
Uncle Buddy
Sweet. Steady. Soft-spoken. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it mattered. He carried peace like a scent—faint, warm, and familiar. With him, I never had to earn love. It was just there.
Uncle Jimmy
He was the spark. The sailor. A Navy man who seemed to always be out to sea, climbing the ranks and chasing the horizon. But even while serving far from home, he made sure his family was cared for.
He bought a beautiful house for my grandmother, where she raised his children while he was deployed. That house became a magical place for me. I loved visiting when my cousins were there—it was pure childhood chaos, the fun kind. They were loud, wild, and hilarious. Nothing made sense and everything felt safe. I adored it all.
Later in life, Uncle Jimmy lost his wife—a quiet grief that lingered behind his smile. But he never let sorrow steal his joy, especially not from me. He was still the uncle who made everyone laugh, who gave without asking anything in return.
But life hit him hard. First, he lost his wife Joan to a rare blood disorder. Then, both of their sons—my cousins—died from the same illness. Most people wouldn’t survive that kind of loss. But Uncle Jimmy did. And he never stopped showing up.
Eventually, he found love again with Marie, a nurse, because apparently the universe knew he needed someone who could heal more than just broken hearts. When he got sick with diabetes later in life, Marie took care of him, standing by him in the same way he had always stood by others.
Uncle John
Uncle John was the one who tried to rescue me. The one who saw a little girl and thought, She could be mine.
If there’s one memory that haunts me—not because it happened, but because it almost did—it’s the moment I wasn’t adopted by Uncle John.
When I was a baby—with a clubfoot and a mother already struggling with a five-year-old son—my Uncle John and his wife Vickie offered to adopt me. They had two sons already but longed for a daughter to complete their family. Aunt Vickie was a nurse, kind and capable. Uncle John worked for Frito-Lay as a delivery driver. They had a loving home, a loyal dog, and more than enough room in their hearts.
They wanted me. They chose me. But my mother said no.
Maybe it was pride. Maybe fear. Maybe guilt. I’ll never truly know.
So I stayed. And the life that might have been was quietly folded up and put away.
Even after my mother turned down the adoption, he never disappeared. He stayed in my life—steadily, quietly, lovingly.
The Day I Didn’t Go
There was a weekend Uncle Jimmy invited me to visit him in Virginia Beach. My new boyfriend and I. A little escape. A moment to reconnect.
But I didn’t go.
Why?
Because I was freshly dating the man who would become my husband, and my best friend at the time had just gotten into a fight with her boyfriend. She didn’t want me to leave town.
So I stayed.
I chose someone else’s storm over his calm. And I’ve regretted it ever since.
He passed away not long after. I never got to sit beside him, hear his stories, or simply say thank you.
Thank you for wanting me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for loving me when no one had to.
The Wedding in Aunt Betty’s Backyard
He still came to my mother’s wedding—held in Aunt Betty’s backyard, which felt more sacred than any chapel. I was in the wedding party. I wore a dress and a proud smile.
Uncle Jimmy and Marie sat side by side. I watched them quietly. I remember thinking, This is what grace looks like. Even after everything life had taken from him, he still showed up. Still loved. Still gave.
The Book This Blog Will Become
This story? It’s just one chapter. There are more.
More about my mother and her tangled truths. More about the father I never knew and the men who tried to fill that void. More about my childhood, my choices, and the quiet heroes who saved me without a single headline.
Because even when you’re born into confusion… Even when the foundation is cracked… You can still build something beautiful on top of it.
💌 Want to follow the rest of the story?
This blog is part of an upcoming memoir by A.L. Childers. If it moved you, there’s more where this came from. Join the journey at TheHypothyroidismChick.com to read future chapters, get exclusive stories, and receive a free “Healing Through Story” workbook to explore your own past, purpose, and power.
“Family isn’t always who made you. Sometimes, it’s who stayed.”
💬 Your Turn: Let’s Talk
Did this story resonate with you? Were you raised by someone who wasn’t your parent but still gave you everything they could? Do you have a chapter in your life that still tugs at your heart?
I’d love to hear from you.
👉 Drop a comment below and share your thoughts, your story, or even just a hello. 📚 And if you want to know when the full memoir is released, make sure to subscribe here for updates, behind-the-scenes sneak peeks, and more stories like this one.
Your story matters. And so does your heart.
Thanks for reading, —A.L. Childers
I am the tallest one in pink! 80’s hair, baby! The gal next to me is my ex-sil ( I am still friends with her to this day) and then my half sister..
Disclaimer
The content of this blog is intended for informational and thought-provoking purposes only. While the discoveries discussed are based on current scientific findings, the interpretations, theories, and speculative discussions presented are the author’s perspectives and should not be taken as definitive scientific conclusions.
This blog explores both mainstream scientific theories and alternative viewpoints that challenge conventional narratives. Readers are encouraged to conduct their own research, engage in critical thinking, and approach all information—whether from established sources or independent researchers—with an open but discerning mind.
Furthermore, any references to historical texts, hidden knowledge, or cosmic mysteries reflect the author’s ongoing research and exploration of unconventional ideas. This blog does not claim to provide absolute truth but rather serves as a platform for curiosity, discussion, and questioning the nature of reality.
For verified scientific studies and further reading, refer to the sources cited.
A.L. Childers Published Author, Advocate, and Your Partner in Thyroid Health
Disclaimer
The information and recipes in the blog are based on the author’s research and personal experiences. It’s for entertainment purposes. It’s only. Every attempt has been made to provide accurate, up-to-date, and reliable information. No warranties of any kind are expressed or implied. Readers acknowledge that the author does not render legal, financial, medical, or professional advice. By reading this blog, the reader agrees that under no circumstance is the author responsible for any direct or indirect loss incurred by using the information contained within this blog. Including but not limited to errors, omissions, or inaccuracies. This blog is not intended to replace what your healthcare provider has suggested. The author is not responsible for any adverse effects or consequences from using any of the suggestions, preparations, or procedures discussed in this blog. All matters about your health should be supervised by a healthcare professional. I am not a doctor or a medical professional. This blog is designed as an educational and entertainment tool only. Please always check with your health practitioner before taking any vitamins, supplements, or herbs, as they may have side effects, especially when combined with medications, alcohol, or other vitamins or supplements. Knowledge is power; educate yourself and find the answer to your healthcare needs. Wisdom is a beautiful thing to seek. I hope this blog will teach and encourage you to take leaps in your life to educate yourself for a happier & healthier life. You have to take ownership of your health.
The views and services offered by Thehypothyroidismismchick.com are not intended to be a substitute for professional medical assistance but as an alternative for those seeking solutions for better health. We do not claim to diagnose, treat, prevent, or cure any disease but simply help you make physical and mental changes in your own body to help your body heal itself. Remember that results may vary, and if you are pregnant, nursing, taking medications, or have a severe condition, you should consult a physician or other appropriate medical professional before using any products or information on this site. Thehypothyroidisimchick.com assumes no responsibility for the use or misuse of this material. Your use of this website indicates your agreement to these terms. Our full disclosure, terms of use, and privacy policy.
The information on this site is not intended or implied to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. All content, including text, graphics, images, and information on or available through this website, is for general information purposes only. Opinions expressed here are the opinions of the writer. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay seeking medical treatment because of something you have read or accessed through this website.
This site is designed for educational purposes only and is not engaged in rendering medical advice, legal advice, or professional services. If you feel that you have a medical problem, you should seek the advice of your physician or health care practitioner. For additional information, please see our full disclosure, terms of use, and privacy policy.
As a writer, researcher, and fellow human navigating this complex world, I want to take a moment to speak directly to you—my readers. Writing is a deeply personal journey, but it’s also one of the most vulnerable acts. When I release a book, I’m sharing a piece of myself, my experiences, my research, and the truths I’ve uncovered so far. But let me be clear: I don’t claim to know it all.
This journey of discovery is just that—a journey. Each of us is on a unique path, finding meaning in our own time and way. If you’ve picked up my book and feel it doesn’t answer all your questions or align with your expectations, I ask for your understanding and encourage you to keep searching. No single book can encapsulate the vast mysteries of life or hold all the answers we seek.
Why I Write I write to share my perspective, to spark curiosity, and to open doors to new ways of thinking. My words are not the final destination but a stepping stone—an invitation for you to explore further, question deeper, and find what resonates with your own truth.
These books will reflect where I am on my path right now. It’s a snapshot of my growth, my understanding, and my reflections at this point in time. And while it may not speak to everyone in the same way, I hope it plants a seed of thought, a question, or even a challenge that inspires you to dig deeper.
To My Critics I’ve learned that not everyone will agree with what I write, and that’s okay. We live in a world of diverse perspectives, and healthy debate is a cornerstone of growth. But sometimes, criticism can feel harsh, even cruel. It’s one thing to disagree—it’s another to approach that disagreement with negativity and hostility.
I kindly ask that you approach my work with the same curiosity and open-mindedness that I bring to writing it. If you don’t agree, let that disagreement inspire you to find new information, challenge your assumptions, or even write your own book. Growth comes from exploration, not condemnation.
Let’s Keep Seeking Together We’re all in this together, navigating the chaos, beauty, and complexity of life. My hope is that this book, and my writing in general, serves as a light along the way—a reminder that we’re all searching, all learning, and all evolving.
If you feel something is missing in my book, let that absence be a spark. Seek out new voices, dive into the unknown, and keep asking the tough questions. Growth is not about finding all the answers; it’s about having the courage to keep searching.
Gratitude for the Journey To those who have supported my work, thank you. Every book you purchase, every kind of review, and every encouraging word fuels my passion and allows me to continue writing. You are the reason I can keep pursuing this dream, and I am endlessly grateful.
To those who feel compelled to criticize, I appreciate your honesty. But I ask for grace as we all walk this path together. Writing is my way of contributing to the greater conversation, and I hope you’ll engage with it constructively, with curiosity and respect.
Let’s remember: we’re all human, all searching for meaning, and all on different timelines. My book may not provide everything you’re looking for, but it’s my sincere hope that it offers something—a question, a spark, a moment of clarity.
With love, encouragement, and gratitude, A.L. Childers
There’s a cabin by the water where the fireflies still remember.
It’s not on any map. The town that surrounds it is the kind of place people either never leave—or never want to return to. And for years, I thought I had left it behind for good.
But The Cabin on Coldwater Lake was never just a story. It was a reflection.
Of grief we don’t speak about. Of mothers who give everything and are left with nothing. Of women who stay, not because they’re weak—but because they love harder than the world says is wise.
When I wrote this book, I didn’t know I was about to uncover my own legacy. I didn’t know that the trauma we bury can float back up like driftwood… or that sometimes, our ghosts wear familiar faces.
This isn’t just a gothic suspense novel with eerie lake whispers and a cursed bloodline—though yes, those are in there, too. It’s about betrayal that cuts across generations. About the girl who stayed long after the love was gone. About the firefly jar that wouldn’t stay broken.
It’s about the ghosts we inherit… and the choice to either feed them or face them.
The Cabin on Coldwater Lake is her most personal—and powerful—novel to date.
A forgotten cabin. A cursed family. A town that never let go.
Coldwater Lake wasn’t on any map for a reason. Generations of secrets sleep beneath its surface, and the whispers from its docks have a way of crawling back into the lives of those who left.
When Audrey returns to the lakefront cabin where everything went wrong, she expects closure—not a haunting. Instead, she uncovers a legacy of betrayal, grief, and a family curse that stole nearly every man Mae Delaney ever loved. The firefly jar has returned, glowing and whole. The lake is stirring again. And long-dead voices are calling from the pines.
As whispers rise from the water and fireflies glow with secrets, Audrey must choose: break the cycle or become part of it.
Perfect for fans of dark family secrets, southern gothic suspense, and supernatural thrillers with emotional depth. A powerful, page-turning read designed to be devoured in a single sitting.
Some lakes never stop calling. Some stories don’t end. And some ghosts are just getting started.
This book is a powerhouse—emotional, suspenseful, layered, and uniquely unforgettable.
A.L. Childers is a multi-genre storyteller with a gift for weaving raw emotion, dark secrets, and unexpected twists into unforgettable novels. Known for tackling themes like generational trauma, identity, and spiritual reckoning, her work blends atmospheric suspense with deeply human truths.
A survivor, seeker, and lifelong creative, A.L. writes from a place of lived experience—infusing her stories with the same grit, heart, and haunting beauty that mark the lives of her most memorable characters. When she’s not writing, she’s researching forgotten histories, unraveling family legacies, or dreaming up the next story that refuses to stay quiet.
Disclaimer
The content of this blog is intended for informational and thought-provoking purposes only. While the discoveries discussed are based on current scientific findings, the interpretations, theories, and speculative discussions presented are the author’s perspectives and should not be taken as definitive scientific conclusions.
This blog explores both mainstream scientific theories and alternative viewpoints that challenge conventional narratives. Readers are encouraged to conduct their own research, engage in critical thinking, and approach all information—whether from established sources or independent researchers—with an open but discerning mind.
Furthermore, any references to historical texts, hidden knowledge, or cosmic mysteries reflect the author’s ongoing research and exploration of unconventional ideas. This blog does not claim to provide absolute truth but rather serves as a platform for curiosity, discussion, and questioning the nature of reality.
For verified scientific studies and further reading, refer to the sources cited.
A.L. Childers Published Author, Advocate, and Your Partner in Thyroid Health
Disclaimer
The information and recipes in the blog are based on the author’s research and personal experiences. It’s for entertainment purposes. It’s only. Every attempt has been made to provide accurate, up-to-date, and reliable information. No warranties of any kind are expressed or implied. Readers acknowledge that the author does not render legal, financial, medical, or professional advice. By reading this blog, the reader agrees that under no circumstance is the author responsible for any direct or indirect loss incurred by using the information contained within this blog. Including but not limited to errors, omissions, or inaccuracies. This blog is not intended to replace what your healthcare provider has suggested. The author is not responsible for any adverse effects or consequences from using any of the suggestions, preparations, or procedures discussed in this blog. All matters about your health should be supervised by a healthcare professional. I am not a doctor or a medical professional. This blog is designed as an educational and entertainment tool only. Please always check with your health practitioner before taking any vitamins, supplements, or herbs, as they may have side effects, especially when combined with medications, alcohol, or other vitamins or supplements. Knowledge is power; educate yourself and find the answer to your healthcare needs. Wisdom is a beautiful thing to seek. I hope this blog will teach and encourage you to take leaps in your life to educate yourself for a happier & healthier life. You have to take ownership of your health.
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In an era where artificial intelligence is replacing jobs, corporations are monopolizing basic human needs, and the cost of living has spiraled beyond reason, the question many men are still asking women is, “What do you bring to the table?”
But let’s be real—what table?
In a world where homeownership is unattainable, wages stagnate while inflation skyrockets and even our food is poisoned for profit, the idea of a “table” is laughable. We don’t have a table anymore. None of us do. And if we did, where exactly would we put it?
A World Where The Table No Longer Exists
The traditional markers of stability—homeownership, fair wages, access to real food, and reliable healthcare—are slipping further out of reach. The average home price in 2000 was around $119,600. Today, the median home price in the U.S. exceeds $400,000, with houses in major cities reaching $750,000+—a 525% increase in just two decades. Interest rates are at their highest in years, making homeownership a pipe dream for most.
And renting? Hedge funds and private equity firms like BlackRock and Invitation Homes have purchased entire neighborhoods, turning potential homeownership into a renter’s prison, jacking up prices by as much as 60% in some cities. The average rent for a one-bedroom apartment, once $1,000, is now $3,000 or more, pricing out working-class Americans.
So, tell me again: what table?
A Livable Wage? Not in This Economy.
The federal minimum wage in America remains a staggering $7.25 an hour, unchanged since 2009. Meanwhile, the cost of living has risen nearly 40% in the last decade, with wages failing to keep pace. Over 61% of Americans now live paycheck to paycheck, with many working two or three jobs just to afford basic necessities.
Even in fields with “livable” wages, the squeeze is real. Nurses, teachers, and service workers—once considered middle-class careers—are now struggling to afford homes in the cities they work in. In San Francisco, you need a salary of at least $104,000 just to afford a modest one-bedroom apartment. In New York City, that number jumps to $130,000.
Again, where is this table going?
Poison for Profit: The Food We Can’t Afford is Killing Us
Let’s talk about what actually goes on this imaginary table.
The American food supply is so toxic that many ingredients legally sold in the U.S. are banned in over 30 countries. Red dye No. 3, brominated vegetable oil, potassium bromate—these are carcinogens illegal in the EU, China, and Japan but are still FDA-approved in the U.S. because food corporations lobby Congress to keep them in circulation.
Fast food, ultra-processed junk, and chemical-laden groceries aren’t just making us overweight—they’re making us sick. Heart disease, diabetes, and cancer rates have skyrocketed, largely due to the food industry prioritizing profit over public health. The U.S. now leads the world in diet-related illnesses, and even when people want to eat healthy, organic options remain financially out of reach for most.
Healthcare: Pay or Die
Let’s say we make it to the table despite the poisoned food, the unaffordable housing, and the soul-crushing work conditions. What happens when we get sick?
America’s healthcare system is the most expensive in the world, yet ranks dead last among high-income nations in accessibility and outcomes. The U.S. spends over $12,500 per person on healthcare annually, yet 66% of all bankruptcies are due to medical debt. A simple ambulance ride can cost $1,200—more than a mortgage payment.
And if we’re really lucky, we can sit at the table and reminisce about the family members we lost too soon because they couldn’t afford treatment. We can raise a glass to the 53-year-old mothers who died of heart disease, not because of genetics, but because they were fed toxic food, overworked, and denied proper medical care.
The Education System: Preparing Kids for a Broken Future
While we’re at this nonexistent table, maybe we can talk to our kids about their education—if they survive school.
With mass shootings now a regular occurrence, students aren’t just learning math; they’re learning how to barricade doors and hide under desks. Speaking of math, let’s talk about Common Core—an education model so convoluted that parents can’t even help their kids with homework. Instead of fostering critical thinking, American schools are training kids to memorize and regurgitate, leaving them ill-prepared for the future in an economy where AI and automation are rapidly replacing jobs.
But sure, let’s discuss gender roles. Let’s focus on whether women should cook and clean while we all collectively drown in a system that requires two incomes just to survive.
The Real Question: What Do You Bring to the Revolution?
So, let’s stop asking what women bring to the table.
Let’s start asking: What do you bring to the revolution?
Because this isn’t about gender roles anymore. This is survival. The world we inherited is no longer the world we were promised. The American Dream has been turned into a rigged casino, where the house always wins and the players—us—are left empty-handed.
The real question isn’t about what we contribute individually—it’s about what we are going to do collectively to reclaim our future.
Because the table is gone.
And if we want one, we’ll have to build it ourselves.
Sources & Statistics:
Housing Crisis: National Association of Realtors, Federal Reserve, Zillow Reports
Minimum Wage & Inflation: U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, Pew Research Center
Food Safety & Toxic Ingredients: U.S. FDA, European Food Safety Authority, Center for Science in the Public Interest
Healthcare Crisis: The Commonwealth Fund, Kaiser Family Foundation, American Journal of Public Health
Education & School Safety: National Center for Education Statistics, FBI Crime Report
Behind the Glam: The Lies Women Tell to Make Other Women Jealous
A Blog by A.L. Childers
The Illusion Is Over. Are You Ready for the Truth?
We live in a world where perfection is an illusion carefully crafted for the masses. Hollywood, social media, and influencer culture have turned the art of deception into an industry. Women aren’t just competing with each other anymore—they’re competing with illusions.
We scroll through feeds filled with flawless skin, luxurious vacations, perfectly posed relationships, and curated lives that make our own realities feel painfully ordinary. But what if I told you—none of it is real?
This blog is not about shaming women. It’s about freeing them.
The Illusion of Her Perfect Life
I’ve spent years watching women suffer under the weight of comparison. I’ve seen friendships turn into silent rivalries, self-esteem crushed under the pressure of unattainable beauty, and happiness sacrificed for the sake of validation.
The truth is, we’ve been sold a fantasy.
Hollywood has built an empire on women’s insecurities. Every airbrushed model, every red carpet event, every manipulated magazine cover—designed to make us feel less than so we will consume more. We buy the products, the diets, the facials, the injections—all to chase a version of beauty and success that doesn’t exist.
And social media? It’s the new Hollywood.
We stage photos, edit out imperfections, and pretend our relationships are flawless. We perform happiness instead of living it. We create envy rather than connection. Because in this world, attention is currency—and the best way to get it is to make others believe you have something they don’t.
Hollywood’s Role in Selling the Fantasy
This isn’t new. Hollywood has been profiting off women’s insecurities for decades.
✔ Celebrities sell the illusion of effortless beauty while secretly relying on plastic surgery, extreme diets, and Photoshop. ✔ The media crafts the image of “power couples”—until their divorces expose the truth behind the facade. ✔ Fashion brands market unattainable lifestyles, convincing women that a designer bag or trendy dress will somehow make them “one of them.”
And we eat it up.
Because if she can have it, maybe I can too.
But behind the cameras, behind the expensive filters, behind the glamorous lies, there’s something far more sinister happening.
The Cost of the Illusion
Women are destroying themselves to live up to a fantasy.
💔 Mental health issues are skyrocketing—anxiety, depression, eating disorders, and body dysmorphia are now common struggles. 💔 Financial ruin—women are going into debt chasing a lifestyle they can’t afford, all to look like the influencers selling them the dream. 💔 Relationships suffer—because when we compete instead of connect, we lose sight of what truly matters.
And worst of all?
We keep feeding the machine.
We idolize celebrities who sell us lies. We follow influencers who profit from our insecurities. We let social media convince us we are not enough.
But we are.
Breaking Free from the Illusion
So, what do we do?
We stop chasing the fantasy.
✔ Unfollow accounts that make you feel inadequate. ✔ Recognize that the images you see online are curated, filtered, and often fake. ✔ Focus on your real life, not the one you think you should have. ✔ Redefine success, beauty, and happiness on your own terms.
The Illusion Is Over. Are You Ready for the Truth?
This blog is just the beginning. My upcoming book, The Illusion of Her Perfect Life, dives deep into the manipulation of Hollywood and social media, exposing the lies that keep women trapped. It’s not just a book—it’s a revolution.
Because the illusion was never real.
But you are.
Disclaimer:
This blog is based on observations, research, and personal experiences. It is not intended to attack or target individuals but rather to shed light on systemic issues that affect women’s mental health and self-worth. Readers are encouraged to critically evaluate the media they consume and make informed choices about their digital and social environments.
