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Diary of a woman who did not sign up for this plotline, Indianapolis, IN (2026)

03/23/2026

📓 Bex Diary: The “Runaway” Situation (Filed Under: You’ve Got to Be Kidding Me)
Let’s focus on one story today.
Because this one… deserves documentation. 😅
Friday night.
After about a month of what we’ll generously call peak teenage behavior — attitude, frustration, pushing limits — Rhae had a rough evening.
Around 10:30pm, she stepped outside.
Which, in our home, is not unusual.
Cooling off, taking space, resetting — all things we actively encourage rather than escalating conflict.
At that point, all was normal.
What was not communicated…
Was that this was apparently not a cool-down.
This was a full exit plan.
Somewhere beyond our immediate view, she connected with Grandma,
who picked her up away from the house — no contact, no coordination, no confirmation.
Which meant, from our perspective, there was no indication she had left the property or been removed.
At 12:30am, a text comes through:
“She’s here.”
Not before.
After.
Because apparently notification is now a follow-up step.
Fast forward to early morning.
Cal checks on her — as we do —
and finds an empty bed.
He wakes me up.
And that moment?
That’s not funny.
That’s not casual.
That’s the exact moment every parent dreads —
when something doesn’t add up.
We immediately:
• Checked the entire house
• Checked it again
• Woke the other kids to verify last contact
• Started working through where she could be
All of it. Immediately.
And then — mid “something is wrong” mode —
The text clicks.
From hours earlier.
So let’s walk that back:
• Child steps outside appropriately to cool down
• Leaves the immediate area without notice
• Is picked up by another adult without parent communication
• Parents are notified after the fact
• Parents discover absence during normal morning check and respond immediately
And the destination?
Grandma’s house.
Now here’s where I’m going to say the quiet part out loud:
If your teenager decides to “run away”…
and their first call is Grandma…
You’re probably not failing at parenting.
You’re probably doing something right.
Because let’s be honest —
There are a lot of directions that could have gone.
Parties.
Back roads.
People who don’t have their best interest in mind.
Instead?
She chose a safe adult.
A familiar place.
Somewhere she knew she’d be okay.
Would we prefer communication?
Absolutely.
Would we prefer not to wake up to an empty bed?
Also yes.
Would we like to not star in a surprise 4:30am panic episode?
Highly recommend avoiding that in the future.
But safety matters.
And despite the creative execution…
She was safe.
So yes — we’ll address the behavior.
Yes — there are conversations to be had.
Yes — boundaries will be reinforced.
That’s parenting.
But let’s not confuse a lack of communication
with a lack of care, structure, or awareness.
Because those are not the same thing.
End of the day:
She didn’t run away into danger.
She relocated…
to Grandma’s.
We’ll take that outcome.
Even if the process gets a firm 0/10 for communication.

02/14/2026

Bex Diary: Facts Are Not Fear
Autism is not a safety threat.
Emotional dysregulation is not abuse.
And difficulty returning to baseline does not equal danger to others.
Let’s separate fact from narrative.
A neurodivergent child may experience intense emotions. They may require additional structure, therapeutic support, or supervision. That is called special needs. It is not called instability.
Intensity does not equal violence.
Diagnosis does not equal risk.
What destabilizes children is not exposure to a sibling with support needs. What destabilizes children is fear-based framing, adult conflict, and the suggestion that disability is something to be afraid of.
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.” — 2 Timothy 1:7
One child’s medical or therapeutic information is private. It is not a prerequisite for another child’s parenting time. It is not leverage. It is not a condition that must be satisfied to allow a relationship to continue.
Boundaries around protected information are not secrecy. They are appropriate.
Withholding a child because answers are demanded about matters outside one’s legal authority is not protective. It is punitive.
Autism does not cause mental harm to a household.
Prejudice and misrepresentation do.
“My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.” — Hosea 4:6
Compassion is informed.
Protection is proportional.
And responsible parenting does not require access to information that is not yours to manage.
We will continue operating from fact, structure, and appropriate confidentiality — not fear.
— Bex

02/11/2026

BEX DIARY: We Don’t Hoard Love Over Here
Jax is headed to his dad’s ex-wife’s house after school to play with his niece.
Yes.
Read that again slowly.
Dad’s.
Ex.
Wife.
And later this week?
All of my children are having dinner with my ex-husband.
None of them biologically his.
All of them still welcomed.
We rock blending on my side.
Now — has it always been seamless?
No.
We are humans, not a Hallmark movie.
There were seasons.
There were learning curves.
There were personalities involved.
But here’s what there has never been:
Sabotage.
Weaponized access.
Mental-health panic theatrics for leverage.
Or adults using children as bargaining chips.
Jax’s dad’s ex-wife and I?
Oh, we’ve had our moments.
Strong women tend to.
She can be difficult.
I can be direct.
We’ve both earned our stripes.
But here’s the difference:
She has never destabilized her own children to gain control.
She has never interfered with relationships to make a point.
She has never confused ego with protection.
That’s maturity.
You don’t have to adore each other to co-exist like adults.
You just have to love the kids more than you love being right.
My ex-husband?
He operates more like a wealthy uncle who appears annually with fantastic gifts and grand adventures.
No demands.
No control issues.
No rewriting history.
Just, “Hey kids, I care about you.”
And because no one feels threatened, it works.
Healthy homes don’t panic when children have multiple safe relationships.
They don’t tighten their grip.
They don’t start counting loyalty points.
They expand.
When a house is stable, kids are allowed to love freely.
When adults are stable, they don’t need to control who gets that love.
Blending isn’t chaos when the foundation is secure.
It’s abundance.
We don’t hoard love over here.
We don’t compete for it.
We don’t ration it like it’s scarce.
There is more than enough.
📖 “Let all that you do be done in love.” — 1 Corinthians 16:14
📖 “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” — Mark 3:25
And if it’s standing?
That tells you something.

02/11/2026

BEX DIARY: If It’s Not Yours, Why Pick It Up?
I made a metaphor the other day.
No names.
No tags.
No coordinates.
Just a general observation about parasites.
How they attach.
How they irritate.
How they create gas, stink, and general turmoil for the host —
all while insisting they’re just “there to help.”
Totally neutral.
And yet…
It’s amazing how fast some people start adjusting their shoes when nothing was laid at their feet.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
If something doesn’t belong to you, you don’t rush to claim it.
If a description doesn’t fit you, you don’t feel it tug.
If you’re not the character in the story, you don’t start rewriting the plot.
Secure people scroll past.
Insecure ones start reorganizing the stage.
Especially when spaces exist that they don’t control.
When conversations happen without their editing pen.
When narratives might breathe on their own.
Suddenly, the environment feels… unsafe.
Not because anything changed —
but because control might have.
And control is a funny thing.
It’s loud when it’s slipping.
Parasites don’t like light.
They prefer hosts that don’t ask questions.
📖 “The wicked flee when no one pursues.” — Proverbs 28:1
📖 “For everyone who does evil hates the light.” — John 3:20
📖 “By their fruit you will recognize them.” — Matthew 7:16
Now, I didn’t call anyone out.
But if you felt personally addressed by a metaphor that had no name attached…
If the boot fits, lace it up and wear it.
📌 I simply describe ecosystems. Reactions identify species.

02/09/2026

Bex Diary: Parasites (The Body Keeps Receipts)
So apparently I had a parasite.
Tiny. Uninvited. Thrives by taking what it didn’t earn.
Consumes nutrients meant for the body.
Leaves behind gas, bloating, cramps, and an unmistakable stink.
Nothing fatal—just constant discomfort, inflammation, and the exhausting feeling that something is off.
Which feels… familiar.
Because parasites don’t just take resources—they disrupt the entire system.
They create chaos in places that were functioning just fine.
They make the host look like the problem while quietly causing the turmoil.
Gaslighting, but biological.
And what’s wild is how the symptoms show up in the host, not the parasite.
The parasite feeds.
The host bloats.
The parasite survives.
The host pays the price.
Biblically speaking, this isn’t new.
“If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat.”
2 Thessalonians 3:10
Parasites hate that verse.
It interferes with their lifestyle.
They also hate exposure—because light makes it obvious what’s causing the smell.
“For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor anything concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open.”
Luke 8:17
A healthy body eventually notices the pattern:
– Repeated turmoil
– No contribution
– Endless consumption
– And the audacity to be offended when boundaries appear
And here’s the thing—even scripture understands biology.
“Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots.”
Matthew 15:13
So yes. I’m cleansing.
Because the body knows when something doesn’t belong.
No drama.
No revenge.
Just refusing to host what creates stink, stress, and stomachaches in the name of survival.
“Do not be deceived: God is not mocked. For whatever one sows, that will he also reap.”
Galatians 6:7
Healing looks like removing what causes constant discomfort—
even when that thing insists it can’t survive without you.
The Lord is always watching.
And so is the body.

02/04/2026

Bex Post
I’ve been thinking about this fascination people have with my very boring life, and I think I’ve cracked the code.
When someone has a full schedule — a job that actually requires showing up, responsibilities that don’t pause for gossip, bills that don’t care about feelings, and a life that produces something of value — they tend to be… busy. Occupied. Focused outward on what they’re building instead of inward on what other people are doing.
When someone doesn’t?
Well. They need a hobby.
Apparently, my household has become that hobby.
What keeps getting framed as “concern” isn’t concern at all. Concern is active, productive, and proportional. This is commentary. Endless commentary. The kind that requires free time, disposable energy, and a remarkable lack of pressing obligations.
It’s amazing how much mental bandwidth becomes available when you’re not working full-time, not building anything profitable, and not particularly accountable to outcomes. When life isn’t demanding much of you, you can afford to sit around theorizing about other people’s routines, conversations, and perfectly uneventful days.
We, on the other hand, are busy doing radical things — like working, parenting, paying our own bills, and living quietly. No grants. No handouts. No parents subsidizing adulthood. Just boring responsibility and the audacity to enjoy it.
Scripture actually covers this phenomenon pretty well: “For we hear that some among you walk in idleness… not busy at work, but busybodies” (2 Thessalonians 3:11). Ancient text. Modern accuracy.
When your own life lacks structure, purpose, or forward motion, obsession starts to feel like involvement. Surveillance starts to feel like relevance. Control masquerades as care. And suddenly, other people’s homes feel far more interesting than tending your own.
There is nothing happening here. No crisis to solve. No scandal to uncover. No moral high ground to patrol. Just a quiet, functional household minding its own business — which, oddly enough, seems to offend people who can’t.
There’s a name for this gravitational pull toward lives that are stable, busy, and self-sustaining.
It’s a Bexus.
B-E-X.
And no — I’m not impressed. I’m employed.
I’ll keep choosing boring. Boring pays the bills. Boring raises kids. Boring doesn’t need an audience. And “a faithful man will abound with blessings, but whoever hastens to be rich” — or relevant, or righteous by commentary — “will not go unpunished” (Proverbs 28:20).
Some people build lives.
Some people watch them.
And some people confuse watching with authority.
I’ll stay busy over here. Others can keep talking.

02/04/2026

Bex Post: Legacy
I’ve been quietly fascinated by this for a while now, so let’s just follow the thought all the way through.
What happens to people when the thing they’ve centered their entire identity around… ends?
Not dramatically.
Not explosively.
Just slowly. Naturally. Inevitably.
When the house isn’t full anymore.
When there aren’t multiple children to manage, monitor, fuss over, schedule, reschedule, and emotionally hover around.
When there’s no longer a daily excuse to be deeply involved in everyone else’s lives under the banner of “concern.”
What happens then?
Because for some people, parenting was never a season — it was the substitute. The substitute for work. For direction. For independence. For building something that exists outside of other human beings.
And seasons end.
Kids grow up. Custody arrangements change. Programs expire. Assistance runs out. And eventually the scaffolding gets pulled away. Not as punishment — just as reality.
And when that happens, what’s left?
No routine that wasn’t centered on someone else.
No income that wasn’t supplemented.
No identity that wasn’t borrowed.
Just a lot of time. And no structure.
There’s a difference between raising children and living through them. Between stewardship and dependency. Between guidance and control. One produces adults. The other produces panic when the audience leaves.
Scripture actually has thoughts about this — “Anyone unwilling to work should not eat” (2 Thessalonians 3:10), which isn’t cruelty, it’s dignity. It assumes adults are capable. It assumes contribution matters. It assumes dependence isn’t a personality trait.
And yet here we are.
When someone hasn’t built a life that stands on its own, obsession becomes a coping mechanism. Watching other households. Talking about other routines. Fixating on other people’s choices. Control starts to masquerade as concern, because real concern knows when to step back — control never does.
What fascinates me most is how quiet, stable, boring lives seem to attract the most attention from people who don’t have one of their own. As if boredom elsewhere requires commentary here.
I love boring. Boring is self-sustaining. Boring doesn’t need subsidies or spectators. Boring pays its bills, raises its kids, and goes to bed without checking what everyone else is doing.
“Better is a little with righteousness than great revenues with injustice” (Proverbs 16:8). Better dignity than dependence. Better purpose than preoccupation.
Children are a gift — not a lifelong occupation.
Concern is healthy — control is corrosive.
And when the last distraction disappears, the only thing left is the life you actually built.
Some people prepare for that moment.
Some people fear it.
And some people spend an awful lot of time trying not to think about it at all.
I’ll be over here, enjoying my boring little life.
It ages well.

01/28/2026

Bex Diary: Consent, Indiana Edition
Here’s the thing about Indiana parenting time:
it does not require a parent to sit in a holding pattern forever, waiting for permission that keeps expiring.
That’s not rebellion.
That’s just reading.
This wasn’t a medical decision.
It wasn’t diagnostic.
It wasn’t medication.
It wasn’t treatment.
It wasn’t an emergency dressed up as urgency.
It was relational counseling.
A father and a son.
A neutral professional.
During parenting time.
To fix a relationship that everyone agrees needs fixing.
Wild concept.
“Plans succeed with counsel.” — Proverbs 20:18
Indiana seems to agree.
At first, it was a yes.
Not a happy yes — a managed yes.
A yes with conditions.
Insurance questions.
Scheduling questions.
Provider questions.
Location questions.
Activity questions.
More questions about the questions.
All answered.
Repeatedly.
And then the yes started to wobble.
The conditions changed.
Then changed again.
Then again.
Every time things got close to actually happening, the bar moved.
Every time communication occurred, it was declared insufficient.
Every time resolution approached, consent quietly reset itself.
Until the day of the session.
That’s when the yes officially became a no.
Not because anything new happened.
Not because information was missing.
Not because harm suddenly appeared.
But because more communication was required — indefinitely.
“Let your ‘Yes’ be yes, and your ‘No,’ no.” — Matthew 5:37
Apparently, Indiana and Scripture both missed the memo about “yes, but not today.”
Here’s what Indiana parenting time does not require:
perpetual approval,
endless renegotiation,
or consent that can be revoked on loop until nothing ever happens.
Absent harm.
Absent emergency.
Absent a court order saying otherwise.
Repairing a parent-child relationship with professional support during parenting time is not interference.
It is, inconveniently, parenting.
“For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace.” — 1 Corinthians 14:33
The confusion didn’t come from counseling.
It came from agreement that never ripened into permission.
So yes — there was a yes.
And yes — that yes eventually became a no.
Not because communication failed,
but because control depends on delay.
And delay, apparently, has no expiration date.
The good news is this:
Indiana doesn’t run on vibes.
It runs on reason.
There will be a session.
And this time, the yes doesn’t need to be babysat.
—
Bex
Keeper of Receipts
Student of Scripture
Reader of the Guidelines
Still Allergic to “Yes, But”

01/27/2026

Bex’s Diary
Ah yes. The noble art of not deciding.
Because if I don’t choose, then technically nothing is happening, right?
I’m not moving forward.
I’m not moving backward.
I’m just… waiting.
Very mature. Very enlightened. Very fake.
Let’s get theoretical for a moment.
In game theory, in physics, in theology—inaction is still an action. Neutrality is a myth we tell ourselves so we can stay comfortable while pretending we’re being thoughtful. The universe does not recognize “I’ll circle back.” Time only recognizes movement or decay.
And scripture? Scripture is not subtle about this.
“Choose this day whom you will serve.” — Joshua 24:15
Not tomorrow. Not once I feel less uncomfortable. This day.
But somehow I’ve convinced myself that indecision is wisdom. That stalling is discernment. That if I just hover long enough, clarity will descend like a dove and absolve me of responsibility.
Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.
“A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways.” — James 1:8
Unstable. Not cautious. Not discerning. Unstable.
There’s also this gem:
“Because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I will spit you out of my mouth.” — Revelation 3:16
Which, frankly, is scripture’s way of saying: commit or get out of the way.
But here’s the part no one likes to admit: indecision feels safe. If I don’t decide, I can’t be wrong. If I don’t commit, I can’t fail. If I don’t choose, I don’t have to own the consequences. I get to stay in the illusion of potential instead of risking reality.
Very efficient. Zero growth. Ten out of ten for self-deception.
The theory is simple:
All systems move toward entropy unless acted upon.
That includes lives.
Stalling doesn’t preserve possibility—it slowly kills it. Comfort calcifies. Fear dresses itself up as patience. And suddenly years pass, and I’m shocked—shocked—that nothing has changed.
“Where there is no vision, the people perish.” — Proverbs 29:18
Perish doesn’t always mean dramatic collapse. Sometimes it just means slowly rotting in place while calling it “being realistic.”
So let’s strip the excuses down to their bones.
Not choosing is choosing:
Familiar misery over uncertain growth
Safety over calling
Comfort over obedience
And maybe the most offensive truth of all?
God isn’t waiting on clarity.
He’s waiting on courage.
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.” — 2 Timothy 1:7
A sound mind. Not a stalled one.
So yes—by refusing to decide, I have decided. I’ve chosen the path of least resistance and then acted surprised when it led exactly nowhere.
The question isn’t whether I’m making a decision.
The question is:
Am I choosing life…
or just choosing to stay comfortable enough to avoid responsibility?
Because time will happily make the choice for me.
And it is ruthless about the outcome.

Diary of a woman who did not sign up for this plotline

03/23/2026

02/14/2026

02/11/2026

02/11/2026

02/09/2026

02/04/2026

02/04/2026

01/28/2026

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