Generation Wise

Reminiscing the lessons taught while planting colorful life into the garden…

Reminiscing the wisdom embedded into every drop of ink that resides behind my right ear…

Remember, that while one should work hard building their career, remember to take time to have fun. For when you’re 80, sitting on your front porch sipping on that iced tea, you want to have endless memories not endless regret…

Reminiscing every time I dug too far inside my head as the doctors chose their choice of scalpel, yet you were there to calm my young mental anxiety…

Reminiscing trips to the beach. Every sun filled day and bonfire filled sunset. Sand, ocean and family. The place I said farewell to you, the place I go to talk to you…

Reminiscing the times spent sneaking off to the “hardware store” to enjoy a scoop of butter pecan…

Reminiscing holidays, tutoring my mind with Algebra and your date nut pinwheel Christmas cookies…

Remembering that day you left this planet, an illness riddled body that Cancer attacked while Parkinson’s shook your bones…

Remembering the angered tears that drained from my broken heart as the family said their goodbyes…

Now, today…eleven years and I take today to pay tribute to you, a legend that was my best friend…

A life lived as a Son..Brother..Friend..Soldier in the Navy..Husband..Father..Businessman..Grandfather..Wise Legend.

Find your grandparents or someone of age, pay some respect for the path that they paved..for life they were dedicated, now that should be celebrated…

-Twenty One Pilots

The “S” Word

This life is definitely not for the faint at heart. This life is a whirlwind of luminosity and darkness, however when that darkness sneaks in it becomes all we can see. The light seems burnt out and we feel as though there’s nothing left, that we have nothing left in us. This life, in all of its beautiful chaos, is worth living. 💛

Never silence someone’s depression, anxiety or suicidal thoughts. I understand that these topics may be uncomfortable for you to discuss, but please remember…your discomfort is our reality…your discomfort doesn’t outweigh our lives.

Talk…listen…support. 💛

I know who I truly am, I truly do have a chance…I’m fairly local, I’ve been around, I’ve seen the streets you’re walkin’ down… -Twenty One Pilots

2 Months…Holy Shit.

Great title right…I thought so too.

The last two months have been a blurred whirlwind. This dream of becoming a brilliant writer who’s story is shared around the world, who’s story may make a difference in how our society thinks…it’s been a ride to say the least. The current publisher I am with has been next to no help in keeping their part of the contract up, so a decision had to be made.

Two weeks ago as I was washing off the day in the shower, as the vanilla suds washed away I took my five minutes. Five minutes to allow the hot downpour to cancel out the sound of tears streaming down my freckled cheeks. Five minutes to allow the anxiety to fill my head with every self bullying comment to break me down. Five minutes to allow this depressional storm to finish drowning my confidence. And, then in the last few seconds of self destruction, a decision…quit or fight?

Now I excel at many things, however, quitting has never been one of those things. For whatever reason, no matter how deeply I want to quit, I can’t. It’s as if I’m programmed to keep fighting, even in the moments that I want to wave the white flag. Over the years I have learned that this is both a blessing and a giant pain in the ass aspect.

That same night, while getting lost in a carton of Ben & Jerry’s mint cookie ice cream, my mind made its mental list of pros and cons…one definitely out weighing the other.

These next two months, starting from last Sunday to Nov 2nd, will deliver another whirlwind. In these next two months I will be celebrating my baby bros 22nd bday (this Friday). He has gone from a total punk to an amazing man in the last couple of years. I’m so proud of him. My Mom’s and sister’s bdays are also in September, its pretty much bday palooza for the Sabo’s. I myself will be embarking in breaking ties with my current publisher and hopefully finding a new one, a genuine and honest one…fingers crossed. I’ll also be finishing my current manuscript while starting my first fictional story (I’m scared as shit, but also excited). This insane month will end in one word…Epic. As I will be at the Fall Out Boy concert featuring Machine Gun Kelly. I attended the first round of the Mania tour last year so it’s only appropriate that I attend round two.

In October there will be more bdays to celebrate and on the 15th I will go dark, 24 hours of going off of the grid (this day will mark 11 years since my Popee passed). Then Halloween will spook it’s way in. I do love spooks.

Two days after all Hallows day flys in and out will mark my bday. Yep, on November 2nd I will be turning 34…holy shit. It’s not the number that causes me to momentarily stop breathing, it’s the thought of “how have I made it this far?”. From the kid who wasn’t supposed to live past the age of 14 to attempting suicide at the age of 17. At 22 (two weeks before my 23rd bday) I lost my Popee to cancer. That next year I was so angry, sad…I stopped eating and found myself at rock bottom, again. At 26 I met a guy that I thought was “the one” only to realize that I was involved with a villain portraying a nice guy facade. One toxic relationship. At 28 I became sick with Bronchitis, 4 months of constantly praying “kill me now. Seriously, I’m ready”. Then at the age of 29, two months before turning the big 30, I found out that I was sick, to the point of literally baffling the doctors as to how I was still alive. Mind numbing terms were being thrown at me, “heart attack, organs shutting down, transfusions, hospital”. No good news exists before you’ve had your morning coffee. After that appointment, I found myself on the side of the car in a Denny’s parking lot fearing death for the first time in my life.

And here I am, two weeks from that mind numbing day of believing that I was finished…here I am, two months away from out living that original death statistic by 20 years. Like I said…

2 months…holy shit.

If I can live through this, I can do anything… -Fall Out Boy

From Me to You 🖤

Hey guys, hope you’re having an awesome day, afternoon or night. I thought I’d share an excerpt from my book with you. Below is part of the opening letter that I have written to you, the reader. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to share your thoughts. 🖤

**How y’all doin’? Perfectly imperfect I hope. Well, I come to you today because I have a favor to ask of you. I need you to do me a kindness. Don’t worry, it won’t take up much of your time and it doesn’t cost a single shiny Lincoln, however, it does require a few ounces of brain power and an open space in your heart. I have a story for you… Yes, I know what you’re thinking, “Oh great, another book about a nobody’s life. A tale of how a nobody had a great childhood then hit a pot hole or two while growing up, but in the end found herself and had a happily ever after.” Well congrats, you are 50% correct. This is indeed a tale of a nobody’s life, however, the bits about finding herself and having a happily ever are slightly off. My tale is about a young girl born with an unwanted label cemented onto her forehead, a label that cast a beautiful curse upon her heart. Do you know what it feels like to be a happy kid and then to have that rug pulled from under your feet? To go from feeling broken to damaged to completely worthless in one swift motion? How about wanting so much to fit in that it starts to break you down into a reflection that your 20/20 vision can no longer make out? To be marked as “different”?

I have a story to tell you, a story filled with happiness drowned out by brokenness, sprinkled with darkness and topped with a delicious suicide attempt. Served alongside is a refreshing shot of completely losing one’s self, ending in rebuilding an underdog to become an invincible version of a beautifully imperfect human.

So here we are; just you and I sitting in a cozy place getting ready for the story that I have to tell. Now whether you listen or not is your decision…

I’m just a problem that doesn’t wanna be solved… -Fall Out Boy

So here I am sharing a few shining pieces of these letters about the people that protect my stitched scars. Embrace its honesty and pass on its contagiousness.**


Beating Flatline

The latter part of the year is nearing. Summer is phasing out as Autumn begins to slowly sneak in. September through the new year is my favorite season, from birthdays to the holidays, something about this time of the year makes my heart glow as if Christmas lights were strung around it.

A sense of magic is embedded into the crisp Autumn and Winter atmosphere, I’m grinning just thinking about it.

However, this part of the year also has a few “hold back the tears” dates sprinkled in. These dates, once heartbreaking, now represent a content nostalgia. Two anniversaries, one of life and one of death.

Your life is not your own, keep your hands off of it… -Sherlock Holmes

September 23rd will mark four years since that day I found myself sitting on the sand processing my test results along with the sentence, “I don’t know how it is that you’re still alive…” as the sun glowed a bright pink behind those purple cotton candy clouds…the day I found myself reminiscing down memory lane then pondering about all of the dreams that I hadn’t breathed life into yet, all of these glowing bulbs in my head that hadn’t yet been plugged in…the day I allowed tears to gush down my cheeks as my heart was drinking in the realization that it would never find its mate, that a genuine love would never be found, that a family would never be born in the future…the day I contemplated between once again fighting for my life or calling Grim to let him know that I’m ready to permanently sleep.

What is a beautiful life without a beautiful death… -MGK

I continue to contemplate if what I read is true, if in some cases we aren’t given another day of life for ourselves, but because someone out there in this chaotically beautiful world needs us. While I no longer want to end my own life, I did stop fighting for myself long ago. An unknown force keeps my lifeline beeping, I believe that I’m fighting for someone else, I just wish I knew who. This does indeed keep me up with the moon.

October 15th marks eleven years since my Popee passed away. The big “C” spread its toxic cells throughout his liver, taking him much too soon. However, my Popee also had Parkinson’s which was rapidly growing. That first year of him being gone fed my anger emotion, in a time where I needed him most he was taken away. Shit, two weeks after his death was hard, the feeling that was racing through my entire body as I read the birthday card he had set aside for me is a feeling that is indescribable. Oct. 15th flatline…Nov. 2nd “Happy 23rd Birthday kiddo!”. The bday money that was placed in that card could only be spent one way, at our favorite place, the ice cream shop.

Every Oct. 15th I smile as I flip through old photos. Frozen moments that have captured every adventure, from the beach to Disneyland. Every Nov. 2nd I order an ice cream, cheers to you Popee.

It’s been a long day without you my friend and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again… Wiz Khalifa

Yeah, I do love this time of the year. It has a magic embedded into the atmosphere. A flatline that’s still beating being watched over by a beautiful soul.

Four Years Ago

Four years ago…

Sitting here on the cooling sands, watching the sun kiss the moon goodnight, a fleet of memories and realities slam my mind. As the breeze calls for my hoodie to cover my chilled bones, these tears begin to trickle down my freckled cheeks. The thought of my demise never bothered me, this type of life that was cursed upon me includes death as a forefront thought that never takes a break. Yet here I am, shivering at the thought that death has finally kissed my forehead.

My past flashing by, the memories of birthdays and holidays spiral by. Watergun fights, family Bbq’s, endless beach trips, graduations, family game nights, concerts and hockey games.

Past scars temporarily unstitching themselves causing flashes of surgeries, bullies and dark times that tried to break me and damn near did.

I survived. Everything the world hurled at me and here I am still dancing.

Then my mind shifted to all the future beautiful moments I’m never going to witness.

Sharing my story with others, being their jumpsuits. Turning up the volume in ending the stigma that continues to stifle the suicidal hearts. I had plans…

Is the toxicity of my last relationship going to be what I have to try and consider love?

I’m never going to find true love, to have that day of saying “I do” to my “Jack” in front of our family and close friends…I’ll never have kids, to see them grow up, smile as they wake Christmas morning, to make pancakes with them on weekends, to watch them fall in love with the beach while enjoying an gooey s’more and bonfires. I’ll never get to cheer them on at their sports games, school plays, graduations. I’ll never get to spoil them on their birthdays or hand over those keys when they get their license.

The thought of watching my kids find their soulmates, having families of their own and being the Grandma who gets to spoil her grandkids is fading with every tear. The wish of sitting on the front porch with my partner when we’re 80 years old, sipping tea and remenicsing down memory lane was vastly slipping into the land of the forgotten.

These dreams of mine hung in the balance right beside these decisions I need to sign, seal and deliver.

Do I pull myself back into the world I swore I’d never reenter?

Do I do morph, fight and conquer once again? Do I have enough energy, enough will to do so?

What if this battle isn’t victorious…all the research I’ve done (from dietary changes to vitamins, supplements) what if it fails. Do I cave to professionals or do I punch out (PAS) while I’m still myself?

Every memory played in my mind like the most beautifully intense movie I’ve ever seen.

Every broken dream flickered in my eyes.


Four years later…turns out this world and I aren’t finished with one another yet…

Perhaps that kiss from death was for good luck in the future…

Everytime I think I’m done, something pulls me back in…

I just wish I knew what that something is because I’d like to say thank you…

I’ll be right there, but you’ll have to grab my throat and lift me in the air…if you need anyone… -Twenty One Pilots

29 to Death

I won’t ever forget that morning, that moment won’t ever fade from Memory Lane… why… because that was the morning, the moment when I actually feared death.

This mind of mine has had it’s fair share of fears, most conquered, a few not so much. But, death…that was one aspect on life I never feared, most likely due to the life I was dealt coming into this world. If anything I had always focused on the underlying humor of death, I mean c’mon, none of us make it out alive anyways. If nothing else there are two absolutes that are iron solid in this life, birth and death. Everything else sandwiched in between is question marks.

That morning though, there’s a certain realness that rushes through your veins as you picture your nonexistence. I have only been under the weather a few times growing up and into adulthood, but this time something was off, something felt very wrong. Reluctantly I had my doc run a blood test and sure enough I was right. Damn, the one time I wanted to be wrong.

8:30 am…sitting at the doctor’s office waiting to be called in. Empty stomach and caffeine level at zero, I sat anxiously trying to distract myself with conversation. My parents accompanied me to this appointment for support and then we were going to grab some breakfast after. Before long my name was called and now I found myself still anxiously waiting but in a much colder atmosphere. (Quick tangent, why are doctors offices so cold? Seriously, its summer and I need a parka while I wait.)

With all the doc appointments I’ve had over the years I have never seen that perplexed of a facial expression on any doc’s face than I saw that day. She didn’t know how to start, she didn’t know how to exactly ease the info she had into her “Good morning Derra.”. Admittedly, I wasn’t anywhere prepared for the words that spilled from her mouth. “We ran the test several times to ensure the results were accurate. Your iron level is so low that I honestly can’t explain as to how you’re, well, still alive. I am truly baffled. Any normal person would have most likely gone through the stages of their organs shutting down and then go into cardiac arrest. Yet, here you are, breathing and with color in your cheeks no less.”.

Now I’m going to be honest here, I was amused by the fact that no one could explain how I was still breathing. In my head I’m thinking to myself, “I should be dead, but I’m not and the experts can’t explain how or why, holy shit.” However, that amusement ended abruptly as my ears heard the words, “cardiac arrest”, “iron tranfusions”, “steroid shots”, “hospital”. My mind blanked out everything else.

In shock and trying to at least absorb a few pieces of info that were just stated, I got into the car with my parents and off we went to go grab breakfast. As we arrived at the restaurant and got out of the car, my body froze. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, all I could do was cry and all my body could do was tremble. There I was standing next to the car in a Denny’s parking lot scared to death that this was the end. Take note guys, nothing good happens before coffee and pancakes. Nothing.

After some composure was captured I had breakfast with my parents, we talked and then I spent that entire weekend researching. I researched everything, from dietary changes to vitamins to even a PAS as a worse case scenario. After two days of staring at a glowing laptop screen my vision was blurred and my mind was racing. I needed a break, I needed to breathe. So, I went to my happy place…the beach. There is nothing more therapeutic than sand and ocean. There I was able to breathe, to clear my head and figure things out.

If this was truly it for me, if my time here on earth was over then there was only one step to finish, I needed to write letters. Four letters to be exact, Ma’…Dad…Lu…Zac.

Headphones on, tunes blasting, notebook and pen in hand…here we go. These letters were the last step because I already had beneficiary papers filled out and signed. Even had a DNR signed in my medical records, just in case. Once I turned 18 I took care of these things because, well, you just never know.

Writing those four letters were even more therapeutic and so I continued to write. Before I knew it those letters snowballed, writing one to my past self, my future self, other family members, friends, my future hubby (why not, right) and even my biological father.

It’s crazy, but death inspired those letters…and even though it was my Ma’ who suggested I turn the letters into a book, death inspired that to. In a fleeting moment of fearing death for the first time in my life, I found a new beginning. I was nervous submitting Dear You out to different publications. I can’t tell you how many times Lose Yourself by Eminem played on my phone, seriously I lost track. But, in the end it was picked up and now here I am, an author of a book. A book about my life and my favorite humans. Here I am healthier than I’ve ever been, so healthy in fact that it’s sickening, it really is. 😜

I too am baffled as to how I’ve survived everything I’ve gone through, physically and mentally, in this life. I’m even more baffled as to how I survived that defining moment in my life and there are times, especially during that infamous 2 am hour, when I struggle with the unknown as to why I’m still living. It can’t be for myself because, maybe I’ll keep the rest of that thought to myself. Am I still here residing on this earth for something else? Someone else?

Ahhh, it’s already 2:41 in the morning, I should try and catch a few zzz’s.

Death, it’s funny.

Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit… -Twenty One Pilots