2019 Published Articles by Terri Rimmer

 

 The last time I saw you hangs in the form of a dress on my bedroom door. Dec. 2018 - your high school graduation. The last time I saw your face, spoke to you, if you can call it that, though we didn't really have a conversation because you were (are) still mad at me, justifiably so since I broke your trust - something I swore I would never do. The fucshia dress I wore to your winter graduation still hangs there as a symbol of loss, memories, embarrassment, regret, hope, (your middle name), and hopelessness. I can't put it away for two reasons - my closet in the master bedroom has an underground water leak so there's a horrible damp smell there. And my two closets in the spare room are full. But I don't really want to put it away. Though it has been gathering dust, I keep it there as a reminder of when we last saw each other, that I got to see you graduate from high school after all you went through with your health for sixteen years, when, I believe, God chose to heal

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Aug. 5, 2020 Dear McKenna: On Aug. 15 you'll turn 20 which doesn't seem possible at all, much like everything that has happened this year has seemed that way. When I think and reflect upon the last 20 years and compare them to some of my fellow birth moms who also went through Gladney with me, our stories are different, yet the same. Some went on to have other kids and be single moms, successful, or get married. One went on to get married and have a big family. One got married, had more kids, and sees her kids frequently. Ashley, the one who made your baby blanket you went home in, got married, had a son, and reunited with her birth daughter at Christmas for the first time. As you start your sophomore year of college, I am in awe of who you have become these 20 years.  When I was getting ready to do the same thing, I was attending what is now the University of West Georgia, moving into Downs Hall and my roommate was this polished girl named Robin. My friends and I in the dorm u

Every day since 1992 has been a fight for air, something so many people take for granted, including some of my former friends who I have lost due to not understanding my chronic condition. They don't understand that me being hospitalized nine times for asthma since 1992 means I can't be around smokers, not because I'm a snob, but because it's life or death. This fight to breathe is an every day thing for me and I always have to worry if I'll have enough money to get my inhalers, which has been going on since my 20s. I was officially diagnosed with asthma at 26 close to my first hospitalization but I was suffering from it at age 12 and actually I found out recently that my disease goes back as far as age three when my mom used to put Vapor Rub on me to help me breathe. The only people who know the terror of the possibility of running out of  your inhaler or the panic of getting your nebulizer hooked up in time are those who suffer from asthma and other lung

By Terri Rimmer I managed to stay sober almost seven years, my original sobriety date being Oct. 20, 1988, thanks in part I think because I moved in with my sober sister who made sure I went to meetings.  I got a job, a sponsor, and connected with women in the program, a lot of whom included my sister's friends. It was a long time before the physical and mental craving for drinking went away. But the first five years of my sobriety were miserable because although I worked some steps, I was still acting out in one of my addictions that I had struggled with while in treatment and I wasn't willing to give it up. This other addiction cost me just as much if not more as my drinking did. I still wouldn't let go of my rage or forgive my parents and I actually loved my anger and being in control. I still struggled with God and I was all about image. I did a lot of sponsor hopping and I thought that since I was popular at my home group that was all that mattered. I put