Hello all!
I’m Destany—single mom to two beautiful, smart, and just-the-right-amount-of-sassy girls who are officially entering their tween era. (Pray for me. Send snacks.)
I’m a small-town girl who’s done a little wandering but always finds her way back home—mostly because my family is here, and let’s be honest, I wouldn’t survive long without them. These days, life looks like working three jobs, homeschooling my little nuggets, and trying to keep everything from completely falling apart… all while juggling mental and physical health like it’s some kind of extreme sport. I’m actually writing this “About Me” in between jobs, so if it feels a little chaotic—that’s on brand.
At one point, I lived in this beautiful little town in Washington. Think cool weather, endless rain, and more greenery than my Arizona soul knew what to do with. One day, I needed to run to the gas station (as one does), so I pulled up my maps and set off down these winding roads lined with red cedars and Douglas-firs, country music playing like I was in a movie.
Then—plot twist.
I glanced down at my map for a second, looked back up, and saw what I thought was a black rope in the road. Naturally, I swerved… but not enough. Time slowed down, my heart stopped, and suddenly that “rope” turned out to be a downed power line… now tangled in my axle.
Cue the chaos.
There was a loud boom, flames started licking up the side of my van, and I did what any reasonable person would do—I threw it in park and yeeted myself out of the vehicle, trying to land with both feet together like my life depended on it (because, apparently, it did).
Next thing I know, I’m sitting in the back of a firetruck, rain starting to fall, watching firefighters peel a melted power line off my car like it’s a bad DIY project. They told me I was lucky to be alive.
And honestly? They weren’t wrong.
Moments like that have a way of waking you up. It’s so easy to get stuck in survival mode, buried under the day-to-day chaos, forgetting how fragile and wild and incredible life really is.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I’ve got a lot to work on (hot mess is a lifestyle at this point), but I’m ready. Ready to heal, to grow, and to write the next chapter of my story… probably with a soda in one hand and a kid yelling “Momma!” in the background.
Thanks for being here—this is going to be a ride.