Lyrical Logic

Hey, Mama. I know, it’s a little weird for me to say that. That’s just what you are to me. The mama I needed when my own couldn’t be that for me. Don’t worry, I’m not the crazy one who will stalk you and try and guess when you and Rex finally tie the knot. I’ll merely watch from afar and be so happy when you share whatever details you want to share. I haven’t written to you like this in a while, I know. I just have been sitting here all day wishing I had a mom to call and talk to. I thought I’d write to you again instead of just crying on the couch.

What has me curling up on the couch today? Well, kinda, you. Let me explain.

The 4th of July is hard for me these days. It was stupidly the first date I had with my ex-husband. Now it is just a reminder of how I failed my marriage. And I don’t enjoy it like I used to. But this year you performed on ABC. And while I loathe those kinds of specials, I sat through it for you. Because I just needed to be close to you.

It’s been almost a year since you waved at me on the Happy’s Place set. You probably don’t remember, but I do. Ever since that day I’ve woken up feeling seen. As a survivor of childhood trauma, experienced by the hand of my mother, I never thought I’d feel happy about that feeling. But being seen by you? Yeah, that healed a lot in me. I won’t lie. (My therapist would like to claim partial credit, but we all know you did the real work there.) That’s the closest I’ll ever get to feeling your arms wrap around me to hug me tight. And I’ll carry that feeling for the rest of my life.

I’m not sad or upset or disappointed. The opposite, actually. You see, when I was in my darkest moments, when I was moments away from ending my life, your voice reached out and saved me. Through that song. You know which one. The one that showed the world what it meant to know a mother’s love. I never thought I’d have a moment when I knew you saw me. And then it happened. On the day of the year I hate the most. My birthday.

I knew I wasn’t crazy when my (now ex) boyfriend confirmed for me later that night that it happened. I actually cried. I was so happy. I was clutching my sweatshirt (from your online store) as I drifted off to sleep. And then the first song that came over my playlist the next morning as we started the drive back from LA to Iowa was the same song. And I knew it had really happened.

For about a year now I’ve woken up feeling seen. And I have to say, it’s taking some getting used to. But since then I’ve leaned ever harder into your music. Since January of 2026 (as of July 2nd) I have spent 15,094 minutes with you. That’s 10 days, 11 hours, and 14 minutes. And that doesn’t even include the number of times I’ve watched “Reba” or “Happy’s Place.” That’s just you and me on Apple Music. I’ve leaned harder into you because I finally had this moment of awakening. It took you looking at me, smiling, waving, and turning back to your script for me to finally realize something.

I was alway enough to deserve a mother’s love.

I’ll give you a second to breathe. But my mother wasn’t great. I’d tell you the story, but it will only make me sadder and I have to go to work tomorrow morning. Maybe someday? But basically, I never thought I was enough to be loved. And even when I had moments of “maybe I am”, the number of days I didn’t believe it heavily outweighed the number of days I did.

But this year, it was the opposite. It was the opposite because I finally started realizing what it meant.

It meant that I didn’t deserve to have a place where warm arms could hold me while I cried.

It meant that I didn’t deserve to celebrate myself in any way.

It meant that I didn’t deserve the smile and the wave you gave me.

While I still have days where I don’t believe it, I always come back to you that day. The perfect antidote for my heart to believe I wasn’t worth it. And admittedly, I’ve had A LOT more of those bad days lately. I’m also finally diagnosed with ADHD (now that the PTSD diagnosis is three years old) and have started new meds to help. That’s where the problem lies. Is that the meds make me sit with my feelings. They make me feel them. No matter how much I don’t want to.

But you gave that to me. That gift, which you didn’t have to give me, means more to me than anything else. Well, okay. Finding the signed “Love Reba” copy of Heart to Heart was pretty amazing (yes, I am getting that tattooed on my body). But that gift? The one when you saw just another woman in the audience in a red dress because that’s what she wore to your concert in March of 2025? Yeah. That’s the gift no one will ever be able to beat. (Though if anyone wants to try, a minute long, real tight, hug from you would be what beats it.)

I just wanted to write to you today and ask you how I’m supposed to keep going on this healing journey. Because while I’ve finally faced most of my “mommy” issues, I’m now having to face the ones I never wanted to. The “wifey” issues.

I didn’t want to get divorced. I thought the man I had married was the only love I’d ever have in life. When he walked away, like our entire marriage had just been a transaction, I fell apart. I fell apart HARD. And you were the only thing that kept me going. I had finally decided that I didn’t need to be with someone to be happy. I decided that I was going to live me for. I wasn’t going to need a man to make me happy. Then you did that article with People magazine. Where you told us not to give up on finding love.

I heavily relied on your song “Your Heart” to tell myself that I couldn’t let another person in. “Mama said no,” I’d tell myself. Then there you were. Telling us to never give up on it. And I looked in the mirror, and I swear Mama, I said, “now what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Ask anyone, the dating apps are a joke. People can’t hold a conversation and they just want a few things out of a match. While personally, I am not opposed to getting said things out of a match, my “hoe” phase after my divorce is officially over. Look, we don’t have time to get into what that means, Mama. Just know I’m not as sweet and innocent as you might like to think I am. But I’m finding that it’s really, really hard to just be a girlfriend after I’ve been a wife.

And don’t get me started on the way that telling someone you’re divorced gets you looked at. I’ve had more people ghost me after telling them that then I care to count. It’s like the scarlet letter. It wasn’t even something I wanted. It wasn’t even something I had considered. But it happened, and now here I am, a woman with basic needs and she can’t find anyone worthy of trying to fulfill them.

That makes me sound egotistical. What I mean is that if they can’t handle my baggage, they aren’t worth my time. I don’t just want a couple of good, uh, “times” with them and to call it done and over with. I don’t want to just be someone they call when they want to have a good “time.” I want to have a partner. Someone to confide in, count on, and trust. I just don’t want the title of “wife” that comes with that kind of relationship.

Maybe you’ll have better advice for me, but I just can’t seem to get my heart to agree to take the chance. Which is also part of the problem. As soon as my heart starts to flutter at the thought of letting someone in the walls come crashing down. Ultimately, I don’t think it’s because I want my ex husband back. Oh god no. The problem is that if I start to see someone, and if I let them in, eventually I would have to meet his family. And I cannot imagine meeting another “mother in law” ever again.

My former mother in law still holds my heart tightly. Though, she hasn’t talked to me in three years. That’s probably why I’ve started leaning harder into you. Because I miss her so much. I miss how she was the mom I never thought I would have. I miss her wisdom. I miss her hugs. Mama, I just can’t lose that again. Not after all my heart has already been through.

I also lowkey feel like I’m cheating on my ex husband every time I flirt with another man. To a certain extent, I’m sure it’s just the shame of what being a divorced woman is today. Because of society’s standards, and somehow the “tradwife” being the new normal it just feels incredibly shameful to be with someone else. Don’t get me wrong, physically, not a problem. The ex fell short in that department. But emotionally? Emotionally? I feel like I’m betraying myself and cheating on my husband.

So, Mama, how do I do it? How I be the girlfriend without being the wife? How do I let myself let someone in again? How do I find someone when I refuse to play the games on the apps? Unfortunately, I’m not a famous legend who deserves nothing but happiness, so I don’t think any old friends are going to come crawling out of the wood work. Mama, I’m just so scared. I don’t know how much more disappointment and heartbreak my heart can take anymore.

I guess I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing, until you get back to me. Maybe I’ll meet someone in the wild (ha, I know, super funny). Maybe I’ll just grow content with being alone for the rest of my life. But no matter what happens, you’ll always be my Mama. Even if you never know my name.

Love you, Mama. More than you’ll ever really know.