Welcome to my unfiltered corner of the internet—where I’m necessarily not here to help, just here to tell it like it is.  

Hello! I am Tonya Lynch, and I want to start by saying, thank God for my Mom. The sweet Sunday school teacher who popped a filter into my mouth around 12 years old. It’s a great story. It was a literal pop in the mouth in the choir stand of St. John Free Will Baptist Church of Farmville, North Carolina. I am a child of the 80’s so while I don’t advocate for violence, this was my mom’s approach to teaching me to shut up when appropriate. Okay, okay, I said something extremely slick while she was teaching Sunday school. I’ll let you decide who was right. Anyway, my Mom offhandedly taught me to love words and to toil with them in a way that makes something inappropriate…appropriate. No no. I didn’t learn to “not” be mouthy. I learned to be mouthy with spunk, respect, mystery…probably not her goal. But thanks, Mom, you birthed a wordsmith.

Anyway, all my life, I have lived “in my head,” and when I didn’t, everything came out of my mouth. Advice, opinions, profanity-laden arguments a-plenty, prayers, the lyrics to every single song that DMX and Lil Kim ever recorded, or the quartet gospel music I grew up listening to as I rode to church every Sunday morning. You can call me multifaceted. Words are my friends. I have a master’s degree in English after all * shrug*.

I decided to write a blog because, I mean, it’s a lot going TF on! So welcome to my inner monologue. With 8 children, a husband, an ever-patient mother who still teaches Sunday school by the way, and great friends, you’d think there are enough ears to go around to gather up the nuggets of my meanderings. I assure you, there’s plenty more. And that’s why you’re here.

Here’s the deal: I’m a 40-something woman navigating this complicated life, marriage, motherhood, and the *absolute joy* that is perimenopause. I am actively embracing chaos, coffee, and the beauty of midlife messiness.  

No inspirational quotes. Just honesty, humor, and the occasional meltdown. Buckle up.  No sugarcoating - just like mama taught me.