Terrible News.

I got some terrible news this weekend. News that will change and shape my life forever.
There’s no one to talk to, no one to share with. No one to trust.
Only plans to make. Plans for the future.
It’s on me.

People will say, it could be worse. No.

What could be worse for one person, could be a tragic end to another.
It’s a relative turn.

Don’t you dare try to downplay how I feel right now. Don’t you dare.

Music · Uncategorized

She’s a rapper now! Ha.

Did you know the Cash me Ousside girl is a rapper now? Whaaat?

Okay, let me clarify a few things. I may be old, (28 tomorrow) but I am a real white-girl gangster. I drive an SUV and I have three children. I live in a small predominately white town. I shop at Target. I’ve owned a Tula. I like Starbucks.

Before you call me a basic bitch, let me tell you that I hate pumpkin spiced lattes. Don’t even get me started.

That makes me less of a basic bitch, yeah?

I cannot own a firearm, but if I could. Glock in my ‘Rari. Always strappin’. You know? Feel me bro?

With all my kitten aside. (Ha. I love cats!) I am definitely white. Real, real white. I’m proud of who I am though. And I enjoy who I am. I have a deep love for rap music. I can rap really well. Not freestyle, but memorized raps. I got you boo.

Anyways, her song is actually pretty good. It’s called “These Heaux.” Check it out!


anxiety · Relationships · Uncategorized

A Cry for Help – Confusion

I refuse to reach out for help. There have been few times when I have reached out for help and it hasn’t come back to bust me in the ass, but man, I’m confused. I need to vent. And what do you do when you cannot vent to anyone? You blog. That’s what you do.

Dearest finace,

Our relationship has turned to shit. I understand you are like 50 people’s boss, but can you understand this? I am not your employee.
I am your lover. The mother of your children. Your better half, (in the words of the infamous garbage man).

I work. And I work. AND I work. Do you want to know why? I’m going to tell you, and you are never going to read this. I work because it is the only way that I feel sane. It preoccupies my brain, my mind, and everything that keeps me functioning. Without it, I would never be able to be with you.

Remember when I was a stay at home mom? That time is forever etched in my mind as traumatic. I need help, but you are the last person I can ask. I’ve lost trust in you. I’m scared of you. I love you, but I am with you for three reasons to be exact.

Remember when you ruined my friendship with my best guy friend? Remember when you found out that I was falling in love with the garbage man. What did you do?
You beat my ass, that’s what you did.
After accusing me of cheating on you, you choked me until I thought I would die. I was panic stricken, fearing for my life. I thought it was the end of all. I screamed for help, and you choked me to make me shut up. I cannot put those feelings into words. My heart was racing, my mind was pulling blanks and vivid scenarios at the same time. My ears echoed my own heartrate, blood pumped through my head slowly and quickly at the same time.  My eyes saw a person they did not recognize. I thought about where my kids would go. I was certain that you were going to kill me.

The next day, I was asked why mommy had yelled in the middle of the night. You told me that you were so sorry and you could barely remember it. I barely remember my parents raping me, so it’s okay, right?

I’m not perfect. I cheated on you. I admitted this to you. I will not make any excuses to the world, but we both know it wasn’t the worst thing to happen to this relationship. Was it the worst thing I’ve ever done? YES. Was it the worst thing you ever did? No. How your words cut deep. How your actions have left never healing scars. All the girls you have cheated on me with? They don’t count because of reasons, right?

I’m angry. I’m hostile. I live for one thing. And that one thing is jeopardized by you. You told me you loved me. You lied. You cheated. You robbed me of the life I dreamt of. I have a hell hanging over the fibers of my being. I thought it would change. I thought it would get better, and it did. For a while.

The world sometimes works against the small people working the hardest. This has been an ongoing lesson I’ve learned. My reputation will soon be splattered, and you, you will walk away without a scratch. Just like you always have.

You are the master of skating by in life. I have to work so hard it looks like I am in a constant state of no motion. If I skate, I crash. When I crash, it’s not a fender bender; it’s a fiery blast of destructive misery.

The big black hole is the epitome of my soul when it comes to you. I hurt to admit it. I hurt to say it. When you are good, when I am good; it is very good.

When it is bad, it is horrid. I do not want to fear you. I am tired of fear. I want to love you… and before you think I am a heartless bitch, I DO love you. I love you beyond reason. If there were any sane reason behind the love I hold for you, we would not be where we are. However, I am not in love with you. Sometimes, I look at you and I wonder why. Sometimes I cannot stand coming home because you bring me down.

You do not name call, you do not belittle, but you are depressing. Nothing was good today. Nothing good came of anything in your life. I am not willing to deal with your problems when I have so many of my own.

This, I know, is harsh, but this is TRUTH.

I cannot remember the last time we slept in the same bed. You say, “Oh the kids want to sleep in our bed.” This is fine by me… but why are you worthy enough to sleep in our bed with our children, but I cannot?
What makes you more important than me?

Last night I laid down next to our youngest son. You were in the living room. You came to the bedroom and saw me on your side of the bed. You literally threw a child’s fit.
Don’t deny this.
You do not have to say words to throw a fit.
“Are you for real?”
Throwing you phone charger on the counter.
Storming out of the room.
Leaving the house to smoke a cigarette.

That is a man-fit. I don’t like it. I don’t appreciate it. I sleep on the couch. I work many more hours than you, plus I am in school attempting to get a degree to better myself, but I’m not worthy of sleeping in OUR bed for a night.

I hate entitlement. You are the epitome of an entitled individual. Some days, after work, I don’t want to come home. I want to see my children… but I hate hearing you bring my mood down. I hate being that person. I don’t want to hear about your job… because it’s always bad news. And the girls… why are they texting, calling, and Facebook messaging you? Constantly. Just stop. You are pushing me away.

At the end of the day. It isn’t your fault. It’s not my fault. We are just not good for each other.  So now, when do we finalize this realization?

If I approach you first, when will you throw that first punch? When will you slam me against the wall? When will you choke me? When will you threaten me with, “You will never see these boys again?” When will you tell me that I’ll have to pay child support to you? When will the blackmail begin? When will you use the things I fear the most against me? You have threatened to do it all. You are incapable of a peaceful parting of ways.

Of this I am certain. Is this how you will keep me forever? To keep me fearing? Scared? Panicked?

I want out. I most certainly need a break. You are incapable of trust. Even when I was perfect, before the man who showed me your true colors, you were incapable of trust. Are you worried that if we take a break I will not come back?

I would be too.


The One that Cannot Get Away.



Relationships · Uncategorized


I’m so tired. I’m physically tired, emotionally tired, and I’m tired of being tired.
I miss my friends.
I miss going out.
I miss having time with other adults.
I miss intellectual discussion.

Don’t get me started on this relationship. Awkward and hard.
I can’t have sex.
Is that weird? I think it is the stress or something. I just don’t want to and when I think about it, it actually grosses me out.
When did this happen to me?
I want to feel wanted. I want to be loved. I don’t want to have sex.

Seriously, I am simply frustrated. With almost every little thing you do. In fact, I’m not sure why you do half the shit you do. Tell me.
I use you. I do.
I talk to you about my day. I talk to you about my day. My stress. My life.
I want you to talk about yours.
But then you drone. You suck happiness from me and you replace it with irritation and annoyance.

It’s not you, babe. It’s me. I can’t help it. I love you with all my being, but I hate you. I don’t want to have sex with you. I don’t want to cuddle. I don’t want to kiss you.

Why have we always been in the negative? Why do we always have to fight? Money is the root of all evil.
We don’t talk. Do we have common interest?
I am convinced couples who make 6 figures are the only people who can be happy.

Money does buy happiness. Without it, we resort to what? Watching the game and alcohol? You cannot control your alcohol… I’ve held the bruises with my flesh for a short while, but in my heart forever. I do not blame you, but I cannot heal. It’s too much. I struggle with healing because with the exception of a couple friends, no one in my ENTIRE life has ever not hurt me.

No, I’m not talking about small hurts. I’m talking about the big ones. The sex isn’t you. In fact, I wish I could have sex. I wish I wanted to enjoy it. The dreams are terrible. The dreams of the people I was supposed to trust and love, touching me, and looking at me… I can seriously taste vomit in the back of my throat.

I know losing my innocence young is not your fault. I know that life with you and our children is good, but I am struggling with touching you. I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want anyone to. If the dreams would stop, it would get better. If my anger would subside. If I could just stop crying about it when the images won’t stop.

I’m resentful. Almost to everyone who has ever hurt me. Sometimes, I resent you. I resent some situations I was put in because of your actions. I resent feeling like I needed you to survive. I resent placing my own wants and needs on the back burner because I loved you. Basically, I resent myself for the decisions I have made.

And the need…. the need to be better, to do better, to offer my children a sense of what I never had. I know they have a million, trillion things I never had including the basics; i.e., safety, comfort, respect for themselves, respect for others, nice clothes, education, love, and support. We need to do better though. We are getting through parenting at a “B” level, we need an “A” anything less is an excuse. We need a B+ at least.

B is for “But.”

But why do we struggle? I work two jobs and you work one. Half the time we cannot buy groceries, and the cars we drive are always falling apart. I buy everything the boys have at second hand rates. I own nothing that boasts of a high class brand on my back. I care what people think and this often drives me.

Is it money? IS it self-help? Is it Iowa? Is it these people we are surrounded by?

What are we doing wrong? Am I broken? Are we?

I’m exhausted. I need to nap and I wish there was something I could do. So, until then I’m going to smile, work, blow off plans, work some more, and keep smiling.
What happens when you start losing interest in the robot I’ve become? What happens when I break? There are too many questions and no clear answers. Take it one day at a time. You can’t control the future so don’t think about it.

Smile. Work. Blow off Plans. Work. Smile. Repeat.

College Life · Uncategorized

I’m an idiot.

I’m taking my very first on campus class this semester. Let me tell you… On campus is SO much easier than online. You barely have to manage anything. Quite honestly, you simply show up. The instructors, meh, I’d rather imagine they are asshats or weirdos than actually physically see them being weird. My instructor isn’t bad, but he’s quirky. Odd sense of humor. Makes us do weird shit sometimes.

Nothing sexual. Just for clarification.

The downside? Umm. Well, I’m taking public speaking. So maybe that makes it the “downside” overall. The downside is the stupid social shit. I’m twenty-fucking-seven. Guess what? I’m the oldest person in that damn class. I don’t like it. I am now, officially, on crunch time to get my degree faster. Do I want to be that 40-year-old sitting in a room full of 20 year olds while they talk about the hilarious thing their dad did last night?


I’m lucky because I started using Bare Minerals and girl, let me tell you. I look 7 years younger. Matter of fact, Mr. Public Speaking Instructor asked if anyone had any kids by a show of hands, immediately followed up with a, “probably not.” naturally I raise my hand and he asked me how old my child was. I proceed to tell him their ages. All three of them. His jaw drops to the floor and he exclaims, “How old were you when you started having kids? Twelve?”

Mortified. Thanks Bare Minerals. Now I’m a whore, too.

Today he had us do this exercise called Babble where we pick a card with a random word on it and we talk about the word for one minute. Sounds easy, eh? NO. The universe hates me. Someone got spider. Someone got snow. You know what I got?


Fucking sausage. Are you fucking kidding me right now? It was terrible. What the fuck do you say about sausage? The first thing that came to mind was “dick”. So, here I am… holding a card that says “Sausage” on it in big bold letters, thinking about dick.

Cool. That sounds about right from the girl who started popping out babies at 12. Thanks Bare Minerals.

Anyways, I fumble through it. Instead of talking about sausage… types of sausage, how to cook it, etc.,; I fucking made up a story about sausage and bacon. Made zero sense and quite honestly, I looked like an imbecile.

It’s the way my brain cycles. I swear I fuvking think backwards. I’m like mildly autistic or some shit. It can only go up from here. They’ve seen how fucking moronic I am. Hopefully they forget by Wednesday.


cats · Mom Life · Uncategorized

The CatMom Life

Cats…. Oh my.   Listen, if you have anxiety and have cats, take a shitload of pills and pass the fuck out. If you don’t, BAM. You are going to think there is a serial killer in your walls. Seriously.

How do they do that?

How do they bounce off the walls but sound like they are inside of the wall?

And then, right when you think you’ve got this anxiety shit down, you hear foot steps. You were right! You were right! It wasn’t the cats, it’s a serial killer. This is it. Your life is over. Oh shit, kibbles and bits.

And then your five year old rounds the corner at 2 AM.
Can’t you see mommy is having a mental breakdown?

Well, shit, if your going to be awake come cuddle with me.

The cats won’t.


This is it!

This is it! I’ve done it, I’ve taken the very first step in writing my own blog. I might annoy you, I might rant and rave about the crazy people that I love and the insane people I hate. I might cry to you, I might make you laugh. I might review books, make-up, and sex toys. I might talk about the gym membership I bought and never use! I might tell you that I’m trying this new Paleo thing this week, and then share a recipe for my favorite chocolate chip cookies the next. Are you wondering if this is for you yet? If you are, you probably aren’t in the right place. You either get it or you don’t. This is life though. This is true, real life. This is me, beautiful in my perfect imperfections. Take it or leave it, but maybe we could be friends, eh?