A journey that's never ending

People forget the good things you've done in your life, but never seem to forget a mistake.

We used to live in a world where you were innocent until proven guilty and now it's guilty until proven innocent, even then it still doesn't matter. This Blog will be long, probably very long, but I feel I need to get this off my chest while setting some people straight. Understand: I grew up in a loving home. I, for the most part, wanted for nothing. I earned what I wanted and got a job at 16 so I could buy what I wanted. My parents didn't abuse me, so people get that out of your mind. I had a very good, very privileged life. If you've already read some of this, or been told some of it, my timeline might not be 100% exact. It was almost 20+ years ago, so please bear with me. For many years now I've lived my life with the thought process of treating everyone fairly and kindly until given a reason to say a southern "Bless your Heart." I don't help people expecting anything in return. I help people when I can because it's what you are supposed to do. In many ways I feel that I was born in the wrong time. I believe your word is your word. When you make a commitment to something, you follow through until the end. You forgive (NOT ALL THINGS) the little things. You never forget what was said or done to you (because you don't want it to happen again), but for me, it is not worth holding hate, animosity, or whatever it is. That takes way more energy. I've made mistakes in my life. No one is perfect, least of all me. I've been forgiven when I believe I shouldn't and given a second chance when I honestly should have gone to jail. When I was younger I hurt people and didn't care about the consequences of those actions. I honestly have never tried to hurt someone to an extreme point, but someone says something behind your back and you want to get even. Since age 12 or 13, every time I looked in the mirror, I saw someone hideous. There are some girls that when they first start getting boobs are excited by it, and I was until mine didn't stop growing. I've always been on the heavier side of my friends and now you throw in the mix, that most of them are A to B even a few C cups and at 14 I'm a DD. I was already struggling with how my body was and now I really hated it. Don't get me wrong there were times I did feel pretty, but in my head I was never the one the boys would write home about, that was my friends. So here I am, 14 years old, probably a size 12 pants with DD boobs and I'm in a new state, new city, going into high school where I know no one. Yeah.... I made a couple of friends with some upperclassmen, but only because I took summer school. I was a geek even back then but it wasn't "cool" like it is now. Yes I know it's still seen as not cool when you are stupid kid, but as adults being a geek is really not a bad thing. The first 1/2 of the school year sucked horribly, I'm not going to lie. I tried to not let that get to me; But, when you know no one and most of these people have known each other for years and all their clicks were established, they don't want to let in a bigger, geeky girl with glasses and a love for 1000 page novels. To them I also talked funny and I was blunt and to the point as most northerners are. I wore baggy shirts and lots of sweatshirts to hide the fact that my boobs were still growing. In the summer of 1996, my doctor at the time agreed that my boobs were so big they were causing other issues. My bra straps dug into my shoulders to the point I would put tissues between them to try and soften it. My posture was horrible because I walked slouched so no one would guess what was under my shirt. And at 16 I was getting back issues from the slouching and the weight of my chest. When I had my breast reduction I was a 36FF cup. I asked to be taken down to a B to a Big B cup. For the first time in a long time I started to feel good about myself. We all know how high school goes though and I was never good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, or skinny enough. Now I think most of those were my thoughts and not other peoples. I was also always one of the guys, never the one someone wanted to date. Don't get me wrong, I did date. I lost my virginity at 14 because I was young and stupid and believed the boy I was dating. Three months I was having sex and not enjoying it at all and not understanding why I wasn't enjoying it. We broke up and until I was a couple of months shy of my 18th birthday didn't have sex again. I kissed the boys I dated, even the whole 2nd base thing. But that was it. I didn't understand what the big deal was about. When I did have sex again, we were both pretty intoxicated. Yes it was drunkenly consensual, so don't think anything bad about the person. There was no pain this time and I could see why people enjoyed it. I will always be grateful to him for that. (Yes we are still friends to this day.) Now we are in that " I'm an adult" stage where we all think we know everything and our parents are the biggest idiots around. Don't get me wrong, some parents are idiots and probably should have learned what birth control was. But mine were not, I just thought they were. I knew what was best for me. I started dating a young man who I honestly believed was my first love. We had a very toxic relationship. No it wasn't his fault. It was our fault. I had so many dreams and goals for myself and I FELT like I needed to give them up for him. No one asked me to do it and I made that decision all by myself. We did this dance for almost 3 years, before I made the decision that I needed to get away or I'd never let myself let him go and that's what we both needed. During this time I struggled very hard with self esteem issues. It didn't help that every time we broke up I was a cow and he was a controlling asshole. Like I said, toxic. He also seemed drawn to skinner (prettier) girls. Looking back, we both were emotionally fucking each other over in the head. So a few months shy of my 22nd birthday I decided to take a chance and moved 3000 miles away to Washington state. At the time of my move I worked for a company called Metrocall and we just had a huge merger between the west coast and the east coast. I started to talking with a pretty decent guy in Seattle. When I decided I needed to move he offered me a spot at this place. I took it. It didn't work out. I moved into an apartment with a girl I had meet at work and life was great. I still hadn't learned yet, that I had no clue who I was and felt I needed to have a guy. In walks my first husband. I can't say it was a mistake marrying him, because he gave me my first born son. But it shouldn't have happened. We had been dating very little. The girl I was living with one night said, "Aww you two are so cute, you should get married." Sigh In Feb of 2003 at the Justice of the Peace we got married. Things were not right from the beginning. I was told a lot how stupid I was and that I was an idiot. Even 20 years ago mental abuse wasn't talked about. Around Sept 2003 I found out I was pregnant and at first he seemed excited. Then he quit his job and started "working" on his company. I was the one working full time, getting as much O.T. as I could, dealing with morning sickness and migraines. Dec 2003 I found out that he and the "Best" Friend were talking about me in emails. In one email she said, "I don't understand why you actually married her, I was joking when I said it." His reply, "Wish you'd told me that before I said I Do." I was devastated and very alone. I was 300o miles from home with no family support. I did make some amazing friends and I still have them, but they were not my parents or my best friends from high school. I said nothing to anyone. Then one day in Jan or Feb 2004 the boy I moved 1000's of miles away from sent me an email. I broke down and told him everything. He tried to get me to come home before the baby was born (not to be with him, but to have the help I would need). I told him no, I wanted to try and make this work. Truthfully I had no clue what to do and was too embarrassed to really ask anyone for help. At some point between 6 and 8 months, my ex-husband asked me why we had never talked about an abortion. Second moment of utter loss. I loved the child that was growing in me and couldn't understand why he would say something like this. The beginning of 2004 is when I found out they were sleeping together. He had no plans to leave me, because I was paying for everything at that point. From Feb-April 2004 I had a lot of Braxton hicks contractions. After the 2nd time of false labor, I was told I was stupid for not knowing the difference and we better not waste time or gas going again. I learned to control my breathing very well after that. When I really did go into labor I was told that it was probably false to just go do my breathing. By 930-10 o'clock that night my contractions were 3 minutes apart lasting 3-5 minutes. The nurse at the hospital told me she didn't know how I had managed that long. I had less than a minute to tell them yes or no on the epidural because I was 6 or 7 centimeters dilated. At 9am the next morning my son was born. By that evening I told him I wanted him out of the apartment. I wanted nothing to do with either of them. When I was released from the hospital a different friend picked me up and he was gone. It was probably the most difficult time in my life. I wasn't getting any sleep, he didn't want to help me at all. My mom came when my son was 3 weeks old for a week. She was amazing. Granted she lectured me up one side and down the other about the state of my apartment. She helped me get it straight and back home she went. Three weeks later I had to make, at the time, the toughest phone call I had ever made. I had to ask my parents to come save me. I was being evicted from the apartment and had nowhere to go. My parents drove straight through to pick my son and I up and bring us home. We packed everything of my sons in my explorer and then crammed what I could in around that. It took us 5 days to get back home. Next chapter of my life: Trying to be a mom living with your mom and being a slut all in one (2004-2007). I'm not proud of this part of my life. I was so emotionally and mentally raw from two years of being called stupid, dumb, fat (I was pregnant) that I figured the only way anyone was going to like me was if I had sex with them. I also thought I'd feel better about myself. Boy was I wrong. It only made me feel worse and worse. I moved out of my parents and into an income supplemented apartment. I was finally making it. I had a great job, fantastic people that would keep my son for the night. I thought I was happy. I have never been so wrong in my life. I met a guy in the beginning of 2007 that changed my life. He helped me understand what I was doing was dangerous. Meeting strangers online and hooking up with them, not telling anyone where I was. It was bad. This guy was one of those strangers. But he helped me learn some very important things about myself, what I was doing and started me on my journey of self discovery. I wish I could find him today and thank him. I think if it wasn't for him and our talks I never would have given Daniel and I a chance. In Sept of 2007 Daniel and I started dating. It was supposed to be a booty call thing. He told me from the beginning it was an open relationship or nothing. Since it was just a booty call thing, I agreed to it. It was almost a year later either one of us used the open part and it was me. It made him look at our relationship and he realized he loved me. I knew I loved him at this point so I was happy. We kept our open relationship all through our marriage until the day he died. As in any relationship we had our ups and downs. Any relationship is hard, but add in the open part and it takes a massive amount of trust, commitment to each other and no lies or bullshit. To the outside world looking in our marriage was great. Daniel and I struggled for years. Not with each other but life. I found out I was pregnant and lost my job all in one weekend. We had our first child together and Dec got married and found out I was pregnant again. Not something we were planning, but we wouldn't have changed anything for the world. We were on government assistance, Daniel worked three jobs at one point. We robbed Peter to pay Paul, laughed at Mark and just skipped Mary all together for years. We portrayed to everyone but our closest that everything was perfect. We very rarely asked for help. Even when he had to sell his pride and joy car to be able to pay for medication for his parents. We did this for years. I was finally able to start working when the twins went to school. It allowed for him to go down to one job and have time with the kids at night while I worked. The summer of 2020 right before he died, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He was moving into a job he wanted and liked, he was getting a massive pay raise. We were even talking about taking the kids on vacation, which we hadn't done since our oldest was six. We were going to be at a point that there was no Robbing Peter to Pay Paul. We were paying them all on time. Aug 26, 2020 when my world stopped turning but the actual world kept turning. Learning to live again as not only a single mom but an only mom has been hard. I've made mistakes. If I hadn't been consumed by my own grief I'd have realized my son was failing school. Thankfully that has actually worked out for the better for him. He's 18, about to be 19, and has an excellent job making good money. Goes to school to further his job. Pays his own bills (Including rent where he lives - not with me). Because Daniel committed suicide 4 months before the maturity level of his insurance we didn't get it. We received the basic little policy his job provided. With it I was able to pay off all the bills we had at the time and catch us up on everything but the house. I didn't pay for the house, because I didn't know what we were doing. Two months after his death I knew I had to move us. No one wanted to be in that house. My younger three were at each other's throats, I never saw my older son. He was never home and I couldn't blame him so I didn't make him stay. I started looking for a place. After two months of looking I realized I wasn't going to be able to do much with what I had. Because of Covid I hadn't been working like normal. So we were living off the small policy and in Dec we started getting Social Security for the boys. I bought a patch of land out right and used what was left to put down on a brand new basic bitch mobile home. I did spend some of the money on both the boys and myself. Looking back I wish I had saved more, but I can't do anything about that now. In May 2021 we moved into our home that we are in now. It hasn't been easy. In fact it's been down right fucking hard. I give props to all the parents out there that can work full-time and be a single parent. I can not do that. I have to work a schedule around my boys. I have one child who likes to talk about death like it's his best friend. I don't think he's gonna do anything to himself or anyone else, but he does talk about it a lot. No therapy didn't work for him. I can't afford $25 two to three times a week for him to sit there in silence. I have another one who thinks he needs to handle everything even when I'm here. Which stresses him out which stresses me out. Then I have my lost one. My one who struggles so much with anything school related that I curse his father every day for leaving us because this is where he could have worked with him because he was the same way at that age. This same child looks at me like I'm never going to return when I do go out to the point that I rarely go out any more. I try to do everything I need to do while they are in school, so when they get home I'm here for help with homework, dinner, anything they need. I have gotten myself in financial trouble because I was trying to give them everything they wanted along with giving myself things. I was living like I had a Mercedes budget when in truth I have a motor scooter budget. There are people that think I am living the high life and that I have everything and I have money, but I'm not paying my bills. Which is so far from the truth. I get asked all the time if I'm okay and my reply is usually yes. Because I am okay, I'm struggling like crazy and there are days I feel like a Goddamn turtle trying to swim through quicksand that's as thick as peanut butter, but I'm okay. I kept telling myself I could fix the situation I was in. Yes I can fix it, I was just going about it in all the wrong ways. The fall of 2021 I had to take out a loan with an astronomical interest rate of 35% because I couldn't get one otherwise. In the spring of 2022 I took out a second loan, to help cover the first loan and a couple of small credit cards with low credit limits, that had an interest rate of 35%. My 3 credit cards (all less than 1000 limit) had 29% interest rates. I got a couple of things through Aarons hoping it would help my credit. It didn't! But by this time two of the three boys needed new beds. They had been sleeping on a mattress on the floor. So I went back to Aarons for their beds. Yes stupid, but I didn't have the money up front to just buy beds. Our dining room table needed to be replaced. I mean the thing was only Daniel's grandparents for Pete's sake. So I got us a dining room table. In Nov of 2022 I received a letter that the mortgage company for the house we were living in is suing me for the balance. My name isn't on the loan. It was only in Daniel's name. Because of this I did something I never wanted to do again, and I'm filing bankruptcy for the 2nd time in my life. Since I am filing it, I put everything on it but my current house and the car. If I put one thing or 50 things on it, my credit is only going to show bankruptcy. While robbing Peter to pay Paul, my pride got in the way and I didn't talk with my finance company about my car. It got repossessed. After a week of hard debt, trying to figure out if I took the kids car back could he get one without a cosigner. The answer is no not yet. I reached out to friends and family for financial help. It took me a week to swallow my damn pride and ask. I will never in my life be able to show my love for my Ohana. They helped me. I paid the bill at the finance company and got the information on where my car was. For those that have been lucky enough to never have a repossession, there is usually a 10 to 30 day holding period for you to get your car back, my finance company’s is 10 days. My 10 days would have been up on the 23rd of this month. I called and paid my money on the morning of the 19th. 5 days before my deadline. I was informed that my car was at Manheim Orlando. They sent my car to freaking Orlando and I was responsible for all the fees to get it back including the storage fee that Manheim charged. After spending 15 minutes in my bathroom hyperventilating and crying I pulled my big kid panties up and started to figure out how the hell I was gonna get it back. I called Manheim Orlando and was told my storage fees would be $492.00 if I could pick it up the next day which was their first available appointment. IF I waited until Monday it would be almost $650.00. I flew for the first time in 20 years on a 4 sit across little flipping pond jumper. I took MoJo JoJo with me and he faced the back of the plane. I prayed he would watch our back in that plane like he has for the last 26 years in every car I've ever owned. As I'm getting off the plane in Orlando my phone dies and after trying three different outlets I can't get it to charge. Thank the Daleks I brought an extra phone to watch a movie on during the flight. I hooked it up to wifi, told people I made it and then tried to figure out how to get from the Airport to the hotel. By the time I made it to where you can take a bus/cab, whatever my nerves were so frayed I wanted to cry. I finally got an uber ordered, but I was getting into a stranger's car in a city I don't know with no phone. Massive internal panic attack and a 17 minute car ride later I'm at the hotel. I check in and realize I need to get a money order for the auction. I have no car and I really don't want to pay for another ride. I find out the CVS that's a 20 minute walk away has money orders. I proceed to walk in the dark to CVS only to find out their machine doesn't work even though I called and they said it did. I had to order another ride to the local Wal*Mart, a normal 20 minute drive, but I'm in downtown Orlando. I get to Wal*Mart, get my money order and have to order another ride back to the hotel. I think for the first time in God knows how long I cried myself to sleep. Morning comes and I get ANOTHER FUCKING ride to the auction. I get there and my car is already tagged for auction with pending. I've learned a lot in the last three months. I'm terrible with money. I need to set up an auto pay for everything so it comes out automatically and I don't forget to pay for things. I need to learn to work with a budget and stick to it. I no longer have Aarons, those have been returned. By the grace of all that's good the boys received basically brand new beds from my in-laws. I've cut everything down I can. I have the cheapest internet (I have to keep it because the school does everything on Chromebooks and internet now). The only thing I pay for that is "fun" is Netflix. I get the others from my parents. So before anyone wants to think my life's roses and champagne, it's not. I'm a screw up and a failure, but I am learning from everything. My kids and I have learned some very creative ways to cook ramen and noodles in general. I'm not telling this story for people to feel sorry for us, I'm telling it so people understand that just because the outside looks brand new doesn't mean the inside is. I owe quite a few people for helping me get my car back. I've had a friend help me build a budget and I've got a spreadsheet with what I owe people. I'm trying to get out of the hole I have dug myself into, but I have things I have to work around. If you live on my side of town I might just deliver your food or even be your driver. I'm still with my flowers and I'm watching my godkids two days a week to help both them and me. So before you judge, remember to not throw stones at my glass house until you look inside yours and for those that think they have any right to say anything about my life, there's a long pier you can walk off and give the fish blow jobs.

The Darkness

 I have less then a month and Daniel will be gone for a whole year.  I still fucking miss Daniel every GOD DAMN DAY.  There are days I wake up and I have no clue how in the fuck I’m gonna make it through the day without his silent support and then I realize that I still have that silent support.  He’s just not right next to me to tell me these things.  I can’t allow myself to drown in my sorrow.  Even if I didn’t have my children I still have people who love me and would miss me if I let myself go down that path.  So it’s not an option.  Over the course of the last year I have felt more guilt in my life than I ever have.  I’ve had to take a close look at myself and realize that yes my faults may have indeed helped Daniel in his decision, but that it was his decision.  Instead of talking to someone, anyone, instead of leaving us, getting a divorce, THAT MAN BELIEVED that putting a bullet through his head was gonna make everything alright.  I know everyone that ever knew Daniel has a small piece of guilt, but mine was, and if truth be told some days still does,  consume me.   I was the last adult to have any interaction with him and I had no clue he was drowning.  I lived with him.  Talked to him ever FUCKING DAY and had no clue anything!  I don’t think anyone has a fathom of what I have been going through.  And everyone wants to know how you are doing, but then when you give a real answer sometimes you just get this glazed over look on their faces like they didn’t really want to hear it.  The amount of guilt I swallow every DAMN Day to not let it consume me, is so utterly exhausting.  I push it down to the very bottom of my soul and put on a FUCKING happy face and continue on.  When you lose someone of natural cause, you have this thought/guilt of why not me?  Why them?  Why did you take my mom, daughter, son, father, husband, parent, sister, friend, family member.  But when someone who has pledge to be by side through sickness and health, promises to be there to help raise your kids, to sit on the front porch when we are old and watch our great grandchildren run around.  Who says that you are the best thing other than our children to come into their lives.  To promise to love you until the end of time and is your Dom, your rock, the rod in your backbone and they decide that EATING A FUCKING BULLET is better than being with you and the life you have created does something to a person you can never get back.  There is a piece of your heart, soul, very being that is dark and quiet and oh so empty.  When you have a bad day, the one person that knew exactly that you needed a hot shower, a cup of juice, your soft blanket and your favorite stuffie and to just be held is no longer there….. There are days I feel like I’m on a single piece of wood floating in the middle of the ocean and I fall off and the water swallows me as I sink to the bottom and the darkness closes in on me.   Then out of the blue someone calls me, texts me, stops by, brushes their hand across my shoulder and plays with my hair and I remember that I can’t let it consume me.  Please understand I’ve never in my life thought of killing myself and it has not crossed my mind in the days since Daniel deserted us (YES THAT’S HOW I FEEL SOME DAYS and today is one), but DAMN!  People can understand sorrow and loss, but until the person you loved with all your heart and soul was your soul mate and completed all those empty pieces in you, chooses death over you PLEASE DO NOT tell me you understand how I feel.  

Daniel and I struggled for years.  Yes we choose to have kids, but one doesn’t realize how hard the struggle is until it happens.  We robbed Peter to pay Paul, skipped past Mary and ran the hell away from Mark for more than 8 years of our marriage.  We ate ramen for days on end because we made too much for state assistance but not enough to live right.  There were days Daniel wouldn’t eat at all and I’d only eat once just to make sure everyone else ate.  We were never on time with any of our bills.  I pawned my necklace and ring my dad gave me at 13, every year and at tax season would get it back, just to pawn it again.  I sold my engagement ring back to my mom because we needed the money.  So  when last year we finally had a light at the end of the tunnel, I thought this was it.  Daniel had just gotten a raise, all the bills were current, we were planning the first vacation we’d have ever taken will all the younger 4 kids.  We were making it.  Then the carpet got ripped out from underneath me.  I didn’t know how we were going to do anything.  Pay the bills, put food on the table.  I hadn’t worked a full time job since 2009.  I was a stay at home mom.  I had doctors, sports and the house (yes I know I wasn’t the best housekeeper).  There were times when there just was no money.  But my kids had love, a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.  So now almost a year later I feel like me again.  I feel like I did when Daniel and I first got together and I had hope in my eyes and I know everything will be alright.  The boys and I will come out on top.  I feel good about myself for the first time in probably 20 years.  I still have a ways to go, but I’m doing it.  I have Faith I can do it.  I feel pretty and free.  I feel like I can accomplish things I let go of years ago that I would never accomplish.  

But on the flip side, more than half my Ohana is struggling and I feel so damn guilty for being happy.  For finally being in a place that I don’t feel like I’m in quicksand.  I have land, and am paying on a brand new mobile home.  I have a new car and I’m getting tattoos, and I have a little money in my pocket.  But there are more days than I can count, that I feel like I can’t say that to anyone because I know they are struggling and I don’t want them to feel like I’m shoving it in their faces.  Hell I’d give my shirt off my back and anything I have to help, but some just won't ask and I just don’t know what to do.  

I think I’ve cried enough tonight and bared my soul in more ways than one recently.   This isn’t meant to make anyone feel guilty, but just remember when you ask how I’m doing if I tell you I am good, I probably am.  No I probably won’t tell you when I feel like I’m drowning, but I will tell you when I’m not okay.  But I will be.  I will be very much like the phoenix and rise from the ashes of this tragedy and overcome it.  I love you all very much and thank you for your support and love. 

One of those days

  ***I'm very raw emotionally today and most of it has nothing to do with my late husband. So, this will probably have a shit ton of swearing in it. I am also revealing parts of myself that some of you may not have known and may never want to know about me. I feel compelled to write this. I have for many, many, months, but now it's eating me up inside*** 

 

    Have you ever had one of those days? You are doing so good considering everything going on in your life, but then it's like "Nope! You haven't had an utter and complete melt down in almost a week, let’s see what we can throw at you to make you break." Today has just been one reminder after another of things from 24 years ago to present day. Things that 90% of the time I can go, not today. But today it's just one after another and I'm tired today. I'm not okay and I really just wanna say FUCK YOU to everyone and hide in my room under the covers. I can't do that and those that know me know I won’t do that, but damn. Can I have a vacation from being mentally mind fucked by emotions?  

    Growing up, I had a normal middle class family life. Mom and dad worked, I had a roof over my head, food in my belly and clothes on my body. I had friends and family and for the most part life was great. Then puberty hit and high school and I met some of the most wonderful people in the world there, that being said, I wouldn't say it was the best years of my life and I wouldn't want to go back to that time for anything. Are there things I wish I had the courage to do? Oh, hell yeah. There are also things I wish I'd never done. I don't regret because I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren’t for the past. The thing about the past is it should stay there, yes, but you should also grow from it. You should realize the things that made you happy (without hurting yourself or others.... Unless you are into BDSM of course) and the things that made you sad. Then you grow the fuck up. Please, don't take this as me putting down anyone that deals with depression, anxiety, or any of the other million things that goes on during puberty and some into adulthood. This is 99% about myself and things I did and why today sucked.  

    So, lets back up a little bit.  Most people remember their first crush, their first kiss and their first time. Well, I look back and I remember having a couple of different kinds of firsts. My first crush was a boy much older than me in my neighborhood. He taught me how to skateboard and to this day I can remember his name. In fact, I can remember the names of all my first, but no I'm not sharing them in here. My first kiss on the lips was at eight years old, hiding in a closest so the adults couldn't find us, seeing how long we could keep our lips pushed together. My first French kiss I was ten or eleven, and it was with a girl I was friends with. We were just gonna practice so we could kiss boys. (Yes, I know now how cliché that is). But it felt just as good as kissing that boy at eight did. I had no clue at that time what the hell gay, straight or whatever was. I French kissed my first boy at twelve at my 6th grade graduation party and every around me made a huge deal out of it. In fact, there is photo proof of it somewhere. Middle school there was kissing, some over and under the clothes groping and one under the shorts kind. All of that was with boys, but I can remember my first girl crush clear as day. I was twelve years old, and, in my eyes, she was & still is, one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen. But I didn't know what to do with that, so I pushed it away and focused on what I thought was who I was supposed to like, Boys. Now understand, no one told me liking girls was wrong, but no one told me liking girls was okay. So middle school is done, I then move from the north to the south, where I know absolutely no one.  

    At this point in time in my life I know I'm forever going to be short, there is no fighting it.  *Deep Sigh* I'm not what you would call fat, but I'm not the skinny girl on the block either. I have glasses and I wear my hair different than everyone down here. I have my own style which was the baggier the better. I was fourteen years old with almost a D cup breast, and I didn't want anyone seeing that. I was a nerd with big boobs. I got made fun of and picked on those first couple of weeks. It was hard. My parents had me take summer school so I could get to know people, but all I met was Seniors. So, there was no one my age that I could talk to. For the first and only time in my life I was an Introvert. I've always been outgoing, loud, and friendly. Let me tell you though, Southern girls are a different bred and are harsh if you aren't in their "clique". I sat in our common area most lunches reading a 1000-page book.  All that is just to give you some background. High school wasn't anything special for me. After that first little bit I didn't get picked on and I had a wonderful group of friends. I am still friends to this day with quite a few of them. I did lose my V card at way too earlier of an age in my opinion. I was 14 and it was neither painless nor any fun. Please remember I said in my opinion, everyone is different. I had a couple of boyfriends throughout HS but nothing to write home about. I made more friends that way.  LOL. Yes, there were girls I thought were downright sexy as shit in school, but I again I suppressed it. Not because I was told I had too, but because I wasn't comfortable with it. I didn't know how to handle all these feelings so in my mind I didn't need them. Begone feelings. From fourteen to seventeen I didn't do anything sexual other than some make out session and mild groping. 

    Between my Sophomore and Junior year, I had a breast reduction. I was almost a double F cup at 16. Like everything else in life this is when I started to have massive insecurities. I was probably 20 to 30 pounds heavier than all my other female friends; I was shorter than all of them, (I'd gotten contacts by then and only wore my glasses occasionally), in my opinion I was not as pretty as them and I sure as hell didn't count myself as sexy. I couldn't keep a boyfriend to save my life. It usually ended up the same, I was one of the guys and we were better off friends. That's what I get for being a tomboy. Very rarely would you catch me in make up or a skirt/dress. I was a jeans and a t-shirt kinda gal.  

    In my junior year I met a guy (not a boy because he was older than me by two years I think) and he just made me tingle all over, but I did nothing because he had a girlfriend, and she was my friend. Even back then I didn't do anything to mess around like that. It wasn't cool then and for me it still isn't.  My senior year rolls around I watch him every chance I get, and I am the most annoying brat I think I can be. (I completely realize now, what that was.) But since I knew that was never going to go anywhere (one because he had a girlfriend and two there was no way a college guy like him would go for a girl like me.... remember insecurities) I pushed it from my mind. I met a boy who was in the same grade as me and man did we hit it off. We had just enough alike to have something in common, but different enough to keep it interesting. He would later be what my parents and friends would call my black hole. We graduated and he went into the military. Truthfully looking back, we should have broken up then, but I was an eighteen-year-old girl "in love".  What came next was 4 of the most painful years of my life.  This person didn't hurt me physically, but we both abused each other emotionally. I wouldn't realize this until I was almost 40.  I did everything to make him feel bad because of my own insecurities and because of that he lashed out with the verbal name calling. I gave up all of my dreams because I wanted to be with him. Please, please understand, He never asked me to do this for him/us, it was a black hole of my own making. We have both talked to each other years later and we've made peace with what happened. I still love him dearly (not IN LOVE with him) and I hope the best for him and his family.  

    Because of my feelings, an opportunity arose for me to move across the country. I packed my little car up and off I went. I promised myself on the drive that I was going to become a better person and I needed to change who I was. (Again, insecurities) So I went from using my initials as my name to using my first name. I didn't talk about all the geeky things I liked. I hid the fact that I loved to color and watch cartoons and anime. *Sigh* While I was there, I met my ex-husband. This is one of those situations where I never should have married him. I think I still would have had my first child without us being married, but it doesn't matter now. I'm not going to get into a lot of what happened between him and I, but once my son was born and I had removed his bio from our apartment, I realized that I needed more help than I was going to get 3000 miles away. Plus, I was going to be kicked out of our apartment. So, I did the only thing a daughter, new mom could do, I called home for help & a rescue.  

    My parents are fabulous, because they dropped everything, drove 48 hours straight, packed up their truck and my Explorer with only my son’s stuff and some of my things and away we went. Back home, the place I had run away from two years earlier to get away from my self-induced black hole. But it was the greatest thing I could have done for him & I. I had help, friends, family but most important to me, familiarity. I knew everything was going to be okay. One day, after my son is an adult, I might tell him everything, but until then let’s just say I was so very lost. All my insecurities that I had worked so hard to get rid of were back tenfold plus some. I believed at that point in my life I wasn't worthy of love, that I was going to be a statistic and live off the government for the rest of life. I was worthless.  I also experienced sex with a girl for the first time. I knew then that I was at least bisexual because it was great. It was with a very dear friend, and we were each other’s firsts. We both agreed that if it were with us and either of needed to stop there would be no hard feelings. Here we are fourteen years later, and we are still friends. It is something special that she and I share.  This went hand and hand with my first threesome. Which made me realize there was something different about myself in the sexual & love relationships. That I wasn't sure if what society consider a normal would be what made me happy. But I digress. At my lowest point I thought of asking my mother to adopt my son, but then I looked at my son and knew I'd never be able to give him up. That was the point I knew I needed to turn my life around and start making something for myself and him. I think we'd been back home at this point almost two years. I'd lived with friends at one point, and they were such a godsend and enablers all at the same time. I did things I am not very proud of (no not drugs) but I do not regret. I was living with my parents when I decided it was time for me to grow up. I managed to get on the waiting list for subsidized housing and within six months my son & I were in a 2-bedroom apartment, I had a new car & a really decent job.  

    This was in 2006 and I was twenty-six years old. I also re-met the man who became the love of my life, but that's not really for this story. I'll touch briefly on it and then continue with the rest of my rant/story. I had not yet divorced from my first husband because truthfully, I was lazy and never really wanted to marry again. But being married was hindering me, getting us help with certain things government. So, I started the divorce process. For me getting rid of my soon to be ex-husbands name was a must. I knew my son would carry it for as long as he wanted to carry it, but for me personally I wanted nothing to do with it. I never knew how difficult somethings would be because he and I had two different last names. I don't think I would change my decision, but it would have made things easier on both my son and me. In 2007, my late husband and I started "dating". In truth, it was supposed to just be a hook up for some good sex and a place for him to stay for a while. When we started our arrangement, he told me that he would not stay in a monogamous relationship. That if that were what I wanted he would leave. I thought about it, (remember he wasn't supposed to stay long, we were going to be sex buddies) and said yeah okay, whatever. For a whole year neither of us acted on that and somewhere along the way I fell in love. He swore he wasn't the in-love type of person; he'd been hurt too many times before. I honestly believed our time was soon to be up and he would move on because I was not very good at hiding my feelings. I've gotten a little better, but people can still see everything on my face. Probably six months into dating my late husband, I met a man who would become one of our greatest friends. I talked to my late husband and said I think I wanted to use our Open relationship. He said okay, whatever. You can do whatever you want, you just have to tell me if you have sex. So, we sat down and made rules, a bunch of rules. Some for him, some for me and some for both of us. That night many rules were broken from all sides, and I was pretty sure this was the end. During our discussion of what happened that night I blurted out that it wasn't like we were in love anyways. He replied with, "Yes, I do love you." and floored me to a point I couldn't speak, heck I couldn't breathe. After many long nights of talking, he and I decided we would keep our relationship just like it had always been. Please understand this was before our Ohana, before we started gathering "strays" and making a home, a family. 

    Relationships of any type are hard. No one will argue that, having an open relationship though is so very much harder. We agreed that night that our rules would be steadfast, and no one was to come between us. We would talk and discuss everything before either one did anything. For thirteen years this was how we worked. It was never easy, but no relationship/marriage is. Every couple faces uphill and downhill battles. It's how you come through them together that glues the marriage together. Trust, communication & love is what we started it on. I'm not going to lie, there are many people reading this now and are shaking their heads, are disgusted, or just don't understand it. I may very well lose friends over this, but if they can't accept me for me, well I obviously don't need them in my life. I will also never try to pull anyone into to how I live my life. It's just that my life. Most of you have known he and I our whole relationship and never had a clue. There is a handful of people that have known, and it wasn't because we trusted them more, it is because they sort of lead the same kind of life. Again, I got sidetracked.  As we began to grow, we both learned more things about ourselves. I learned that I was polyamorous as well as bisexual. He learned he was more of a Care Giver type of lover. We both learned the about the world of BDSM (more on that later). Over the years we each had lovers and some we had together, but at the end of the day it was him & I. We talked about every encounter and thought we had. I could send him a message and say, "Baby I am looking at someone so sexy." His reply would be, "Male or female? Pic?" I don't care what anyone says we loved each other. We just had a very unconventional way of life. We loved each other and we made a family. We brought together a group of people who may not have ever known each other. Some people may call us deviants, but we never hurt anyone. We stayed true to our rules and each other. Now if you do not know what polyamorous means, well: Polyamorous: characterized by or involved in the practice of engaging in multiple romantic (and typically sexual) relationships, with the consent of all the people involved. He used to tell me that I had so much love in me that it was unfair to keep it to himself. He himself was not really Poly nor was he bisexual. In our years together there was only one that considered ours. Though there was no same-sex sex involved. He did love this person just as much as I did. The relationship was good for all of us.  

    Being the way we were helped us teach our children and the children in the Ohana that everyone is different and to accept them for who they are. We don't judge your race, religion, sexual identity or orientation or how much money you make. We judge on your character. My late husband and I may have lived our life the way we did, but our children were taken care of, there was a roof over our head, food in our bellies and we helped those who needed help. When he took his life, he didn't just take his, he took such a big part of who I was, what the Ohana was, and who his children were growing up to be. Our biggest rule has always been (and I will still continue it) No lies, no bullshit. Open and honest is the key to any relationship, whether it be friends, lovers, siblings, parents.  Honesty is the best policy. We hid such a major part of our lives from people because of judgement, my fear of my oldest bio father taking him and his parents.  But at this point in my life, I'm not gonna live half-truths. I want to be who I am meant to be. Even if that means losing or offending some of you along the way. I'm tired of not being open and honest. I'm tired of lying to the people I care the most about. So, from today forward, no more. If anyone I consider a friend has a problem with any of this, with me.... the door is right there. Walk your happy ass right out of it. I will not hate you. In fact, I will more than likely forgive you. You will have your own opinions and I would be hypocritical to demand you accept mine, but I not accept yours. So please feel my love for you and know I will think of you often. Wonder how you and your family are doing. But if you have left, I will not force myself on anyone.  

    I sit here in front of my computer before those reading this on whatever day they read it and I will say:  I am a pansexual, polyamorous, am part of the BDSM community, geek, anime watcher, cartoon lover, obsessed with paper, Loungefly backpacks, pillows, any stuffed animal or blanket that is soft & playing cards, I talk too much, love too hard, I am loud and very much an extrovert, I am a Whovian & a Hufflepuff, as well as a Blood Elf Healer and Tauren Hunter, destroying and rebuilding Minecraft player, I love to get lost in a good story, I tend to get lost in my head and have wonderful adventures in there. I love to read & write gay erotic stories, my Ohana is the most important thing to me. But I am learning to love who I am; short, fat rolls, overweight, getting old, different hair color, tattooed & pierced. Once I love you, I will always love you, but does not mean I am in love with you. Even if we never talk again. I have friends and family from every walk of life and accept everyone. I am too forgiving per some people and believe everyone deserves a second chance, even if they have done me wrong or hurt me. Sometimes you just need to stop and listen to why they may have done what they did. I've gone from Pot is horrible to if that makes you happy and you are still a functional working adult, more power to you. At this moment in my life, I am taking prescribed appetite suppressants and depression medication. So, if you can't love all this about me, then I understand. I am not everyone's cup of tea, but I'm damn sure quite a few peoples shot of whiskey. I'll never play a part that I am not again.  

    If you made it this far, I applaud you for not just saying fuck this and stop reading. Thank you for those who are accepting of me.  'm sorry to see those go who cannot accept who I have always been even if you didn't know. Be at peace with yourself and your surroundings. Life is too short to be stuck in limbo, holding on to grudges and grief.  

 

***Please do not make comments or message me about anyone's name. I have left names out for a reason. This is also me opening up and making myself very vulnerable. But I feel better than I have in years. I will never ask anyone to join me in my life choices, but I will answer any respectable questions***

 

Time does not heal all wounds

    Good day to you all!  I hope life is treating you all as well is it can.  We are approaching the 1 year marker of Daniel's death.  I never would have thought this time last year that I would be where I am.  We are finally in the new house and let me tell you it's a breath of fresh air.  The totally encompassing, crushing weight that sat on my chest while living in that house was one of the worst feelings I've ever had.  To be in the house that just over a year before had become "ours" finally and hate ever single minute of it.   That house was supposed to be our forever home.  Yes it needed some work but when Daniel was alive it didn't seem like that much.  With his death, all the things that were "little" were actually huge.  I have the worlds best support system, but even with them there was no way we'd be able to fix everything that needed to be fixed with out breaking the bank.  So I made a choice and I do not regret it.  I wish things could have been different.  I wish we could have stayed in the house Daniel was determined for us to stay in.  But wishes wont help me or the children sleep better at night.  

    I know I've touched briefly on the subject of grief, but I never in my whole life understood it.  I feel stupid for all the times I thoughtless said I get what your feeling, cause no.  No I did not.  And unless you're me, you don't understand MY grief.  You may understand grief, but not what I'm going through.  Even if your other half did the same thing our griefs would be similar in nature, but we would not understand exactly what the other person is going through.  These are things people don't talk about.  We need to stop telling people to suck it up.  We need to stop telling people how long they should grieve.  

    Grief is something extremely personal I have realized.  For months after Daniel's death when someone would ask, "Are you okay?", I would say yes.  I never thought I would hate a question more than, "But why mommy?" until this.  Let me give a small piece of advice, when someone is going through grief, depression, PTSD, truthfully anything remotely painful stop asking them if they are okay.  Cause more than likely they are gonna say yes, even if the pain/emptiness/horror is tearing them apart.  A friend of mine has lost both of her parents within 6 months of each other and I try to ask questions like, "Is today a good day?"  or "How are you doing today?".  Personally I want to start carrying around one of those stupid doctors pain papers.  You know the one where they ask "What is your pain level on a scale of this really happy face to this face full of pain." 

    For me, my grief (at present day) rolls with how my day is going, what the kids are doing, if I found something in the million boxes that we have just finished unpacking that I wasn't expecting.  Understand, deep emotional grief never goes away.  People always say, "Time heals all wounds" and yes I was one of those people.  But let me tell you something.  Time doesn't do shit for wounds.  IT NEVER GOES AWAY.  You either learn to live with it & understand it.  Or you let it consume you.  Even in the darkest part of my grief I knew I couldn't let it consume me.  I have people who depend on me.  I have a whole Ohana that Daniel and I built together that need me.  (Well at least I'd like to think so). I dealt with my grief as I do with every change I don't like.  I let it fester like an infected wound for a couple of days because I don't want to go to the doctor and then I swallow my internal debate and do what I need to do.  

    For the first couple of months I truly felt lost & alone in a room full of my Ohana.  I have some of the greatest people in my life.  Ever person I have met in my life has had some impact on me.  Good, bad or Holy shit run for the hills.  But no one could could make me feel like I wasn't drowning in a 2 inch puddle of water.  For those that know me, know I am a very tactile person.  I always have been, but even the hugs that I knew I needed and indeed made me feel safe, couldn't stop the rampant amount of pain that coursed through every part of my being like being eaten alive by Scarabs.  Then one day a wonderful friend of my who lost her mom to cancer a few years ago, looked at me and said, "You do know it's okay to not be okay?  Even when taking care of business, you can not be okay."  I finally listened to what everyone was telling me all along, but for some reason on that day, with that person everything just clicked.  

    I am never going to be the same person I was on that morning.  I still rewind that morning in my head and nit pick every little piece to see I Missed something, anything that would have given me some clue.  Unfortunately it plays the same as it has ever time since that day.  Alarm goes off, dogs get put out, Daniel starts his coffee, went outside to smoke, comes in makes his coffee, takes it to the bedroom with him as he showers, he gets dressed in his work uniform, comes out and plays Clash of Clans with the Hobbits and I (it was close to the end of the month and we all wanted to the battle pass), gave us all a kiss on the forehead, yelled I Love you, started to walk out the door when I remembered the fucking trash.  The last thing I remembering telling him was "Trash! It's Wednesday morning."  Then he was gone.  When I said that it never goes away, I was being serious.  For me, I'm learning to live with it.  With time it's gotten softer, not all consuming, but still there in the back of my mind.  I will always wonder if there was something I could have done differently.  I know rationally that there was nothing I could have done.  Anyone who knows Daniel, knows he would of had back up plans and the end result would be the same.  

    But with my grief, in the most darkest time of my life, there is light.  Through this tragedy I feel I have grown closer with my children and some of my Ohana.  I have a Micro Mini that I have no clue what I would have done without during those first couple of months.  Even with her own pain, she is always there for me.  I have a beautifully, fiery, wonderful woman who was Daniel's friend, than my acquaintance, than my friend and now my Ohana.  She would and has defended me with a passion I didn't know she felt for me.  I have a daughter I truthfully thought didn't like me, who I now talk to on a weekly bases and I love it.  Does it take away my pain, no.  But it does help me deal with it.  It does help me to not be consumed by it.  

    The fact that in the 13 years we were together we were able to make an impact on even one persons life was awesome, but to have brought together such a diverse group of people and made them Ohana.  I am truly speechless.  With Daniel's death I didn't know if would keep some of those that started out as Daniel's friend.  It scared me.  I do not like thinking I am alone.  I LOVE my Ohana.  I wouldn't change any of them.  Sorry, I get side tracked easily.  My grief will always be there.  I wont put it in a box and close it away.  It's in a bottle in my mind with no lid on it.  I know there will be more moments where it will come forward and I'll have to deal with it.  But other than the day of his death all our big first holidays (Except for a couple of birthdays) without him have past. Does that mean the 1st year after his death will be easy.  Good Daleks no.  It will be like a scab that gets ripped off that you weren't prepared for.  Will I let most people see that, NOPE.  Just because I don't let you see me grieve doesn't mean that I'm not or that I wont be.  I will be the strength I know that will be needed that day and later after everyone has checked on us I will take a long hot shower and bawl my eyes out.    

    I guess what I wanted to do with this post was to make sure people understood that grieve never truly heals.  That is okay to not be okay and to tell people that.  

    That whatever you are going through in your life right now, there are people that care.  That even talking to a stranger can sometimes keep the darkness at bay.  And just because the darkness is there doesn't mean that people will jump into it.  Some people will sit on that ledge looking into the abyss their whole lives without ever having the thought of jumping in.  While others will struggle with holding on to that ledge and not letting go.  And even more will need the hands that hold them back to keep from swan diving into it and never looking back.  Don't take my happy face for not grieving.  Remember I have people who need to see me strong and steadfast.  Yes I have cried with and in front of most of, if not all of my children.  I want them especially my boys to know that it is okay to cry about this.  This was an enormous loss to all of us.  That it's okay to hurt and to not be okay.  But we need to take a train out of Daniel's head have our moment and than get back on the track.  Continue on because life sure as hell doesn't stop for you or your grief.  It will hold you back and consume you if you let it.  

    I think I've babbled enough in this and if you've actually read it to the end thank you.  

    To my Faolchu Ohana, I love you very much and am thankfully every day that you were brought into Daniel and I's life.  I hope that I can help our Ohana grow even more without him.  

    Please understand this is my feelings and take on it.  I am in no way saying how anyone grieves is incorrect or correct.  Everyone does that in a different way.  

Life without Daniel...........A Fresh start

Life without Daniel.  10-03-20

Not something I ever thought I would be writing about.  I thought we had many more years ahead of us.  I thought for sure we'd be in rocking chairs on the front porch sipping sweet tea, watching the grandkids and great grandkids running around.  The day he decided to put the gun to his head and pull the Trigger he took away all my dreams and hopes for the future I had.  He stole these moments from me.  He promised me forever.  Forever ended sooner then I was ready for.  

I am so unbelievable pissed off at him.  I love him more than anyone will ever understand, but at this moment I still hate him.  I want to punch him in the throat and tell him how very much he disappointed me.  He was the strongest man I've ever known.  He worked 3 jobs when he had to, just to provide for us.  He gave the shirt off his back if someone needed it.  He convinced me to let, two strangers (to me) stay in our house while they got back on their feet.  Yet he couldn't come to anyone of us that loved him to tell us that he really was too tired to go on.  Instead he ran.  He took away his pain, but left so much more for so many other people.  He truly didn't think of anything other than pulling that Trigger.  In the end He didn't think about the turmoil that he would be leaving the boys and I to wade through and figure out.  What it would mean that he took his own life.  I'm not the bread winner in this family, he was.  I was the homemaker.  I will now have to figure out the new me.  

Do we stay in this house that truthfully I wasn't sure we should have stayed in once the paperwork for the loan was figured out.  There are way to many memories and feelings in this house.  I asked Daniel time and time again before we signed the paperwork on this house if we were sure this is where we wanted.  Because he was so set on staying here, we did.  This house needs work.  Because we got screwed with the guy we did a Rent to Own with I have quite a bit of ceiling damage, wall damage and even floor damage where the roof leaked for 3 years.  So I now have the decision to make on if the bank wont work with me where will we go.  If there was insurance on the house and it pays it off do we stay here and fix it all, do we fix it and rent it, do we fix it and sell it.  There are so many decisions to be made, and the one person I want to talk to, is the person that put us in this position.  The choices I make wont just effect me, it effects the boys as well.  Decisions and more Decisions and non of them easy.  

3-4-21

I had to walk away from the blog portion above.  It was too hard to write.  It's still not easy, but there is so much in my heart and head I feel the need to put to words.  Even if no one reads this, I need to have it out of my head.  

It's been 6 months & 6 days almost to the exact moment that Daniel pulled the Trigger.  I am no longer pissed off, I am just disappointed and so very sad.  I'm not okay.  There is this huge gapping hole in my soul & heart were he is missing.  There has been so many times I've picked up the phone to text him or call him just to remember that he isn't there to share the joys and sorrows.  He was supposed to be the one to have "the talk" with the Hobbits, to teach them to drive, to work on their cars, to open doors for people, to take a person on their first date and how to behave like a gentleman.  For the boys to graduate, find their other halves and to start their families.  For the girls to finish having their families and for those families to have families.  To Watch all our children grow into the person they were destined to be.  To watch each other grow into the people we were destined to be.  

Six months ago I never in a million years would have thought I'd be without him.  Every single day is a struggle.  I've tried to sugar coat it, but I'm so tired of lying to everyone and saying I'm okay when I'm not.  Not really.  Every single day I wake up and go to bed thinking of him and what he missed that day.  What I may or may not have done differently if I just had his insight on any given situation.    When something goes wrong with one of the vehicles and I can't just call him and be like Fix it.  When I sit in my car and just bawl my eyes out because I hear the song he chose for me for the first time since his death.  How late at night when I take my shower, you can't tell the tears from the water running down my face because that is when we did most of our talking.  How I smile when Bug looks at me because with his head shaved he looks just like him.  Or when Peanut gets all excited about some model he wants to make that he saw on youtube.  Or how Runt has gotten taller though he's still shorter than the rest.  How Little Man made the decision that school and him just didn't work out, so in a matter of two weeks went to George Stone, He and Babin both got their High School diplomas and signed up for the Welding Progam.  How Lil Bit has started her own business.  How Monkey is this much closer to finishing her degree and how he pushes her every day (even without him here).  How Airee has given us our 10th grandchild.  How Wiggles if finally coming into who she is.  How we have 3 fabulous son in laws, 1 boyfriend in law.  LOL!  These are all things we were supposed to watch together.  But instead it's just me.  

I know everyone grieves differently but there are days I just wish to feel whole again.  I know eventually it will somewhat heal, but never go away.  It never gets easier.  People who say that lie.  Each day is a little less hard though.  At least for me that is.  I wish people would stop saying soon I'll be back to my old self.  Guess what?  I'm never going to be the same.  I will never be that same person I was six months ago.  I'm figuring out who I am still without him.  I've learned much about myself, but I still haven't figure out who I am and what I want to do.  

I watch all these people and these stupid Memes on facebook about relationships and I just shake my head and laugh at them.  A relationship is not 50/50, it's 100/100.  Each person gives 100% of themselves to the relationship.  They support each other when one is down, they hold the others hand when they need it.  They are their shoulder to cry on and their arms for love.  There is no just my money and your money.  They share money when one has none.  They live their lives together, but understand they are their own person and sometimes need to hang out with other people.  That living in each others pockets can cause more problems.  

I have also learned that I have no patience for people who say one thing and do something completely different.  When Daniel died everyone told us, if you need anything all you have to do is call.  I understand people have lives and that is why I don't call on most people often.  But don't tell me to count on you, then not come through when you say you are gonna come through for me, and than get mad because I WILL NOT Lean on you again.  I WILL NOT allow anyone in my house to get their hopes up just to be dashed.  I THANK EVERYONE who has helped us.  I love all of you and appreciate each of you, but I have to say a special thank you to a couple of people:  Monkey & RD, Mistress & R2, My Amazon Queen & Her Knight, My Boss in Chanclas with her Mini Me & My beautiful Seraphim. Without your amazing support, late night phone calls, random texts and letting me invade your homes I do not think I'd have gotten though as much as I have.  

No one wants to talk about what the survivors feel when something like this happens.  How the guilt starts to eat away at you.  Because how as his wife could I not have seen the clues?  How did I not know it had gotten so bad, he felt that this was his only option?  How because I didn't see the clues I have deprived so many people of such a wonderful man?  How because of me not seeing it, my children no longer have their father.  Because of me not seeing it, our littlest grandchildren and any in the future will only be able to know him through stories and how those stories ended with him taking his life.  Wondering what I could have done differently to make him want to stay?  Wondering why I wasn't good enough for him to continue with out life?  Wondering if all those years ago if he really wanted this family we started and the paths we walked?  Wondering what I could have done differently to make him know he could talk to me and what was going on in his head?  I think the younger ones don't have quite that thought process, but I know for a fact Little man often thinks about what he could have done differently.  If he'd just stayed home instead of hanging with his friends.  These are the thoughts I live with daily.  Not all of them filter through my head every day, but every day at least one of them does.  Yes I know that known of this was truly my fault, because in the end he's the one who drove to BFE, he's the one that waited until there was no one around and he's the one that put the gun to his head and pulled the Trigger.  He did that.  He left our house at 0630 and didn't kill himself until 1203.  That's 5 1/2 hours he thought about what he was going to do and in the end still took away such a big part of our lives with such a selfish act.  

So instead of asking, "How are you?"  maybe ask instead, how is today?  Are you having a good day?  Do you need 15 minutes to vent, cry on my shoulder?  Randomly surprise the person with a treat.  A coffee, a tea, their favorite candy bar or bag of chips.  A stuffed animal that made you think of them.  A hand delivered or even mailed card, just saying I'm thinking about you.  I personally have no suicidal thoughts, but my thoughts can get dark just like everyone else and sometimes, just sometimes a random nice thought or act of kindness changes my whole day.  I May not even realized how I've been acting or that my mind is clouded and I get his random text or facebook post, or phone call and it makes my whole day just that much brighter.  :D  

Hopefully by the end of the month we will be in our new home, with a fresh start.  We will never forget the Love of my Life, the dad of my children, the brother, the friend, the cousin, the nephew, the son, the ROCK in all our lives.  But each day it's a little easier to forgive him and let go.  He'll always live in my heart, my soul and in my mind but slowly the hurt will go away.  I never wanted this, I never wanted our children to go through this, but we will survive it.  He made all our lives better and even though the hurt that's what we will hold on to.  

I believe I've babbled enough for now, I love all of my Ohana, my family and my friends.   

Ramblings thoughts

So I'm gonna start this blog with a little background incase I actually have someone new reading it.  At this time in my life I am a 40 year old, polyamorous, pansexual, widowed mother of 4 children by birth, 5 children by choice (5 Boys and 4 Girls.  That's 9 all together for those having trouble keeping up.) and 9 grandchildren with one on the way.  I have mixed grandchildren and white grandchildren.  I am an only child by birth, but I have a few who are my soul siblings.  One is my big Brother who is of color.  If you don't understand any of this please feel free to ask questions.  You don't know the answer until you ask.  

I will tell you right now I truly hate labels and I hate using the words BLACK AND WHITE to describe people.  I AM NOT WHITE!!!  My skin tone is more of a peach or possibly apricot.  Just like people we call black aren't all Black.  Most are some shade of brown.  I ALSO HATE that "white" people are the only ones who can't use the ancestry to describe themselves.  I hear people complain all the time about having to check the African American box, the Island Pacific Box, the Native American box.  I HATE checking the White box.  Most days I now check the other box and write in European American.  

If anything I have said pisses you of, that's your right.  Don't read my shit.  If anything I'm about to say pisses you of, Don't read my shit.  I have a horrible addiction to TikTok and one of my favorite creators on there says, Get Fucked and Stay Fucked if you don't like it.  The time for being polite is over, but I wont shove it in your face.  Make sense?  

Have you ever just had something stewing for years in the background of your mind?  Something you know needs to addressed and no one is doing it, but you aren't sure how.  You Speak.  One voice can turn into thousands.  But You need to do it the right way.  You don't shove it down peoples throats, you don't shove it in peoples faces.  You don't make the other side less important than what you are fighting for.  Does this make sense.  I'll give you a couple of examples so you can see what I'm saying before I get to the heart of this post.  You are in the LGBTQ+ family.  You want equal rights.  Honey I believe you should have them.  I think you should be able to marry whichever gender, non gender your little heart desires.  But that DOES NOT make a heterosexual marriage any less.  A lot (Not nearly enough) don't care that you walk down the street holding your other persons hand.  There will always be haters.  No matter how far in life we evolve, there is always going to be hate.  I wish I could be Jeannie or Samantha Darrin and slap my arms together or twitch my nose and make it all go away.  I can't, so I teach my children it's non of our business who anyone loves.  It's okay to be who you are.  It's not okay to shove it down someone's throat.  Example 2:  The man I call big brother is of Color.  I would fight for that man, just as I would for my grandchildren who are of mixed races.  Yes we as America needs to change.  But putting any one race above another race is not how to do it.  Riots are not going to make people change their minds about it!!!!  I don't care what race you are, if you riot you are a Fucking Idiot.  All you are doing is hurting yourself if you get caught and most of the time innocent businesses caught in the cross fire, some of which never return.  Taken a knee at the National Anthem doesn't do anything other than piss people off.  Yes they are talking about you taking a knee but not in a good way.  Not in a Positive way.  Our National Anthem is about AMERICANS.  Not the different races in America.  WE HAVE PEOPLE DYING to defend your right to take that knee.  Not just military (Don't get me started on that) but police, fire, emt's.  Our Front line defense both foreign and domestic.  Does that make sense to anyone else? 

So let us move on the reason I write this post!  WE HAVE TO START DOING BETTER FOR OUR SONS AND NOT JUST OUR DAUGHTERS.

ARE YOU FLIPPING LISTENING?  THERE IN THE BACK, CLEAN THE COBWEBS OUT OF YOUR HEAD. YOU CLEAN THE CRAP OUT BETWEEN YOUR EARS.  YOU LISTEN TO THESE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH.... 

STOP teaching your children that it is NOT okay to abuse girls/women but it is okay to abuse boys/men.  Anyone teaching their sons to not a hit a woman is teaching them it's okay for the woman to abuse them, because boys/men are not allowed to hit girls/women back no matter what.  You are not allowed to defend yourself from abuse.  Yes statistically women are abused more then men are.  BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN IT DOESN'T HAPPEN THE OTHER WAY AROUND.  I want you to picture this:

Man and a woman are dating.  They are at one of their house or even living together at this point.  They start yelling at them, calling them names, they say they are sorry.  It evolves into pushing, they say are sorry. Pushing moves into hitting, again they say they are sorry.  All the while the person getting abused isn't defending themselves.  They take the abuse.  They can't touch the other person because they know if they do, they'll get into trouble.  

Now imagine that this is your brother, son, father, best friend.  He's been taught you don't hit a woman no matter what because than you aren't a man.  If you can't control your woman than you deserve to get beat.  Take it like a man.  Men don't cry.  So they let this woman hit them, call them names, take advantage of them.  All because they were raised to not hit a woman.  They can't even grab her to stop her because she may bruise from how hard he has to hold her to get the abuse to stop.  And if she bruises the tables are turned.  Even if the bruises on him are more, cause then she gave them to him defending herself.  We pat her on the back and we are proud of her because she stood up for herself.  But if your son/brother/bff/father were to do that he'd be ridiculed for allowing a woman to beat on him.  Asked, Your bigger than she is why didn't you walk away?  Because the minute he does she hits herself with something so now he is abusing her.  

Imagine your son/brother/bff/father is gay/trans/just likes to be pretty.  He gets attacked by a group of guys.  He's bigger than all these guys and defends himself doing more damage physically then they did.  He gets into trouble because most time.  

Lets move on to rape.  A girl/woman gets raped and we instantly believe her story.  You should never doubt the victim is what we are told.  We move heaven and earth to find her rapist.  But if a man gets raped by a woman, we ridicule him, tell him his lying there is no way he could be raped by a woman.  There is no way he could get hard if it was rape.  

Do we see at all where I am going with any of this.  We have to stop putting labels on people (MOST LABELS).  We have to start loving thy neighbor.  We live in a society where most people don't know who there neighbor is other than the color of their skin.  Or the Flag they have flying in their yard.  WE NEED TO START LOOKING PAST all that and to what kind of person they are.  Everyone makes mistakes no one is perfect.  

Okay I think I'm done with my rant or Soapbox if you will.

Be kind to someone today.  You never know whose life you might change.  

The day the music died

 Good Morning Everyone.  It's been a massive minute since I've done anything on my Blog and I feel like this is a homecoming.  I will be using it a lot more.  On Wednesday Aug 26, 2020 at roughly 1150 in the morning my husband of 10 year and other half for 13 years decided to take his own life.  He was the best of all of us.  Caring father of 8 wonderful kids, grandfather to 9, friend, brother, son, nephew, mentor, and someone all of us loved.  The last week and a half has been the roughest of my life and I know rougher water is still to come. 

You never think this is something that is going to happen to your family and let me tell you, it blindsided us all.  I will be writing more about the inner thoughts on this later.  I will tell you that the morning of was nothing out of the ordinary for us.  Lady Sylvanas woke us up at 0530 as she has been doing for over a week, My Loves first alarm went off at 0545 and I could hear him stretching in the bedroom.  0600 his second alarm goes off and he gets out of bed, does his bathroom business, comes into the kitchen and starts his coffee.  He walks outside while it percolates and smokes his cigarette.  Walks back inside grabs his first cup of coffee and heads back to the bedroom to get dressed for work.  Comes back out to the living room, puts his socks and shoes on heads to the kitchen for his 2nd cup of coffee.  Sits back down on the couch and flips through Facebook for a couple of minutes, before one of our twins asks for troops in COC.  He gets on COC and for the next 15 minutes maybe we are all working on our COC on our phones.  He stands up hugs all three of our younger children, walks down the hall and I hear him say something to our oldest son who hasn't crawled out of his hole yet.  Walks into the bedroom and I assume it for last minute double check that he has everything (this was not why he walked into the bedroom), comes back out and leans over me sitting on on the chair kisses my forehead, bops my nose says he loves me (I say I love you back) and walks to the door.  One of my biggest regrets will be that I love you wasn't my last words to him, but I stopped him at the door and did a normal couple thing.  "Hey love, it's Wednesday.  Trash day! There is meat in the trash please take it out."  He says sure and walks not only out the door but out of our lives forever.  

Thirty minutes later I bundle the Hobbits out the door, screaming at our Oldest to get up or he'll be late and drop them at school.  At roughly 0815 I receive a text that was meant to go to my husband from a co-worker of his asking why he quit.  I'm like, um this isn't who you are looking for it's his wife.  He's all like I'm so sorry, do you know what is going on?  I'm like no but I'll pass the message to him.  I immediately flipped over to our family tracking and it says he is still at the house but it hasn't updated since 1945 the night before.  I called his work, where I was informed by the store manager that my husband pulled up in front of his (the store manager) motorcycle and clipped his store keys to his bike and drove off.  

By this time you can imagine I am freaking out.  The store manager said he turned right out of the parking lot and maybe I should go check out another company that he had been talking about lately.  A friend and God Father to our twins works there, so I haul ass over there.  By the time I walk in I'm hyperventilating.  Our friends takes me outside and he starts trying to call my husband, but his phone is off.  I've called a couple of our close friends to see if anyone had heard from him.  NO ONE HAD.  About this time it's 0900 and I head back to our house to see if I can find anything that points to maybe where he had gone.  (Again there are things I'm not saying at the moment because I'm not ready to, not that I'm hiding anything.  When I work through it myself I'll probably blog again.)  I pull into our yard at the same moment another friends does and she calls to report him missing while I run into my house like a crazy woman.  I see that my gun is still where it's supposed to be and I look for his.  My heart stopped.  Not only is the gun missing, but where it's supposed to be is his phone.  Turned off and flipped upside down.  I screamed and dropped to the floor.  I knew in that moment I'd never see the love of my life again.  Our friend is in our yard screaming what happened.  I manage to pull myself up and head to the porch to tell her.  She gets off the phone and tells me the police are on their way.  

All I can do is stand there numb, unable to think of anything.  Our friend keeps telling me that I need to have hope and he'll be okay.  But I knew deep down that, that wasn't true.  He wouldn't have left his phone in that specific spot and he wouldn't have taken his gun with him. The police arrive and the guy is very nice.  My friend does 90% of the talking because I just can't.  He gives us the report number and says if we think of anything please let us know.  By this time our oldest son is home and standing with me.  Non of know what to do.  The police officer said we should stay here.  I've called more people then I can count and I'm sure their are other I could have called but remember I'm in a blind panic.  I manager to get ahold of a friend of his that he's known forever, long before I came into the picture) and they give us an old hangout spot.  I called the police and she says that the officer in charge of the case will call me right back or he's still in the area he'll stop by.  

Five minutes later the office pulls up. I don't even see that there are two other officers with him.  I walk closer to him to tell him about this place we've thought of.  He lets me tell him, and reaches for my elbow.  Before he can even finish the sentence, "Ma'am I need you to...." I'd hit the ground screaming.  It's the most devastating moment in my life.  As soon as I hit the ground I had booth our oldest son and his best friend (Who we consider ours, he's lived with us off and one for 3 years) in my arms crying just as hard as I am.  I know our oldest daughter stopped by at that moment to see if we heard anything, but I can honestly tell you the next 2 and half hours are a blur.  I remember crying and being held by friends.  I remember making phone calls and people telling me I didn't have to do that, but I needed to tell these people who were our friends and family.  

At roughly 1450 our Hobbits pulled up (a Friend picked them up from school) and I had to figure out how I was going to tell our Children that their father wasn't coming home.  My support system and I agree that for now we wouldn't tell my Hobbits (10 yrs old and 9 yr old twins) the complete truth.  I'm 40 years old and can't wrap my head around what was going on, how was I supposed to help our children understand.  One should never have to tell their young children that Daddy is never coming home.  

We will be starting therapy as a family in the coming weeks and I will be telling them the truth then with the help of the therapist.  I'm a writer and I needed to get this out.  Over the next little bit I'll be writing more and getting our story out there.  From the beginning to his death, and then on to what the children and I are doing.  

Thank you for reading my experience and remember to hold your family close and never forget to tell those that you love, that you love them.  Every day hug them and make sure they know your feelings.  

This is not proof read by anyone so there are mistakes.