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.