Good for me…

I don’t necessarily think this is a sign of aging, but maybe just a sign of good sense. And you always hear “young and dumb” so perhaps there is more truth to this than I initially thought. Either way, this shit is legit!

At some point in your life, you have to really take stock of what you have and who’s around you, and decide if it’s right for you and your soul. And if they are not, it is time to let them the fuck go.

Hanging on to someone who makes you sad, hurts your feelings, makes you feel hard to love, and is totally fair-weather, and generally brings nothing good to the table is incredibly stupid… so why? I can’t tell you how many times, just in the last few months, where I have felt like someones fair-weather friend. Not in the sense that I am fair-weather, but that is who I am to them. I even texted my husband the other day and said “I don’t feel like I am good enough [for blank] anymore” and let me tell you, as a grown ass adult, this shit is still super real, and still super shitty. It is not to say I am not good enough, but it is a bit sad when that kind of realization and feeling hits you.

I know that friends come and go, I know that you grow and get busy, I understand all of that. But when people don’t make time for you anymore, it is no longer a matter of being busy, at that point, it is making a choice to no longer make time. People get busy, people have lives, bla bla bla. But when the months tick by, and the time between texts, calls, visits begins to extend to greater and greater spans of time, that is drifting my friends, that is not busy. And it is devastating when that shit happens.

And this all made me sad. Made me feel like I had a rock on my chest. I don’t like feeling like I am not good enough. It is no longer making me happy to keep this person around, it is no longer making me smile or feel loved and wanted… and truth be told, I am kind of over it. I am over feeling like I am not good enough, that I don’t look good enough, that I don’t make enough money, that I don’t have a nice enough house, that my sons sickness is annoying to hear about, that my sickness is annoying to hear about, that I no longer fit in this persons life or future. I am just over it. It doesn’t make me happy, and it hurts my soul.

I just want good people in my corner. My life is finally mellowing out and going in a good direction. I am happy. I am going somewhere with my life that I am happy about. I am no longer a swirling hurricane of shit and disaster. And I want good people behind me, and beside me. I want someone who asks me how I am. I want someone who talks to me about my plans, and how things are going. I want someone to tell me they are proud of me. I want someone who loves my kids and is excited to watch them grow up. I just want someone who wants me to be in their circle and who is happy I am there. I just want….. someone.

Guess I am just getting to the point in my life where I expect the people in my life to be good for me, good to me, and good for my soul. That isn’t too fucking much to ask, is it?

 

 

Closed for business…

People all around me are reproducing at an alarming rate. Just in the last 9 months, 4 new baby’s have directly entered my life, with 2 more sort of indirectly. Count it people, that is 6 babies. Six! Holy pampers, that is a lot of tiny humans.

I like a baby as much as the next person… actually, that is not true. I have never been the type to gush and goo over babies, it just isn’t in my dna. But all the power to those who do. However, with the sudden onslaught of little people entering my life, it has made me blatantly aware of one thing: I am SO happy I am all done with that part of my life!

My ovaries are just for show now, and I could not be happier. I know a few people who have been really hesitant and sad about shutting that part of their life down, but me? Not even one single second thought.

Truth be told, I had an appointment to have my tubes done when I was 29. I was a divorced single mother of 2 crazy boys, and I was just done. As fate would have it, I spent the better portion of my night prior to my surgery in absolute turmoil over my recent breakup with my boyfriend (whom is now my husband, as fate is a finicky bitch sometimes!) and I slept through my alarm for my surgery and didn’t get them done. I suppose fate had other ideas, as a mere 6 months later, I was pregnant with my littlest boy. I can’t imagine life without him in it, so I guess sleeping through my alarm was some form of kismet, as I NEVER sleep through alarms.

But I knew I was done with my littlest guy. I could feel it, and honestly, I DESPISE being pregnant. I was not one of those “oh the magic! The miracle!” people, I fucking hated it. It is not that I had bad pregnancies, they were really simple and lacking any sort of drama. But, I still hated being pregnant. I think some people just do, and I am for sure leading that parade.

The day I had my littlest guy was a bit of a gong show. I had discussed having my tubes done with my doctor in my last few appointments. And because I was older (30) and in a committed relationship (the aforementioned boyfriend – our “breakup” lasted less than a month and a half, and to be honest, we never really severed all ties, and thought about each other every day, and still talked alllllll the time…. I think it was more of a pause than anything… sometimes people need a beat to breathe…) I was granted a tubal ligation. So at the hospital, I signed the papers and we had our baby. And while my husband was giving him his very first bottle ever, my baby factory was being closed for business. Not a single tear. Not a single pause. Not a single question. Just cut, clamped and cauterized, and carried on with my life.

Have I ever thought about having another? What it would be like to have a baby girl? To add to our little family? FUUUHUUUUCK no. Not even for a second. I was given 3 boys, and I am so happy with that. I am closed for business, and I feel like I am complete.

Some women see babies and they say their ovaries skip a beat. When I see babies, I think they are cute, I silently laugh to myself over the sleepless nights and poopy hell that the parents are now in for, I rub their tiny little adorable heads, and me and my ovaries celebrate with a big fat gin and tonic.

I am at peace with it. It all ended up how it was supposed to. But holy damn are there a lot of babies being born right now!! It must have been really cold last winter.

Yolo…

Mistakes. We all make them. We have all made them. And they will continue to be in our lives, regardless of our most sincere attempts to avoid them. But, just because a great period of time has passed, does that mean that that particular thing/person/situation needs to remain in your life? Does time automatically equate to seceding and leaving things status quo? Does that mean that just because time has passed, it is just part of who you are now?

I am here to answer that question for you as blunt as possible: FUCK NO!

If something doesn’t bring you joy or enrich your life in some way, if all it does is bring you down and cloak you in toxic sludge, walk the fuck away. I don’t want to throw out trendy asshole sayings, because I don’t particularly think of myself as trendy or an asshole, but for real people, fucking YOLO!

Now that is not to say that you should go quit your job and screw over your family. So be responsible, but still try and find your bliss in this situation.

BUT!!!

A friend who makes you more sad than anything? Or makes you feel like you aren’t important? Or possibly drains you beyond measure? Why are we holding on to this? I can’t tell you how many times I have heard “bla bla sucks, but we have been friends for [blank] years so I just stick it out” Holy fuck, why? If  you got stuck in the leg with rusty barbed wire years ago, would you just walk around with it sticking in you? Poisoning you? Driving you nuts? No, I would like to think you would not do that. So how is this any different? A thorn in your side is a thorn in your side. Remove all poison and carry the fuck on.

A family situation that makes you feel like you are insignificant, stupid, hard to love, unnecessary? Just because they are family does not give them a buy to treat you like shit without consequence. Sure, families usually get away with far more shit than anyone else, but it doesn’t mean you have to lay down and take it. Sometimes space is necessary. Sometimes estrangement is necessary. I’ve done both. No it is not easy. But like I said, yolo, bitches…

Marriage…… this, I feel, is the one that most people hold on to even when they don’t want to, or really fucking shoudn’t. I’ve ended one myself, and while it wasn’t easy, I still frequently kick myself for not doing it a lot sooner. I lost a lot of people because of it, was reprimanded by certain people (who should have had my back) for just “giving up” and “breaking vows”. He was poison. He was awful. He was (and remains to this day) an emotional terrorist. He is manipulative and conniving, he was emotionally and mentally abusive, he was (and still is) a narcissistic sociopath who will literally blame anyone but himself for everything that is wrong in his life or situation. He is never wrong. Who the fuck in their right mind would want to stay in that sort of a life? Being told every day that you are a failure, or a disappointment, or being constantly told that I didn’t “turn out like he hoped”…. Like I said, I kick myself for not leaving sooner. And shame on anyone who feels I should have stayed and tried to make it work. I walked the fuck away, middle finger in the air, and not a single tear shed. What does that tell you? Yolo, mother fuckers…. and I decided it was time that my one life was MY life. And I have never looked back.

Don’t hold on to a mistake just because of the amount of time it has taken you to make it. Don’t hold on to a mistake just because it is what anyone else thinks you should do. Don’t hold on to situations that bring you grief or distress or unhappiness just because a great period of time has passed since you allowed this situation into your life. People would judge you for leaving barbed wire in your side, or a shard of glass in your palm. So why is it so easy for us to accept that basic principle, but in human form?

Every day is a fucking gift, don’t squander it on the unworthy. Walk the fuck away from the bullshit and poison, middle fingers raised, and enjoy the life you have been given.

Yolo, bitches. Fucking YOLO.

Something for me… 

I have wanted to do something for myself for years. Now now, don’t go getting all perverse and think I have some long running desire to pleasure myself.. I have a sex-on-a-stick husband to do that for me. You bunch of disgustingtons.

Moving on..

I have two college degrees. I hate both of them. I have long desired to go back to school and do something that sets my soul on fire. Because at the end of the day, if your soul isn’t ablaze, are you really living?

I have toyed with many many career options; some fun, some practical, some would have required I pack my family up and move 4 hours away (let me tell you, that was one of the most appealing aspects of that particular schooling). But I never really pulled the trigger on any of them. Some because of cost, some because of practicality, some because I just plain and simple feel too old to do a long term program. I am not “old” but I sure as shit am no longer a spring chicken (and thank hell for that, chickens are fucking ugly!)

I had one program picked out, had the funding all figured out, figured out scheduling for practicums and all that nonsense, and then less than two weeks later, I found myself pregnant with my youngest son. I find that more often than not, if I plan something for myself, I am met with some form of push-back from the universe, or my children. Or some heinous combination of both.

My kids are great. Lets just get that out of the way now, so I don’t get any assbags climbing up my nose because I didn’t praise them enough or properly. BUT! That being said, they are sometimes real cock-blocks (so to say, and sometimes actually literally). It is some universal bullshit blowback that when a mom decides to be something other than just a “mom” something explodes in her regular routine and throws a proverbial wrench into her plans. This can’t possibly only happen to me.. and if it does, fuck you, universe!

I realize that my life exists mostly in “murphys law” (hell, I once wrote a book and I even named that thing “In the life of Murphy”… no, it’s never been published… sure I have thought about it, dreamed about it, but again, never pulled the trigger…) But I think after this many decades of doing shit only for others, it was time to do something for me.

So, two days ago, I pulled the trigger. Application sent. Now we wait. Am I worried that I will get in? No. The prerequisites are so basic, I could have been accepted even if I had done high school like my husband did (haha sorry honey!) I wanted to start in September, because lets face it, after this many years of waiting, I didn’t want to wait for another 6 months. But alas, because of some plans we already have made for September, and the fact that I am a “ne-‘er do well” and can not acquire a student loan, I settled for January. And come hell or high water, barring any more children coming down with some form of life-threatening illness (thanks middle child…) I WILL be starting on January 8th… possibly the oldest college student known to man. Yes, I realize that is a massive exaggeration, but fuck do I feel old (thanks to the aforementioned middle child and his life threatening illness, and the fact that I actually am old…)

But this is for me. All for me. We don’t “need” the money. I don’t “need” to work. But I am fucking sick of being mom and wife, and little more. My kids will all be in school full time in the fall, and while I know my job with them will never technically end (right, mom? *wink wink*) I feel like their need for my undivided attention is beginning to dwindle. And doing school online is good – I will still be home for my middles busted ass pancreas, to take my oldest to volleyball and school dances, and to go to my youngests show and tell and special days. Oh yeah, and I will still get to spend time with my husband during the day, because his schedule only takes him away from us on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights… yes, it is badass, I agree! So, I will get to be me, better me, and still be what everyone else needs me to be, too. And this will give me more excuses to bat my eyes and ask my husband to pick up a bit more slack around the house, and anything that keeps me from having to cook every meal is absolutely fantastic! Cuz really, fuck cooking. Guess my hubby is gonna have to learn how to cook keto, hahaha!

So anyways, this is just a very long-winded way to share my pseudo exciting news. And now you know. Carry on……

You are actually pronouncing that wrong…

As a matter of fact, “mom” is NOT pronounced “nag”… silly me, I have been saying it wrong for years!!!
When being a mom means you are perpetually nagging someone to do something, clean something, wash something, change something, check something, say something…. it gets tedious and eats away at your soul. So one day you wake up and realize that your soul looks moth eaten and you’ve spent your youth being a nag. Super.


You see all of these blogs and posts and whatnots of people glamorizing that which makes me homicidal… “the years go by so fast” “let them be little” bla bla bla. And while I am totally on board with this, and never ever ever want to wish my kids childhoods away, or wish time to go faster, I also see the flip side that none of these mommy blogs will share with you… Being a mom sometimes SUCKS!!!!

Waking up in the middle of the night for years on end, running on nothing more than caffeine and the desire to not die while looking this haggard, being covered in unidentifiable stains and liquids for the better part of your years with youngsters, teaching them to read, write, ride bikes, walk, clean themselves, clean their rooms, think for themselves, cook, clean, be responsible….. sweet baby Jesus, it is a wonder that more mothers are not walking around with straws just stuck right in the wine bottle, and sucking it back like it was our jobs.


I adore my kids. I love the shit out of my little fuck trophies…. but for real, motherhood is no fucking simple job. I feel like 90% of my day is nagging them. Not because I am a nag, but because their little ears and brains can’t process something until it has been repeated, at increasing volumes, five hundred times. Literally, five hundred. I struggle to comprehend how these tiny humans, of which have all been given awards for their intelligence at school, can’t remember, from day to day, just what is involved in being alive. Like bathing, or brushing their teeth, or changing their clothes, or doing their laundry, or in the case of my diabetic, making sure that his cgm is calibrated and he is not dead (calm your tits – I do 95% of his diabetic care, and he is only expected to do his calibrations and his 24hr injection.. I do not leave this all up to him, so don’t go getting all sanctimommy on me just yet – there will still be plenty of things I am about to say that you can pile on..k?). Day after day, these simple tasks are expected of them, and day after day, it comes as some horrific surprise to them that they have to do them.. and this is generally after I have come unglued and shrieked in their general direction. Shrieked. Because that is what I do now… remain calm until that is no longer an option, and then come unleashed on the people that I am responsible for keeping alive.


In a perfect world, my hair would still be thick, my skin would still have elastin, I wouldn’t have bags under my eyes that could accommodate a costco shopping trip, I would sleep soundly every night, wake up refreshed every day, have children that walked in nice straight lines with smiles on their freshly washed faces, they would do what is expected of them not because I freaked out but because they remembered to, birds would chirp, the sun would shine, and I would feel peaceful and serene.


But since my name is not Cinder-fucking-ella, that is just not the case. I just wish, with every ounce of my haggard mombie being, that they could just let me stop nagging. It really is just one simple request.. I would like to stop having to nag. Yes, I could just let my lazy flag fly and let them get away with it, but that is not how I roll. I am in charge of these little shitters, and my ass will they be the kind of people that go out in to the world and have no idea how to live or survive. My children will never be surprised that they can adult, they will never use the hashtag “adulting is hard” because they won’t have their heads rammed straight up their asses like some of these little snot nosed turds that are being raised right now. I do not pat their asses and tell them that their lack of effort is good enough. I nag because I care.

Yes. You read that right. I nag because I care! And one day, while my kids are being served their McDonalds french fries by some of these other kids who’s parents didn’t believe in time outs, or punishments, or teaching them right from wrong, or let them run the show, or allowing them to parade around without rules or consequence, then I can sit back, snarf my humble pie, and maybe then I will hear birds chirping and see the sun shining and feel peaceful.

But until then, I guess I am stuck with the mom/nag gig. Ah well, I don’t fucking like birds, anyway.

Yet another road block…

To say my life has been easy, or handed to me, would be a bold faced lie. I have had to fight, tooth and nail, for everything that I have. I am a little bitter that it has been so hard for me, when I watch everyone else just cruise and get what they want with little effort. That is not to say that everyone I know doesn’t work hard for what they have (most of them, some of them are just straight up lazy asses who let everything just get handed to them…) but when all you have are the normal obstacles, you never really will understand the larger ones in life.

That’s me – the wrangler of the large ass obstacles. I would like to say that I have done this all with grace and compassion, but that’s straight up shit. I have been angry, I have been mad, I have cried, I have cursed what brought me to this point, I have plotted the conducters demise (yep. I have. judge away.. I care not), I have flipped my shit and screamed at the unfairness of this entire situation. None of that has helped, but I do believe it has helped me maintain a shred of sanity – no one can leave that much hostility bottled up without going bat shit crazy. That being said, I have also kept a smile on my face, I have kept trying, I have kept my kids happy and healthy and well adjusted, I kept my sobriety (which I believe is a feat all on its own!), I have kept my life fairly balanced, and I still have all of my hair! hahaha….

I have fought back and won. I know very few people who could do what I have done… life is not easy when everything is taken from you all at once. Literally, everything. I had me and my kids, and everything else, I had to fight for and get on my own. NOTHING has been handed to me. NO ONE can say that I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for them (except maybe the asshole who fucked things up for me in the first place). Everything I have and everything I am is because I refused to give up, I am tenacious, and I did everything in my power to get back on my own two feet. I mean, my husband helped, but that wasn’t so much a silver platter as it was a partner in crime. Everything I have, everything we have, has come from hard work, grit and determination. Imagine living your life with literally no credit. None. Not even a dollar. Could you do it? I fucking doubt it. But I did, and we did, and now look where we are.

And even with everything we have done, accomplished, fought for, striven for, rebuilt… I am still finding myself facing road blocks. Bull shit from my past that never should have affected me in the first place, but I was unfortunate enough to be tied to one of the most selfish pieces of shit on the planet. But I digress, that was then and this is now.

And while I sit back and watch people go about their lives, spending money like it is not an issue (and for some it isn’t, but for some, it damned well is…) I am sitting here, despairingly, and a bit heartbroken, because I have a plan for my life, something I desperately want to do, something for me, and I can’t. I just can’t.

My life is my own, but I am also living in the shadows of other peoples choices, and it affects my life every day. I have chosen to live my life happily, in spite of the constant shit I had to endure. And I am happy I did. But it would be nice to just live my life, the way I want to, without the constant reminder of the heinous bullshit people pulled on me.

I am happy. I love my life. I love my husband and my kids. I just wish that things were easier, sometimes. But I suppose it is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do to change the past.

Six months. In just six months I will get exactly what I want, once again, on my own. I guess in a way, it is amazing and awe inspiring that I have been able to do what I have done, on my own. Not many can say that. But I can. And that is something that no one can take away from me.

Alone or just lonely.. 

I read this article the other day that struck a chord with me a little. Lately, I have felt like I was invisible. Why? I could be in a room full of people, and still feel all alone. Like I could leave, and no one would notice or care. I used to be an extrovert – I fed off of other peoples energy and felt sad when I was alone for long periods of time, and I was very outgoing. But now, I feel like I have slowly drifted into being an anxious introvert. I don’t really know when this shift happened, but it fucking did.

It can be really exhausting. I don’t like this feeling, but how do I make it go away? I am inclined to blame my thyroid. I would like to think that it is the culprit to my mental shitshow. But what if it isn’t? I don’t like constantly questioning the intentions and loyalty of not only my friends (like, my best friends who are always there for me) but also my husband. Not only do I not deserve to have these awful questions in my head about these wonderful people, but they don’t deserve it, either.

But how do I make it go away, when my invisibility cloak is suffocating me?

I get flashes of my old badass self – the girl who was outspoken, outgoing, determined, happy. So it gives me hope that one day I will return to that, and it will no longer just be my alter-ego and a distant memory. But holy fuck, I wish that “one day” was sooner rather than later. I am not sure my poor heart can take much more of this loneliness and wondering, as unjustified as it may or may not be. 

This article, it was about high functioning anxiety, and what a shitshow it can be in your own head. Here is the article; I have left the authors name for credit. NOTE: I DID NOT WRITE THIS NEXT PART!!!! It just kind of spoke to me, and put a voice to my weird inner shit. I can’t stress enough how legit and accurate this is, as sad as it makes me to admit.

This piece was written by Kirsten Corley, author of “But Before You Leave

Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your family (if they had a choice.)

Because this thing you didn’t choose is trying to convince you that all of who you are is defined by one word. Anxiety.

It’s one wrong text message.

One tone you didn’t even mean to speak in.

Another night out of things you only half remember with a help of a drink too many.

One conversation you wonder if you told too much.

It’s a text unanswered that sends your mind wandering.

And a call that goes right to voicemail.

It’s a second text to clarify.

Just hoping they will answer.

Even though you know you should have waited.

It’s looking at your best friend of a decade plus and doubting them.

Not for anything they did but for something you haven’t even done yet.

Self-doubt. Questioning. Analyzing. Overthinking.

It’s the waiting for people to leave.

It’s ruining something before it even begins.

It’s goodbye without the word that becomes an expectation.

It’s the nights that keep you up tossing and turning.

It’s not hearing from someone for a while and thinking they are mad.

Even though realistically they have no reason to be.

It’s an apology you don’t have to say, yet you feel you need to.

Just to ease your mind.

People ask about enemies and the only one you’ve known is yourself.

Trapped inside your mind that keeps you prisoner.2

Pushing people away who you want to stay.

But you don’t want to burden or bother them with a problem that’s your own.

It’s the want and need to just hear words, “It’s OK.”

That confidence boost that will shift everything.

You feel guilty even asking.

But you want to just hear that they won’t go.

Because when your mind plays tricks on you and tells you everyone you care about will leave you, you don’t want to believe it.

But part of you does.

You didn’t choose this so why would anyone want to choose you?

That’s the voice you hear on repeat.

And you don’t want to come across as clingy but you care.

You care too much and think too little.

You love too hard but everything about you is soft.

You try and overcompensate just to give them a reason to stay.

But what you don’t believe is they are choosing to be here because they want to be.

Because you aren’t as bad and intolerable and unlovable as you think you are10.

Anxiety is just trying to trick you into believing you are all these things.

But if you look around for just a moment you’ll realize the people who matter haven’t gone anywhere.

Not just your run of the mill love story.. 


There is love, the kind of love that most people experience. You enjoy being around the person, you choose to have a life with them, start a family, spend your days with them.. this is the way that most of civilization experiences “love”. 

Then there are the people who HAVE to be around one another, or they physically hurt. That’s where I fall. 

My husband and I have a very strange story. It’s the kind of thing that really cheesy summer movies are written about. What kind of person just puts their head in a strangers lap, looks up and quotes Forest Gump, and holds her hand? My husband, that’s who. That’s how we met. And from the day I met him, I knew he was different, and I think he would say the same about me – in fact, he has. We didn’t get together right off the bat. We had years and years of our own lives, own paths, own focus. 

But something life altering brought us together, and since the first time he messaged me, I can’t get enough of him. It’s more than just a want or desire, it’s an actual need. He has told me repeatedly that he’s addicted to me. And I agree. I’ve tried to explain this to friends before and they smile, but I don’t think anyone really gets it. 

When he’s not with me, even if we are only separated for a few minutes or hours, or days (which has only happened 4 times in our entire relationship) I feel like a piece of me is missing. Not in the gross Nicholas Sparks velveeta novel sort of ways, but like there is a literal piece of me missing. 

Trevor and I have spent 7 years discussing our life together. And the best way I can explain it is magnetic. There’s no way I could ever be away from him. Something in me pulls me to him (don’t be gross). He has said the same thing. It’s like two very strong magnets. 

I love him. That is undeniable. But I need him. He is like oxygen. I can’t live without it, and I couldn’t live without him. 

I never really felt like something was missing in my life, per say. But I can say this; the first time I kissed him, a part of me came alive. I knew right in that moment that he was my home. Funny thing is, I wasn’t looking for him. He was just supposed to be something fun, nothing serious. Never in a million years did I ever think that the boy from high school would be the missing piece of me. 

But he is. 

He is my other half. He is my home. He is my forever. Not just my love, he (to quote a really crappy movie)  completes me. He is my soul mate. One soul, two bodies. He is my person. My happy. My forever. My twin flame. 

Badass Bandaids.. 

I have written about this before, a few times. I think bandaids are fucking amazing. The little cartoon ones are pretty badass, and the designs on them nowadays are beyond fun. What is the point of a bandaid? To cover a wound and help you heal by keeping the shit out. Pretty straightforward, right? 

But, I think that some people can be bandaids, too. I have a handful of them in my life. You know who my strongest bandaid is? My husband. He came in to my life when I was a fucking pile of rubble on the floor, and slowly, together, we have put me back together. I’m different now – I put myself back together how I always should have been. And he has been the glue, tape and bandaids that’s held all the pieces together and kept the shit out. He’s fucking amazing and I don’t know what I would do without him. 

I also have some friends who are my like my doc mcstuffins bandaids. Sure, they were there through the demise and rebirth of me, but they weren’t the architects behind the restructure – they were the ones who kept me smiling and made sure my head stayed above water and screwed on straight. Plus, they’re fucking cute.. just like doc mcstuffins haha. They held my hand, lent me their shoulders, gave me their ears for hours upon hours, heard more of the nitty gritty than anyone should be privy to, and they’re still there, holding certain pieces together. Serious angels on earth and I wild be lost without them. 

I was just listening to this song, and something clicked (another topic that I frequently write about).

“I will be right by your side. 

If I can’t find the cure, 

I’ll fix you with my love

No matter what you know, 

I’ll fix you with my love

And if you say you’re okay

I’m gonna heal you anyway

Promise I’ll always be there

Promise I’ll be the cure”

Sounds like a cheesy love song, and maybe it is (Lady Gaga, by the way) but to me, it’s more than that. At its core, it’s about being there for someone and sticking by them for the long haul. And that’s what my bandaids are. I may not need them as much as I used to, for the reasons I used to, anyway… but where are they? Still stuck right to me. None of them could fix me, but they stood by me while I put the pieces back together, they helped where they could, and now, no matter where I go, they’re there. They helped me rebuild, and they’re written in all of what I am now. 

I’m not all better. I don’t think I ever will be. Once rocked that hard, I think it’s always natural to be forever shaky. But I’m doing ok. 

I have some more healing to do, but I know that I have them all behind me. And I think I’m ok with how far I still have to go. They know me and they love me, regardless of the cracks and bandaids and disheveled imperfect perfection. 

How does it go? I’m stuck on bandaids cuz bandaids stuck on me. And I’ll take these crazy ass people with me everywhere I go, with a big fucking smile on my face and a shit-ton of peace in my heart. 

Because of them. My badass bandaids. 

Choices, choices..


Isn’t life amazing? You are like this tiny little thing in this great big world, and even though you may feel like what you think, do, or say doesn’t have an effect, it does! Everything we think, do or say, or don’t, has an effect.. whether or not we allow ourselves to see that effect is another story.

In this life, we have so many choices, it is staggering. There are people who see the choices as a way to make things amazing, and there are people who use their choices as a crutch for constant bitching.

I have been in several situations where I have been faced with choices. Sometimes I made the right choice, and sometimes I did not. But it is what I did with my ability to choose that made all the difference. Because do you know what constant bitching does for your situation? SWEET FUCK ALL!

I am not saying that never complaining is the answer… sometimes venting is 100% necessary. I am talking about the people who have “issues” in their lives, and all they do is complain, while continuing to carry on the exact same path.

Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, in most cases, is not a sign of hope and perseverance, it is a sign of insanity! There are times that continuing on the same path is a sign of strength, but that is not always the case.

Say, complaining about not understanding something while trying to get your Masters, but carrying on because you are determined to get it… strength!!! Complaining about being fat and not losing weight while literally ramming cookie after cookie into your mouth… insanity!!

If there are things in your life that you want to change so much that you spend hours a day, daily, complaining and bitching, then fucking change them!! It does no one any good to bitch incessantly, nor does it do anyone any good to constantly listen to it.

If you have problems in your life, and they never get better, and you don’t ever really try to make them better, you are literally making a choice to keep your life that way. At that point, it is no longer a problem, it is a conscious effort to remain in the same rut.

And if you are the reason you are in that rut, shut the fuck up about it. Vent, sure. If you feel exasperated due to your circumstances, try to fix them. And if you choose to not change them, or to not see the ability to change them, then accept them. But for the love of all that is good and holy, stop bitching. Because that does nobody any good. Change it. Accept it. Or fix it. Or shush. 

Life is amazing and brilliant and bursting at the seams with opportunity and chances to make it fantastic. Take them. Fucking take them! Because sitting around and bitching is doing nothing but wasting opportunity. You have the choice, no one is stopping you… grab life by the balls and go make some magic shit happen!

Choices, choices…. make some good ones.