Please let me off of your crazy train.

***Please excuse my mistakes. I needed to release this and proofreading and correcting my mistakes (I’m sure there are many) would only add to my current frustration. In a couple of days I will read it and those mistakes will make me cringe. Today, I’m like screw it.


It is incredibly difficult for me to find balance. How can you be kind, caring, and genuinely nice without being a pushover: without being someone everyone thinks they can say whatever they feel to and not care how it makes me feel. The balance of being strong and being an honest, good, person doesn’t seem reachable. To stand my ground on issues important to me, without allowing anyone to insert or force their opinions on me like demands, I feel like I have to be bitchy ALL THE TIME. Bitchy is not easy for me; kind and good is. How do I balance this.

Recently some family members have angrily inserted their opinions on me about how I am raising my children. I have been through hell and back protecting them from all kind of ridiculous people and situations my ex was carelessly involved in. I’ve managed food allergies and adhd and all that comes along with advocating for both of them. I’ve research the best way and talk to many professionals to do my best to try minimize the chaos of their family falling apart, while my parents were dying, one right after the other. Yet their opinion on how I discipline my children I know better than anyone is their business!

I’ve had two family members, one I have been very close to, yell at me and my children over absolutely nothing. My 8 year old son picked up a piece of food with his hand to eat instead of using his fork, a fork he was using but having a hard time picking up this one food. This was something I didn’t care about AT ALL. We were with family and not out at a restaurant. We were at the beach on vacation. This was suppose to be easy and relaxing but no, the last two beach weekends have been the same, yelling at me because I do not want you to disapline my children. The same children you know nothing else about: not what grade they’re in, not how they do in school, not their favorite colors, favorite pets, not what makes them happy and what makes them sad. NOTHING. Yet I’m suppose to allow you to yell at and aggressively yank up and close face yell at them because you feel they’re being disrespectful. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. Since I wouldn’t allow it and ask you to back up you decide to insult my 8 year old child and tell him he messes up everything and we can’t do anything fun because of him. It isn’t even remotely true, unless eating one noodle with your fingers is so unbearable. No, no it isn’t that YOU have secretly been drinking all day and are losing your mind. No it’s me and my child who has the audacity to eat a noodle with his hand. One.

Maybe it’s too hard for the two of you to sacrifice your love of peanut butter and peanuts for 3 freaking days because my daughter is so allergic to it it could actually take her life away. It’s too much of an inconvenience for you to not be able to make your child a peanut butter sandwich so you do it anyway and then wipe his hands with a wet paper towel and think we are being difficult. Water doesn’t kill the protein and when he wipes his hands all over everything including her, she could have a serious, life threatening reaction. Maybe you were irritated when I started the weekend mentioning that she and I were on high alert regarding her allergy because one of her friends just had a really close anaphylactic reaction to an accidental ingestion less than a month ago. Her mother and I are friends and she talked to me about how afraid she was and how it was out of her control. It was a raging poison attacking her child. Making her skin bubble as it came threw her nose as she vomited, then she watched as the hives crawled across her stomach up and down her limbs, up her throat and started closing her airway; one epipen, then two with both only helping for a couple of minutes before her airway began closing again. She told me they luckily made it to the emergency room before the small spaces lettting air through closed completely. She told me how she hadn’t realized how epinephrine itself could cause her child to go into cardiac arrest so now she had to be hooked up to a heart monitor to monitor it closely so hopefully, if it occurred, they would be prepared. She told me the number the pulse oxometer read and that she couldn’t allow herself to process what that meant until the crisis was over and her child’s life wasn’t in the balance. All because of a food she was told, by an adult, was safe. How rude of me to think the peanut butter alternative, in the cabinet would suffice for 3 days, if the craving got too big to handle . I can’t believe I asked so much of you to mess up your routine, your food cravings, and something your child wanted and had to have. I’m sure it was hard on you to do without it for…idk, was it 18 hours maybe? 8-10 of which we were all asleep at night. I’m sorry we are such a problem. I am sorry we mess up all the peanut butter fun. Gosh, how could I be so inconsiderate of your needs. What a bitch I am.

Yet when I was yelled at and disrespected I didn’t do the same to you. I am an adult and even thought you’re 2 years older than I am, you still are not. I tried to walk away but you followed me. I tried to not react and asked you repeatedly to stop which made you push harder. You didn’t like it when I told you I didn’t know what you were even talking about so you got in my face and acted like an angry teenager, not in control of their emotions due to increased hormone spike. I walked away and told you you weren’t allowed to speak to me like that. I walked away and you followed me into my room, where my son was waiting for me, and look at him but said to me, At least my son doesn’t ruin everything. We can’t ever do anything because of him. Which made my little boy cry so hard that he couldn’t breath. The look of satisfaction on your face was disturbing and when I picked him up, grabbed my keys, and told you that you crossed the line and that I was done with you, you said, whatever to me. Who does that?!? Who feels satisfied and proud of hurting a child over a freaking noodle that I put on his plate so he could feel like a part of the family at dinner, as we all ate spaghetti. He doesn’t like spaghetti sauce but will sometimes eat a plan noodle. I can barely get him to eat anything. He has a problem with some textures and he has a difficult time eating meat at all (tender hearted and can’t eat an animal). He doesn’t like beans either so I have a hard time getting the correct amount of protein as well as other needed nutrients into him. So to me the fact that he’d eat anything was enough for me, utensils or not. No worries, they choose not to know this about him; when I’ve tried to explain it before I was met with rolled eyes and stories about how in your day all children were raised the same. That’s bullshit but if that is what you stubbornly choose to believe, great. It isn’t what I believe. You still insist on telling me I’m wrong and feel strongly that you are right. Who are you? What gives you the right to talk to me like you are some expert when your own child’s adult life is so turned upside down that you support her 100%. Thee adult child that has been screaming at me and acting completely irrational. You want me to follow your guidance on raising children? Ummm, no thank you.

Me being empathetic and caring makes me a target. People think they can dominate me because I keep my cool and care about people. I don’t need to act like a buffoon and yell, scream, and hit my children to discipline them. That’s not who I am. So you tell me I coddle them. Over and over this phrase is used ad nauseam to try to push my buttons but it doesn’t work. I surprise you by not disagreeing. Yes, I love and treat my children tenderly because I am their safe place to land everyday after dealing with people like you. Breaking them down and making them fear you isn’t something that should bring you pride. Maybe your anger comes from the fact that even during all of your screaming I calmly told you I didn’t agree, didn’t know what you were even talking about, and tried repeatedly remove myself. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t make me doubt myself and do as you instructed me to do infuriated you. Guess what, when it comes to my children, no one can push me around. What gives you the right. I’m not trying to criticize your parenting even if I disagree with some things you do, because it’s not my business.

I am a solid force, quiet and strong. I am sure of my beliefs and I am willing to walk away to keep them from seeing your ridiculous behavior that I never had to witness, not even once, as a child. I won’t allow it. It isn’t normal and as their mother I refuse to allow them to witness it again so they start believing it is. Push me I won’t fall. You can’t knock me down. I’ll stand alone without support and still be stronger than you’ll ever be.



The Frog, the Pot, and Me

The last 10 years have flown by. I don’t know how it has but time never stops for sure and with it’s constant moving, so many things have changed, including me. So many changes and like the story of the frog in the pot of boiling water, I didn’t even notice it was happening.

I went out on a boat this weekend with my children and some other people. I didn’t think much of the plan of the day, I only thought of what we all needed to be comfortable, protected, fed, and safe. I remembered everything we needed. I thought it would be fun for the kids because they love boat rides. I saw some old friends unexpectedly while there and they were so excited to see me, told their children stories about me, and as I listened I forgot who that person was they were describing. I barely remember her and she was me. How is that even possible.

I use to be funny and silly and make people laugh. I use to be so carefree and full of life. I don’t know how I’ve disappeared. The things that have happened these last 10 years have mostly been out of my control. I wasn’t asked or considered or cared about. I didn’t have choices. I had responsibilities and I wasn’t going to walk away from those because you did. But because you did, I have 90% of responsibility and what that is left me with is a person who takes care of everyone but myself, because there isn’t any extra time for that. Even when I try to make plans for myself, you bail on your 10% making me cancel the chances to get a moment to remember myself.

I didn’t get to make the decisions that changed our lives. None of us did but you and you are living up your life while we are loving our family and making memories. I may not remember who I was before and I may be sad momentarily, but I am proud of the decision I did get to make about being here for our children and loving them so they never have to doubt it. I am their constant.

What Are We Running To?

I realize at times all we seem to be doing is running. Running from one activity to the next, but never taking time to be. Now I do admit sometimes I enjoy myself but there are many others that I find myself just going through the motions. Am I teaching my children that busyness equals happiness. I certainly hope not. I do however find myself trying to give them the things I didn’t have, but what they need aren’t these things.

When I look at my life the things that stand out that I need are people I love and who love me. I need to feel comfortable enough in my skin to stand alone yet at the same time, comfortable enough to let someone in. Allow someone to really love me, know me, and be ok letting my guard down with. I need to take the time to feel the breeze, see the birds fly, clouds move, and smell the fresh air. I just need to be. This is what they need me to teach them.

My children need me to teach them about Jesus not just from going to church but from their hearts. To see the good in people and understand that sometimes people’s actions don’t always show what they feel inside. I want my children to be kind, and giving, and I want them to know that when it gets hard that they can pray to the Lord and ask him to help guide them. I want them to understand that sometimes our prayers don’t appear to be answered but years will pass and they will see that they actually were. Maybe just not in the way they expected. I want them to feel their faith in their hearts, in the place it started in all of us, even the ones who grew to where they felt nothing. I want them to feel their faith forever.

All this running we do. Running to keep our figures, stay healthy. Running to get our children to every activity they’re involved in. Running to avoid the quiet moments of truth that are sometimes hard to face. Running. Running to nowhere. Running on empty. I want to teach my children to stop, to unplug, and just be. I want them to sit still and absorb, to watch and feel. I want them to find love, to feel love, and to be love. I want them to be and not miss the moments as we rush by.



Take everyday you’re given


Don’t get stuck in the past


Run because your legs work


Laugh because you can be happy


Work like your passion drives you


Rise early and rested and waste little


Find fortune in love, your children, friendships, music, and nature


Let nothing hold you back


Live because your life and everything in it is a gift.

Live because you have a choice.


EA = Defeated

I feel like I’m always fighting against myself. With the things that have happened in my life I feel myself waiting for the next bad event. Horrible. I fight these thoughts with all my might. I pray about it. I write down positive thoughts and plans for my future. I try to not think about me, my needs, my future. I’m about as good at that as I am meditating. Not. At. All. These thoughts wear me out. Paralyze me. Irritate me like sandpaper against my skin. Ugh.

My future, the one I use to be so excited about, looks bleak. I look forward to the kid’s futures. I’m excited about their lives….just not mine. I am not looking forward to one thing personally. First time ever!

I want to want to start dating. I jus don’t want to. I’m not strong enough. I flirt. I sometimes feel drawn to men. Nice men. Father’s. Good, kind, nice, single father’s. Then…no. I can’t. I cannot. I feel old and unattractive. I feel damaged and weak. I feel like I don’t recognize myself and I know I don’t have time to find myself again! I did that in my 20s and now I’m lost again and I don’t have time to deal with it. I have two wonderful children that are my responsibility. I don’t have time.

I need something to look forward to that is about me. I feel lost. Lonely. Scared. But saying that makes me feel weak.

I hate weak.

It makes me feel less than.




It leads me into darkness when all I ever crave is the light.

Random Thoughts

As my once husband ventures off to extreme selfishville (again) I calmed my nerves by thinking, thank God he’s not mine anymore. Then I thought of his current girlfriend and thought, I bet she’s thinking I’m a saint about now. Then I decided all of the women he tricks and discards must come to the realization that I am not whatever he sold me as to them. Funny how things works out. I don’t need actual validation as I know they all come to this point. Well, all except one. The first one I found out about. We were still married and she knew it and still dove in, seduced by his lies. She doesn’t feel good things about me. I sent her mother the poem she wrote about my husband dick. Still today it was the best decision I’ve never regretted. Makes me laugh out loud….still. I need to find a copy of it to post. So dumb of her. So gross. Can you imagine that mother daughter conversation? So funny.

Good night my lovies ❤️