High Quality People equals a High Quality Life.

I've been seeing a lot of people talk about not being able to trust others and not needing other people in their lives lately. It makes me sad and I feel as though I need to share what I have learned in the past few years thanks mainly in part to a close friend from high school. I haven't had an easy time and the relationships that I've had have definitely given me reason to crawl into a hole never to return to human contact. I've been cheated on, lied to, physically/emotionally/mentally abused, and countless other things. If anything, I should never want to be around people again, for the rest of my life.
Then I was given some advice that I try to live my life by. ""If the guy that is talking to you doesn't have the life you want, his opinion doesn't matter". Basically, what I have come to learn is that you have to surround yourself with high quality people in order to achieve success in both life and your relationships. If you want to have a successful career, seek out people who already have one. If you want a happy, long lasting marriage, seek out people who have already done it. If you want happy, healthy children, seek out people who have them. Don't surround yourself with people who bring you down to their level. Surround yourself with people who build you up.
When you are in a situation where someone hurts you, sometimes you'll make a general opinion regarding all people of that sex, race, etc. Then, in order to continue believing this stereotype that you've concocted, you decided to seek out people who fit that stereotype in order to prove you are right. For example, I have a friend who was cheated on and lied to by an ex. He says that all women are untrustworthy and dishonest. When he met me, I was as honest with him as I could be, I was straight-forward about my past and explained everything I'd been through and done. I've been honest with him since. He couldn't deal with that because I didn't fit his self-fulfilled prophecy of "women are not to be trusted". But then I see the women that he continues to surround himself with and they are definitely "not to be trusted". As far as I know, they have slept with most of my friends (at the same time) and are definitely NOT high quality women. By seeking out these women, my friend is fulfilling his stereotype, therefore proving himself right.
High quality people lead to high quality relationships. I have had to cut many a person from my life because they were not high quality people who had something to offer to the relationship. I have friends that are merely acquaintances, people that I will go for a drink with once in awhile, but never anything more. But then there are people that I respect and look up to, people who are good to their friends, family, have successful careers, etc.
All I am asking is that everyone takes a moment to really reflect on their relationships with people and their lives. If you feel that everyone always lets you down and you can't trust the people in your life, look at the people around you. Are they high quality people? Do they care enough about their own lives that they are secure, successful, and happy? If not, it will be hard, but you may need to weed out some friends and sometimes even family.

Healthy?

So I have a thought that I'd like to share because it both bothers and confuses me and perhaps someone can explain it to me. Now, I've never been married, but I've been in serious live-in relationships with children where we might as well have been married. I have a few married friends who have clearly expressed to me that they don't need/want anyone in their life other than their husbands. Which, in turn, makes me feel as though, why the hell are we even talking then? If you don't want me in your life, why am I a part of it?
I look at these relationships as unhealthy. I don't respect them and I sure as heck don't ever want one. Why would I want my world to revolve around one person? I've been there, done that, and lost who I was in the whole scheme of things. I lost friends and when I needed someone to lean on, I had no one. I don't ever want to have my significant other have a business trip, or a guy's night and be upset because I don't have friends of my own to occupy me or because I can't stand to be in my own company.
I was in a relationship once where my partner worked long hours. He started working two jobs and I had let myself get into a rut where I didn't hang out with anyone but him. While he was at work, I would either be at work, or sit at home waiting for him to get home. I stopped hanging out with my friends, I stopped going out and doing things. I lost my own life that I had before we got together.
People might tell me that I haven't met the right person yet. They might say that when I find someone who is my soul mate, then I'll understand. I don't think that's the case. I think I've been in plenty of unhealthy relationships and I realize that it's healthy to have your own friends outside of a relationship. It's not healthy to cling to someone and say, all I need is you and I don't need friends or a life of my own outside of our relationship.
I asked an older, very happily married friend how she felt about this thought and she agreed with my thoughts. She said that if she didn't have her alone time, the time with her girlfriends, she wouldn't be who she is. Her husband has his fishing nights and weekend camping trips with his guy friends, she has her getaways with her girlfriends and standing dates with her girls. They have their own lives, but also do plenty of things together. They respect each other's "friend time" and this has led to a happy marriage of 20 years. I'd like a relationship like that. That's what I aim for. One where I DO need my friends in addition to my spouse and children. Friends can keep you sane and help to relieve some of your nags and complaints about your husband that you may not want to necessarily bring up to him. And I'm perfectly happy being single until I find someone with the same philosophy.

Infuriating Words

I've been thinking for awhile how to broach this subject and there's no easy or politically correct way for me to ease into it, so I'm just going to jump right in and say what I think.
As a mother of two mixed race children, racism is something that has not only ALWAYS bothered me, but that downright infuriates me after giving birth to them. To know that my beautiful, smart, kind babies may be judged due to the color of their skin or the coarseness of their hair is something that hurts down to the core of my soul.
Now, I'm not saying that I don't appreciate race jokes or culture jokes. If it's in good fun, it's fine by me. Stereotypes are there for a reason, enough people of one race or culture portrayed an image that it became a stereotype. When someone teases about stereotypes or jokes about them, I don't become offended. When the offensive names are pulled, THAT'S when I become offended. I should not be able to log onto Facebook and see the N word in a status. It's uncalled for and has such negative connotations associated with it that it makes my eyes red with fury.
When I was a little girl, I remember driving in the car with my parents. I don't know where it came from or why, but they told my sister and I that if we ever dated a black guy that we would be disowned. I blew it off then, I was only five years old, how was that going to affect my life of bubbles and dress up? Well, it affected my life at 14 when my first boyfriend came to my house and he was half black. My dad sat me down that night and told me I couldn't date him and that I was ruining my life because the "good white boys" are going to think I'm a "Nword lover" and not want to date me. I was so hurt that I went to my room and cried all night while writing in my journal. To be honest, I had never even noticed that my boyfriend was of a different color or race. I saw a cute, sweet, nice, funny guy who I had fun with. I didn't see a color or ethnicity.
In my mind, race is something that you can not help. It's something that you are born with. It's not your fault that you were born a certain color. I couldn't help but think that if my family was so superficial that the color of someone's skin would affect how they immediately thought of them, then what about someone who was born disabled, or with a big nose, or a deformity of some kind? Would they shun them as well or was it just a skin thing?
I understand that PEOPLE can be stereotypical and act like crappy PEOPLE, but that doesn't mean that every single person of a specific race is like the other. We are all different and we should embrace that diversity. Judging someone because of their color or their hair color or the size of their nose is ignorant and just shows me that I can't take your opinions seriously.
I had hope that racism was dead. That it was something that only the south dealt with and that even there, it wasn't too bad. I thought that as a society we had grown up and moved forward. Then, I had my children and the first black man ran for president. It was ridiculous how much I heard about his race and where he was from and what religion he might be. I thought politics was supposed to be about policy and principles and ideals, not all the other stuff people talked about. I worked for his campaign and in trying to talk with people, I was bombarded with more racist remarks than I had heard in my life, and I grew up with pretty racist people surrounding me. I've never heard the N word more than I have in the past few years that he has been in the White House. It sickens me. Don't like him because of his policies, what color he is shouldn't have anything to do with why you don't like him. And the "monkey" jokes that people like to forward about the first lady, are utterly disgraceful.
Right now I'm looking at a picture of my son. He looks too much like his daddy for his own good. He has gorgeous ringlet curls, a wide smushed nose, pillowy lips, tan skin, and deep brown eyes. I see a little boy with a huge caring heart, a sensitive soul, an intelligent inquiring brain, and a laugh that could make the crankiest old man crack a smile. Yet, I know that someday he will encounter ignorance and I can't protect him from that. I can't always be there as he grows up to thwart the mean hurtful people. My daughter has already been introduced to the fact that she is different. She came home from daycare and told me how one of her friends called her "brown" and asked why she wasn't like her. Then my inquisitive daughter looked at me and said, "Mom how come you aren't brown like daddy, me, and Colevin?" How do you even respond to that? How do I teach her how beautiful she is BECAUSE she's different? How do I make my children tough enough to not only withstand the normal teasing and bullying, but also the racism that their father had to endure in his life?

Just a thought...

I've been thinking a lot lately about family values and "ideal" situations in which to have children. When I was little, I wanted to get married, have kids, and own a cute little house with a white picket fence. Depending on how I was feeling, there would be a dog in there somewhere. My life didn't turn out that way. My children are split between two homes and both of their parents are single parents just trying to give them the life that they deserve.

Someone in my life recently told me that children should be raised in the home with both of their parents, no matter the situation, they should stay together for the kids. Yes, that is the ideal, but life doesn't always work out that way. In my situation, I loved my children's father with everything I had and I believe that he felt the same. The problem was that we didn't work out together. We were both so passionate, controlling, and manipulative of each other that it turned into an ugly situation for everyone involved.
Kynedi and Colevin are the ones who benefited from us deciding to split and go our separate ways. No matter which home they are in, they are loved more than they could ever imagine. My friends and family have stepped in and helped me to provide good examples of behavior and I can't imagine how I could ever thank them for all their support. I remember when I was pregnant with Colevin and thinking of leaving for good and I thought, I don't know how I could be a single mom with TWO kids. Not once did I ever think about not having him, or giving him up. I may not have ever had the "ideal" situation for my children, but we have made the best of life and came out pretty damn good.
My children are only five and three, but let me tell you, they are intelligent, funny, independent, and have the biggest hearts I've ever seen. I can see them having a fulfilling, happy, wonderful life all the while making their mom and dad so proud. I know my life isn't perfect, or "ideal", and neither is theirs. But I'm so glad they're here because they make my life a little more complete.

It's Not Ok, It's RAPE

Society has let me down, yet again. I'm extremely irritated, upset, angered, etc. Let me explain my anger. Yesterday an op-ed piece in our local newspaper was brought to my attention. It was one of the pieces in the Religion section and honestly, that's a section I never read. What the article boiled down to was that the gentleman writing it believed that rape within marriage was not something that was real. If you are married, you have sex with your wife. This brought about a lot of responses that my blogging friends are writing on their blogs as well as to the newspaper and author. The author supports his view that the word of a woman is not enough to establish rape.
This whole debate reminded me of a button I had seen a while ago. It stated something to the effect of "It's sad in a society where we teach our girls how not to get raped instead of teaching our boys NOT TO RAPE". It's true and makes me sad. Why is it that as a woman, my rights are affected by how I dress, wear my hair, do my makeup, etc.? Now, I'm not saying that men don't get raped or get affected by it, but it seems to be a predominantly female problem and since I'm a female, I am writing from that perspective.
The problem in our society is that rape is a joke to most people. Young men think it's fun to take home drunk, blacked out girls from the bar and take advantage of them. That's not fun, it's rape. Young men think it's okay to force themselves on a woman even when she's made it clear that she doesn't want to have sex because well, of course she wants it, she's just playing coy. That's not okay, that's rape. Men think it's fine that because you are in a relationship with someone, or living with them, that it's okay to rip their clothes off and have your way with them whenever you'd like. That's NOT FINE, that's RAPE. If a woman tells you no, or isn't in the right mind frame to say yes, IT'S RAPE. I don't care if you're married, living together, or just met, it's rape. I know because it happened to me.
I remember going out one night with a friend, I got too drunk and was dropped off at an ex boyfriend's house. This was someone I trusted with my life, he was a good man and I thought, I'm drunk and unable to get home, he'll take care of me. The next thing I remember, I'm coming out of a blackout and someone is on top of me. I cried, kept saying no, but it didn't change anything. I've never felt worse in my life. Of course, the next day I went to get the morning after pill and told my boyfriend at the time what happened. I was extremely torn up about the situation and was unsure what to do. On one hand, I trusted this person, he was someone who had always been there for me. On the other, I had been taken advantage of in a way that I couldn't even begin to try to explain to anyone who hasn't been there. Yet, I will try.
All our lives, girls are taught that your private parts are sacred. In my family, your sexual pleasure spot is a gift in which you give to your husband on your wedding day. It's the most precious gift you could ever give to someone. Now, anyone who knows me knows that obviously, I don't have this special gift to give to my future husband since I already have children. But when you are raised with the mind frame that this certain part of you is sacred, it gives you a sense of power. When someone comes along and they TAKE it from you, they don't ask, or request, just TAKE, you feel powerless. Your sense of self, safety, faith, everything fades away and all that you are left with is a shell of who you are.
With this in mind, I felt powerless afterward. I confessed to my boyfriend at the time and asked for his help or advice on how to proceed. Do you know what he did? He accused me of cheating on him. He. Accused. Me. Of. Cheating. On. Him. Just wanted to spell it out in case anyone was mistaken. All of a sudden, I started questioning myself, did I cheat? Was it my fault? Because I chose to stay over there when I was drunk, should I have expected sex? Because I was dressed sexy from going out with girlfriends was I inviting him to do what he wanted with me? Why hadn't I seen it coming? Oh my, I must have been asking for it. Now, logically, looking back, that wasn't the case. Yet, he made me feel as though I had done something wrong and therefore, it was my fault I had been raped. I never reported it because if my own boyfriend didn't believe me, how would law enforcement?
My heart hurts when I think back on that day. A part of me died during that incident that will never be alive again. I felt like an object, something for man's enjoyment. I didn't feel like a person. Now, I'm all for sexual liberation and having power over your body and having as much sex as you'd like. I have no problem with people who choose to sleep around and do whatever they want with whoever they want. Yet, when you walk through the bar and you see men lined up at the end of the night scoping out the drunkest chick so they can take her home, that's disgusting to me. It makes me sick. I enjoy having power over my body and using it in a way that I appreciate. If I choose to have intercourse with someone, that is my CHOICE. When that choice is taken away from me, I'm not alright with that.
Please, let's teach our sons to respect women. Let's teach them that a woman is a sacred, beautiful creature that deserves to be treated like one. Let us stand together as a society and say NO, it's NOT okay to rape in ANY circumstance. Every single person has a right to choose what they do with their body. A woman should be able to be in a relationship, dress as scantily as she likes, or trust a man to be alone with her without forcing his junk into hers. Let's start with our sons, teach them to respect women, then we can start teaching our daughters to respect themselves.

I Admit It, I Actually Need a Man...

I realized today that there are actually perks to having a boyfriend or live in male roommate, both of which I have recently lost. I'm not very handy when it comes to solving "men" problems. I'd like to think of myself as independent, but really, I'm pretty dependent. I need someone to help take care of me. My dad taught me how to change the oil in my car and change over a tire, but the complicated stuff, I'm lost.
For example, today I locked my keys in my car. Not only my car key, but my house key as well. Now, at my house I have my remote unlocker thingy that comes with your keys when you buy your vehicle, but I'm responsible and lock my house when I leave. Therefore, I am now officially locked out of my car and my house. I could call a tow company and they could unlock it for pretty cheap, but I'm broke, so spending money is something I don't care to do. When I used to lock my keys in my car in the past, I had a boyfriend who came to me with a wire hangar and would unlock my car for me. That was a nice perk. Now, I have to depend on...well, myself.
I also have a clog in my bathroom sink. Drano doesn't work very well. When I had a male roommate and got a clog, he used his magic with some tools and the pipes and voila! the clog was fixed. Or my light went out in my bedroom and I'm a pretty short girl without movable chairs or any stools, when I had a male roommate, he would change it for me. Now, I've gotta do that stuff.
Also, I have issues with my car and some parts are going out. I don't know anything about axles and joints and such things. When I had a boyfriend, he took a ride with me around the block, pinpointed what was wrong based on sounds and told me what part to buy, then fixed it. I don't know how to do those things. My car is a complete mystery to me. All I know is that it sounds funny and things are beeping at me. And if you know me at all, you know that I can't drive worth crap, so there's ALWAYS something wrong with my car.
Now I'm not saying that I like a man to do everything for me, I like being as independent as possible. BUT, it's nice when I don't know something for someone to teach me how. I can appreciate that I'm not handy and if you show me how to do something, I'm willing to learn. All I'm saying is that if I was never appreciative of having a man around before, I most definitely am now. I am officially now NOT one of those women who state, "I don't need no man". I know I need one, in any capacity: boyfriend, best friend, roommate. It really doesn't matter.

One of Many Letters to My Daughter

Preface : I heard a song that stated "what will I say when my daughter asks why I didn't marry her mother" today. It made me think about what I would say when my own daughter asks one day why her father and I were never married and if we ever loved each other. I have been wanting to write the story down so that she will understand the good and know that there was a love there, it wasn't all hurt. We were happy at some points in time and I didn't want the truth getting erased through time. So here is my letter to her. Here is my side of what happened. I left out the gory stuff that I have gone into detail on in other posts. I don't want her to see her dad in a horrible light unless he shows that side to her. I want her to make that judgment on her own. So here is a letter to my daughter regarding why her father and I just didn't work out.

Dearest Kynedi,

As you grow up, I know that you'll have questions about why your father and I aren't together, why we never married, and why you have two families. If you ask him, the story will probably have a lot more fiction than truth. Before time gets away from me and I start adding in a little fiction as well, I have to share the story with you. It's not an easy one for me to share because I made mistakes, as did your father. We aren't perfect, as much as I'd like you to believe that I am. The important thing is that I learned from my mistakes and can honestly say that I am a better person for them. I don't regret anything that happened because if I did, it would mean I regret you, and I could never ever do that.
The beginning. Ah well, I suppose that would be when I first saw your father. I was working at a credit union's call center and he transferred over from a branch. You may not see it now, but back then, he was definitely a looker. Since he didn't realize how casual the attire was in the call center, he showed up the first few days in collared shirts and ties. He won me over with the first smile. Obviously I won him over as well because my picture on the employee board kept going missing (when we finally moved in together, I found them all in a drawer in his house). We started talking at that time and he was very charming and I was in a relationship that had fizzled out.
Let me backtrack and tell you about that significant detail. At the time, I was with my high school sweetheart (let's call him Bob). We lived together and I absolutely loved him. Honestly, he was the greatest guy I think I will ever meet. He had a heart of gold, was a hard worker, dedicated family man, and loved me more than life itself. We talked marriage and kids, we had a future all planned out. Unfortunately, I was nineteen years old and trying to "find myself". I didn't feel the way I used to feel and didn't appreciate the love I had at home.
So your father and I began talking that fall in 2004. Slowly but surely, we went our separate ways and although we still saw each other at work, things changed between us. We went from friends to acquaintances. I still thought about him every once in awhile, but I was trying to make things work with "Bob". The following December, my entire world was turned upside down. I had heard some rumors about your father and didn't want to talk to him because of them. At our company's Christmas party, he cornered me. He asked why I wouldn't talk to him, and we got into a serious conversation. By the end of the party, he had me in his grasp again. "Bob" picked me up that night, but I spent the entire night on the phone with your father, catching up and making plans. "Bob" was angry. He didn't understand why I was talking to this guy and I couldn't explain it. Over the next month, I hung out with your father almost every day. I used the excuse that I was Christmas shopping and once Christmas was over, it got to the point where I didn't use excuses anymore, I would just leave, no questions asked. I think "Bob" knew, but he didn't straight out ask me. Sometimes I wish he would have.
On New Year's Eve in 2005, I took a test that would change my path forever. I found out I was pregnant with you. I didn't know how to handle the news, I was only twenty years old, living with one man and pretty positive that the baby in my belly was another man's. I told your father that I was pregnant and he was pretty calm with the news at first. I was actually shocked at how calm he was. I remember I told him in the staircase at work and he just kissed my forehead and said, it'll be ok. A month later, he also told me that he wasn't positive if you were his because I was living with another man (which I could understand and respect) and he wasn't ready for a relationship. He didn't want to be at my side during the pregnancy because if you turned out not to be his, he wouldn't be able to take that, which I could also understand.
I also told "Bob" I was pregnant, and that the baby was most likely not his. That was the hardest conversation I've ever had to have. We both cried, surprisingly there was no yelling, just tears and love. It didn't take long, but "Bob" left the decision to me. He told me that if I wanted to keep you, he would be there. He said that he loved me and the child I was carrying. He wanted to be there for me and for you, no matter who's child you biologically were. I wish I had respected that choice he made more, but I was young and conflicted. At first, we decided that he was the father, no matter what. And he was the best partner I could have ever had during that period of time. You were loved so incredibly much by both of us. His family loved you so much as well.
I chose not to tell your father when you were born and instead had "Bob" there because he had been by my side throughout. Your father decided at the last minute that he finally wanted to try to be a part of the pregnancy "just in case". I didn't feel that was fair, I couldn't understand how one man would be there NO MATTER who's baby it biologically was and the other wouldn't be there AT ALL because there might be a chance it wasn't his. As soon as I looked at your beautiful face though, there wasn't any doubt whose child you were. You were your daddy all the way. "Bob" knew as well as I did, but he acted as though you looked like him. We would find little features that looked like his and point them out to people. We wanted to believe it SO bad because we were trying to have a fresh start.
Your father finally saw you when you were seven days old. We met in the parking lot of the grocery store and he held you for the first time. Sometimes I wonder if that was a mistake on my part. I had been so strong until that point in standing my ground. The minute I saw him look at you, my guard fell and I couldn't be strong anymore. We all knew that you were his, so when he asked for a DNA test, I felt that I had to. "Bob" fought me on that one. He said that as of right now, he didn't know for sure, he could believe that you were his and he didn't have to have proof that you weren't waved in his face. Once we had proof, he would know that you weren't his and he didn't want to look at you differently. Yet, even after the test came back, he still loved you with all his heart. He'd come home from work and put on the MTV channel that actually played videos and he would dance you around the living room.
By the time you were a year old though, your father had worked his magic enough to convince me to move in with him. That first year had been a battle. We went through a custody court case (which I eventually dropped), a domestic violence dispute, a dui, and a name change for you. "Bob" and I weren't as close as we used to be and it was getting harder for me to stay. In my mind, I thought you should have your parents be together and I didn't want you growing up in two different homes. If your father finally wanted to be with me, then I was willing to give it a try with him. "Bob" took it pretty hard and although I was willing to let him still see you, he decided it would be best for all involved if he didn't. I want you to know though, that man loved you as though you were his flesh and blood. It was my fault that he isn't around now and you probably won't ever remember him, but just in case, know that he didn't walk away easily. It tore him apart to let go of you but it was what he felt he had to do, for your sake and for his.
Once your dad and I started officially living together, things seemed to quiet down. We still fought quite a bit but we tried hard to be a real family. We hadn't fought in months when I found out I was pregnant with your brother. When I took the test, I came out and told your father, I'm about to tell you something and you're going to be happy about it because I want to look back on this memory and know it was a good one. I showed him the test and he scooped me up and we danced around the kitchen. I'll never forget the happiness we genuinely felt. This time, he knew it was his child for sure. We were living together with you and it really felt like a family. That lasted a good month or so before things got bad again. We started fighting again, a lot. Your dad slept on the couch almost every night and I spent a lot of time crying in my car or laying with you crying in the bedroom. It finally got to the point where I decided I needed to leave. I quit my job, packed us up and we flew down to Washington to visit my grandparents and then to Colorado to visit with your aunt (my sister).
I can honestly say that at the time, I was hoping I would have the courage to start over in Colorado. I was hoping that I would be able to leave and never look back. I wanted to run away from everything and begin a new life with new people. Your dad must have sensed it because he became the man he was when I first fell for him. He promised me things would be different and that he truly loved me. So we came home. Things were actually decent between us until your brother was born. He helped to make our family more than just two people with a kid. You fell in love with him, I fell in love with him, and your father fell in love with all of us. We were a true family and I wanted it to last forever.

Your father proposed to me that Valentine's Day. It was one of the happiest days of my life. He didn't believe in marriage and it's all I've ever wanted. I felt as though he truly loved me enough to be able to compromise and make me happy in that way. A week later, the fairy tale fell apart. He kept staying up until six in the morning playing video games, smoking, drinking, and choosing his friends over us. I kept complaining and he told me that he thought by putting a ring on my finger that it would change me. I realized at that moment that this wasn't going to work. There was too much hurt and anger between us. It didn't matter how much love there was, it didn't matter how much we wanted to give you guys a normal childhood, none of that mattered. In the end, all we ended up doing was seeing who could hurt each other more. We ended things mutually and I stayed there so I could save money and find my own place. I ended up moving out sooner because of another domestic dispute between us.
I don't regret any of what happened between us. I loved your father because he helped create you. I still love your father because of you and Colevin. That love will never go away and I will always be there for him if need be. We have a complicated, confusing, abnormal history that even I have a problem understanding sometimes. But without him, there wouldn't be a you, or a Colevin. Without him, I wouldn't have the beliefs and values when it comes to a relationship that I do now. I know what I won't put up with and I know what I am willing to compromise on. I learned so much from your father about who I am as a person and who I want you to be. I made mistakes, I hurt people who didn't deserve to be hurt, and I ended up paying for that. I will never ever make the same mistakes again because I know how much pain I caused the people around me. Your father made mistakes as well, he hurt me in so many ways, he manipulated and controlled me and actually admits to it now. I hope he has also learned from our relationship and he even told me that you made him realize that he loves me for the same reasons that I love him.
I'm sorry I couldn't give you the family or life that you deserved. It breaks my heart every day that you have to go back and forth between us. It hurts that I get so stressed out when I have you guys because I have to do it all on my own and I end up taking it out on you. I wanted you to have your parents together, but in my young mistaken mind, I ended up making decisions that tore us apart. Know that we aren't perfect, but we both love you and your brother unconditionally.

Love,
Your Mother

The "Broken" Syndrome

I have a post that I've been trying to write for three days regarding the Casey Anthony fiasco...but I've been stuck on exactly how I want to say what is swimming around in my head. Then something happened to me today that made me stop and cry. Then I stopped crying and thought about it. I realized that this was a subject that I've had strong thoughts and opinions on and I've lectured one too many friends regarding it, so I might as well put my thoughts out here.
I've heard too many people lately use the excuse of "I'm broken" in response to how they treat people. You hurt someone, it's cause you're "broken". You disrespect someone, it's cause you're "broken". You lie, cheat, break hearts, it's cause you're "broken". Doesn't matter the reason, something happened in your past that hurt you and because of that, you use it as an excuse to not let anyone else close to you. I have a secret that is going to blow your minds. You won't even know what to do with yourself because your mind will be SO blown. Are you ready? Don't say I didn't warn you.
Here's the secret, WE ARE ALL BROKEN. We have all been hurt in one way or another. We have all been broken down and beat up in our own way by the opposite sex (or same sex I suppose). It's what makes us unique and gives us the ability to see the good. It helps us to appreciate what we DO have instead of what we don't. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience.
I am about as broken as it gets. I may never have been married (which a lot of my divorced friends hold against me), but I had children with someone and was married in every way except the license, I even had a ring! I was beaten down literally and figuratively, cheated on and treated disrespectfully. I built up walls and swore that no one would ever break them down. I never wanted to get hurt again. I never wanted to get beaten down again because it hurt down on the ground. Then I realized that if I wanted to be happy, I had to let go. The past had to stay in the past. I therapeutically started writing and it helped tremendously. I focused on the kids and on myself. Then I found someone who stole my heart.
Every guy that I've dated since I split with my kids' dad has had the same excuse, "I'm broken", "I can't give you what you deserve", "I'm not ready for a relationship". If it was just ONE guy, I'd think, ok whatever. But this has been five guys in a row, I've actually started thinking that there was something wrong with me. But I also have quite a few male friends that give me the same excuses as to how they treat women like exchangeable pawns. Well I'm sick of hearing it. It's an excuse and that's all it is. I've used it, I know. It's an excuse to shrug off your behavior. An excuse as to why you're alone, why you keep people at a distance, why you're scared of actually caring for someone.
Life is about caring about people. It's about taking risks. It's about giving someone your heart and allowing them the trust not to break it. What happens when you find someone who makes you feel incredible? What happens when you find someone who fits so perfectly with you that you truly believe they were made for you? Will you allow your past failures to keep you from happiness? I just don't understand how I can still believe that I deserve to be happy and loved unconditionally despite all that I've been through yet other people don't see things the same way in their lives. Yes, I have felt worthless, defeated, "broken". Especially when I've given everything I have to someone and they reject it.
I just want people to realize that I understand that to be rejected, cheated on, beaten, it all hurts. But we have ALL been hurt. And sometimes, when someone loves you even when you're "broken", they're the ones worth keeping around. Because honestly, if they love you when you're at your worst, they will love you even more when you're at your best.

Do You Remember?

Remember when we would sit on the porch, just the two of us, and we'd laugh? Remember when I would help you with your math homework because you didn't understand? Remember when my heart was broken and you would let me cry on your shoulder? Remember when you finally approved of one of my boyfriends? Remember when you said that we'd be friends forever? Do you remember that? I do.
Do you remember the time that we were locked out of my house and you stayed with me until my parents got home? Do you remember the time that I waited for you at the mall for an hour and I made you pay for the drink that I bought while waiting? Remember the time that we went swimming and you pretended to drown me? Remember the time you stood up for me? Remember the time that you said you'd always be there for me? Do you remember that? I do.
Remember how you used to walk me home from practice, even though you were tired and sweaty? Remember how you used to come with me to basketball games, even though you didn't like basketball, just so I could cheer my boyfriend on? Remember how we used to get ice cream and you would always let me get the banana split? Remember how we used to talk for hours on end about our futures? Remember how you used to be my best friend? Do you remember that? I do.
I remember a lot of things about our friendship, but what stands out most in my mind, is what ended it. Do you remember that? I do. I remember what you did. You assumed that I did something to hurt you. You ASSUMED that I HURT you. When you assumed that, it hurt me. We can never sit on the porch or go swimming or eat ice cream ever again. Somehow, something happened, and we both got hurt, maybe not intentionally, but we did. Maybe you've forgotten all about me, but I will always remember.

I love you

I love you.

I love the way you look at me. The way your eyes dance with delight as though you have a secret that you can't wait to share with me. The way your lips turn upwards into the most magnificent smile I've ever laid eyes on. The way your breath catches as my name slips out of your mouth.
I love the way you hold me. The way your strong arms wrap all the way around me and make me feel as though nothing in the world could ever hurt me. The way your legs drape over mine and keep me warm at night. The way your fingers interlock perfectly with mine. The way my head fits exactly perfectly in your armpit.
I love the way you not only think I'm beautiful, not only tell me I'm beautiful, not only show me I'm beautiful, but you make me FEEL as though I'm beautiful. The way your fingers caress my face when you think I'm sleeping. The way your lips gently brush across my forehead. The way your eyes undress me. The way you actually undress me as though I'm a present that you can't wait to open.
I love your sense of humor. The way you will say anything, anywhere, no matter who is around. The way you get excited like a little kid over the smallest things. The way you are such a goofball with me. The way you laugh at my jokes because you actually think I'm funny. The way you get me and MY crazy sense of humor.
I love your brain. The way you surprise me everyday with how intelligent and worldly you are. The way you are well rounded and open minded all at the same time.
I love everything about you. I never thought I would be this lucky to be able to find someone who made me feel the way I feel when I'm with you. You respect me, you listen to me, you treat me like the princess that I deserve to be treated like. I don't think I could ever ask for anything more than what you give to me and I don't think I want to. For once in my life, I'm content and satisfied with who I am and who I am with. Everyone always told me that when I stopped looking, love would sneak up on me and catch me off guard. That's what you did. When I met you, all I expected was friendship. How could someone as wonderful as you be interested in me? But you were. You saw something in me that I suppose was the same thing I saw in you once I looked past the superficial exterior.
I love you even more every single time I look at you. When our eyes meet, my heart skips a beat and I feel my knees go weak. The difference between this and other times I've been in love/lust? People close to me see it as well. They see it when I talk about you, when we're together, and when I look at you. This is the real deal for me.
I love you.

A Toast to my Best Friend on her Wedding Day

In my life, I have seen so many types of relationships around me. I have seen people fall in love, get married, and live their lives together. People who fell in love and decided a few years later that it just wasn't right anymore. It's a rare thing to find someone that you love enough to spend the rest of your life with them. What's even rarer, is finding your soul mate, the person that you couldn't imagine your life without, knowing the instant you meet this person that your heart will forever be theirs. That is what Jessica and Jason have.
I remember when I met Jessica, she had just gotten out of a bad relationship and was busy finding herself. Since I was in the same boat, we figured we would help to find each other. In the process, I met the best friend that anyone could ever dream of. We share(d) everything, from dating to clothes to bowel movements. There were never any secrets among us. So when she met Jason, I definitely heard about it. I'll never forget the text I received from her the day after she met him. I knew right away that I had to meet this guy. When I did, I wasn't disappointed. From the way he looked at her, to the way he respected her, I knew this was the real deal. Problem was, Jessica wasn't ready for the real deal. She had been hurt and was skeptical of love. All I could do was stand by and watch as Jason and Jessica flirted with the boundary of what resembled a relationship.
I will be honest, as much as I pushed them together, trying to make her see that he was perfect for her, I was skeptical as well. I had stopped believing in soul mates and fate and all that fairytale nonsense because life wasn't working out. Then Jessica and Jason gave me my hope back. When she was finally ready to give it a go, she drove to his work and gave him a kiss and told him she was ready. I almost cried I was so happy they were finally officially together. They moved extremely fast in my eyes (and everyone else's, I'm sure), I didn't understand how they were so sure. I didn't get how they knew that this was it. It's as though I blinked and they were one Brady Bunch family.
But when you see them together, you understand. You believe in true love, soul mates, destiny, fate, and all that fairytale stuff that Disney wanted you to believe in. They are mirror images of each other, complimenting each other's faults and inspiring each other's dreams. I will never doubt Jason's love for my best friend and because of that, he has become my best friend as well. I will never have the fear that he will hurt her in any way intentionally and he will always be there for her in every way imaginable. The same goes for Jessica. If you've ever heard her talk about Jason, which I'm sure everyone has since he's her favorite topic, you can't help but hear the overwhelming love in her voice or the twinkle in her eyes. Their love is something indescribable. It's the kind of love that you see in the movies, or old love songs. The kind that makes everyone around you want to puke because it's so saccharine and oozing with desire. The kind that most people never get the chance to experience and if you do, you are one of the lucky ones.

I want to thank them. I had given up completely, every relationship around me was falling apart and I didn't think love was something that was even possible anymore. Yet, then Jason and Jessica came out of nowhere, defying all my negative logic. They gave me hope that someday I'd find MY Jason. Thanks to their example, I did. I owe my heart to them and finally, I understand. I understand the unexplainable, undeniable love that overwhelms them. I can finally understand how they were able to move so fast and still know without a doubt that this was what was right. Even with the naysayers and the people telling Jess that she couldn't get remarried so soon and they weren't thinking about the kids and to just slow down. They proved them all wrong. I love them, I love their love, and I love how they showed me to love again. And even above all that, I love that they showed me how a true love works, how things fall into place and you don't have to try or fight to make it work. It just happens. Congratulations to my two best friends, my brother and my sister. May you be blessed with all you deserve in life. I love you.

What Makes a Father?

Father's Day, a day to celebrate fathers. What happens when you really don't have one? Or what if you have many and you aren't sure which one deserves to be celebrated? When I was young, it was easy, my father was my dad. I got him a card and perhaps a little gift that I made and that was that. Now, it's not so simple. The question goes back to who do I celebrate? Is it the dad who raised me, beat me, and disowned me when I had (in his words) "n*gger children"? Is it the biological father who I've never met but came into my life at 23 years old and is asking for a relationship? Or is it the man who met me only a year ago and loves me like a daughter and my children like grandchildren, who's been there for me this past year unlike anyone else? Could it be all three?
Starting with my dad, no matter how much I try to forget, the man who raised me will always be my dad. He's the one who took me camping, taught me how to drive, and was there for me when I started my period for the first time. He is also the one who spanked me with his belt buckle, broke my glasses against my face, and threw me against the fireplace. He is the one who stopped talking to me when he found out I had children who were a quarter black and proceeded to tell me that he wouldn't have "n words" in his family. I stopped trying to speak to him after that. I still hear bits and pieces from my family about how much he hates me, how disappointed in how I turned out he is, and how my life is pretty much a big ol failure in his eyes. Someone told me I should send him a card at least, but I haven't even gotten birthday cards from him in years, why would he deserve a father's day card? I was legally adopted, bear his name, but because I'm not blood, I'm easily forgotten.
Now, my biological father, who I call my father to not mistake the two, is a stranger to me. I couldn't pick him out in a lineup if it was to save my life. I'm sure we have enough features in common that I could make an educated guess, but I'm not holding my breath. This is the man who gave me life. I wouldn't be here without him, but other than that, he's nothing to me. I wish that wasn't the case. I wish he had been around, that I had gotten to know him, and perhaps I will before he leaves this earth. I've heard various stories as to why he wasn't there for me and it's difficult to determine the truth. All I know is that I felt abandoned at 12 years old when I found out that my life wasn't what I thought it was. When I learned that my dad wasn't my biological father, I spent my teenage and early adult years wondering why my biological father didn't want me. Why did he leave me? Why was I that easy to walk away from?
And this brings me to the closest thing to a father figure that I have now. I accidentally drunk dialed the man who gives me hope that there are good fathers out there. He and his wife have taken me in and loved me like their own. He has helped me through life and love in the year that I've known him and helped me to realize that perhaps maybe I'm not worthless. I'm still weary because, as you can see, I have horrible experience with men in my life actually sticking around. But my Alaskan dad is truly an angel from heaven. He is there when I need him, giving me faith in men again.
In looking back at my life, it's no wonder I have abandonment issues and issues with men. No man has ever stuck around, even the ones who are supposed to. I wish I could express the pain, rejection, and worthlessness that I've felt in the past 26 years. There is no way I could ever even begin to describe the feelings that a young child has when they find out that their own blood didn't want them (even if that wasn't the case, it's how I felt and what I was told). For a young mother to have the only dad she ever knew disown her because of the race of her children when her entire life he called her a failure, I can't explain how that hurts.
I started writing this because I have seen a lot of pain that angers me. I am a messed up child with so many issues that I believe falls on the fact that I don't have a steady male figure in my life. So when I see women who have amazing men who WANT to be fathers and WANT to be in their children's lives, and these women choose to cut the man out because they are selfish, that sparks a fire inside of me. I don't think they realize that a good man, a good father, is extremely rare. A man who actually steps up and wants to take responsibility for his actions, I applaud them. I wish that mothers could see that we have to do what is in the best interest of our children. Yes, if a man is abusive, fight to have him stay away from your child. But if a man is a good man and a good father, for god's sake, don't let that kid turn into me. Don't allow that child to feel worthless. And men, step up. If you have a child with someone, BE that father. BE the good man. Stick around and give that child a chance at a normal life.
This Father's Day, I will be celebrating the Dad who didn't walk away when it would've been so easy to do so. The Dad who didn't know me at all and took the time to get to know me and love me more in a year than my dad or father did in 26 years. The one who knows my secrets, my fears, my faults and still sticks around. This is the man I choose to be my father. For the first time in my life, I don't feel so worthless and it's definitely because of his love.

Falling Hard and Fast

Yesterday I was looking at a picture and all of a sudden I was filled with a weird feeling. This feeling was something I had never felt before. My whole body felt as though it were being warmed from my heart. My heart started beating faster and my head swarmed with thoughts of the person I was looking at in the picture. My mouth was forced into a smile and I couldn't stop any of this. Now, I've been in love before (or thought I had) and it was the slow, safe, "you've been around forever" love that comes with time. So this was weird to me, I couldn't understand what it was that was causing me to feel this way. Then I realized, it was most definitely the seeds of love planting in my heart. I am most definitely falling in love, head first and I'm not sure if I'm prepared for it. But I'm willing to ride the ride and allow my heart to open to vulnerability. I will still be cautious and keep my eyes and ears open as this roller coaster speeds along, but I will take my foot off the brakes and take my clenched hands off the safety bar.
I just pray that this person I am falling for doesn't take my heart for granted. I hope that they understand that my heart is fragile and has been shattered many times. It's been stomped on, beaten up, crushed, and absolutely mutilated. I've had to nurse it back to life and even used a little duct tape once. I think they'll take good care of it though, they seem to have a bit of duct tape as well.
Ok, here I go...brakes are releasing and hands are loosening...

Judgement

Should we care what others think about us? Is it relevant? If we have enough self confidence then it shouldn't matter how others see us, right?

A couple of months back, my ex posted a status on Facebook regarding me and everyone obviously knew who it was about. I had heard about it (being exes, we weren't Facebook friends anymore) and got the gist of what it was about, but didn't actually see it. I chastised him for being childish and asked him not to mention me again, since we worked together and have coworkers on our pages. Well, I forgot about it until a mutual friend left their Facebook up one day and me being the nosy little Facebook stalker I am, decided to creep. I saw the status again through another ex mutual friends page and proceeded to read what people really thought about me. It was disturbing because some of these people I actually had considered my friends. The rest of the people who said disparaging remarks...they can lick my foot, it didn't phase me. It got me thinking about the persona that I give off to people who don't know me. Some of the remarks called me "fake" and "overly friendly". I tend to take the overly friendly as a compliment because I AM a friendly person. Although the fake bothered me A LOT. I try to show that I'm genuine, because I am. I never thought that anyone would see me as fake. That stayed in my mind, but didn't change me too much. The comments just made me realize I needed to pick my "friends" better, those people were deleted from my life and things moved on.
Then I had a conversation with someone last night that stirred it all back up for me. I was told I was passive-aggressive and that I gave back handed compliments. My heart stopped when someone I cared about told me this about myself, that this is what they see in me. All of a sudden, everything I ever knew about who I was came crashing down around me. I thought I was a good, genuine person with a big heart and a sarcastic sense of humor. I'm blatantly honest, to the point, and I'm one hundred percent an open book. How could anyone say that I was passive aggressive? Being the inquiring mind that I am, I googled it to make sure that it didn't describe me. Unfortunately, I DO have passive aggressive tendencies such as procrastination and a fear of dependency. Yet, I was relieved in finding out that it does not describe me completely. And yes, I give back handed compliments, it's part of my sarcastic nature. I tease, I taunt, it's who I am. And some people like it, at least I thought they did.
I realize that everyone doesn't have to like me because Lord knows, I certainly don't like everyone that I meet. I learned that back in kindergarten when cliques started forming on the playground. I also realize that I am a little bit of an acquired taste, I grow on people over time. I am different, some might say weird, and I don't take life seriously. I find things funny that most people just find troubling and I laugh at myself constantly. Still, I like the majority of people I come across and I tend to have an easy time making new friends, or so I thought. So I don't want to push people away by acting, subconsciously, in a manner that people don't care for.
Yes, I have issues, but doesn't everyone? I don't have the highest self esteem, but I'm working on it and I've come a long way in the past few years. I procrastinate like a mo-fo (do mo-fos even procrastinate? I'm not sure but it sounded good) but I'm trying to learn how to give myself deadlines and stick to them. I'm late for EVERYTHING (even my womanly time of the month!) but I've started being on time, or at least within five minutes for almost everything lately. I realize also that sometimes the words I say can hurt people, even if I think I'm being funny, and I've started working on that as well.
No one is perfect, every single one of us has to work on things. Yet, the problem with society these days is that all of us get a trophy. We all think we are invincible and number one and nothing is wrong with us. No one takes the time to say, hey, you really need to work on THIS or THAT personality trait isn't so attractive. I appreciate learning what people think about me so that I can fix what's bad and stroke the good to perfection. I encourage people to tell me what they don't care for and if I think it's something about me that needs changing, I will work to improve that part of myself. I can only get better. That's all any of us can do.
Let's just start being honest with each other and stop sugar coating things. If I offend you, tell me right away so I know what exactly was offensive. If I come off as "fake" or "disingenuous", PLEASE say something because that is one of the worst things I could possibly think of being accused of. And finally, take a step back, breathe a deep breath and realize that I'm an amazing person who just so happens to have a few faults. Don't expect me to be perfect because you will be sorely disappointed.

Colevin the Cuddlebug

With big brown eyes and a smile that would make even the hardest heart melt, my son is my rock. He is the sweetest, funniest, smartest kid I have ever known. Every single day he amazes me even more than he did the day before. When mommy is having a bad day, I just need to go to him and he cuddles up to me and makes the world right again.

Lately, my son has been throwing huge tantrums. Bigger than any I have ever seen and I have tried everything. When I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING. Time outs, taking toys away, being put in another room, holding him tightly so he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else, talking to him, etc. These tantrums try my patience. His sister never threw these kinds of fits. She tried once, then I ignored her and she didn't try it again. Colevin, he's a whole other story. He is a tank, he is huge and he uses his strength and body weight to throw himself into walls, into me, into his sister. He will scream for HOURS, literally HOURS without a care in the world. I've gotten to the point where I just have to ignore him and listen until I get a headache and eventually, he calms down and wants to be a good boy.
He isn't always a little terror, in fact most of the time he is the sweetest little boy you'll ever meet. He loves hugging his sister and all the little girls at daycare. In fact, he seems to have quite a following amongst the daycare girls. He definitely has a way with the ladies. I think it is because he understands us so well. He has painted his nails, watched mommy put on makeup and asked for his own, worn his sister's dress shoes, and played with baby dolls. I believe he does this so he can understand a woman's suffering and be sympathetic to our causes. Or he's just super feminine and either way, I love him to pieces.
One of my favorite things about my son, other than his amazing curls, is that he compliments me more than any other man ever has. He tells everyone and anyone that his mama is a "hot mama". Then he proceeds to describe himself as "hot Colevin". He also runs his hands through my hair and tells me I'm pretty as I'm getting ready in the morning. I don't have to look far for a compliment when I'm feeling down. All I have to do is be around him and he will inevitably say something positive about me. Isn't that what boys are for?
If I ever need cheering up or I'm feeling like I need some love, I say, Colevin, can I have a kiss? He runs up to me, arms open wide and he gives me a breath stealing hug. Then, his tiny hands grab the sides of my face and pull my lips toward his. Most of the time, I get a "tiny kiss", which is just a peck to say, I love you mom. But sometimes, if I'm lucky, I get a "BIG kiss". These kisses last anywhere from 10 seconds to a minute and have a grand finale of pulling away and yelling "MUAH!". These are what make it all worth it. Every hair pulling tantrum, every fight with his sister, every defense of his masculinity, every day. When I get these "BIG kisses", oh boy, I know I did something right.

Destiny, Soul Mates, and all that Nonsense

How do you know if someone is worth it? How do you know if you are supposed to be with someone or not? Is it the way they look at you? The way they make you feel? The touch of their hand against your skin? The way the silence can become so comfortable that neither of you need to say a thing?
I'm having a really hard time with this because I am just now accepting the fact that I don't believe in soul mates, destiny, or fate. I used to think that everything happened for a reason. Things fell apart so that other things could fall together. One door closed so another door could open. All these cliche attempts at trying to explain away the fact that my life didn't turn out the way I expected. Don't get me wrong, I love my life. My life is full of amazing people and experiences that I wouldn't trade for the world. Yet, there's something missing. When I get off work, I come home to an empty house. I sleep alone, I wake up alone, and I eat alone. When I have good news, I call my best friend and she and I squeal and talk and then I'm alone in my thoughts again.
I used to believe that there was someone for everyone. That someday I would wake up and meet my soul mate, the person whom I was destined to be with for the rest of my life. I thought that fate would make sure that the decisions we made would lead us to each other. Maybe I decided to move jobs and the person who delivered the mail would end up being my forever. I believed in "magic" because so many people out there had found that perfect person, so I was destined to as well, right?
Wrong. If that was the case, no one would die alone, unloved. Everyone would be happy with someone that MADE them happy. There is no such thing as soul mates, destiny, or fate. Yes, some people get lucky and find someone amazing to share their life with. But for the most part, people settle. We decide that we're happy enough. Things are good enough. We deal with it.
I don't want to settle. I may not have a destined mate out there for me, but I refuse to settle for less than I deserve. When I'm with someone, I want to feel like I am the only girl in the world, the only woman they have ever wanted. I want to feel as though I am amazingly beautiful, despite my flaws. I want to feel intelligent, hilarious, and unbelievably good in bed. I want them to WANT to spend time with me, to be their top priority, or at least somewhere near the top. I don't want to have to beg for them to hang out with me. I want to feel important, cared about, and cared for. I want my thoughts, opinions, and feelings to be taken into account when they are making big decisions. I want them to accept me as a person and never ask me to change even the slightest thing about ME. The more I think about it, the more I have answered my own question. How do I know? Well, if I don't feel all those things then they aren't worth it. And honestly, I haven't felt that in a long, long time.

Beauty Isn't About Being Skinny

I was fourteen years old. I was by no means fat, but I definitely had a few extra pounds I could afford to shed. My friends and I loved reading the tween magazines and watching music videos on MTV (back then they actually played videos!). For some reason, I looked at those stars and wanted to be like them. Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera had flat stomachs and skinny legs. All the guys thought they were gorgeous, so of course, I wanted a flat stomach and skinny legs too.

I've always had curves, even as an early teen. My stomach has never been flat, even when I was a size zero. My family has a tummy pooch gene because all of us girls have it. That being said, no matter how hard I tried to lose it, I couldn't. I tried working out, I was on the track team and running everyday, nothing worked. I couldn't shrink my big ol thighs or my little pooch at all.
That's when I decided I needed to do more. I needed to take control of how I looked because when I looked in the mirror, I didn't see beautiful. I saw fat. I saw a girl who could never be loved how she was because who could love someone with such disgusting flaws? That's when I stopped eating.
I never felt more in control of my body then when I stopped eating. The hunger pains I felt only confirmed that I was doing the right thing. No one noticed and truly, I don't think anyone cared enough to pay attention. I started looking better in my clothes, I felt better because I looked better. Everything was falling into place.
It wasn't until my boyfriend at the time said something about me not eating that I changed things. I didn't have a "problem". I was perfectly fine. I didn't want to admit to anyone that anything was wrong and the fact that someone had taken notice, I couldn't have that happen. And so I slowly began eating again.
Ever since then, I've had major issues with my body. I've never been happy with how I look and I am continually trying to better myself. I was finally feeling comfortable in my own skin when I got pregnant with my daughter. Trying to get the weight off after I had her felt impossible. I was finally making leeway when oops, I got pregnant again with my son. Even if I didn't already have body issues, having two pregnancies in two years would have definitely created some. Things fell, stretch marks abounded, areas widened. My body was a horrible disfigurement that wasn't fit to be seen by even me. After two years of working hard, I am finally within 10-15 pounds (depending on the day) of my pre baby weight. I feel a little more comfortable in my own skin than I've ever felt before. I feel beautiful naked and will even allow others to see me naked and still feel beautiful.

The problem is, that fourteen year old still pokes her head out sometimes and tells me I'm fat, ugly, disfigured. She judges me when I stand in front of the mirror and tells me all the things that are wrong with me. She compares me to my skinny, toothpick friends and tells me how I'm the "fat" friend. She tells me not to eat that burger or not enjoy that yummy piece of cake at the end of a meal. She's mean to me and the fact is, I listen to her.
I'm a mature woman with two children. I'm not a toothpick. I'll never have a flat stomach. I'll always have thick thighs and a big ol booty. I'll always have my hourglass shape with love handles and stretch marks. My breasts are pancakes which have given nourishment to my children. My stomach isn't smooth because it was their home for a total of 20 months. I have scars, cellulite and curves for days.
My girlfriends may be skinny and that is beautiful for them, but I am just as beautiful. Every time fourteen year old Nicole comes out, I try to shove her back in by explaining to her that beauty isn't just being tiny. Beauty is about loving yourself and working with what you have. I may not have a flat stomach, but I do have a nice behind. I may not have big perky breasts, but mine are pretty amazing. I may not have skinny legs, but I've got some meaty thighs and calves of steel.
Sometimes it works, most times it doesn't. But I am trying really hard to work on my confidence.
I notice my daughter looking at me as I try on clothes and I have to bite my tongue when it comes to disparaging words about myself. I refuse to allow her to go through what I went through. I will do everything in my power to teach her that beauty isn't celebrities or pop idols. But first, I need to show her by loving myself as I am. Accepting that I am NOT my friends, that it is a little harder for me to keep weight off and I need to work with that. I have faith that twenty six year old Nicole can smack some sense into fourteen year old Nicole.

I'm fired up!!

It's time. I tried putting it off as long as I could, but I have to do a political post.
It was only just a few years ago when it started. I would read a story in the newspaper, run across an article on the web, or see something scroll across CNN, that would leap out and make me angry. It happened every once in awhile and I would debate about it with my friends and then the news would taper off on reporting about it and life would continue the same as it always had been. Nothing affected my life. My life didn't change because someone was voting against gay marriage. My rights were still intact if someone voted down abortion rights in another state. Did it upset me? Of course. But did it affect my life personally? No. Things went on the same, nothing really changed. That has all changed. The stories that are in the paper now are affecting me personally. The things that are going on in the rest of the country are affecting me personally. My life is being affected and I'm fired up. I am itching to get involved, to make people realize that the things they are doing are affecting people like me.
I used to work for our local electric utility. I was a non union employee, but all our journeyman were union and I didn't understand unions at all. All I knew was that my parents didn't like them. They had told me to refuse to join a union if I was ever asked to by my employer because they were bad for business. I let it go in one ear and out the other because frankly, I didn't care at the time. I remember our first annual meeting where we held an election for the utility's board seats. My fellow employees were ecstatic about certain people being elected because they were "pro union". I didn't really understand what that was about because in my mind I thought, "Who wouldn't be on the employee's side of the company that you represent?". That election and the little knowledge I gained about being "pro union" and "anti union" was my first real dose of "some people suck". I still don't really understand why people don't appreciate workers, but I have a better understanding of the "suck" syndrome.
After I left that company, I moved on and became a public employee for our local government. I accepted to join the union and honestly, didn't really think about it after I signed my initial employment forms. The union was like a huge umbrella, like the atmosphere. You don't notice it from day to day unless there's a problem, like the hole in the ozone. But even then, after the media stories trail off, you forget about the problem and move about your life. I had been at my job for about a year when I was approached to be our department's union representative. They tricked me into it by praising me and saying they wanted "new, young blood" and I got a trip away from home for training. They knew how to work me and got me involved. From that day forward, I have been getting increasingly more involved and the more involved and informed I get, the more I want to fight. I get so angry and fed up with the blatant lies, misrepresentation of facts, and straight up stupidity that is out there.
Lately there has been talk about cutting our staff at my job. There has been rumors that with the horrible economy, workers will need to go. It's sad because I'm young, with a career ahead of me. I wanted this to be my home, my life career. I didn't want to work anywhere else. But the anxiety I felt for the last two months, the constant worry and stress that has been eating away at me, it doesn't make me want to stay. I felt more security in my job in the private sector, AND I made more money.
That's another lie that I just need to straighten out here for anyone who knows me and understands what I'm talking about. The news stories are all talking about how public employees make loads of money, how we are overpaid. To the people who say that, I want you to come live my life for a month. Come see how I struggle to be a single mother with two young kids on my salary. I went to school, I have an education and job experience, yet I make less at my job than friends of mine who haven't gone to college. I barely get by, at times having to work a second job to be able to pay the necessities. By the federal and state government's standards, I am considered "low income". I qualify for state aid, low income housing, WIC, and many other government programs, some of which I wouldn't be able to survive without. Even with my "cadillac plan" health insurance, I can't even afford to go to the doctor because of the deductible.
I am by no means knowledgeable about every issue that comes up, and I don't claim to be. What I do know are the things that are affecting me and HOW they affect me. I know my personal experiences and decisions and what they have led to. I don't understand how anyone could ever think that taking away someone's livelihood could ever be considered a good thing. Or better yet, taking away someone's rights.
The fact that my rights, my job, my health care could all disappear in a matter of seconds scares me enough to make me want to take a stand. From this point forward, I will stand for what I believe is right (and be loud as hell about it), even if I'm left standing alone.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

I've had writer's block for quite awhile and haven't been able to get passed it. I've tried, but lately the only thing I am truly passionate about (and I write best when I'm truly passionate about something) is politics. I don't think I'm quite ready to delve into political writing yet, just because I need to make sure I don't say everything that I feel. If I did that, oh my, let's just say, most people I know wouldn't be very happy with me. So I decided that instead I would share with everyone some of the gems that my kids come up with. I think to myself quite a bit, where the heck did that come from? when talking to my children. They make me laugh, make me think, and make me keep some of my innocence.

Colevin (pulling on his manhood like he's going to rip it off): "Cut off my penis Mommy, I want a mooch like you." (that's what we call it, mooch.)

Kynedi (kissing my belly): "Good night sissy." (I am NOT pregnant either)

Kynedi : "I want a baby sister Mom." "Why?" "Cause I've never had one before."

Kynedi (a little background on this one, her dad lost a baby ten years ago, so on his birthday every year they let off balloons to remember. I asked her if they were going to have cake, trying to keep it lighthearted) : "Mom, my brother is dead. He can't eat cake. Thought you knew that."

Colevin : "I love you most Mommy."
Kynedi : "Oh really, Colevin? You told Daddy you loved him most this morning. So who are you lying to, huh? Mom or Dad?"

Kynedi (after rearranging every doll she has to lay in a straight line across my bed so that I barely have room to fit): "Mom, don't squish my brothers and sisters, they like to sleep with me." "Honey, can't they sleep down the length of the bed? I don't have room." (looks at me with disgust) "They want to sleep by me Mom...You can sleep on the floor."

Colevin (after being asked what his favorite movie is): "Ass."
My friends : "What are you letting him watch?!?!?"
Me : "He meant Alice...in Wonderland."

Kynedi (after finding tiny little shells in the backyard) "If you put them up to your ear Mom, you can hear the ocean." (puts it up to her ear) "Ok, maybe not really. But I can hear it a little bit."

Kynedi : "Mommy, why don't you have eyes like me, Colevin, and Daddy? You need to change your eyes to look like ours."

And my favorite of all.

Kynedi : "Shhh Mommy, I love you the most, but don't tell Daddy because I tell him I love him the most. But I really don't. I love you the most." "Sure, it'll be our little secret." :)

That's all for now. Enjoy my crazy kids.

The day I became a mother

I fell in love with you long before I held you, long before I even felt you kick. I fell in love with you the moment I realized that you were going to exist someday. When I found out I was pregnant with you, my world turned upside down. I was so young and was far from being ready to be a mother. I wanted you to have everything. I wanted to be able to give you everything. I was still in college, working part time at the credit union. I was in no position to be a mother. I weighed all the choices and thought, I can't give this baby what it deserves. So I made an appointment to take care of things. I walked in the doctor's office that day with a heavy heart. They did an ultrasound, checked how far along I was, and told me to come back the following week and we'd get things done. I walked to my car afterward, confused by the emotions I was feeling. I thought I knew what I had to do. I thought I had made a decision that I was comfortable with. A decision that I knew the consequences of. As soon as I sat in my seat and closed the car door, the tears that I was holding back flowed. I couldn't stop them, and I wouldn't have even tried. I held my stomach so tight that you probably felt it. I was seven weeks along, with the worst morning sickness ever. I had lost 12 pounds, my clothes were falling off me, and I couldn't keep anything but water down. I was absolutely miserable, and yet, I felt you. I can't explain it, but it's as though your heart spoke to mine saying, I want you to be my mom, please give me a chance. How could I argue with that? How could I say no? How could I take this baby's chance away?
I went home that day and never looked back. My mind never once wavered, I wanted you with all my heart. I've never wanted anything else in the world more than I wanted to be able to hold you, kiss you, wipe your tears. You have given my life purpose. There have been times when I have wanted to tear my hair out. I have cried, screamed, thrown things. Yet, I would never regret the decision we (you and I) made to keep you. It breaks my heart to know that I was so close to actively choosing to lose the person who makes my life complete.
It's funny, people always told me that I would fall in love with you the minute I held you, but I already loved you so much. I didn't fall in love with you when you were born, I fell in love with you that moment in my car when I held you at 7 weeks along. That moment when our hearts touched, that was the moment I fell. When the nurse first laid you in my arms, I waited for the overwhelming "new" love to take hold of me. It didn't though, because it was already there. What did happen, instead, was our hearts had another conversation, thanking each other for sticking things out even when hope was low. To this day, I still feel your heart talking to mine, reassuring me that we are going to make it through whatever comes our way. We've been through so much in your short five years that I can't imagine what else will be thrown at us. No matter what happens, I will be there for you, right by your side. I will fight for you, live for you, and die for you.
Thank you for choosing me to be your mom. Thank you for giving ME a chance. Thank you for giving me the love and strength that I need to be the kind of mother that you deserve. I truly believe that you are my angel.

What No One Knows

I have become a fan of Stumble Upon. If you don't know what it is, it's basically a website in which you sign up and "stumble" across different web pages in different categories. You can "like" pages and your friends can follow you and see what pages you found interesting. It really is a great way to stumble upon (pun intended) new and different things. I came across one page that was actually quite interesting to me. It had a list of 62 power questions to ask in order to reconnect with yourself. I've been feeling pretty bummed out lately and couldn't think of a blog post idea. Since I want to write one everyday, it seemed like a good idea to answer one of the questions each day.

What is that thing that no one, not even your partner, your mother or your best friend, knows about you?

This one made me laugh a little before I seriously thought about it because I'm an open book. Everyone who knows me pretty much knows everything about me, especially the people closest to me. Then I dug deeper and decided to really think about what people don't know. That was the hard part. People know my past, my thoughts, and most of my opinions. What people don't know, are my fears and my dreams.
If I had to choose one thing that nobody knows about me, which now everyone will know about me, is that I'm deathly afraid. I have a lot of things going on in my life right now that scare the crud out of me. I like to have control of my life, I enjoy being knowledgable about what is happening to me and when I don't have the power to change something, I freak out.
What has me extremely afraid at the moment is that I won't be around to see my children grow up. I look at them and I see all my hopes and dreams. I want to be there to tell my daughter about boys and how they really don't have cooties. I want to watch my son play football and score a touchdown. I want to be around for their weddings and the birth of my grandchildren. A year ago, I would have said no doubt will I be there for all of this. I will be around forever.
A couple of months ago, I finally went to the doctor after not going since I had my son. I've had issues since he was little and had numerous ultrasounds, a CAT scan, and multiple doctors' visits in the months after his birth. They couldn't place the pain I was having and when they found abnormal things, I couldn't go to a specialist because at the time, my insurance was about over. I didn't have insurance for awhile after that and just never took the time to go to the doctor. A few months ago, I finally decided to go to the doctor for a regular checkup and they found things that shouldn't be in my body. I brushed the warnings off and recently have come to the grips that something isn't right. The doctors are talking cancer, I'm not listening. If I don't listen, it'll go away right? My body won't be attacking itself and I'll be there for my kids forever. I'm scared to death of dying or being in as much pain as I am in now for the rest of my life.
This is what no one knows, I am afraid of what the future holds for me and that my dreams won't have the opportunity to develop into fruition.

My Fault

Domestic Violence Awareness Month is October. In October of every year, we become more “aware” of a problem that affects millions of people (men and women) across the nation. It may not be October, but a recent post on Facebook really set me off, along with issues in my personal life. This status post was one of those, “post if you’re against domestic violence” ones and a guy commented saying that if women weren’t such “sluts” they wouldn’t get mentally or physically abused. A fire that has been long suppressed raged in my heart and I wanted to set him straight. I wanted him to know the struggle of being in an abusive relationship. I wanted to take him, put him in my mind and make him experience the battle that I dealt with on a daily basis for five years. The battle that so many women have to fight because they’re stuck and they don’t know how to get out.
Since I wasn’t able to respond to him via Facebook, I decided to put my thoughts here. This post is going to be pretty emotional for me to write, it’s my personal experience and thoughts, so please bear with me and understand if it’s a little jumbled.
Growing up, my father made me feel like a constant failure. It wasn’t even “telling” me that I failed, but the way I was treated. I was always called a “freak” by him and he taught my younger sisters to mimic him. At first, it didn’t bother me, but over the years, I couldn’t laugh it off anymore. Especially during my teen years where depression loomed around every corner and my mind kept reminding me how “fat” I was at 100 lbs, the name calling cut me deep. Not to mention the physical spankings and slaps across the face or pushing down stairs. I could handle the physical though, it was the mental and emotional pain that hurt me most. I remember when the physical stopped and I started hurting myself because I thought that just yelling didn’t hurt me enough. I cut, I bruised myself with objects, I did everything I could to physically hurt as much as I hurt inside.
Finally I moved out, and made some really horrible life choices that I don’t regret because they gave me my daughter, but that I wish I had done differently. In the end, I had my beautiful daughter and a man who at first, I was only with because of lust. I can’t explain it, I’ll never be able to put it into words, but it was as though I was under a spell. Every time I tried to leave him, he’d manipulate me into coming back. He had complete control over me. Eventually, I fell in love (whether it was because he fathered my child or because I actually loved him, I still don’t know).
At this time, I still had a brand new baby who was under a year old. I started going through post partum depression and with my history of depression in my teen years, it made it extremely bad. I was crazy, bat shit crazy. So I started seeing a counselor and also got on some anti depressants. That’s when things went downhill. Actually, between us, I think it was always downhill, but this was definitely a sharp turn down the hill. We started fighting more, I felt controlled, alone, manipulated and I didn’t know how to change things. He felt like I was a nag, and that being a dad could be done at his convenience. The first time something happened was Cinco de Mayo. We went out with some ex coworkers of ours and had a few drinks. Things were going great…until another guy showed interest in me. I was pulled away so hard that bruises were left on my arms for weeks.
The bickering continued and I think if I hadn’t been so on edge from my medication, I would’ve handled things differently. But I was young, stupid, and didn’t do things the way I would now. There was a night when he threatened to kill himself because I was “trying to take his daughter away”. Which, yes, back then I tried to use her as a pawn which I would never do now (again, my immaturity). He got his gun, beer, and pipe and headed to the garage. I followed and had the gun pointed at me. A couple of months later, we got in another fight. He said he wanted to go out with some friends, which included a very pretty girl he had shown interest in. I didn’t want him to go since we were still mad at each other and I always had to stay at home with the baby. We got in a huge fight which ended in me getting choked by a broom and being spit on. I ended up leaving that night and going to the hospital due to the bruising and internal injuries. For some reason, I still don’t understand why, I went back.
In the midst of everything, I had resorted back to my childhood ways of coping. When I was being called names and told that I was worthless, I started cutting myself again. I took bottles of pain pills, hurt myself to feel the pain. I needed the physical pain to make me forget about the emotional.
It wasn’t because I was stupid, because I’m pretty smart. It wasn’t because I didn’t know any better, because I did. It was because he told me I wasn’t attractive, that no one would ever want me, especially with a kid or two. I was told that I could never make it on my own, I’d always need a man to help me out. He cut me down to the point where I felt worthless, like a failure. The feeling my father gave me my entire childhood was brought back, stronger. It wasn’t just that he said those things, it’s that I believed him.
Women who are abused are cut down to a sliver of who they once were. Men who abuse women don’t only abuse them physically, they abuse them mentally and emotionally as well. They are excellent manipulators and can tell a woman anything and she’ll believe it. It doesn’t happen overnight, it takes time, but when it happens, it’s over. She feels as though she has no power.
I am sick of people saying that it is the woman’s fault. That she needs to just leave if things are so bad. After every police report, hospital visit, or counseling appointment people close to me would say those types of things. Problem is, I had no one who was able to help me. I couldn’t afford to live on my own. I wasn’t willing to live in a shelter with two babies. I knew they were fine, and I knew I could take it. What made me finally leave was the moment my two year old daughter saw him pouring a bottle of soy sauce over my head, screaming at each other and her saying, “mommy daddy stop fighting”. My heart broke and I realized that I couldn’t allow my daughter to think this was healthy. I couldn’t allow my son to think it was ok to treat a woman that way. I had to set a better example for them. I found my strength in my children. Everyone else faded away. All the other lectures, opinions, thoughts that I’d been hearing for years were out the window. In the end, I didn’t leave for me. I had stayed for them and eventually, I left for them. I didn’t believe that I deserved better, THEY deserved better.