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They’re just words

Words words fucking words. You would think they would be easy, simple in fact, but nope. When you have 14 tabs open, the static is so thick that when you attempt to speak it’s gibberish, and you sound like you just played a game of telephone while drinking a bottle of tequila. So yeah there’s that.

I’ve lost my damn words. POOF!! Into the atomsphere they’ve gone…just floating into space somewhere…

I try to make since of them, but it’s like reading the alphabet backwards while at the same time patting your belly with one hand and making circles on top of your head with the other. I feel completely lost without my words. All I know are words. I write nonstop, but here’s the thing…the shit I’ve been writing is just that, SHIT. Smelly shit that is sitting in a paper bag on fire sitting on a front porch waiting to be stepped on. I am allowed to say this, because they are my words.

When I go back and read this shit I realize I am being careful, so careful that it’s like I am tip toeing my way around so as not to hurt people or upset them. BUT what I am forgetting is it’s my writing, my words are written for me. For what I am going through, for the bullshit I need to vent about, or just the crap I want to say because I want too or need too. I love that others enjoy what I write and those that follow my blog know that it’s raw, that I don’t edit my writing, that it’s my journal in a way, and I love that everyone respects that.

Now I need to stop being careful, stop walking on eggshells, or whatever the fuck it is I am doing, and get back to me. Get back to my normal. If I need to travel down the rabbit hole to find my way back I fucking will. I am over this shit. My fear or whatever needs to seriously take a trip into the fuck it bucket and be flushed down the toilet.

Until next time…Sunshine, Sparkles, and Mother Fucking Unicorn Poop my peeps!!

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drowning

June 2022…Went back and forth on whether to share this on my blog, but in the end, petal after petal I decided to share. To often we hide how we are really feeling, because we are afraid of judgement. I say fuck the judgement (sorry Dad – I don’t think there is many more f bombs). Judge away, but remember to look in the mirror while you judge.

The water crystal clear, sand soft below my feet, I float freely along with the peaceful rocking waves. The clouds above fluffy, blocking the bright rays from my eyes as I drift calmly parallel to the shoreline. Looking down I can no longer see below me, the water dark. Where did the sand go? Darkness. Bubbles in front of my eyes, my chest swelling with pain. I can’t reach the bottom. How far did I float? Darkness surrounding me, enclosing, I can no longer see. I am numb, cold, sinking…

I’m drowning. Thoughts invade my paralyzed mind. I realize I am no longer holding my head high like I was just over a year ago. I tried to find the right path. Still blinded by darkness, I lose control, I am not sure there is a correct path, because lately no matter which path I choose I end up at the same dead end. Unknown depths of darkness in every direction as the pain fills my lungs I sink further and further…

The weight sits heavy on my shoulders. I am at the bottom, the sand rocky, poking my skin, making me uncomfortable. I still can’t see, can’t move, there’s so much pressure. How did I get here? I never wanted to be in this position again. The feeling of a scary dimly lit damp basement that smells of rotting wood and stale mold with no way out. I survived this once before. I was able to stand tall with both feet firm on the pavement, strong, not even the insane Nevada wind could push me over.

But here I was. Swallowed whole by the freezing lake. My chest on fire. Lost in this darkness. Nobody was going to be able to find me. The water too dark, too deep. I am a survivor. A fighter. I just don’t know how to get out of this situation. Lost in the depths unable to breathe, unable to scream for help. I can’t show my weakness. I have to be strong. My tears falling in solitude. I keep the dark thoughts to myself.

The pressure was building. It was becoming too much for my small frame to handle. I was buckling, the emotion was going to gush from every pore if the pressure didn’t subside. Still uncomfortable I laid there at the bottom wishing I could see, could breathe, could float to the surface. I just wanted to feel warm, feel the sun on my skin, and to stop this pain. Uncertain how I could do so. If only I had been wearing a lifejacket…

Would a lifejacket have saved me? I doubt it. With my luck somehow it would have been defective and I would still be in this position. I know how to swim, how to float, and even that didn’t save me. I was dark. How could I save myself? I seemed to be asking myself this over and over. Was I losing more of myself as the days went by?

I knew that I was the only one with answers on how to get help. Afterall, nobody even knew I was here. The further I drifted the colder the atmosphere grew. I am a stubborn one. I was shutting down. The pressure was getting to be too much. The last breath was holding on. My body was started to combust.

The darkness wrapped itself tighter around me constricting my movements. My ugly crying was loud. I vomited the ugliness I had been holding in too those close to me. I could feel the shock of what I spewed vibrating off their warm caring souls. The path that led to this was not one I saw coming, but I made decisions, ones I would never take back. Now I am drowning, seeing red, as I sink further.

Bubbles surrounded me. I couldn’t feel the rocky bottom. I could see again. There was light, but I was still under water. WHY!?! I said everything!!! I erupted like a volcano. It all escaped from me like a whitehead popping under pressure. Was I not clear enough? I don’t think I was. The snap and crackle were heard, but not the damn POP! Seriously. What do I have to do to be clear??? I need to get to the surface. Please!!!

I have realized I am going to float out here in the depths of the coldness for a while. No matter how clear I am, people will only hear what they want to hear. People listen to respond, not listen to listen and actually hear what needs to be heard. If they actually listened to everything one had to say they probably wouldn’t leave people helpless.

Although I am cold, frozen to be honest, I am responsible for myself; I am responsible for my attitude and efforts in life. I can be sour about how things are and not make changes or I can realize things are the way they are FOR NOW and start to make the changes necessary to make me happy. Not all things in my life can change. I have to decide if these things are worth making a big deal over or if they are things I just set to the side until I know how to handle the issue.

Letting go of things isn’t easy, but for my health it has become a necessary need. We all know Covid hit the world. I would like to say it just knocked me off balance, but it didn’t. It bent me over and had its way with me. Is it finished yet? Who knows. I am not a scientist, just a plain old human with common sense. Covid and I got real close this year. Instead of just a hand job it decided to rip my insides out and see if I could still survive. I couldn’t work. I ended up losing my job – thank you for fucking me without giving me the big O… And it just got worse from there. I like to try and stay positive, but it felt impossible through all of this. I was down in the dumps hanging out with Oscar. I tried to be happy, tried the whole fake smile bullshit, nothing was working. Until I let my stubbornness take over.

I decided to fight. I mean I already lost my job, was getting screwed left and right…how much worse could it get? I was determined to feel somewhat normal again. To be active, even just a little. I didn’t care if I had to use a rollator at my age. I was going to do whatever it took to start to feel like me again. Was it easy? Hell no. Even now it is not easy. The doctor told me it would take at least a year if not longer to feel 100% again. I still can’t exercise like I was. I still can’t go for 5k walks, I still can’t do a lot of things, but I am not giving up on being me. Does that mean I feel great? No longer depressed? I wish. I am on a path to recovery and every day I feel just a tiny bit better.

I would probably feel worse, but I already know that I am the only person who can control my attitude and my effort in this world. Sure, I can blame whomever the fuck I want that I am not happy or that my life sucks or that I can’t afford this or that, but you know what? It isn’t anyone else’s fault that I am not happy or that my life might suck, that I feel like I am drowning daily. I make myself happy and I let everyone that I allow in my life to add to my happiness. Those that are in my life help me make my life whole. I don’t want to depend 100% on others. I like being independent, but I recently learned we need to be okay with realizing we will never be completely 100% independent; we are all interdependent on each other. Which means I need to stop being so damn stubborn when someone is handing me a helping hand as I stink to the bottom.

There are kind hearted people out there willing to help when one is in need. Especially drowning to unknown depths, but I have to remember to be open and stop hiding the pain, the hurt, the ugly feelings, because keeping it all in only makes me sink further and further, beyond reach. If I sink too far, I might not be able to be saved. If I want people to be honest and open with me, I better be honest and open with them.

Making the choices I have lately has helped me extremely. I have let a lot go, because of this, I can breathe again. I am still drowning, I can see sunlight, it is not enough to warm me up, but it is a start. I have much to work on. By starting this work, I hope that I will be able to reach the surface soon and maybe by the end of the year I will be sitting in the warm sand on the shore instead of at the bottom of the lake in the cold darkness.

We go through life either like zombies, with our heads held high, staring at the ground, on a leash, or a mixture. I can say I have gone through life doing it all. As I look around me and I see myself drowning I realize I am no longer holding my head high like I was just over a year ago. I am staring at the ground trying to find the correct path to go down. As the bubbles cross in front of me and I lose control I am not sure there is a correct path, because lately no matter which path I choose I end up at the same dead end. Unknown depths of darkness in every direction as the pain fills my lungs I sink further and further…

You can try and rescue me, but only I am in control. I know how to float; I know how to swim. I am strong, but sometimes I am weak. My stubbornness kicks in and I will survive once again. I AM.

Sunshine, sparkles, and mother fucking unicorn poop

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2018

When they tell you to prepare your family for your death it’s difficult to wrap your head around what you were just told. How do you process that? How are you supposed to tell them? Do you tell your kids? Everyone already knew I wasn’t in a healthy state, but fuck. I was wasting away in front of their eyes daily. Rail thin. A walking zombie, trying to be full of life, always in a constant state of pain. In and out of the doctors, it seemed like it was weekly, between the several doctors I was seeing, the lab work…I still have the marks from all the needles they stuck in my arms.

Even as a stubborn black hearted bitch I started living in a different way. I lived free. I lived like it was always my last day. I made sure to laugh every day. To make everyone smile every day. To be the sunshine and sparkles in everyone’s life that I was apart of. I learned to love myself, my life, to be happy with what I had, to appreciate every day.

I started taking more pictures of everything. My kids, my family, the world through my eyes; I wanted to leave behind memories from my perspective for my children. I took more selfies for them. People probably thought I was a self-absorbed bitch, but I didn’t care, they didn’t know my story and they weren’t going too until I was ready to tell it.

My clothes were so baggy on me, but why spend the money to buy more? I just started wearing leggings more. If I wore jean’s they looked gross on me. I tried to eat more protein to gain weight, but it didn’t matter. I could eat whatever I wanted and I just kept losing more weight, it was horrible. It got so bad I was lucky if I weighed 100 pounds soaking wet. I knew everyone around me was worried, hell I was worried, but I couldn’t show it. I had to just keep smiling, keep living.

There would be days where I would cry all day at my desk. Some of the deputies would message me asking if I was okay, they could hear the pain, the tears in my voice. I just passed it off as a migraine. I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me. I didn’t need them to know, didn’t want them to know the truth. I just kept hiding.

When I finally had an answer, it was relief. I could breathe again. Or so I thought. One autoimmune disease means there’s another. My life has changed. But that doesn’t mean I am not the same damn sunshine and sparkly unicorn poop bitch everyone has grown to love. I am still here. I just have illnesses that unfortunately rule some of my days. I just try not to let them wear the crown every day, just some days.

Lately, they have been winning, but fuck them. They need to chill the fuck out.

Sunshine, sparkles, and mother fucking unicorn poop!!

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smelly shit

Liars. We have all come across them and chances are we have probably told a lie or two; especially as teenagers…But when do you stop lying to yourself and others? One would think when you grow up, but that isn’t always true. When you are okay with lying or acting like you didn’t hear what someone said, you cannot get upset with the consequences. And why lie when you know you were caught? It makes no sense to me. Lying makes a person question everything you have ever told them.

Was it that difficult? To actually hear every word I fucking said? I guess it was, because only half of what I said was heard, and the sad part is, that part of what was heard, wasn’t even the part that I was trying to get across.

I hate when I get so angry, so frustrated, that my words become a tangled mess and what I am trying to say comes out completely wrong. It sucks big donkey balls. Like why? Why can’t I just be like “look blah blah blah” and it actually just be the words, the point I am trying to make instead of all the smelly shit that is plugging me up?

I will tell you why. Because if it was actually all the smelly shit then my life would be simple and why on earth would my life be simple? It can’t. If my life was simple, I would have nothing to write about. I seriously have my smelly shit life to thank for my writing. YAY! My shit is my cheerleader, it keeps spewing out so I can keep going….

Guess that means everyone who enjoys my writing can also thank my smelly shit. Let’s all thank it together…ready…,” Thank you smelly shit!!” ugh…okay no seriously, though, my life is the contributor to my blog, my poems, it all.

Let me get back on track here, now that we got the thank you out the of way. Okay, so as I was saying, I can never just have one point when I am trying to say what is frustrating me. I seem to always have several different points. Instead of saying one and then talking about it I just keep rambling. You’re probably thinking, “no surprise, just look at your writing”. Okay, yes, I know 14 tabs always. BUT it gets fucking annoying when I really need to get my point across or heard and it comes out with millions of others.

My problem, besides having all these tabs always open, is the simple fact that I bottle everything up. I can’t just spew word vomit the second something is bugging me and because of this it all comes out at once. I have been trying to work on it. I was getting really good at it for a while and then I am not sure what the fuck happened. It is like I lost my mojo for word vomit. I am not even sure how that happens to a person like me, since I am words. Maybe its fear. Yeah, lets go with fear.

Why fear? Simple. I am afraid of pushing people away. I keep my circle small and those that know and love me don’t mind when I explode and go off on my smelly shit word vomits, but when I bottle shit up it’s because I fear that what I need to say might get taken the wrong way and I have to make sure I put the words in an order that won’t hurt feelings or get mixed up and said in a way I didn’t mean for them to be said.

Should it matter if I hurt others even if they hurt me? Ummm yes!! I am not the type of person who likes to hurt others. I’m not the type to bend people over and make them take whatever I give them. Can I be mean? Can’t everyone? That doesn’t mean I purposely hurt others.

So anyways, I was venting, spewing shit, and it all came out as this ball of camel spit. If I could have hit myself in the eye with it…fuck it was all such a mess. Nothing was said how I had planned in my head. NOTHING!! And the best part…well the fact that what I said was extremely important and only half of it was responded too, yeah that was awesomesauce…NOT!!!

Like how could you take the part that was the least important and respond? Because that meant no confrontation? Such fucking bullshit. I can’t stand that. Have some balls people. I legit said what I had been holding in for months, waiting, waiting for the truth, and I just kept waiting like a damn fool. I couldn’t wait any longer and that’s when this nasty mess happened. And instead of responded to the part I held in for so long, I had to ask myself later if I had even made mention. I went over it all again…yup I did. But it didn’t matter.

When do you know their shit stinks? When you can’t tell the difference between yours and theirs. I had this dilemma. Do I say something or let it go?

I flushed the fucking toilet.

If I hadn’t, I would have driven myself insane. Not gonna lie I did drive myself insane for some time before I let it go. I had a decision to make. I didn’t want my shit to keep smelling. If they want theirs too, well that’s on them. I couldn’t let it get to me anymore. Afterall, I had made a choice to let things go.

It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t know what else to do. I am sure there will be plenty of more times that I will need to flush the toilet, because let’s be real, everyone has smelly shit from time to time.

The smelly shit I hate the most is the lies. If you want to lie to someone, remember karma is a bitch, and remember who you decide to lie too. You shouldn’t be lying at all. What kind of person are you if you think it is okay to lie? I certainly don’t want those type of people in my life. Since I flushed the toilet…adios…

Standing on the toilet seat watching it drain, not waving, not saying goodbye, because in the end making the decision to lie was goodbye. We all make our choices. We are all responsible for what we do. A lie told is a decision, the more one lies, the bigger the web grows, can they even remember the truth? Getting caught in their web as a victim allows them to keep lying, unless you know the truth, and you question everything – then the web falls apart and they grow weak. Weakness makes them flush the toilet on their own.

My smelly shit might be a mess, but at least I can say it’s honest. Now I just need to get over my fear.

Sunshine, sparkles, and mother fuckin’ unicorn poop.

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watching through the window

Ever feel like a fifth wheel abandoned in a desert with its windows knocked out? And you’re sitting there watching life pass you by through the broken glass, the edge’s sharp; be careful not to reach out you might cut yourself. You just sit there watching wondering if this is supposed to be life; a movie like perspective. All, well most of my life I have felt like this; like I am strolling along in a movie just watching different scenes. I tend to keep my mouth shut, I stay silent, more often than not. My word vomit is usually ugly or so I think, because I just say what is on my mind, and most of the time it doesn’t seem to fit the script of the current scene.

I am a stubborn person. Have you ever been in such a stubborn state of mind, that stubbornness where you refuse to put fucking sunblock on and the sunbeams are radiating down on you like a fucking spotlight, “we see you and your moody bullshit”? Then BOOM only half your leg is burnt. You have a crispy leg that you didn’t order, it hurts worse than a bitchslap, and then it tans (thank you to my genes)…then you look like a half-eaten dunked Oreo. WTF…

UGH! And okay here comes my word vomit…it always seems to come out at the wrong damn time. Like I said above, I feel like I am in a movie most times, I try to bite my tongue especially because the timing is probably bad, and because I have been told I am too forward…I personally don’t see the issue with this. I would rather someone be forward with me, than beat around the damn bush. If tears fall just hand me the box of tissues. I got my big girl panties on. Okay, okay…my word vomit well once I get going it flows like hot lava flows from your ass after you eat Taco Bell.

You know what I seriously dislike, maybe even hate, and hate is a strong word, because it takes a whole lot to make me hate something. Liars. Assholes. Especially asshole liars…liars spew lies which are worse than the hot lava Taco Bell causes. Nobody likes a fucking lair. But you gotta love when lairs think they are fooling everyone. No no, whatever pet or nick name you want to insert here, you just think you are. Take a closer look in the mirror or at your next selfie, we can all see through your bullshit. Only a bullshitter can’t see beyond their shit in the toilet. Nasty nasty. Clean that up. Do us all a favor and stop trying to feed it to us. We can see it, smell it, and we don’t fuck want it. Remember nobody likes a fucking asshole liar, or just a liar, so be fucking NICE and be HONEST!!

Also, if in life you no longer want to be someone’s friend, just stop acting like you give a shit; here’s my fucking word vomit…seriously. Stop secretly acting like you care, when you actually don’t, because if you did you would reach out. Remember that thing you have in your hand nonstop, yeah, it is called a phone, its used for more than social fucking media…it works both ways, I know it does. But I can only reach out so many times before I throw in the fuck it towel, because my fuck it towel is WORN THE FUCK OUT. Yup, I said it. HOT FUCKIN’ LAVA…oh fucking well.

I clean up well. My feelings have been run over time and time again. I decided a while ago quality over quantity and it was the best decision I could have ever made. Adults work through shit, they communicate. I can’t keep biting my tongue when I feel like my words don’t fit the script. I am the author of my own story and if I keep holding back, I am never going to be happy the way I deserve to be happy. So, word vomit, spewing out like I am not afraid anymore, like I dance, I am not afraid who see’s me dancing, so why should I be afraid to use my voice in the same way? I shouldn’t. I have shut my voice down over and over again. I can’t anymore. I won’t.

I am not going to just bend over and bite my tongue anymore. I am going to put a smile on my face, because I shouldn’t have to pretend to be okay with what is being decided for me. I am not a tumble weed rolling by a broken down fifth wheel with a lost little girl looking out the broken window needing a toilet for the Taco Bell that is about to run down her leg. I am not going to be that leftover McDonald’s that has been left in a car all day and attempted to be revived but the CPR failed…nope that is not me. I am a fighter. I am.

Sunshine, sparkles, and mother fucking unicorn poop.

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my path

Sick. That is how I started the beginning of this year. Pale. Weak. Helpless. I could go on and go. I won’t bore you with that. Covid, horrible shit. Long Covid, even worse. Why? Well, because you aren’t just dealing with an illness for a few weeks. You are legit sick for who the fuck knows how long. Some days are better than others and other days just plain suck the life out of you; no energy, you feel like you are getting sick all over again, it’s a feeling you cannot explain. All you want is too just feel like yourself again or at least somewhat normal. Some days I feel like I could run a mile or two again, but I know if I tried, I would probably pass out after ten feet. My life has turned upside down over this. It has been a difficult transition, but I am coping with it better today than I was a few months ago.

Okay, on with my normal 14 open tabs…I have been home for four months, YES four months…hardly able to drive myself for any of it. Puzzle after puzzle, coloring page after coloring page, tissue after tissue of tears; I finally picked myself up and decided to do something about this nonsense. I could have sat here and let this virus continue to get me down, continue to rule most of my life, but then that wouldn’t be me. I am not that kind of person. I am not the person who sits there and takes it up the ass. If it’s up my ass…it’s because I want it there (sorry, not sorry).

I wanted a rollator (walker with wheels), because I was not going to sit there and watch the world go on without me. I have always been competitive and active. And here I was sitting there watching everyone play cornhole without me, I kept getting workout alerts on my Apple watch, etc. So, I was told I didn’t need this walker…like fuck I didn’t. I was so weak I couldn’t go up my damn stairs without losing my breathe, let alone shower without feeling like I was going to pass out. I stood up for myself and demanded this walker. I won…did anyone really doubt I wouldn’t? Bat the eyelashes, flash the smile…lol…insert the unicorn poop.

Yes, I started playing cornhole again. I was weak and still am at times. BUT today I am not using my walker to and from the car; I still need a chair most nights in between my throws, but I am okay with that. Slow and steady wins the race. Can’t just turn the oven on and expect it to be 450 degrees right that second…gotta have water for the water slide…Some things just take time. I am not always patient, but I am learning to be.

Sooo…lately I have been learning to handle this patience. It’s patience with my healing. At first, I was going to take on the normal approach…doctors and medicine…but it wasn’t making me feel better, it was honestly making me feel worse. I did find one doctor that actually listened to me, that would call and check up on me, that encouraged me to continue being strong in being my own advocate and the research I was doing. I was glad to find a doctor like this. It helped me with other doctors, but also made me frustrated when they didn’t listen. This is when I decided to take a different approach. I have always been very down to earth, so why was I not being this way when it comes to my body?? The hell if I know. Well, now I am. I have been feeling so much better. There is a reason most countries are healthier than the states are. There is a reason chemicals are horrible for us. LISTEN TO YOUR FUCKING BODY!!!

Besides the fact that I cannot eat gluten, I have gotten more cautious about checking the labels. I have also gone back to my daily protein shakes. I make sure I am drinking anywhere from half to a full gallon of water again daily. And no alcohol. I feel 100% better. I have energy again. I look health again. People notice. They comment on it. Even for my skin I have gone to natural products. We are what we put into our body’s and what we put on them; as well as how we treat them. If we respect our bodies, our temples; they will respect us.

In the small amount of time since I have started this new path, I have noticed so many differences and I couldn’t be happier. I am so thankful for deciding to make the decisions I have.

Yes, I still have my bad days. I still have my days of weakness where I can’t do much, but guess what, my body is still healing. I was told it could take a year or more to get back to a full recovery. I had to face reality. If I didn’t, I would not have been able to face every day. I would have just been a sad puddle of a couch potato feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I decided to get the fuck up and fight, fight for me. Why? Because who the fuck else is going to fight for me? By the time I get out of bed everyone is at work and school. It was and is up to me to move my body out of bed, downstairs, get some nourishment in my body.

If I had given up I wouldn’t have been able to watch my son walk across the stage in a few weeks to get his high school diploma, or see the excitement on his face when he told me about the internship he will be starting this summer, or hear about the exciting trip my oldest daughter gets to go on in a few years, or watch my youngest daughter join NJHS, enjoy daily conversations with my kids, my daily routines with my boyfriend, my family, my amazing friendships (I can say that because they are quality), the bipolar weather in NV, and life…I love life.

If only people would stop making excuses. I used to be a person who made excuses and sometimes I still do; especially when it comes to certain things. BUT I am trying my hardest to stop making excuses, because I want to feel better; mind and body, and those excuses get you fucking nowhere. Anyways, again get the fuck up off the couch, get yourself together, pull the stick out of your ass, and do what you have to do to make yourself feel better.

It isn’t up to the person sitting next to you to make you better, to make you happy, to make you feel on top the of world, because honey the only thing that is going to make you feel any of that on a regular basis is YOU! Sure, they might make you feel that way for a day, a week, but think about it, do they make you feel that way everyday of every moment? Probably not. They are not in your head, your daily, moment to moment thoughts, because if you are an overthinker like me you overthink it all. Stop waiting for others to make you feel what you need to feel. If you need to feel beautiful, remind yourself you are beautiful, because chances are you are; unless you have an ugly soul; I said what I said.

I make no apologies for who I am. You either love me for who I am or you don’t. Move on if you don’t. I don’t have time for haters. But, most all of us have haters who are secretly fans…*kiss kiss* wink wink* love you bitches…

Love who you are. Take care of you. Make sure you stand up for yourself. Get the help you need. Only you know what it is you need. Listen to you body. Be strong. Be brave. And remember sometimes batteries are your best friend…its okay I won’t tell…

Sunshine, Sparkles, and Mother Fuckin’ Unicorn Poop

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twirl in my chair

Lack of sleep makes me worse than I am when I am a hangry bitch. I am awful to be around. I am moody, emotional, cry for no reason, overthink (and think the worse shit), fuck it’s like I am a 15-year-old teenage girl about to start my period in need of some damn chocolate. Thankfully I have some amazing ass people in my life who set me straight, let me know when I am overreacting, and when I should just smack myself for being stupid. Lol. It’s good to have people like that. I can literally say anything and there’s no judgement. I mean I am going to say whatever I want to everyone, because it’s who I am and let’s face it, I really don’t give a shit who likes me or who hates me. I am who I am and will not change for anyone. Love me for me or move the fuck over and out of my life.

Okay, so back to this lack of sleep nonsense bullshit that makes me a cranky fucker. I switched jobs months ago and I have had to learn how to slow down. This has been a struggle in itself. As a 911 dispatcher I pretty much had ADHD and now as an admin assistant I twirl in my chair 80% of the day…lol. Especially now that we have started to fill the empty positions. I AM GOING INSANE!!! Sooo. Fucking. Bored. And to help with my ADHD issue I listen to true crime podcasts or music while answering the phone and handling my little bits of work…..

SOOOO….the other day as I am fucking twirling in my chair choking myself to death with my headphone cord I was asked if I was bored most of the day…(mind you I couldn’t touch any of the things that needed to be completed because I printed them and per policy another co-worker has to finish them)….my eyes about pop out of my fucking head and I so ever sarcastically answered with, “yes, because I have had nothing to do all day” AND since I can’t drown myself in tequila at work I put my fucking face condom on and walking my happy little ass over to the dark side and stuffed my face with left over Halloween candy while I joined in the fun conversations on the dark side of the building.

For Christmas I might need a padded room, straight jacket, and a pillow to yell into. But since I can’t sleep maybe I need a new pillow to help me sleep better…or idk my mind to be busy busy, but not 15-year-old PMS teenage emotional busy. I need adult busy, work busy. UGH…life could be worse, right? Right. I made my choice to leave a job I loved for a family I loved more, because I decided to make a life, not a living. I have definitely had my moments of “what did I do?”, but the memories I have created with my family since making this decision…priceless.

Yes, I may lack sleep, be a cranky overthinking fucking bitch, but in my heart, I know I made the right decision. Even if I have my moments of needing a padded room, stuffing my face with candy, and questioning my decision. But I sit here writing this knowing it’s all worth it, especially when I see the smiles on the faces of those I love when we are making memories, sharing stories from our days, hearing the laughs, and just sitting together in the living room.

I am making a life. Day by day. Memory by memory. Twirl by twirl. Sunshine and mother fucking sparkles.

Featured

Opening my window

I have been reflecting a lot lately. About many different things in my life. I have to constantly remind myself that things happen for a reason, most the time we have not a clue what those reasons are, but we keep moving forward whether it is with our heads held high or with them lowered to hide our eyes that show everything. I don’t know about you, but my eyes are like windows to my soul, my thoughts, my everything. My eyes literally are not my best friends. I can’t hide jack shit behind them. Even if I tried to hide my emotions across my face, my eyes be telling the truth….fuckers. They might be beautiful, but they don’t let me get away with shit!!

Maybe it is a good thing that I can’t hide my emotions, but there are times when I would really like too. I have noticed a difference in the way I am feeling though now that I don’t hold everything in until I explode like a shaken soda bottle. That is one thing I am thankful for. I used to hold everything in until I was boiling under the surface and then BOOM!!!! ugh it was ugly. Ugly tears, ugly emotion, ugly everything. But that is what happens when you have to hold it in, because you aren’t allowed to express yourself.

And now, well now I am able to express myself, all of myself. Sometimes I think that is a bad thing, until I share my spinning thoughts, and I am reminded it isn’t a bad thing to share how I am feeling. It is an amazing thing, for not only me, but for all those around me, for those that love me. I am still learning how to open up immediately instead of holding on for hours, a day, or longer, but I am getting much better. AND telling someone that loves me to push me, but to be gentle, makes all the difference.

So, there I go again getting off track, but whatever. By now you are all used too it. And if you aren’t you should be…lol… Ok so I have been reflecting right? On myself first and foremost, but also about my surroundings, things that actually affect me personally, and what is it exactly about that thing that makes me emotional or changes my mood in a flat second. I want to be aware of; is it me? Or is it something else? I keep saying I am broken, because I feel broken, like something is wrong with me, but reality, I am not broken, I have lived to make others happy so that I do not disrupt my environment for such a long time that it is all I know. And several years ago, I promised myself and my loved ones I would live each day as if tomorrow wasn’t promised. BUT then roughly a year ago I slipped back into old habits, because again, survival; don’t disrupt the environment.

Guess fucking what??? As I was reflecting the other day, I realized I am loved for who I am!!! Which yes, I have known, but when you have been broken down time and time again you often forget this. I was reminded of this during a conversation, an act, and being in his arms. I am not only loved by him, my children, but by so many, and they all love me for me, for my sunshine and sparkles, for my sailor mouth, for my humor, for being there for them, showing I care, I could go on and on.

I keep my circle small for a reason. I know who my true friends are. I know because they are the ones who love me, who don’t just say they do, and then use me. My circle is small because they have shown me in many ways I can trust them and no matter what they will always be there for me and I for them. I don’t need 400 plus friends on Facebook, because I guarantee you when I had that many the majority of them weren’t really my friends, they were just spy’s or wanted to feel important by having their friend number high. My list gets smaller, someone might get added, but I know that those on my list I can trust. When you are older you start to understand and begin to realize what is the most important. Some people mature and make mature decisions in life and others do not grow and instead make immature decisions and lose everything they wish they still had.

Life is full of choices. Choices we all make for ourselves. Choices we try to blame on others when things don’t go our way, but let’s face reality, we all know right from wrong. So, when we face a choice where we could lose it all and we choose wrong…you honestly have nobody to blame but your fucking self…grow up, own your choices, and face yourself in the mirror every day after, because you are the one the has to live with the consequences.

So, reflecting. My attitude, the way I live each day, how I respond to situations, that is all up to me, nobody else. I have noticed when my attitude gets gloomily and when I get salty. I see a pattern. Can I blame others? Maybe, but would that be fair to them? Hell fucking no. Why? Because if I haven’t been adult enough to have a conversation with them on why I got upset or salty, pissed off or walked away, that isn’t on them…it’s on me, because I did not speak up first. Sure, it would be easy to point the finger, but seriously where the fuck is that going to get me? Ummm, fucking nowhere.

When I am living life to its fullest, I also notice. When you pay attention and stop pointing the finger you really start to see the whole picture and not just the pieces that are in focus from a selfish point of view. I thought I allowed my walls to fall around me, my moat to be free of predators, but I was wrong.

My walls were down when I decided to live to the fullest years ago, then I put them back up. When I thought I let them down again I was wrong, so wrong. One of my bitches told me the other day “my walls might be down, the blinds might be open, but I haven’t opened the window yet”…well shit. More reflecting after this as you can imagine…

Reflections, choices, and life. All amazing combinations when you get the right lock and key, but until then the chain is a horrible mess of a knot, until you are ready to face the reality that you can either constantly be terrified of the negatives that might happen or live facing the sunshine glowing in the radiant positivity of what could go right.

Sunshine and mother fuckin’ sparkles…

Featured

FML

Laughter. It’s supposed to cure everything, but it doesn’t fix everything. Sure, it helps in the moment. It is better than letting the tears fall down my fucking cheeks…AGAIN. But here I sit. Laughed my ass off for a moment, shook my head, and walked back in the house to face the never-ending disaster.

Sweating like a fucking pig at night is wonderful. Let me tell you, NOT! But that is what happens when the air conditioner decides it wants to stop working in the middle of the summer. I just love sleeping in a pool of sweat, said no one ever! I knew I needed to change the air filter and silly me bought the wrong size. YES! Way to go…sooo shopping trip…and I have a blonde moment and can’t put the stupid thing in.

I have a lake in my kitchen. Don’t even have to drive anywhere. Let me set up my beach chair, umbrella, and lay out my towel…I just need a sun light to keep my tan going, because I don’t have skin like my siblings…

FML…things happen in three’s right…

I sound like I am a whiny little bitch right now…oh fucking well. Maybe I need to whine, maybe I need to cry, maybe I just need to yell and scream my fucking head off, because I am frustrated with a lot of different things right now…like currently my foot keeps cramping…my toes look fucked up, and I want to cry, because I am in pain, but I won’t instead I am going to write one long ass sentence whining like a baby back bitch internally laughing at myself.

I like that I am able to laugh at myself and the shit that happens in my life, because my life has been an on and off shit storm. But I am proud of myself, because I am able to handle the shit that is thrown my way. Sure, I may cry, I may get frustrated, I might need to be held tight, vent, but guess what? I am fucking human…I am not perfect and I would never want to be.

I have been through shit. Who hasn’t? but we can either let it define us or we can hold our heads high, roll with the punches, laugh, and keep on finding the light in the darkness that rolls in with the storms.

I know I have my moments when I can’t find the light in the darkness, but I have love that is my strength in my weak moments that lifts me up, gives me strength, and keeps me going.

Laughter, sunshine, and mother fucking sparkles…

BUT i am beautiful

I am beautiful.

I will never have giant tits…unless they are fake,

I might always have a mom belly,

I have stretch marks,

My skin is no longer “beautiful”, because of my autoimmune disease

My curves are itty bitty.

BUT I see myself as sexy.

I am not filtered or censored,

What you see is what you get.

I will never look like a model or the girls on only fans, tv, or in magazines,

BUT I am beautiful.

You see what you get.

I am a mom.

My stretch marks reflect nine months of three different times growing a child within me,

I am blessed.

But I am not what men drool over on social media

I am me.

Down to earth.

Simple.

Beautiful.

Real.

I am a woman who loves herself,

I wear what I want,

I do not care what others think,

I will stand up for myself,

My mouth is foul.

I am not perfect.

I can pay my own way.

I love life.

I see the light in the darkness.

I am loved.

I am beautiful from the inside out.

I use no filters to shine bright or show my beauty.

My skin is not perfect.

I am not a model.

BUT I am beautiful.

Strong.

I am a mother.

I shine bright and light my little world by being just me.

I make no apologies for who I am.

I may not have large curves or be sexy like those who are airbrushed, but I am real.

I work hard for the body I have.

I love me,

that is all that matters.

I AM BEAUTIFUL.

There are times when we judge ourselves, because of what we see on TV, social media, or in person. But this is life. This is how we have lived for a long time. First it was Barbie’s body, then it was the models we saw in the magazines. We continue to grow up and still compare ourselves, even though we know we shouldn’t and know that we are beautiful in our ways. Our parents, family, and friends can tell us time and time again that we are gorgeous and beautiful, and we can tell ourselves, but if we aren’t strong enough to believe it, we will always compare ourselves. If we are strong enough will we believe it? Maybe on certain days, but we are human and we have our faults and bad days. Those bad days no matter how much we tell ourselves we are beautiful or strong we will not feel it. It is just part of life.

I love who I am. I love my personality, my smile, my humor, just everything about me. Do I have faults? fuck yes. But we all do. I am a firm believer that your personality makes you radiate from the inside out. We can be drop dead gorgeous, but if we are ugly on the inside, we shine ugly on the outside.

Are there things I hate about myself? Of course. I hate what my autoimmune disease has done to my body. It has changed my self confidence tremendously. This is something I have realized a lot lately. I hate that about myself. My bestie told me I have the biggest balls she has ever seen…lmao. But lately I feel I have lost that about myself. I feel weak. It is difficult for me to admit that, because I have come such a long way the last several years. The way my disease has changed my body has affected me more that I realized.

There are things I am still working on. I have said them in previous posts. My walls. They are definitely getting smaller which I am so proud of, you have no idea. And my moat…well the prey has left and now you can relax on a float while working on your tan. So, I am strong in parts of my little world and weak in others. Now if I could just be strong in all of my little world, I would be unstoppable.

I am beautiful. I am fucking beautiful. I love me. I am blessed. I have been through hell and back. I am lucky to be alive right now. I almost died. I am a survivor. I may hate parts of my body, but I am beautiful. I shine bright. I see past the darkness. I do not make apologies for who I am. I might be weak in areas of my life and strong in others, but I am working on myself always for the better, because I want to continue to a beautiful mother, woman, and role model.

We may always compare ourselves to those we see on TV, in magazines, or on social media, unfortunately that’s life. It’s how we grew up. WE are all beautiful in our own unique ways. Just because we don’t see ourselves as a goddess in our own eyes doesn’t mean someone else doesn’t. Love yourself always. You are BEAUTIFUL.

Sunshine and sparkles.