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Cheers to a new chapter

When I started my blog I was a 911 dispatcher, my kids were 14, 12, and 8. I told everyone that read my first introduction there would be errors, foul language, maybe an emoji here and there, and acronyms used. If they didn’t like it they didn’t have to read it.

Life has gone on…

I am no longer a 911 dispatcher, when you sound like Minnie Mouse on a regular basis it’s difficult to have a job like that. Can’t really have an authoritative voice sounding like a cartoon character.

My children have grown some. My son is now a young adult and in college. My middle daughter has just a little time left in high school and my youngest daughter is finishing middle school.

If you’ve been here from the start of my blog you know my writing hasn’t changed. It’s raw, like I wanted.

I still sit in front of the computer screens, just not an overload of them, twirl in my chair when I get bored, which is often, and still work in public safety – on a different level. It doesn’t matter if I go to work sounding like I should work at Disneyland…I’ll be taken seriously. I just sit there and analyze shit, pay shit, and have added to my skill set.

Yay for adulting!!

I still have 14 tabs open, ALWAYS, squirrel, but I get shit done and even though most my conversations and blogs aren’t complete without 16 mini conversations thrown in the mix you all know eventually I will get back on point, and it all makes sense, plus I think those that know me and read my shit secretly love to see what squirrels I have in store!! Lol…

Here’s to the next chapter!!

Sunshine, Sparkles, and Mother fucking Unicorn Poop!!

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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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Christmas Kitties

If you have cats, I am sure you talk to them as much as they talk to you. And if you do not talk to your cats, are you truly a cat person?? Ummm sorry I think not. Every cat person talks to their cats…tell me I am wrong? Also, if you are a cat person you know as well as I know they personally think Christmas décor is put out for their pleasure nothing more. It is for them and them only. They do not think they have to listen to rules once Christmas vomits. You can lecture them all you want, but they will just give you attitude.

We all have Christmas décor we love to make sure is out on the shelves every year. Mine personally is my Christmas village. I enjoy setting up all the houses, trees, people, all the little things that make the village what it is, but my cats like turning into Kitty Godzilla’s. They tiptoe around the homes, shops, churches while smacking the people, trees, and vehicles off the shelves or over with their little paws. While they are doing this, they just smile…swinging their tails talking to me with their happy little meow’s “yes, mom we know this makes you angry, but you will still love us and still give us our treats later” …

Next is the Tree…oh Christmas Tree how I feel so sorry for you…it starts out so beautiful, so perfect. Then slowly over the first few weeks of December it gets trashed. It starts to look like look Cinderella’s ball gown after the evil step sisters destroy it. The best part is they tell on themselves. I always know which one it is. Summer starts to tell her story before I am even halfway down the stairs. Stella Rose hides under the tree refusing to look at me. Not only that Summer only takes the ribbon of the tree, not sure why but she loves to chew on the damn stuff. Stella Rose is obsessed with the ornaments.

Every year I move all my Knick knacky shit out of the way to make room for my Christmas stuff. Especially since the Christmas village takes up a lot of room. My daughters and I moved it all. But I decided not to put the village up this year…I did not want to deal with Kitty Godzilla’s destroying the village and the tree, just was not in the mood. So, the shelves were emptied. Christmas vomited. But the shelves are so bare without the village. I should have just dealt with Kitty Godzilla’s maybe I would not feel so Grinchy and want to move to Mount Crumpit…

Since I decided not to put out the damn village Summer decided to go Godzilla on the coffee bar. We have slowly been redoing the kitchen and the coffee bar got a few upgrades at the same time Christmas vomited in the house. So, the same night Summer went cray cray on the tree she decided she was going to really test the limits and play on the coffee bar. Amongst the ribbon all over the ground there sat coffee stir straws. This was the same day she decided to tell on herself before I was even halfway down the stairs. Once I was at the bottom of the stairs, she was already under the dining room table. I could not figure out why, but then I figured it out. I picked up a straw, looked in her direction, and what does she do?? Looks at me then turns her head away and down…fucking guilty. And later I found more under a closed door!! I did not see her the rest of the day.

It took me a few weeks to get Summer and Stella Rose to leave the damn tree alone. They now just sit under it and bat at the branches to test the waters. I have found a few ribbons under the tree since then, but nothing like that day. They have not touched anything on the shelves this season and I must admit it kinda makes me wish I did put some of the village out or at least part of it. They toss their mice towards the tree and I like to think this is their way of playing with the tree without getting into trouble.

I guess next year the village is getting set up and I am dealing with half empty shelves right now. If anyone has an idea on how to get to Mount Crumpit please let me know!!

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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her hell

I like to make people laugh, make their bad day better, put a smile on their face, and just over all be the sunshine and sparkles rather than the darkness and evil. But, right now I feel broken. I am in a dark place. I am lost. I feel like I was locked in a dark damp basement with no way out. The air is so thick I can’t breathe. It weighs me down. Makes my chest heavy, my body fatigued, and makes me feel ill.

My heart pounds as though it is trying to fight its way out of my chest. I swear if it had arms it would have ripped my rib cage apart by now. The knife in my back turns and twists like a wind-up toy as the room dances around me. I fall, but thankfully the wall catches me. The tears slide down my cheeks as I wonder how much longer I am trapped in this darkness. This maze with walls I can’t climb to see the way out.

Dependent. When I was in diapers. When I was a juvenile defying my parents. NOW.

My world has turned upside down once again. I am lost. So. Fucking. Lost. I hate depending on others. I am the chick that buys her own fucking flowers, who isn’t afraid to dance alone, who is the sunshine and sparkles for others, who is the positivity, and here I am not able to even fucking shower unless someone is home!!! I am screaming, crying on the inside. This air is so thick it weighs me down into a hell I haven’t been in, in a very long time.

As the weeks pass and my darkness only grows, I keep trying to find the light, the positive, because after all that is what I do. That is who I am. I do my research to find the light. To look at the bright side. To remind myself that this is not the end. This is just a new beginning. A new start. I might have to do things differently, I might have to plan ahead, and take more time. But I can’t let this define me.

I am determined to climb out of this dark damp basement. To fill my lungs without pain, to remove the knife, to put my heart back in its place, and to stop the world spinning around me. I know that I have a long road ahead of me, but I have overcome such darkness before and I will again. I may have challenges that lie in my way, but I have to remind myself that I am strong, that I can do this, that I have an amazing support system. I also have to remember some of the best advice I was given in December 2015 by a wise man; “adapt and overcome”. Those words have gotten me through a lot since December 2015.

So, maybe I am lost right now, not feeling my sunshine, sparkles, and let’s not forget the mother fucking unicorn poop, but I am going through a shit ton right now. Being home for five weeks (and who fucking knows how much longer), under what feels like lock and key, dependent on everyone, because you are so very ill, well who wouldn’t fucking feel lost, sad, depressed? AND you know what?!? I am fucking allowed to feel like this. I am allowed to be fucking scared. I am allowed to be angry. Frustrated. I can feel like I want to scream, cry, only want to eat ice cream and sushi… I am the only one who knows what my body feels like and it is SO SO SO FUCKING difficult to explain it. I want to feel like ME again. To feel like the Heather everyone knows and loves, but guess what, right now she’s not here. She is gone. She is in this basement. This basement she calls Hell.

As I sit here writing this, debating whether to post this, I remind myself people know you had the rona pneumonia, and in life there are always lessons if you pay attention. You learned a major one within the last year; I haven’t gone anywhere. I always post my blogs on my Facebook page so this one and the poem I wrote before this will not be any different. Thank you to all who have been there day after dark day. My boyfriend, my kids, my family, #6 & his girl, my bestie (yellow power ranger), my co-workers (cc/vegas), and my Cornhole family.

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fragile

She was breaking,

Fragile as a grenade.

Tears fell down her dry cheeks,

Loud sobs nobody heard,

As she showered,

Burning her skin in the water hotter than hell.

Supervised…

Right.

Everyone downstairs,

Can’t hear her cries of pain.

Biting her lip,

Holding in the screams.

Waking up with blood on her lip.

Dreams,

Are they just a sad as she feels?

For the fog is dense,

Recalling them is difficult.

She sits alone,

Day after day.

Coloring,

Shows of randomness,

Paint the background.

Puzzles make the mind work.

Lies,

She’s okay,

But is she?

For she is the only one who truly knows the pain.

Can anyone see?

Are they paying attention?

Maybe they are bored of hearing the same shit on repeat…

Lessons have been learned.

She floats above herself,

Her heart pounds within her chest as the room spins,

Intoxicated,

But she’s not.

Broken,

She is not.

Drowning,

She is not.

What is this?

Death?

Nope, she won’t allow it.

Illness,

Yes, but fuck.

Hidden,

She hides.

Oh, does she fucking hide.

Bursting at the seams.

Fragile as a grenade.

Biting her lip,

The blood streams into her mouth,

Holding in the scream,

Tears fall,

The hot water turning her delicate skin pink.

Stepping her wet foot on the mat,

Falling into the wall,

Sliding to the floor,

Spinning,

She floats towards the ceiling,

Her heart pounded outside her chest.

Scared.

She’s fucking scared.