I’ll Take A Breath, I’ll Take Her By My Side We Stand In Awe, We’ve Created Life

With little E’s birthday yesterday and Z’s coming up next week, it’s really been hitting a chord I didn’t even know I had. I want another baby. My kids are growing up and soon I’ll have a 4 & 7-year-old in my house and I won’t even be able to pretend I have a toddler anymore. I’ll officially have two children. Kids who are growing up too fast for me and I don’t like it. I heard something years ago, after I left E, that bothered me. I can’t remember where I heard it, but I think it was some fairly reputable therapist, regarding step-parents. They said (paraphrased) that if a new partner enters a child’s life in a parenting role by the age of 6, then it’s easier for that kids to adjust to them as a parent, and accept them. But any later than that, and basically the parenting, in particular the discipline should be done mainly by the birth parent only.

That resonated with me, and has stayed in the back of my mind all these years. I wanted SOOO badly for little E to have a solid connection with a male role model in his life. He has nothing with E. Nothing. And just the thought that by now the opportunity for a meaningful bond to form between him and any potential ‘dad’ is heartbreaking. I know, I know, that thing I heard was just one mans opinion and there are plenty of scenarios that prove otherwise, but the thought still lingers.

I never wanted little E and Z to be fatherless. It was obviously never my plan. But life happens. Shit happens. And now I’m just so disappointed with the path my life is on in this regards. I feel like a failure to my kids in that I haven’t been able to provide them with the home environment that I always envisioned. The “perfect” family.  Or at least a family that looked half decent to outsiders looking in, since no-ones perfect.

You know, the typical mom, dad, son and daughter…. But now it’s just the three of us. With little E apparently at an age where he will have trouble connecting with a new father figure.

And yet I still want another baby. But by the looks of things, it could be years before that happens if it ever does, and do I really want that kind of age gap between my kids? Plus will I be able to carry another baby to term by then?

Maybe I’m being selfish, since I want the experience of being pregnant with a man who supports me during the pregnancy and just to see how it would be like to have him love the baby from the start. But is that fair to little E and Z, who have never experienced anything even remotely similar?

I’m from a blended family, with my little sister N being born after my mom got re-married, and R and I could 100% tell the difference in the way my step dad treated her in comparison to us, which is something I never want little E and Z to feel.

So now, I have this desire for a baby. To experience the joy I see couples have when they do it together. Something I’ve never had. I know I was married, but I’ve been single parenting it since day 1. E never once woke up at night to change a diaper or do a late night feed, or even to bring the baby to me so I could nurse them. He wasn’t there to help teach either one of them to walk or talk. He’s never driven the kids to school or daycare. He’s hardly ever attended a school function or play. He’s been pretty absent since the get go.

So, maybe I’m being selfish, but these last few months I’ve been really thinking about another child, and the feasibility of it all. I want it so badly I’m tearing up right now, but I know I can’t just go randomly and get pregnant “just because” I want it.

I won’t ever put another child through what little E and Z have gone through. A childhood without a father.

So until I find a man who’s in it for the long-LONG term, I’ll just have to shelf my desires and focus on the kids I already have.


-Creed/Arms Wide Open-

Through It All We Will Remain In This Life We All Know Friends May Come They May Go Through The Years I Know I Will Stay

Some of you have asked why I even bother with K anymore like writing to him etc.

K has been there for me in ways I can’t even explain, but I’ll give you a few examples.

One simple time that crosses my mind was once when I got high, and we were on the phone. I got a little paranoid and I remember him just talking me through it. You’d think I was giving birth the way he was coaching me.
‘Breathe, in, out, nice and slow. It’ll be ok. Just in and out, count to five’ Then he needed to go since he worked the next morning but I was still a little paranoid and didn’t want him to get off the phone. So he stayed on the phone with me until we both fell asleep. I woke up around 3 in the morning to the beep beep of my phone ending a call. I still don’t know if he woke up and hung up or we just got disconnected somehow, but when I checked my phone the next morning turns out it was close to a 6 hour call. Most of it just sleeping. And it made me so happy that he acknowledged I needed him, and so he stayed for me.

Another time K was there for me was a little more intense. One Saturday morning I was having issues with my epilepsy and woke up apparently with some memory issues. I guess I had had a dream about K that night and either I called him to tell him, or he called me just to chat and I wanted to tell him about my dream, but I kept repeating myself. He got pretty concerned about me and so he called his mom (who is a nurse or works in the medical field somehow) for advice about what to do.
Him and his mom conference called me and after a few minutes on the phone with me, his mom was like K you need to take her to the hospital.
But I was adamant about not going, since I know from all my experiences there, that there was nothing they would do, and it would just be a waste of my time and end up a waste of time. So I did my best to be polite, since it was his mom, but I basically told his mom I would outright not take her advice. In my most polite and respectful way of course.

So he said goodbye to his mom and stayed on the phone with me some more. I guess I was still acting strange enough for him to get me to give him my sister N’s number.

He knows N lives right down the street from me and that we’re fairly close, and so he called her and explained what was going on so she could come take care of me. N was there in her pjs in less than 10 minutes with her husband D close behind to occupy the kids. She said she was still in bed and almost didn’t answer K’s call because it was a number she didn’t recognize. Then once she did, she was so confused about who this man with this super deep voice was. But she was super impressed about how he handled the situation. I guess he told her everything he heard on the phone and wasn’t sure how to handle it himself since he’d never dealt with seizures before, and wanted to make sure someone with experience was with me in case I seized.
Thinking back, he dealt with it so well. Especially after hearing his reasoning behind his behaviour. And all his actions lead me to believe with really cared for me when I needed it. When I couldn’t care for myself. When I couldn’t give back. It’s this mixed with all the other little things like buying me flowers on my birthday and leaving me singing voicemails on Mother’s Day with made up songs knowing how much I hate the day, but still trying to make it good for me. Or helping me put my treadmill together or little E’s new bunk bed… well he did that mostly himself. Or taking the time to teach little E to tie his shoes or watching kids movies with them. Or sharing simple quite moments with me where we didn’t feel the need to talk, we could just be. Be ourselves because we were totally at peace with ourselves around each other.

These are why I will support K while he needs it. While he can’t do anything for me. Because he has been there for me when I needed it and I had nothing to give in return. That’s what friends do. And I will continue to do so until I see reason to do otherwise.
And yep, double post day because my kids are away!


-John Legend/Stay With You-

Take Me To Church I’ll Worship Like A Dog At The Shrine Of Your Lies

So after K got sent back, I had a little falling out with my mother. I was emotional and needed someone to talk to and you’d think by now I’d have learned that that person should never be my judgemental mom but deep down inside I still want to have a open and good relationship with her. So I try and take steps towards that… steps that include telling her some aspects of my life others may keep to themselves. On one hand it’s a fine line because my mother asks too many personal questions as it is and gets to involved anyways, so I have to make sure she understands that I’m a grown woman and some parts of my life are none of her business, while on the other hand, I do want her advice on certain things, since yes she has a few years on me and experience is always a welcome point of view. But the thing with my mom is, she gets terribly offended if you don’t share every detail with her and if you don’t DO everything how she would’ve done it, or how she advised you too… which therefore leads me to just not share those parts of my life with her in the first place. Kinda like a What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her type thing. 

Don’t get it twisted, she knows I get high like every night and thinks it’s a great and natural way to handle my epilepsy. She knows about my past with men and… well she thinks it’s in the past, because I just don’t feel the need to discuss every sexual partner I’ve had with my mother. She knows about the rape and the issues with E. Like she knows pretty much everything, but that doesn’t make it easier to deal with her. 

So when K was sent back, and I really needed someone to talk to, I will never for the life of me figure out why I felt like calling up my mom instead of any one of my girlfriends who knew about K already. Or one of my coworkers who saw flowers get delivered from him on my birthday. Or my sister N who met him when we walked over to her place one night. Or anyone else on the planet apart from my MOTHER. But no. Somewhere deep inside caused me to call my mom. Because I was missing a guy. 

I can’t remember how the conversation went, because it didn’t go well. I was just looking for someone to tell me it would be ok, and basically my mom was not in a position to do that. She was mad at me because I hadn’t told her about K sooner. I tried explaining that K and I weren’t together/dating whatever, and so there was nothing to say. I don’t feel the need to run every friend past my parents for approval. It’s not like I was keeping secrets. Then she pulled the whole ‘You’re still married’ card out on me. Yes, officially, I am still married. Since my divorce has taken over 3 years, and is still not finalized then, yes I am still married. So your right. I guess I am formally a ‘heathen’ for that. Which lead her to asking why do I even go to church still. So I thought about how I would tell her in the simplest way, without hurting her feelings too much. I don’t really believe in God. That’s not true. Well it is but..  Ah, I believe there’s a being out there. A fantastic divine being that has somehow orchestrated this world. But I don’t believe it’s the god that’s discussed and portrayed in the bible at most churches. So, yes. Until that call with my mom I attended church and it was fine. But mostly it was to instill certain values and morals into my children from a young age that are taught at the church. Like the fruits of the spirit, patience, self control, joy etc. Also, then my kids could see my parents once a week. 

Well let me tell you, that went over like a led balloon, and my mother was like ‘don’t bother coming if that’s why’ I know very Christian of her… but needless to say, the last two Sundays the kids and I have chilled at home because of this and it’s been very nice. Then this morning my Dad texted to see if we were going to church. I said no, so he asked if he could take the kids. Sure why not I figured. Even though I know my mom probably put him up to it, my dad is just trying to stay out of the drama and be neutral. He’s the least likely person I know to start an argument, mainly because that would cut into his TV time and heaven forbid that ever happens! But anyways, he showed up this morning with a coffee for me and picked up the kids and said he would drop them off after lunch. He made no comments about how I should be going to church or anything about K. He just lets grown people live their lives. Something my mom is having issues with. 

My mom thinks I should only date one man who I plan on marrying, and only once my divorce is done. I’m like how will I know I want to marry them until I try dating them? Oh she also thinks that I should have to introduce him to my parents within like the first week of meeting him, but that my kids shouldn’t meet him until we’re practically married. Yes I’m almost 30 but she feels the need to intrude on my sex/relationship life with her ‘advice’. She was so offended by my secret keeping because apparently she thought this whole time I’ve been living on my own, I was… I dunno celibate or something? And I guess her finding out I’d been hanging out with someone for almost a year messed with her. Why it affects her life so much I’ll never get. 

I could understand if she was offended that I didn’t tell her I had a boyfriend, or was officially dating someone, but I wasn’t. I was messing around with K and a bunch of other guys. And I didn’t think she needed to know every time I took my pants off. But it’s just like the last little while before K went back things changed between us… things were said… feeling became… deeper for a lack of a better word, and that’s why I was so emotional about it, and needed someone to talk it out with. 

99% my fault for choosing my mom and disturbing the balance of our relationship. 1% her fault for assuming I would tell her all those personal details that she doesn’t need to know about anyone besides her and my dad. 

Either way, I have an unexpected kid free morning, and I’m liking it!

-Hozier/Take Me To Church-

If I Got Locked Away And We Lost it All Today Tell Me Honestly, Would You Still Love Me The Same?

He called. 

Finally. Right in the middle of my Canada Day family gathering with everyone over at my place. On a line where I could barely hear anything, but it didn’t matter because he called. 

So I can put to rest some imaginary situations my very active mind had thought up in the last few days, and just appreciate the call for now. Just enjoy the fact that even though it took 4 days, he’s been going through way more during the last little while than I have, yet he still managed to ask how little E and Z were doing. 

The call was super quick since I was hosting dinner for about 16 people in my tiny townhouse, and there wasn’t much spare quite time, but I asked him how he was and to see if he was ok. He was honest and said it fuckin sucked… not that I expect anything different. I don’t expect him to be thrilled to be there, living the dream type thing. Mainly I want to make sure he’s safe, so to hear his voice, and to hear him say that yeah it sucks, tears me apart inside because I know it must be awful, and that I can’t do anything to help makes it even worse. 

But on the other hand, the other very selfish hand… I’m elated that he called. Because the worst thought that crossed my mind was what if he doesn’t call? What if either he was using me and this is his way out? Because I can’t track him down and have no way of finding him one day so if he was done with me this was his perfect opportunity to “ghost” me. Or he wasn’t using me, but still decided he was done because wanted a fresh start after his warrant was up, same outcome, he could’ve easily not contacted me, and I wouldn’t have been able to track him down, so it would have been the end. 

So, I’m just happy he called. Because now I can put those things behind me. Plus I got to hear his laugh. Now, hopefully I can be a better conversationalist next time he calls, instead of having to hang up after a few short minutes because I have company. 
-R. City/Locked Away-

If Your Not the One for Me Why do I Hate the Idea of Being Free/Why Have We Been Through What We Have Been Through 

Making the best choice for yourself in life is shitty sometimes. Whether it’s as simple as eating healthy food vs. a cheeseburger or cutting out people who you feel aren’t the best for you in order to make room for someone who will help you grow better. Both aren’t fun, but the “friend” option is more painful for much longer.

Which is why I’m hoping with everything in me that it will lead to more growth in the end.

I know most of you are thinking that after the whole body image (more about it here… Flaws On the Table, I Don’t Feel Insecure ) thing I probably drew a hard line with K and that was that. Oh sure I did. In the fucking sand. And then the waves that were my feelings for him came and washed what little resolve I had out the window and I was back where I started. Or worse, I don’t even know. What I do know, is that K took full advantage of my feelings and we continued to fuck, and then some. It’s just that he knows what to say to pull at my heart-strings and get what he wants. Which is basically sex without putting in the work of a relationship.

And I’m so broken and embarrassed by that. Because he’s manipulated me so well, and I hate myself for falling soooo far for him. For a man who was very careful to never say I love you to me, but would hold me in his arms and make me feel like my heart was safe. Yet when I was vulnerable, take my heart and break it. For what feels like the hundredth time. Into a shit ton of tiny pieces.

This man who would draw me in, and tell me secrets, and I would tell mine too… but never had any plans or desires to be with me in the future. Throw out comments like be his woman and his wife, ask if I would move here or there and discuss future things… And then turn around and claim he never led me on. Saying since he never said he loved me, that it makes everything else fine.

Maybe it does. Maybe I’m looking to far into it. Maybe the words I love you are more important than him saying you know how much you mean to me C, or holding me, or kissing me the way he did. I guess in his mind that was the only thing that mattered, the actual words I love you. And I shouldn’t feel so hurt.

But I do.

I hurt.

I’m crying. For everything I’ve lost. Everything I’ve had taken from me. Everything I’ve given away. Not just involving K, but in my life.

And I hate it.

Because I thought I was stronger than this.

This stupid girl who fell in love with a man who was using her.

Again.
-Adele/Water Under The Bridge-

Your Life Ain’t Gonna Be Nothing Like My Life, Your Gonna Grow And Have A Good Life. I’m Gonna Do What I Got To Do. 

Last night at dinner, little E nearly broke my heart, which as we’ve previously determined is hard to do lol. I mentioned to the kids that on Sunday I invited my Dad (and by association my Mom) out for lunch for Father’s Day, and asked them if they had any suggestions of where they’d like to go. We are fairly close with my parents, having lived with them for almost 2 years during my divorce, and now see them probably 1-2 times a week, since my parents LOVE my kids. Which, yeah of course, I get it, every grandparent loves their grandchildren, but my kids hold a special place in my parent’s heart.
Anyways, when I mentioned the lunch to the kids, I said maybe we could make a little gift for Nonno (Italian for Grandpa) to give him at lunch, or if they wanted, they could give him the Father’s Day gift they were most likely doing up at school/daycare and little E got a little upset. I guess at daycare, he choose not to make a Father’s Day gift because he didn’t want to give one to E. It never occurred to him that he could still make it, but give it to someone else, although in years past my kids have gifted their school/homemade crafts to my Dad during the holiday, since E has never been around. I asked little E why he had chosen not to participate in the activity, and he said he didn’t want to say because it was rude. So I explained that anything he had to say to me was ok right now, and that all his feelings about this situation were important and valid to have, and he wouldn’t get in trouble for feeling/expressing them now.

So he said he didn’t want to make E a present, because in his words “E is lazy and boring.” Wow, way to hit the nail on the head! Little E will be 7 next month and has totally figured out this E thing. He said he doesn’t like to spend time with E because all he does is sit there. He doesn’t play with him and doesn’t even talk with him, so therefore little E doesn’t feel he “deserves” a gift for Father’s Day, because he isn’t a good Father. So I explained that if he doesn’t want to make E a gift, I would never force him to. A gift is for someone to express your feelings, not just because it’s a holiday. So if your feelings are that you don’t like the person, then don’t get them a gift. But then I reminded him, on the other hand, if he does enjoy someone’s company and feel they “deserve” a gift, then he didn’t need to wait for a holiday. I also told him that if he felt he missed out on an opportunity to make something for Father’s Day that he could’ve potentially given to someone else like Nonno, I would help him come up with another craft to do.

He thought about it for a moment and decided that nope, no one was worthy of his crafting time… although I’m pretty sure he just didn’t want to invest his time colouring anything since the whole crafting thing is quite possibly his least favourite activity. Instead he spent the next 10 minutes trying to convince Z she should give her gift to Uncle D, whom I’m pretty sure is only on little E’s mind since he’s taking him fishing this Saturday. But Z stood firm in her stance of giving her gift to me. Hey I did say they could choose whomever lol and who was I to argue with another homemade crafted gift headed my way? Besides, I currently fill the role of mom and dad so why not accept it.

As for E, well I can probably expect him to ask me what the kids got him for Father’s Day, as he does every year. To which I will tell him he gets the joy of their presence and to try to make to most of it while he has it. Meanwhile in the back of my mind I will be thinking you don’t deserve anything…You didn’t get me anything… Ever… You know, those kind of things, left unspoken of course.

Until then though, I’ll prep once again for the onslaught of do-gooders who will comment on my single mom status, and “how do I do it” stuff. Same as Mother’s Day… but perhaps even more annoying if possible. While attempting to maintain my composure and focus on raising my kids. Hopefully I’m doing it “right.”


-Clean Bandit Feat. Sean Paul & Anne-Marie/Rockabye-

And You Can’t Stop Me From Falling Apart

I refuse to watch 13 Reasons Why. As someone who has attempted suicide myself, on more than one occasion, and obviously failed (self high-five), I don’t feel I need to know someone else’s reasons behind killing themselves. Do I think it’s a good show for people to watch who have never experienced suicidal tendencies? Sure, maybe, I don’t know. But like  I said, I won’t watch it, so I can’t advise.
My first attempt was when I was about 16 (I think… in around there). Looking back, my life was pretty good, so from all outward appearances there was nothing that would have given away my intentions.
I grew up in the suburbs, in a brand new house my mom designed and had built when I was 10 using the inheritance my dad got when his parents passed away within a year of each other. I was pretty much a straight A student for the most part until Gr. 12. I had a solid group of friends. I had lots of activities I was involved in, you know the standard boring stuff like band and *synchronized* swimming. I played b-ball in junior high and rugby throughout high school. I wasn’t a “trouble” kid, never even been sent to the principles office (unless the teacher needed and errand kid… then I was your girl) I wasn’t your emotional girly girl, my friends all came to me for advice knowing I could be trusted to keep secrets as well as lead them in the right direction. I’ve never been fired from a job since I first started working at 14.  I was/am fiscally responsible, and bought my first car (at the time a sweet black coupe Sunfire lol) at 16. Basically, I was your model goody-two-shoes citizen.
It would seem I had it all.
So why would someone who had it “so good” feel so desperate that they had to try to kill themselves. Good question. One that I can’t even explain well. It’s like you get to a point where you feel desperate. You feel like no matter what, no matter how hard you try or what you do, it won’t be good enough, or even better, it won’t matter. It comes from inside. It’s not necessarily because of a certain situation or because of something someone said to you, it comes from deep inside of you. You feel like your drowning in yourself. You feel out of control. And as hard as you try to “think positive” or “look at the bright side” or whatever other ridiculous thing people tell you in that moment, the feeling is there. Deep down inside. So you stop telling them about your struggle. You say your fine. You act like your fine. You show no outward appearances of being in trouble. Because you don’t need the words from people who don’t understand you, trying to “make things better” They don’t get that words won’t help. This is a feeling. An emotion. A confliction rising from places you didn’t know existed deep within yourself. Places you’ve tried to keep hidden. Because you are a happy person. Who doesn’t have 13 reasons to kill herself. A person who has a million reasons to live.
Yet, you don’t want to.
So, one night while my parents where out, I very carefully and methodically downed an entire bottle of extra strength Advil, laid down. and went to sleep for what I hoped, in the moment, would be the last time.
Imagine my surprise and to be honest, hurt, confusion and annoyance when I woke up the next morning feeling nothing but a slight stomach ache. WTF? Seriously? How much does it take? So I got up and went to school as per usual. I hardly told anyone until now. Why admit failure at something as ridiculous as this right? lol. I continued with my life as usual thinking back on that night often… than less as time went on.
Until about 3 years ago. Went the feelings came back again. Harder, and much more intense. But this time I was more “mature” about it lol. I had two kids looking up to me, so I at least went for help. I had left E, and was living with my parents again (full circle hey) and I knew I needed help. So one night after I put the kids to sleep I asked my parents if they minded watching the kids while I went out to the clinic, because I really needed to go. Like RIGHT NOW! So I went to the clinic… where the Dr was a douche.
I tried explaining why I was there, and how I was looking for anti depressants. Simple right? Give the depressed suicidal woman antidepressants and everything’s good. At least that how I thought it would go down. But nope. He kept asking why I felt I needed them (Ummmmmmmmm, I’m depressed? Idiot) and saying if I’m suicidal or even overly depressed, he wouldn’t be able to let me leave and would have to call it in to the hospital, and put me under an emergency watch. So all I could think about was that I had already shared too much. I had come for help. And now you want to lock me in a ward somewhere? Nope. Nope nope nope a million times no. I did a hard 180 and back tracked on everything I had said to him and walked out the office ASAP. But as I drove home, the feelings crept back in. Deeper and more desperate than before. If a doctor couldn’t/wouldn’t help me, then what chance did I have? I felt I had done my best going about dealing with it the “proper way” by going to see a “medical professional” and left feeling more overwhelmed then I had an hour ago.
So when I pulled into the garage at my parents house, even though it wasn’t premeditated… I closed the overhead door, and just stayed. I had the car running and the windows down and I just sat there with my eyes closed. I briefly thought about my kids and how they would be fine with my parents, and I could at least enjoy my last moments relaxing with nothing going through my head but whatever songs were on the radio.
Music. One of the most important things in my life. Because it can connect you with/too so many things, but also it can disconnect you from life. Which is what I wanted right then. To forget life. And forget pain, and fear, and every other emotion. I wanted to just  “be” one last time. Until I’m not sure how much later, but my Dad walked out, saying he had heard the garage door, and wondering if I was ok/what I was doing out there.
No. No, I was not ok. I did not get the help I was looking for. And now you’ve interrupted my “master plan” so now what.
Well “now what” turned out to be a visit to a competent doctor the next day at the  urging of my parents. The new doctor worked with me, getting me the proper antidepressants that would work with the seizure meds I’m on, as well as follow up calls and emails to ensure I was doing better. Which for the most part I was.
And I still kinda am. Although, upon reflection, I’ve noticed it’s definitely a S.A.D. thing. Which is not something I’m embarrassed about. Even as recently as this past winter, I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts. Which is probably why I never felt this way while living in Africa. And although I’m not taking anti depressants anymore, I deal with the emotional pull of the darkness inside myself during that time of year. Something I’m sure will probably happen this coming winter too.
Do I think I’ll try to kill myself again? Not really. But right now, I’m okay. I’m not depressed… for now. So I cannot say for sure. All I know is there are not 13 reasons for me. There is not even one. In my opinion, someone who is suicidal, is that way because nothing makes sense. The thoughts in their head are all “down” and “dark.” It’s definitely not a well written and organized 13 point plan/reasons. It’s just desperation and hopelessness.
Or just someone who has had enough. And I hate to be a downer, but sometimes there aren’t warning signs. I was very good at keeping it to myself, and being a “happy friendly carefree” 16 year-old. I never cut myself, or did any other self harm when I went straight to downing those pills. I never gave anyone a heads up. I didn’t even write a suicide note. I wasn’t in it for the attention, I was trying to do it, to be done with life. I didn’t give two shits what anyone else thought, then and still to this day that’s how I do life.
I have never had someone close to me commit suicide. And I’m truly sorry if you have. But to be honest, it’s not about what you could’ve done to help. Because depression comes from within. And needs to be solved from within. My medication helped me. No conversation with friends or family. No amount of get togethers or going out will help. Because the individual will just paste on a fake smile and then once they go home and are alone, the “dark” thoughts will be back, if they weren’t there the whole time anyways.
Depression is a medical condition that should be helped with medication.
It should not be judged or laughed at. It also should not be made to be explained by the inflicted. Because it can’t be. You either are depressed or you are not. like I said before, nothing in the outer world “makes” you depressed.
For me it came from within. And I shouldn’t need 13 reasons why.


-Skillet/Open Wounds-
 

So What We Go Out. That’s How It’s Supposed To Be. Living Young And Wild And Free

Friday night, my kids spent the night at my parents house. Which was the first time in a while that I had the night off (like you all know from my Mother’s Day rant). So originally I had plans for May 19th, but as with life, plans change. So I ended up going out with a few friends for appy’s and drinks and then spent a few hours on the dance floor where I danced with anyone and everyone and it felt SO good.
I haven’t had a reason to dress up (although I wore a tshirt, jeans and my chucks but I actually did my hair and makeup) in so long. And I haven’t been hit on in public in forever. Probably because I’m never out past like 7:30 at night without my kids. So it was just such a stress reliever. Just good ol’ fashioned fun. And I love dancing lol. But I was asked 4 times for my number and managed to not give it out once. Because this was just a night for me. And not me trying to hook up with new guys. Like yeah I’ll dance with you for a while but I’m not interested in seeing you another day. This was for the then and there… and that was it.

I was dropped off around 3 AM and then slept til around 10 ish without having to worry about the kids. Well that’s a lie. I was awake around 6:30 out of habit but after going to the bathroom decided to go back to bed. Then since I still had the day to myself before I had to pick up my kids, I went to get another tattoo.

I only had two previously, but I’ve been wanting another one for a while now. It was a work in progress since I had to get the piercing first a couple of months ago, let it heal, then I could do the tattoo to go with it. But I’m happy about how it turned out, and excited about what it represents.

The dermal piercing head is the bird, and the tattoo is the empty cage. Showing there are no longer any bars holding me back, and how there’s nothing but freedom ahead. 

And then just E and Z for my kids.

When I showed little E the tattoo and explained that the E was for him and asked him how it made him feel, he said special. And that’s all I needed to hear. I told him and Z that they are special to me. Now and forever, which is why I’ll have them with me always. His smile…. I’ll never forget that moment.

But more importantly for myself, to never forget what it felt like in that cage, and as a reminder that I made it out once, so don’t lock myself back in.

The choice is only mine.


-Snoop Dogg & Wiz Khalifa/Young, Wild & Free-

Are You Afraid Of Being Alone Cause I Am, I’m Lost Without You

Would I be okay alone? This question has crossed my mind too much recently, and too answer honestly, of course I would be okay. But I wouldn’t thrive.

You see even when you are in a relationship, you are destined to be alone at some points in your life. Most in fact, but it’s the knowledge that someone is doing life with you that helps. It’s when you roll over in bed and feel where the bed dips down because that’s their spot. It’s when you sit on a chair that’s still warm and know they must’ve just been around recently. It’s when you feel a breeze in the air when they walk by, even without a word, but you feel their presence. It’s when your coffee is made in the morning with a little note after they’ve let for work, or your lunch is packed in the fridge for the day. It’s when the laundry is folded and put away in the drawers so magically. It’s when you smell their cologne from down the hall.  It’s when you hear the garage door open and know they made it home from work safely. It’s when they call and you see their picture come up on your phone and you smile, even if your fighting, because they, just as they are, make you smile. It’s when you see the half eaten pack of muffins that was supposed to last all week, but is gone in a night, that you just adjust and buy more next time. It’s when you notice the lawn is cut or the sidewalks shoveled. All without you actually being with them.

Or more intimately, it’s when they stand behind you and kiss your neck right below your ear because they’ve learned after kissing you everywhere and paying close attention to your response that that’s what you like the best. It’s when they whisper in your ear… and see the shivers rise on your arms, that you know even though you could survive alone, you don’t want to. You don’t want to, because you want to be with them. Because life is more… phenomenal, more beautiful, yet somehow more simple with that person.

So yes, I could be alone and be fine. But what’s the point of fine? We were made for more than “fine.” I want unprecedented, astounding, something that makes other people jealous yet happy for us at the same time. I don’t want to be fine. I don’t want to be just ok. I want what I’ve described, and even though I’ve been married, I’ve never had most these things. I know, I know, what did I marry E for? Haha I’m still trying to figure that out.

But until I find someone who wants something rare like I do… I’ll be okay. Plain and simple okay.


-Blink 182/I’m Lost Without You-

This Thing Turned Out so Evil, Don’t Know Why I’m Still Surprised 

Filing for divorce was not an easy process. I had some time when I got back to Canada to sort out what I was going to do and how I was going to do it, because E was away at work. He worked at a camp in a remote area so I didn’t have to worry about him for a while. But I knew he wasn’t going to be happy once he was served with papers and so I wanted to make sure the kids and I were safe.

WAY harder than it should’ve been.

I figured I would just explain what had happened in Kenya (and more) and that I wanted to file for divorce and possibly a restraining order and that because of E’s erratic behaviour, I didn’t know how he would respond. My mom offered to watch the kids for a couple hours, while I headed to the court to deal with it.

Common! I was denied at every turn. First, I couldn’t file for divorce because we hadn’t been separated for a year yet. Then, I couldn’t get a restraining order because the abuse had happened not only out of the country, but wasn’t recent enough for them to consider it dangerous for myself and the kids now. I was given a crappy lawyer through a program called legal aid, which helps people who can’t really afford to hire full on lawyers themselves, but the thing is, legal aid lawyers don’t give a shit about your case. They make less money then on their other cases and couldn’t care less about your outcome, so they push it to the bottom of their pile.

My lawyer did nothing unless I called or emailed a minimum 4-5 times per situation and even then I had to do all the research myself to make sure everything was being covered. So many times I found things through my research that I would bring up to my lawyer and he’d be like “oh yeah… I didn’t think you needed that” Ummmm I kinda need a custody order in place among so many other things. Anyways.

After 2.5 months I finally got my statement out with my lawyer and E was served with divorce papers. This whole time he never once asked to see the kids or even talk to them on the phone. He would only call or text me to harass me about money or that we should get back together. And I thought about it often.

Until one day I came back to my parents house after dropping the kids off at the day home to get some things before I headed to school. It seemed fine at first, I walked in the front door as per usual, and no one else was home, like I expected. But then I saw the back patio door was open and my stomach was in my throat so fast. It normally takes a lot to get me scared or rattle me but when I saw that door… I can honestly say there was a fear like I’ve never known that crept in. I knew E had finished his shift up north recently and was in the city now but other than that I didn’t know where he was staying or what he was up to, and in that moment, I thought he had broken into my parents house.

I called my mom to see where she was and why the door was open… but she was sure she had left it closed/locked. Now my heart is pounding. I’m in stealth mode now. I slowly and methodically checked in every closet, behind every door and under all the beds. I even went out to the yard and dug around the bushes. Then back into the house to do it all again. I checked places that I KNEW there was no logical way E could even fit into! But I looked. Behind shower curtains and under stairs, all the while trying to calm my breathing so it wasn’t to loud and slow my heart which I thought would pound right out of my chest at any moment.

He obviously wasn’t anywhere in the house. But my mind was too far gone. I had been having nightmares about him stealing the kids and taking them back to Kenya. Or breaking through my window at night and beating me to death. And in that moment, because of that stupid door, I felt my nightmares were alive.

I realized that day how deep the damage E had caused in me. And even though I had filed for divorce and had been trying to stay strong, keeping the kids away and ignoring all the manipulative texts… a part of me had been considering getting back together with him. Until that day. I realized was scared of him. My body had never reacted so dramatically in fear to anything before this point, and not since.

It was that day I knew it didn’t matter how many years or ridiculous accusations or drawn out conversations it took. I was done with E. Forever.


-Rihanna/Love the Way You Lie Part 2-