It’s The End Of The World As We Know It, And I Feel Fine

When you sit back and think about it, we all had to come from somewhere. Someone somehow we are all connected. I know it’s not a thought we all consider on the daily, but logically, this earth didn’t just appear yesterday functioning at this level of consciousness and efficiency that we are at today. Which leads me to wonder, when did it start, and from where, which leads to the only logical consideration that no matter what you believe as far as a creation standpoint, it will start at some point. Lending to the argument that we all, weather we like it or not, weather we want it or not, we all started at the same point. Not us in our physical bodies as we stand today, but as the very least the creation of either our thought or our soul or whatever you may call it.

So, if we were all “created” or “started” at the same “time” or within the same breathe or choose the same moment to begin, or whatever you believe or whichever path your thoughts took long ago, it really makes no difference what journey your thoughts took, what matters is that in this moment, we are here together, and we, logically thinking and speaking, all began in the exact same moment.

Have we had the exact same experiences since that time? Of course not. This journey is just that. A journey. With each of us individually afforded our own choices and decision making skills. Throughout the infinite history, it has brought our bodies to this point in time, where we can acknowledge the grandeur of our past and move on, or rest in our souls accomplishments thus far. Has your body completed what it wanted to when it first set out? Were you part of the decision making process to decide grass was green or the earth would rotate a certain direction or maybe your thoughts took the journey to decide the sun would burn hot instead of freeze cold.

And now we’re here. What are your thoughts actively partaking in? Are you thinking universal as you might have once done? Or have you narrowed your mind to just think simply of your bodies day to day activity?

They say ” God” is the body, the thought and the mind…. a do your u hear what I hear type thing. So when you lay in bed at night, have you closed your thoughts down to hear only “you” over the years, decades, even possible lifetimes you have lived? Or do you put your body to rest, and then just breathe. And relax your own thinking to slow down and hear the thoughts of others. Or on the other hand, are the thoughts you project into the world hindering the progression of what weave made thus far? Or contributing?

Or, the most fearsome consideration yet, have we all become so worn down by what we’ve created, that we’ve given up and we are all ready to go back to our original form. A much simpler, more loving, even God like form. Once we reconcile our lives and our souls can rest, we make that choice to. Instead of coming back to this projected perceived world, we make our final choice to rest our soul for good. We remove our thoughts and we, as an individual are no more. No more thought. No more chances. Just done.

Chosen one person at a time, will leave this world with many broken souls who didn’t know they had the chance to choose. Not somewhere I’d like to be, but once my soul is done, not something I will have knowledge of either way..


-R.E.M/ Its The End Of The World As We Know It-

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Take Control Of Your Mind And Just Meditate And Let Your Soul Just Gravitate To The Love

I’ve come to the conclusion in my life for now, that every time I’ve attempted to produce love, in any kind, it ends in a more broken version of myself.

Maybe, and most likely this is because the men I’ve been showing my version of love to have not been in a receptive state in their lives to be able to receive my emotion and energy, transform it into anything of value on their end and return it to me. Therefore all I’ve been continually doing is outpouring on an ongoing basis, but not getting anything in back.

This self-destructive behavior has left me depleted and more empty than ever. I’ve come to the point were not only do I feel I have very little left to give, but my quality of love is somehow not enough, because in the past it was either maybe rejected, not returned, ignored, stomped upon, laughed at, passed by, or outright told was not good enough in one way or another. So after all my attempts, some being my best work given to the wrong people, some being a half asse attempt thrown out just to see what would happen, I’ve come to a place where I’m so broken that there isn’t enough strength left to put together a decent first move to try any form any relationship of any kind.

So at this point, I’m no longer prepared to put that energy out to anyone anymore because it only produces heartbreak and sorrow. It leads me to wonder can an individual heal themselves after pain that has surmounted in this way after so many years? Or must it come from another. If all my emotion and energy and love was given out to an other person, (not all, but this one chunk) and I was left with hopes of that emotion being given back, yet that hope went unreturned, can I ever be fulfilled from within?

For example I’m a bucket that starts with my hopes and desires and dreams and love at 100% full inside it ok? And I go and give 5% here in love to one person and 5% there to another and a 20% investment to another person, but only receive half back from those people at best, I’ve given 30% and received back 15% leaving me at 85% capacity for love and hope etc. How now, if I have given my best for years and years and only received a lackluster return on my investment and I’m standing at like 30%, how am I supposed to go into any relationship with a positive attitude or an open mind thinking it would ever survive?

It can’t.

For starters, I cannot create love and hopes and dreams from nothing in my mostly empty bucket. I also cannot be the first to initiate anything knowing I’m not in a giving state. I’m broken. Very broken. As I think most of our society is. So that leads me to question, where has all the love and peace and hope actually gone, if we are all walking around with empty buckets?

Can we just think it back into existence? Do we just choose to believe and that somehow sucks it back into our lives? Or are we then somehow unconsciously stealing from someone else’s bucket when they are not standing guard? Did we lose our chance when we didn’t plan it out from the start and thought we’d have an unlimited supply of joy? Because I can tell you right now, it’s like after you reach the 50% mark with no one pouring into you, it’s like someone pokes a hole in the bottom of your bucket and it seems there’s no coming back from that.

Right now, I’m just doing the very best I can to maintain status quo and not reach 0%. But it would be more than I can even put into words if someone would just choose to pour into me. Maybe they found the unlimited tap on love, maybe they have someone pouring into them, maybe they just have the link to hope, but for me, I’m keeping my love on lock for now. I can’t risk loosing anymore.


-Where Is The Love /Black Eyed Peas-

Callin It Quits Now Baby I’m A Wreck

2019.

Here I am.

Taken me a while to…. not necessarily find the time to do this recap of the last year of my life, but more specifically find the desire to share what I’ve accomplished and overcome as well as my shortcomings in 2018.

So where to start.

I guess the most obvious place would be the easiest.

I moved. I uprooted my family and moved 900 plus kilometres away to resettle once again, for hopefully the last time. So far I’ve enjoyed the new place. The house specifically I’m not a fan of, but the city is good and the lifestyle is good. The kids have made good friends and are enjoying it here. So I count that as a win.

I lost 50 pounds and then regained 25. So obviously that’s not exciting for anyone who’s interested in getting more fit and not as fat, but it is what it is. And since I can’t hide 25 pounds I might as well just say it like it is, and what it is is crappy. I did start the year with a water fast and lost the 4-5 pounds that I gained over the holidays at my parents but now I’m just back to my plus 25. And really just couldn’t care at this point. No ones looking at my body but me and I’m used to it so it’s not at the top of my priority list right now.

I reached over 1600 followers on this blog, for which I’m really thankful for. I don’t right often now because my minds in a messed up place but I try and keep it real and hope that y’all can appreciate that the way I’m thankful you take you time to read about my life. It still blows my mind that anyone would be interested in someone else’s story, but it helps me continue to write knowing there’s a few of you out there who find it interesting enough.

I turned 31. All alone without leaving my house or blowing out a candle or opening a gift and realized birthdays are a sham.

I finally got divorced. Again all alone, but it was a somewhat momentous occasion for me as it had been years in the making and when it finally came it was a weight off. I won sole custody (duh) and it’s just good to know that won’t drag on forever.

I stopped fucking around. To most of you that’s not a big deal, but for me, who used guys and let guys use me, it’s phenomenal. I haven’t had sex in too long and see none on the horizons but I’m somewhat ok with that. It just wasn’t as valuable to me as it used to be, and no longer brought me any joy whatsoever. So I stopped messing around. It’s like a double edged sword, but I think it’s best for me, both for now and probably long term.

I realized I don’t really like my job. I mean it’s fine and all, but definitely not something I’ll want to do long term. I’ve been doing some soul searching as to what steps I could take and what direction I want to take my life, but my dilemma right now is that I can’t feasibly get an entry level job in the genre I’m considering that’s anything close to what I make now. So I’ll just wait it out right now.

Other than that…. I’m still the same old C.

Divorced, overweight, mom of two. Working only to pay the bills, and chilling at night alone.

Do I have goals for the upcoming year? Not in particular. I know me. I know when I set goals, I never achieve them, I have no self discipline to follow through. But if I end up just doing something in the spur of the moment, then damn I’m so proud of myself instead of being disappointed for not doing something.

2018 in the bag. Whatever that means.

2019…. I’m not looking forward to you, but to be honest I’m not looking forward to anything these days.

-Subflower/ Post Malone & Swae Lee-

So Please Help Them With Your Youth, They Seek The Truth Before They Can Die.

So it’s here.

That’s time of the day when the kids have gone to sleep and the lunches are packed and the house is clean because I spent all day vacuuming (I even did between/under the couch cushions) and mopping and scrubbing. All three loads of laundry are clean and folded and even put away. The dishes are washed and drying. We even went for groceries that are now all put away nicely. The kids are sleeping on freshly washed bedding with freshly washed bodies and freshly brushed teeth.

And then it hits me. In the silence as I stand in my bedroom. The thing I’ve been avoiding for forever.

There’s nothing left to do.

There’s nothing left to try and preoccupy my mind and keep it busy to pretend like I’m not constantly thinking about what I’m unfortunately thinking about.

The emptiness is literally all around and I’m engulfed in silence.

I never thought my life would get to this point. To this completely and utterly alone point. Where there’s nothing left to distract me. There’s no way to even pretend I’m in the most lonely place in the world.

I’m in my mind. Alone.

And I hate it.

It happens every night even I get undressed and ready for bed alone. When the house is in total silence except for the few familiar sounds I make. But that’s it. There’s no music blaring in fear of waking the kids. I don’t sit in the living room and watch tv because that seems like a couples thing. I put the kids to bed, clean up, and then I go to my room. I own this whole house, but I find myself stretched out on my bed, even now, writing this post from my phone. Sure the office is a few rooms away with a fully functional computer and a nice chair etc, but it feels uncomfortable. Not in the soft squishy sense. But uncomfortable in the fact that it’s not what I’m used to.

I’m a creature of habit. And my habit is to be safe, and warm. Not venture out in the dark alone. So when my kids are asleep… I’m here. On my bed. Endlessly scrolling instagram hopefully for its stupid entertainment. Listening to music, needing it to fill my void. Watching pointless things on Netflix.

But its in that moment before I get ‘settled’ on the bed, that the hopelessness finds me. Each night getting worse. The feeling or ‘why even bother’ ‘how pathetic can I get’ ‘look at how sad your life is’ ‘your not going anywhere C’ ‘this is your story’ ‘no ones going to even remember who you were… and rightfully so’ …. that I just hate myself.

I wish a million times over that I could’ve done so many thing differently to have never ended up where I am. I think of what could’ve been had I not have done this or that. Or instead pursued this opportunity or that option when it was offered. But instead… I stayed in my confining comfort zone. And I’m left with this.

This ‘life’ that is nothing of a life at all. Its a routine that I have to complete everyday and nothing more. It’s a struggle and a burdensome weight that I carry only with the hope that my kids will maybe possibly discover something more fulfilling than I have. But then I realize I’m doing nothing to help foster any dreams they may have.

I stifle any individuality they may show by my strict rules and discipline all in an attempt to keep my routine as easy as possible for myself. I don’t allow them freedom to express or explore… ever basically. I have no extra funds to encourage trying new extra curricular activities. Instead I’ve come to the understanding just now while writing this, that my entire reasoning is counterproductive. I want the best for them but provide none of the opportunities to achieve that. I’m to exhausted by the end of my day to even play a god damn board game with them.

So I shovel them off to bed to rest myself, and then hate being alone.

You know what? I just don’t even have a decent enough train of thought to reason this one out. Facts seem pretty clear: I’m a ridiculous mom.

I say I want to be a good mom. And on the surface I invest a lot of time and energy into the things that would paint that picture. But when it comes down to it, my kids are getting a pretty shitty end of that stick.

I guess this is what I get for thinking to much in bed at night.

A shitty stick 😕

-Crosby, Stills & Nash/Teach Your Children-

Have Old Friends And Know Our Enemies Now I-, I’m thinking Back To When I Was Young Back To The Day When I Was Falling In Love

So I got a call from prison this week. Not the prison officials themselves, but a guy on the inside.

My obvious first instinct when I heard the recording “An inmate from so and so is trying to call you press 1 to accept the call” was that it was K, and that something had happened and he was locked up again.

So I pressed 1.

Me: Hello?

Them: Hello, this is J, is this Beyonce?

Me: What? No.

Them: Oh my friend gave me this number to call to talk to Beyonce, is that you?

Now, I’m actually concerned that K is back in prison and is in bigger trouble than I first thought because he can’t even make his own phone calls, and has to somehow send some other guy to call me using the stupid nicknames that they always use.

Me: Is he OK?

Them: Yeah, yeah, he’s getting out next week. What’s your name?

Me: You’re the one who called me. What do you want? Whats your name again?

And then the call got weird, he kept asking me to describe the friend who sent him, or give my name, and I was high and didn’t want to give away anything that might possible harm K in any way especially if for some reason he couldn’t call me himself. Like why was he sending some random guy to call? Was he tryna let me know something? Anyways, the guy who by the end of the phone call had given me a second name (what is it with criminals and multiple names?) assured me the friend who gave him my number was good and was getting out next week. And then we hung up.

I was left with far more questions than answers.

Is this why K hadn’t called? What stupid thing had he done that had sent him back? Why didn’t he call me himself? Was he in seg? Did he just get in? How could he be getting out next week? If he was ok, why didn’t he call himself instead of giving my number to someone else? Why do I still care so much? Ok that one wasn’t really a question because I know I still love him, but I’m trying to move on. But all the other ones were legitimately boggling my mind.

The next day, Thursday, I got another call from the prison that helped clear things up… unfortunately.

It was the friend who had sent the first caller. And it was not K.

Most of me was instantly relieved that K was not back in. But also, I was heartbroken that K had still not reached out to me in any capacity. Pissed and emotional to be more precise.

All I could think were what are the odds that anyone else would call me from the SAME lock up that K used to be in? Once the guy on the phone tried to explain to me what happened, which apparently my number and the girl they were trying to reach… Our phone numbers were 1 digit off, and the original caller had misread 2 for 3 or something like that.

Anyways, it fucked with me.

All the chances of all this happening? The second guy, T, kept trying to dig around on the call, figure out my name and what had happened on the first call. I was just so overwhelmed with disappointment that at one point on the call I started to tear up, because I couldn’t help myself. I had imagined in my head that K had finally called. That he had finally reached out to me. That he finally cared again. Near the end of the call I used K’s prison name”G” and asked if he was in prison. Just in case. And T was like OHHH G?  I know him! I just talked to him last week! Yeah I was on the phone with my friend on the outside and G hopped on and was saying things like how he got off parole in March etc. I was like yeah I know, you don’t have to tell me. Then T goes on to describe K/G.  “He’s a black guy? Stocky, bald, chest tattoo?” And I’m like trust me you don’t need to describe him to me. At that time I’m just angry. Angry that some fucking train hasn’t run him over. Angry that he’s calling everyone but me. Angry he’s chatting up people on the phone who barely know him, but not calling me. Pissed off that his words to me mean nothing to him. Frustrated that I can’t trust anything he’s said, even though those words were all that I’ve been holding onto for months now. Which means I have nothing left.

And that’s when I started getting emotional on the phone. It’s also when the time on our call was up.

But T called back. He wanted to make sure I was ok. I explained that I had just gotten my hopes up based on how the first call yesterday went.  T was saying that if G called again he could let him know about this, and I’m like PLEASE NO! He doesn’t need to know. He has my number, I have his. We’re well acquainted. If K/G had wanted to call, he would’ve. So then T is like well do you mind if I call sometimes? This has been one of the best, most real conversations I’ve had while locked up, and you seem like a chill girl, I’d like to get to know you more.

We had talked about his girl who has a new man and he wanted to win her back, I told him to move on, since she obviously had, and she wasn’t worth it. I told him to not fuck up his next chance once he got out etc. I literally have no clue who this dude is, but he’s getting out of prison next week and sounded like he wanted a chat, and I had nothing to do at the moment, so why not. We talked about what he was in for and his plans for the future. We talked about a lot of things.

In fact to be honest, I haven’t had a half decent chat like that since K and I used to talk every night. So I told him I wouldn’t mind if he called sometimes. But at the moment I just needed to end the call because I needed to cry. A lot. He tried to talk to me and say I seemed like a really cool girl, and whatever was going on I don’t deserve. I told him that it wasn’t his issue to try to solve, and he was saying I know, but when a woman cries a man should be there for her. Which just made me feel even more emotional. So I told him thanks for the call. Don’t fuck up when you get out. And I had to hang up.

Because a man should be there for a woman when she cries. At the very least he shouldn’t be the only reason she continually cries.

What are the odds that my world continually throws K back in my face, without actually letting my face see K?


-Benny Blanco Ft. Halsey and Khalid/Eastside-