I’ve Got Thick Skin And An Elastic Heart/You Did Not Break Me I’m Still Fighting For Peace

Ok guys. So after spending Monday in a hot mess, and I mean MESS. I was breaking down and crying every time my kids weren’t in the room, and maybe once or twice when they were. I had my epiphany. At least I hope it’s my light bulb moment because if not… well then I’m headed down the wrong path lol.

After what happened with my grandpa, and a few other stressful events that of course just had to happen this weekend involving K, that I’m not ready to get into yet, I just broke on Monday. I was barely functioning, and couldn’t contain my crying, it was bad. But I didn’t realize how bad until my brother-in-law D went to give me a hug goodbye, since they were heading out from my grandpa’s that evening, and after the hug he did that pause where his hand kinda lingered on my back while he said take care or something, I don’t even remember, because everything inside of me was screaming at him to stop touching me.

That’s when I realized how much the night before with my grandpa had affected me. Obviously I had spent the day crying, but I thought maybe I was overly tired and just emotional. But when I literally couldn’t stand the thought of D giving me a hug, I knew I was messed up. Also I did tell N what had happened, just because I wanted to get it off my chest. Now, nothing negative against N, but she kept bringing it up throughout the day again. Here I am trying to get over it and just get back into my regular routine and push it as far from my mind as possible, and every 30 minutes or whatever she’s asking if I’m sure I’ll be OK, or saying just make sure I have my phone close etc. I get that she was trying to ease my worries but to me it was just bringing up the feelings/thoughts/emotions that I had just managed to get out of my head 5 minutes ago.

And it made me understand that N doesn’t get it. She has never been raped. She didn’t understand the fear I was feeling. Or why it came back in huge waves. Or why I haven’t slept since. But I get it. I understand it. I’ve been there.

As I drove home yesterday, I spent the majority of the 11 hour car ride considering why all this shitty stuff keeps going on in my life, and how if possible can I turn it for good. How can I make this work for me? What can I do with this pile of crap I’ve been given to make a positive impact?

So the only idea that came to me, and that is still a huge work in progress, is that I’m going to make my blog more “public” in an effort to help those in my community.

I thought maybe I could use my experiences to help others who have been through similar things. And considering my wide range of  experiences… I might be able to relate to many people. In my mind I see myself relating to many women/teens who are struggling with issues that I have gone through and just want someone to talk to. Like how I just wanted someone to tell and so I told N, but because she’s never been through anything like it, she didn’t know how to handle it.

I know that many people just want to talk. Not so that they can be told what to do, or be judged, or feel like they’re at the shrinks office but just to know that they aren’t alone. And that others have survived issues like them, and that there is nothing wrong with them. That it is do-able, getting through this crazy life. That no matter how ridiculous it seems at the time, you can make it through.

So, I’ve decided to make myself vulnerable by slowly kinda revealing myself in a sense to those around me, so that others can learn, or feel comforted by this.

Over the next little while, I’ll be revisiting my posts to edit and review what I’ve written. Freshen up my posts, add all the details I missed in my haste to just get my story out. But from there I haven’t figured out the details of how this plan will play out… only that I feel right in doing this. But… lol forgive how lame this sounds, but last night I actually had dreams of doing public speaking at high schools and stuff. Like motivational speeches. It was weird and crazy, but here’s a quote my grandma had written…

“After all was said and done, A lot was said and not much done.”

So I figured at this point, I’ve said a lot, I should start doing something.

So if you have any suggestions… lol, let me know.


-Sia/Elastic Heart-

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-

Happy Birthday To You Happy Birthday Dear Little E, Happy Birthday To You.

Today is little E’s 7th birthday. And I have so many things I’ve been wanting to post about, but decided to write about the day he was born. Because that’s a story of its own!

My pregnancy with little E went great. Absolutely no morning sickness, none of the uncomfortable sleeping at night, just a tiny bit of heartburn near the end which I’m pretty sure can be attributed to all the hair he was born with. I’m very lucky to have had such a good pregnancy because E was no support. Throughout the 9 months, he would often suggest that the baby was in fact not his, and that the night of my failed housewarming ( https://shewassetfree.wordpress.com/2017/04/12/house-warming-it-was-cold-as-fuck/) I had slept with S, and therefore who knows how many other men. As you can imagine this was difficult to deal with while pregnant, and I didn’t feel very supported, so it was nice to at least feel like the baby was working with me.

The only thing that really changed for me was that I craved steak like nobody’s business. I could eat steak for breakfast, lunch, dinner and still want more, until some blood work revealed that it was amazing I was still up and walking since my iron was SO depleted. Once I got on some iron supplements, the cravings slowed and then the only that bothered me was smell.

EVERYTHING stunk to me. Especially E. He would get home from work, I’d have to ask him to shower. He’d come home from rugby practice, where he just showered, and I’d make him do it again. Before we left anywhere, I’d ask him to reapply deodorant, or shower. I know he didn’t actually stink more than before, but to me? Oh god the smell was awful. At one point we went to my parents for supper and I actually apologized to my mom for how E smelled and she’s like ‘honey, he doesn’t smell, it’s your nose/hormones’ … didn’t matter to me, I still needed him to shower 3x a day if not more.

So, anyways as we neared, and then passed little E’s due date, I found myself doing all the preparations for the baby. E didn’t put together one baby item. He didn’t purchase one particle of clothing for our first child. He was barely interested in conversations about the name even. Except of course to throw in the lies about the middle name and confuse the shit outta everything. But as far as first names go, it was basically up to me, which I’m so grateful for! At least now I don’t have to say my kids names every day and have regrets about them. I picked them both out and love them throughly.

Since apparently my womb is so comfortable, little E stayed 10 days past his due date and I had an appointment to be induced. E decided he didn’t want to come with me, so I drove myself to the hospital. He basically said let him know how it goes and if anything happens, he would come later.

So I was on my own. 22 years old. About to give birth to my first child. And my husband chose work over supporting me.

I went through the process and stayed for about an hour when the nurse came to check me out and said there was no signs of labor so I could head home for now, but to come back if anything changes. So I headed home. I had some slight back pain but, since this was my first time, I kept waiting for ‘contractions’ and yet had no idea what they would feel like. My back pain kept getting worse and I had no way of relieving it, so I took a shower. E was home from work by the time I got out of the shower but I was in so much pain all I could do was sit on my towel on my bed. This ended up being probably the best thing for me, since while I was still on the towel, my water broke and I finally clued in that my back pain was actually contractions. #idiot
I told E we had to go now, and his response was that I had to wait since he needed to eat since he just got him from work and was hungry. So while E did whatever he did in the kitchen, I got myself dressed and hauled my hospital bag out to the car, all while in labor.
E finally moseyed his way to the car and we went to the hospital where I was admitted ASAP.

My mom met us at the hospital since at this point I knew E was going to be probably not too much help and to be honest I was scared and needed someone to be there as a support. Most women have their husbands for support, but well, I had E soooo, mom was like my plus one.

My mom came into the room and then E left! I was like what the? And he told us that he didn’t think he was going to stay in the room because where he’s from the men don’t stay, it’s more of a woman’s thing. I was like get your ass in this room right now! You got me into this! You are going to help me through it! I don’t care if you just stand there silently or even faint! You stay!
So he did, although he just stood there quietly, he stayed in the room.

Meanwhile, because everything was happening so quickly, my room was buzzing with people. My maid of honor at my wedding is actually a labour and delivery nurse and was working that night, which was the only thing keeping me sane. She tried to make sure I had the best Dr. and nurses and when the actual delivery came she was right there helping out too.

I didn’t have a big ‘delivery plan’. I knew I was all for the drugs though, I mean if I can do this pain-free, then load me up. So they started with the laughing gas (which did nothing to help) while my MOH tracked down an anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologist came and did his poke, but for some reason, the epidural didn’t work either, and this baby was coming NOW.

I remember the Dr doing that dumb counting thing, like for your breathing, and everyone’s saying oh you’re doing great, good job, keep going, and I just snapped. I actually yelled ‘SHUT UP’ at everyone. In my mind I just wanted quite so I could focus on my own in peace, plus their words were doing nothing to help so I just wanted silence. After I yelled though I felt bad so I kept apologizing, and trying to explain how I just needed quite, and everyone’s like no it’s ok, you can yell all you want.

So, the pushing is going on and there’s so much happening in my room with me and E and my mom and about 6-8 staff (I don’t even know for sure) because something is going wrong…. as I’m pushing, the baby gets stuck. So my MOH gets a stool and stands on it, holds her arms out like she’s about to perform CPR and then literally JUMPS and pushes onto my belly and helps push little E out. Who let me tell you, WAS NOT LITTLE!

Little E was 9lbs 7ozs and a short little sucker. He looked like a sumo wrestler no lie. A cute sumo wrestler. The Dr who delivered him felt the need to comment saying ‘Oh if I had known he was this big, I would’ve done a C-section’. Oh thank you for that. Thanks for saying that NOW! When there’s no going back. Thanks for talking about the huge new life I just pushed through my vagina while you use a dozen stitches to close me up. Yeah, thanks. Real professional.

But, aside from having my genitalia ripped open, the drugs not working, and E not being interested at all in being there…

It was the most beautiful day of my life. No I didn’t cry. But I was very broken at the time. I did cherish it though. I remember little E had no problem starting to nurse and the feeling of having a new life, a human, so small yet fully functioning, look into your eyes while feeding off of the life you bring it? Priceless.

I stayed up all night just watching him. Making sure he was ok. Changing diapers that didn’t need to be changed, but just to do it.. Waking up E so he could bring me the baby. Holding him. Touching him. Stroking his hair. Looking into his eyes. Singing to him. Just loving him. And I would do it all again.
Everything I’ve been through with E, I would do again just to have the amazing experience of little E’s life it has brought me.

7 years ago today.


-Patty Hill&Mildred Hill/Happy Birthday-

No, I Don’t Want Your Number No, I Don’t Want To Give You Mine And No, I Don’t Want To Meet You Nowhere No, I Don’t Want None Of Your Time

Wow! Men are literally coming outta the woodwork.

I took a picture at work and posted it on the gram today (because I look amazing as I discussed yesterday lol) and my phones been going non-stop. I guess I should preface this by saying selfies for me used to be VERY rare. Like my whole Instagram feed has maybe 10 pictures of me, since the dawn of my page about 4 years ago, and probably 5 of them are within the last 6 months. But even those other few pictures never garnered this much response. So now I’ve posted a selfie… and these guys are all up in my DM and texting.

But for real all these guys keep dropping hints like they’re free tonight, or they’re only in town for a little while longer… but then nothing. I’m like, be a man, and ask me out. Don’t leave it to me. Make a plan. Follow through. I’m not impressed by your utter lack of effort. I’m not going to invite guys over to my place just cause it’s convenient for everyone. I want a date. And so either be willing to make that effort or I’m moving on… right fast.

I’m no longer worried about being ‘undatable’ or something. I’ve come to learn that I’m totally dating/marriage material, but men nowadays just don’t ask women on dates.

But I’m a patient woman. I can totally wait for the one that will.

In the meantime though I’m keeping this rant short and sweet since I’m at the park with my kiddos.

Which bring me to who, by the way, decided sand between your toes was an amazing feeling? It’s so annoying! It scratches your feet, rubs between your skin and sandals, and to top it off it’s a pain to walk in.


-TLC/No Scrubs-

Am I Out Of My Mind? If You Only Knew The Bad Things I Like Don’t Think That I Can Explain It. What Can I Say, It’s Complicated

So I’ve been in and out of touch with K since he first got re-arrested. I’m sorry I don’t remember where I left off with this story so if I repeat myself or miss a whole chunk (hopefully not) please forgive me. 

The last time I heard from him was Monday when he called again after he’d been transferred to the federal prison a couple hours away, to check how it was going with me getting his final pay check for him. But I’ll be honest… I was kinda pissed at him for his call on Saturday. All because he three-way’d me from a chicks phone to let me know he was transferred there and to at least touch base. 

But, being the girl I am, I took Saturdays call way out of context and let my imagination get the best of me. Without asking who was on the three-way call on Saturday while it was happening, I assumed the worst and after I got off the phone I looked up the #. Mainly because during the very first phone call after K got locked up, he mentioned something about only writing down 5 numbers to have with him, mine being one of them. When I asked him what other numbers he had saved, he avoided the question a few times. So I knew there was something he’d rather I not know… which obviously made me want to know it even more lol. So when he three way’d me, my curiosity got the best of me and I wanted to know who else he was calling from prison. I took the number that showed up on my phone Saturday and through my WhatsApp found it belonged to some girl here in my city. Yep. I wasn’t happy. So all day Saturday and Sunday after his call I spent pretty much brooding about that. 

Then by the time he called Monday to see if I had had a chance to call his boss and pick up his final pay check, I told him I was pissed at him. 

He was like for what!?! He’s like I’m seriously stuck here? What could I have possibly done wrong? He explained that he didn’t have a lot of time because he was calling from some officers office phone and so he had to make it quick, but wanted to deal with why I was mad. 

So I explained that I was upset he called me three way from some random girls number and I don’t want to be second to anyone. Like if you wanna talk to me, then call me. First. Not as some afterthought while your chatting up another woman. 

Ohhh man. 

He was not too happy 😐. He’s like OMG C, I had to ask a guy here if I could jump on his call to his chick, then asked her to call you, so I could talk to you, because I have no money/credit for the phone! I’m trying to call you any way I can and your being all fucking emotional about everything. I can’t deal with this right now I have enough shit in here I have to deal with. Then he threatened to not call me anymore. He actually said if I was going to be like this, then this was the last time I would hear from him the whole time he was in there, because it was stressful enough enough without all my additional fuckery. 

So I calmed him down and said it was within my right to ask who the person was that was on the phone listening while we were talking on Saturday. And that yeah, I probably blew it out of proportion, but if he had just told me when he called what was happening, like while three way was going on, I would’ve understood and there would’ve been no misunderstanding. Something like, Hi C it’s K I’m calling three way with another guys girl, because I have no credit. It’s really stressing me out which is why it would mean a lot to me if you could get me my money ASAP. 

Anyways, I read through the lines… since that decidedly did not happen like that lol and I have been calling his boss on average 5 times a day and I am continually sent to voicemail, so I’ve yet to get his check. But I totally get that he needs the money. So I did about an hours worth of research to figure out how to get him money on Monday. His ex also texted me that afternoon (she had my number from when K and I three way’d her the week prior) to see if I had heard from him and how he was doing. He had just said that if I needed help figuring out how to get the money to him that she might be able to help since she had done it last time. Although lol he did make a comment about not answering too many of her questions. So after I did my research and found that a money order was best, I ran it through the ex to make sure what I had found was all kosher and she said that it would work. I explained that he hadn’t called her yet because he had no money but I was working on getting him some so hopefully he can be calling people directly soon. 

I walked to the post office during my break that afternoon and sent a $100 money order to him at the institution just to try it out. I wanted to make sure the address was correct and that it was going to get where it needed to go. I also read during my research that inmates need to have a list of approved contacts of people they can receive money etc from. So I didn’t want to send a large amount, but then K hadn’t had a chance to add me to his list, and then what happens to the money? 

So anyways… the money was sent on Monday, which means it should arrive anytime now. I have no idea how long it takes the institution to process mail, and then get the money into his account if everything goes well. 

All I know is that I haven’t heard from him since Monday. 

Weather that be because he has no money, or got sent to the hole, or is sticking by his word to not call me for the remainder of his stint… or maybe even he got the money, saw it was only $100 and thought I was cheating him by keeping most of his check and only sending $100… who knows. 

But I’m not holding my breath for a call. 

Remember… no strings attached. 
-Machine Gun Kelly Ft. Camila Cabello/Bad Things-

I’m Friends With the Monster That’s Under My Bed. Get Along With the Voices Inside of My Head

Once E was served with divorce papers, he called me freaking out. It took over two months for my lawyer and I to get everything straightened out on paper and all the proper documents filled out, before he was actually notified on April 29, 2014. All the time between my flying back from Kenya and him being served, I think he thought I was joking, or just playing a game, hoping he would change or something. I honestly don’t know why he was so surprised that I actually filed for divorce. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it…

But, those papers started a whole myriad of amazing lies on his part.  Time after time I was left speechless at the items he put in his “sworn statements.” Things he “promised” were the truth, and it just confirmed to me how much of a liar I’d been married too.

First and foremost, he claimed that he had caught me IN BED with our farm boy that Sunday morning back in January, but no violence occurred, and so he wanted to divorce me because of that. Seriously? At this point E, I don’t even care as long as I get out of this marriage to you. But then it went on to say that I had beat up his mother when I was trying to leave Kenya (claiming she had suffered a concussion) and that the incident with his father and the van never occurred. Oh common.  Next, he said that I owed him some $21,000.00 for some reason. Haha for real? Dude, you haven’t held a long-term steady job our entire relationship! I’ve paid for practically everything in our lives, meaning houses/land, cars, and multiples cross-continental trips every time you had a whim that you wanted to move back and forth between Kenya & Canada. If anything you owe me a ridiculous sum of money. But I wasn’t asking for money. All I wanted was a life free from E. As soon as possible.

Life never works out like that though. Because after I left E, his mental health deteriorated quickly. He slowly stopped answering phone calls, and even texts became too much for him. He started missing meetings with his lawyer which delayed everything even more than necessary. I was on the phone with him one day after not hearing from him for a while. I asked him how he was doing, knowing his past problems with anxiety. He shared with me then, that he was too scared to leave his house to even get groceries. I tried my best to convince him to get help, to find a Dr., or someone he felt comfortable confiding in to talk to, but nothing ever came of it.

Then, a couple of weeks later, he went missing. Not answering calls, or texts. He even missed showing up to a prearranged visit with the kids. So I got worried. Just because I no longer wanted to be the man’s wife, didn’t mean I wanted anything bad to happen to him (or anyone). So the search was on. He had been staying with a guy from work, who said he hadn’t seen him in a couple of days (also mentioned that E owed him rent money if I felt like paying, haha no thanks). I called his work, who said E didn’t show up to the plane to head up to camp for his latest shift. I called some of his family in Kenya, as well as his one brother living in the States… No one had heard from him.

So I ended up calling the police to file a missing person report. I explained that he might be dangerous, and that he didn’t have all his faculties at the moment. They, again, weren’t helpful. They explained that even if they did find him, they couldn’t do anything. E was a grown ass man. If he didn’t want anyone to know where he was, then the police couldn’t inform me of his whereabouts even if they did locate him. Fine. I was just trying to be helpful. It’s the middle of January and I’m thinking he’s out on the streets somewhere, afraid of life and no ones around to help. And I felt bad. During this time, I felt bad for leaving him. I felt like I had been the stability in his life, and maybe if I had stayed with E, then his illness would’ve never progressed to this point. I felt like my leaving him had “pushed him over the edge” so to speak.

But then a phone call came. It was E, and he was on his way across the country. He told me he had sold everything he owed except what fit in one suitcase, and had bought a bus ticket to Ottawa. What??? WHY??? Oh, C. Don’t ask a mentally ill person to explain their actions… because then you get answers like the following.

He felt like people were out to get him, and so he didn’t feel safe where he was. Umm Ok? Why Ottawa though? Two reasons, he has one friend from Kenya who lived there, and the Kenyan Embassy was located there. What the heck is the Embassy going to do? You need a Doctor! I couldn’t hear much else over the phone so our call was ended abruptly since the bus was going through a tunnel of sorts, but I knew he was at least alive. I called his family to let them know where he was and to let the friend in Ottawa know to expect E. I had to then call the police and cancel my missing person report, even though I knew they had been putting zero effort into finding him.

Another month or so went by with no word from E. Until finally one day I receive an email from his email address, but I knew right away it wasn’t him who had written it. “He” asked how the kids were doing and also needed some paperwork from me. I emailed back asking where he had been for the last month, and who was writing his emails and then they whole story came out. Kinda… Well as good as it gets with this man.

After he got to Ottawa, he somehow found his old rugby buddy and stayed with him for a bit. But the “voices” became too much for him. And the paranoia was so bad, that his friend found him one morning sleeping UNDER the bed. So at that point, his friend took him to the hospital. Where he’d been officially diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, depression and extreme anxiety. He was locked up in the pysch ward, fed a concoction of medication, and hadn’t had access to his phone or email until that day, since he had earned access outside the ward. His therapist had helped him write the email to me.

In some ways I felt relieved that he was finally getting help. I felt like it validated my feelings of frustration. Trying for years to make a marriage work. A relationship work. But constantly feeling like I wasn’t getting through. Feeling like he was never listening to me. In a way, he never was. He was listening to the voices in his head. The voices telling him everyone was against him. That I was against him. It explained a lot, and although it didn’t forgive his behaviour, it made me feel like less of a failure. Like I had done all that I could, but he was legitimately ill. I could’ve tried ’til I was blue in the face, but nothing would’ve helped our marriage. Not until he received the proper care he needed, and I and others had continually suggested. And now he was getting it.

E was held in the psychiatric ward for about 4-5 months. The doctors called me a few times asking for a little background information, and informing me of his treatment plan. I had to explain many times that we were no longer a couple and that no, I wouldn’t be helping him once he was released. E ended up staying with his friend in Ottawa for about 3 months once he was released from the ward. The Doctors wanted to make sure he was following up on his medication and counselling, letting me know that there is no cure for his condition, and that he would be on medication for life. Also letting me know that a relapse is likely, and that if there was a history of violence, there was a strong possibility of more violence.

E’s friend was fine with having him stay there, but after a while, I could tell that he was getting a little frustrated with E’s extended stay, and I had to break it down to E. He couldn’t live with his friend forever. His friend was married with two kids, and although I’m sure they’d enjoyed this catch up time, he and his wife probably wanted to get back to their own life. E was able to call his old job and get his previous position back for himself, even though his hours/duties had to be modified. I was probably just as glad as his friend was for him to start back at work, because I’d been missing out on child support payments for the last 8-9 months.

Now that E is on medication, he is a little more reliable as far as payments for the kids go, but the meds have changed him. He is constantly tired and has gained a solid 50 lbs. His thinking has slowed dramatically and it’s like talking to a kid. When he does get to see our kids (about once a month) he takes them to the same place and sits there while he watches them play. Actually, now that I think about it… that’s pretty much how he was before minus the weight gain. So not much has changed.


-Eminem/Monster-

I Remember All the Feelings and the Day They Stopped

Last summer, after I bought my own house (Yeah me!), I fell back into old habits (Boo me). Like they say, old habits die hard. I hadn’t slept with anyone since I had left E almost 2.5 years ago, since I had more important things to focus on.  So I was just really wanting that feeling of someone else in bed with me. I was looking for a companion… kinda. Nah that’s a lie. Lol I just wanted to be fucked really good. You know that really good sex where you forget everything else that’s happening in the world and its just your body feeling so far beyond sensational you can’t move… That’s what I wanted. I wanted mind blowing sex that would make me forget my crappy life. A lot to ask for from a guy I most likely met 5 minutes before, but I was willing to take on that challenge. So of course I started looking in all the wrong places, which lead me to all the wrong guys. Duh.

With most of the guys I’ve slept with since last summer (2016) I’ve held my hard and fast rule of one and done. We had our one night stand and you were half decent, but it wasn’t the scandalous, mind blowing night I was looking for, so I’m moving on. Most.

But one guy wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was looking for friends and connections too, and it had been a while since he’d slept with someone as well. For reasons very different from mine. K (or C.J./F.P./G… seriously who the fuck needs that many names? Figure out who you are and run with it.) had just gotten out of prison. Yea, I know how to pick ’em hey. But for real, I don’t judge anyone on anything. I have my own messed up past, who am I to judge.

Anyways we hooked up for the first time back in August and then somehow it never stopped. He called like a week later and I was honestly surprised to hear from him. He convinced me that for some reason we needed each other at that time. Then the calls continued and I started enjoying the late night chats. Then the meet ups became more and more frequent. We have both been through a shit ton of crap in our respective lives and it’s like we could understand each other without judgement. I thought.

We went out one time together in October. I had gotten tickets from work to an Opera and K agreed to go with me. Ohhhh that night. lol. I put way more effort into it then it was worth. At this time I had considered a relationship with K, but he was adamant about it only being a friends with benefits type thing. Which he told me flat out at the beginning. I was totally cool with that, but I was getting attached. It’d been so long since a guy had treated me with any type of kindness and I completely let unwarranted emotion overrun me. In more recent months, when I think about it, I realize the fruitlessness of K and I ever being anything long-term, but back then, I was still in the mindset of anything was better then nothing.

So at the Opera, I was actually really excited to spend the night with him and to see how it went. K, on the other hand was super nervous. Let’s just say he’s not the Opera type. He’d just spent 4.5 years in prison, and before that it’s not like he lived in the classy suburbs and frequented upper class shit like this. I didn’t either, but I think I was a little more prepared then him. He was so concerned about being the only black person there and felt so uncomfortable that he never even noticed how I had bought a new dress or straightened my hair, or any of the things about me that night.

So, I tried to make him feel at ease, stopping for food for him, even though it was going to make us late, which is a HUGE pet peeve of mine. Giving him a hand job during the performance. Making sure he had a couple drinks to relax, even though it was against his parole (not my problem). Then after the Opera, we went for pizza, and messed around outside the pizza joint before he had to head home. And that was my night. To be honest it was fun, even when he was swearing during the Opera and everyone was looking. 😉

Not fun though? Was when I got pregnant around Christmas. It was super stressful for myself and K too I’m sure. I’m already a single mom of 2 kids and although I’m not a fan of abortion, I also am not prepared for a third right now. Some day, maybe. Not now though. K said he would go with me if I wanted to handle it. He said he would be with me the whole time. Turns out I lost it on my own. When I say on my own, I mean it completely alone. K made me PROVE it to him! I had to send pictures to him of my tampon covered in blood. It was a humiliating time. I had awful cramping and just felt like crap, and K just wanted proof. I had to deal with it lying in bed by myself. It wasn’t good. Shortly after, K decided it would be better if we stopped messing around, and were just friends. Fine, whatever. (Every little bit of attitude intended)

So we were just friends. And somewhere during this time, I made an awful mistake and introduced K to my kids. I will always regret this, because my kids love him, and I know how much it will hurt them when he’s done his parole and heads back home. He’s really good with them, and they have so much fun with him, that it hurts me to think about the pain they will go through when he leaves. They have no role model in their dad, and I’m not saying K is a great role model, but he spends time with them and makes them feel special when he’s around, which is more then their father has ever done. Little E wants to call K constantly, and I have to always make excuses about “K is working or busy” And Z is learning about family and always includes K in her list of family. Plus now recently she’s been making a list of who she wants to invite to her 4th birthday party. Yep you guessed it, K made it on the list. Front and center.  I’ve tried talking to K about cutting off this friendship entirely (Something I’ve tried a couple times) to avoid the kids any deeper pain, but he keeps convincing me it’s better to have it for now then nothing at all or something like that. I dunno…

Either way, sometime in Feb/March, our whole platonic friendship plan was thrown out the window again. He came over to watch a movie… and a drink or two was involved, and then clothes were off. Which led to whole emotional (on my part) conversations, and me feeling ridiculous. Because the reason he wanted to be just friends in the first place was because he didn’t feel like he was in a good place for a relationship now. But felt good enough to get back together with an old girlfriend for a few weeks while we were chill. It just brought back all the old feelings of “I’m not good enough” again.

Like seriously what the fuck is so wrong with me that I’m undateable? Whatever.

The whole reason I started this particular post though, was because last night, K called. He said he can’t read my blog anymore. K is the only one in my life I have told about my blog and who knows me personally that reads it. Because we’ve been through enough together, and on my part I just tell him like it is, and he knows most of the junk in my life anyways… He tells me some of the stuff in his life but I also know he keeps a shit ton of it away from me.

Now, apparently, my life is to crappy for him to read. He once told me he would be there for me no matter what, even when he goes back home next year. But now, he can’t even be supportive over the fucking internet let alone from back home. It’s like what am I supposed to say to that? Sorry my shitty life is to difficult for you to READ? Try living it?

I have always been there to support K, even when I didn’t want to. Even when he went through messed up junk I didn’t want to take part in. Because I thought that’s what friends did. I supported him even when he told me about why he went to prison, or even things he didn’t go to prison for. I was there for him during his search to get a job, and his struggles to adjust to life outside prison. I was there for him when he broke up with his girlfriend (although I told him honestly that it was hard for me to be objective in that circumstance because I was glad they broke up). I was there for him when he knew he was going to fail a piss test and thought he was going to get sent back to max. I watched him sleep on my couch for almost an hour to make sure he was still breathing after he had drank bleach to try and alter the urine sample (on the stupid advice of some other chick). All the while thoughts going through my head about what if he dies on my lap. Even simple stuff like going out to buy cables and driving over to boost his car. I’ve tried my best to be a good friend.

But no, he can’t read a post every once in a while. Among many other things I’ve realized. Like cancelling on important banquets he promised (actually promised) to come to. Or agreeing to go to the shooting range only to bail out once he found out other friends would be there. Or May 19… It’s like being seen in public with me is to difficult for him. 

Fine, I don’t want to ask to much of one man. But I thought if anyone could somewhat understand a life with as much pain as mine, it would be K. 

Wrong again.

We may be kindred spirits so to say, but we are not on the same level. 

-Our Lady Peace/Innocent-