Give Up

Sometimes it’s the only option left, giving up.

This is now my truth. I just have to learn how to deal with it.




Occasionally, I can’t help but to stop and imagine how my life would’ve been if I’d met someone else at the time I’d met my soon-to-be-ex (henceforth known as STBX). If I’d gone back to college earlier, gotten the career I love now, and met someone else.

Would I have been married to a medical professional? Someone who shares the same passions for the intellectual side of life? Someone who is as motivated as I am to make a difference? Would I have ever had children or would I have been too busy focusing on my career to slow down and make time for a family? Would I have stayed in the same midwestern state my whole life? Would I have traveled the world? Would I have ever lived in London or New York City or some other large city?

I think the biggest questions I always come up with are: Would I have been happy? Could I have avoided all of this heartache and sorrow?

And the final question: Could I have ever lived my life without my beautiful children?

That question always stops me in my tracks. No matter the heartache, the pain, the devastation, and sorrow I have endured over these past five years, I would do it all over again because STBX gave me those beautiful girls. They are everything. They make the questions fade away. I look at them and I know I did it all right. Even though I’m coming out the other side, damaged and broken, I know that they are worth it.

Six AM Ramblings

It’s 6:00 in the morning. I’ve been awake since 3:30 due to little people taking up all the space in my bed. I moved both of them back into their beds, but E came back in here a mere 45 minutes later for snuggles.
I haven’t been able to fall back to sleep, but that’s okay. I get to snuggle with my sweet girl. I get to see just how much she’s grown yet is still my baby. I can see just how much she is like her daddy, maybe not in looks because let’s be honest, my kids look exactly like me, but in her mannerisms. They are currently sleeping exactly the same and, guys, I wish pictures would do this view justice because it is

There have definitely been days lately that I wonder what the hell I was thinking in having a kid, let alone two of them, but when all is quiet like this? It’s my happy place. My girls mean the world to me and even when everything is going wrong in so many different areas of my life, they are always what’s going right.


This post is me writing out of anger.  J’s 11yo step-son is a nasty, spiteful, disrespectful, and full of hatred towards me.  I’ve been trying for years now to correct the situation. Nothing has worked.  So I backed wayyyyy off.  C has spent every single day after school for the last four weeks down at his grandfather’s house.  Not once have I bothered to keep him home.  Because I don’t want him here.  I don’t want to listen to him scream and rant and rage at me anymore.  I don’t want my daughters anywhere near him.  He’s not a healthy child nor a healthy rolemodel for the rest of his siblings.  He refuses to acknowledge a no and will keep asking and asking and asking until he gets a yes.  Definitely not someone I want around my kids.  No means no.  It does not mean keep asking until you get a different answer.  His entitled attitude is what leads tosomeone assaulting   women.  To him growing up to be a rapist at the very worst, a complete asshole at best.  Not who I want my kids to be around.

His mother refuses to get him counseling.  His dad, my idiot husband, and his mom both, let him do whatever he wants with absolutely no consequences. He’s allowed to treat me like shit, fail in school, beat up his brother, tell me “fuck you”, and NOTHING will ever be done to correct him.

So I want no part of this child.  And have zero intentions of being in his life when he’s older.  That means I won’t be going to his high school graduation.  I won’t be going to any wedding unless it’s to warn his future wife of how sexist and misogynistic he is.  I won’t call his children my grandchildren.  My daughters will never, ever be alone with him.

It’s up to his bio parents to fix this mess they created.  I’m out and my girls are out.

Years ago, I was a cutter.  My last day of cutting was December 12th, 2011.  I still remember bits and pieces of that day, but not all.  You see, the reason I don’t remember much of it is because while I was cutting myself that day, I also attempted suicide.  I had hit the end of my ability to deal with the daily physical and mental abuse I was receiving from my ex.  I had been with him for almost four years and I had turned into a shell of myself.  Throughout those four years, I was abused often.  I eventually blamed myself every time I was hit or cussed out.  So I resorted to cutting.  This was an unfortunate coping mechanism I had learned when I was a teenager to help me deal with the aftermath of a sexual assault, but that’s a story for another time.

Cutting was my release.  It was a way of turning my internal pain into external pain.  I was much better at dealing with external pain than the internal.  But, I finally went into therapy full-blown after I left him in order to fix my broken pieces.  And I did.  I’m so much better today emotionally, mentally, and physically. 

However, the scars remained.  They were a very visible reminder of how much I hated myself.  I’ve looked at those scars every single day for years now.  I always wanted to cover them up because that isn’t me anymore.  That pain is no longer part of me.  I am loved. I am loved by my friends, by my family, by my husband, by my children, and most importantly, by myself.  I needed something beautiful to look at instead.  But, I never could decide for sure what I wanted.

That all changed when my dad died.  I knew almost instantly what I wanted on my arm, and yesterday I finally got it.  His words to me, and to my siblings, all the time and especially when I was struggling to find myself again.

“Love you, kiddo.”

No matter what was going on in my life, in my mind, and during any of my darkest days, I always knew I was loved.  Even when I didn’t believe it or love myself, he made sure to tell me.  What better way to remind myself that I got past the worst and into the best by forever having my daddy’s words on the visual representation of the ugliest parts of my life?

I will forever cherish the memories of my dad, and I will forever be grateful that he loved me even when I didn’t love myself.


Today is a big day for my household.  Q and I are going to be touring the preschool at our local museum to decide if I am going to register her for the coming school year.  This is the first step in her official educational journey and I am so excited and nervous for her.  I would love to get it off to a good start with choosing the perfect preschool, but I’m so nervous to make the wrong decision.  This is something that J and I haven’t really discussed much because he says he trusts me to make the right choices for the girls’ schooling.  Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, babe, but this feels like a huge decision and I don’t really want to choose by myself.

I know he’ll support me whatever I decide, especially since I am far more vocal and informed on education than he is, simply because I want the absolute best for my kids.  I’m not saying he doesn’t, don’t get me wrong, but we have different ways of giving our kids the best.  He busts his butt working to make sure I can stay home and care for them as a stay at home mom.  He snuggles with them, comforts them, helps cook meals for them, and makes certain we can afford to splurge on them if we want to.  We each have our strengths and weaknesses when it comes to our parenting styles, and thankfully, they mesh really well with the other persons.

But, still…. this is not only a big step for Q, but also for me. I mean, come on…. my baby is going to be starting school. 😩

Also, here is a crab emoji, just because Q wanted to show everyone: 🦀