Rude Awakening

Waking my daughter up can be a challenge. Neither one of us are morning people so it can be pretty tricky. That being said, I thought today would be a little different since this particular morning I am was in good spirits. Well I was wrong.

I decided to let this kids sleep in a little longer since we had a busy day yesterday and for my daughter is was a particularly rough day. She’s had a really bad attitude as of late and we’ve taken away a lot of her privileges as a result. Needless to say she is not happy.

As I gently woke her up this morning she tells me, “I wish I could fly.” Thinking this is cute I respond.

“Awe, I wish I could fly too sometimes. Why do you wish you could fly?” I’m thinking she’s about to say something really cute…. I was mistaken.

“I wish I could fly so I could get away from you.” Her voice is so cold and filled with spite. I was rather shocked that this tone could come from a five year old. It was like a dagger of ice ran straight through my heart. Am I really that horrible a mother for my daughter to respond to me in such a way?

No matter what we try, her behavior has gotten worse and worse and worse. I constantly try to talk to her about feelings and how she’s not the only one who has them and that most of the time the right thing to do is to consider another person’s feelings before you speak or act upon something. I try to talk to her about how she’s feeling and let her know how her bad behavior makes me feel.  Nothing seems to work long-term.

I’ve shut down this morning. I tried not to and I’m trying to break out of it, but I’ve shut down. I’m distant, going through the motions. Once again doing the bare minimum. I’m not engaging in my children because I’m too angry and too wounded. I haven’t eaten anything this morning and I’m now getting a headache because of it, but I’ve lost my appetite.


She has come to me since I started writing this and given me a tearful apology. She gave me a hug which I could not return at first. Not because I didn’t want to, but because when I’m in this state I can’t stand being touched. It’s almost physically painful for me to endure it. Despite my desire to do so, I did not push her away, but I could not return it. Instead we talked about how we both feel. She told me she was sorry again and gave me another hug which I was able to return this time. I feel bad for thinking this, but I feel like she’s only apologized so she can get what she wants. I told her she can’t have any juice, instead she will only be allowed to have plain water. This did not please her and minutes after I told her that I got the apology followed by, “Can I please have some ice water then after I finish it can I have some juice?” So I’m feeling like it was not a very sincere apology.

I’m so worried about her development. She seems to be very manipulative and is really good at making others feel sorry for her.I’m hoping this is just part of the “terrible toddler” phase and soon she will grow out of it because I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I’m not a very strong person in this area. I’ve been told many times not to take what children say personally because most of the time they don’t really understand how their words impact others, but that’s exactly what makes it so painful. Their harsh words are exactly how they feel. They have yet to grow that filter that keeps us from saying what we’re really feeling in that moment of anger or hurt.

Until recently I thought I was doing a decent job at this whole Motherhood thing. Motherhood doesn’t come naturally to me so I often criticize myself very harshly which is something that adds to my cycle of misery. I have some really good motherly instincts, but as a whole motherhood is something I struggle with. I love my children so much and I walk around in such fear because if something happens to any of my children I will lose my mind. Literally. I know that will be my snapping point. I don’t know how other mothers can watch their hearts walking outside of their bodies and not live in utter fear. That’s another post for another time. This one has gone on long enough.

Internet Responsibly People

The internet is a wonderful thing. Or at least it can be if you use it responsibly. It’s so sad to see so many fools misusing it.

A couple days ago someone added me to their Snapchat. I added them back and there we sat. He added some stories and it was captioned with (I’m assuming) Arabic or some language similar. I love seeing things like that from other countries. The next day I received a message from this individual. He was lifting up his shirt to so me he was wearing an undershirt I guess because that’s all I saw was a black, skin tight undershirt and that he was skinny. Oh, maybe that’s what he was trying to show me, that he was a man in good shape. I decided to respond with a picture of my own:

My Wedding Ring!
My Wedding Ring!

You know, just to make it clear I’m not on Snapchat for some skanky photo sharing. His next message was just so romantic and it’s something every lady loves to hear, “I want to see your pussy” Such poetry. I was so moved by his words I decided to block him for fear I might fall in love.

Seriously though, I’m not in the mood for such shit. I added him because I assumed he was someone who follows me on here (and if this person is a follower of mine: Shame on you) that’s the only reason I added him. I love to connect with people, especially those in other countries. I love to share photos of new places and experiences and to find out the many ways your culture is different from mine, but what I do not like is being put in a raunchy situation.

The internet and social media have made making connections ridiculously easy on a global scale and it is our responsibility to use it properly.

It’s Darkest Before the Dawn

There are far too many pointy things in this house. At any given moment I am less than three feet from something I could easily harm myself with. Tonight I am hating myself. Last night’s recurring nightmare has fucked me up. I’m emotionally raw, vulnerable, and horribly exposed to the elements. Trying to keep your outward appearance collected while you’re falling to bits on the inside is exhausting work. I thought I was doing fine earlier today, but as the sun set the darkness began consuming.

I’m sick of feeling so many emotions from a plethora of instances. I want to cut the feelings out of me. I want to choke the life out of my own emotions whom have become their own entities. I want to slit their throats and feel their warm blood spill over my hands. I want to wrap my hands so tightly around their necks until I can not longer feel them struggle for breath. I want to take red hot metal and repeatedly burn them until their screaming stops. But in order for me to get to them I have to go through me. Going through me is no longer an option.

I remember a game my ex boyfriend used to play with me. He’d carry around a backpack with him filled with random things he would need throughout the day. He enjoyed pulling out each item from his bag and tell me in detail how he would torture and kill me with each one. He was very creative. This was all in “good fun” of course and our friends would laugh and applaud him for his stunning imagination and I would smile and nod on the outside, but inside I was mortified. Those tales have inspired my demons.

I’m feeling very torn down. I feel like everything the hateful men in my past have said to me is true. I am not meant for happiness. Love is not real. I’m only good one thing and it’s what I have between my legs. This is not fair to my husband. He rescued me from my living nightmare and he has done his best to heal me, but unfortunately he is not very emotionally in-tune so my erratic emotions are a foreign language to him and we aren’t understanding each other very well.

We got into a fight about yugioh. I finally broke down and told him I’m sick of fighting about it. I told him to do whatever he wants to do and I will just let it be. I will never again argue with him about it. That didn’t go over as well as I had hoped. I did not say that too him to guilt trip him or anything like that because that shit doesn’t work with him. I have the intention on just letting it go and hopefully I will become numb and indifferent to it so it won’t cause me so much agony. Why does it cause me so much agony? I have no fucking clue. I really don’t know why I hate it so much, but I do. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I have tried everything I can think of to be ok with it. I really have. I know the change has to happen with me because I am the one with the problem. There is nothing wrong with him having this hobby, but I just can’t accept it.

I am just done fighting him on this subject. I can’t do it anymore. I have very little fight left within me and I need to save that fight for bigger battles with my demons. I have little more to spare for much else. I am trying to pick my battles and yugioh is one I have no desire to fight. I will never like the game. But I refuse to let some fucking cards get in the way of my marriage and the only way I know how to prevent that is to just be numb to them. Eventually I will get used to the shit and it will no longer phase me. Hopefully.

All I know is I can’t deal with the shit going on inside my own head AND fight my husband with this any more. I just don’t want to hurt anymore. I’m tired of feeling like I have an open and bleeding wound that no one else can see. I’m the only one that can stitch it up, but I don’t have the time. I just want one day of peace. One day where I don’t worry or feel vulnerable.

I feel the urge to cut myself going away. Slowly, but steadily. I feel like I can leave this room now without being overwhelmingly tempted to grab something sharp. Which would be very nice since I am freezing my ass off in here. Unfortunately I have passed the point of being able to go to sleep. If I sleep now I will only be doing more harm than good. I’m hoping I’ll get my third wind here shortly. Maybe I’ll actually be productive today. Here’s hoping.


I don’t even know what to say anymore. I’ve said it all. It all fell upon deaf ears.

I surrender. I can’t fight any more. I don’t have much fight left. For anything. Today was a bad day. You knew I was struggling for the better part of it. I can’t deal with this shit and your shit at the same time.


I am a horrible person. I am selfish and needy and I have a bad case of tunnel vision. I’m unsupportive, I’m constantly raging out, I’m erratic and overly emotional, and I have my husband stuck between a rock and a hard spot.

I’m disgusted with myself. I’m disgusting living in my own skin. I want to cover or break every reflective surface so I never have to face myself. My tears feel so cold against my skin. Like ice running down my face and dropping on my chest. They’re giving me goosebumps. I am a miserable human being. Why I am so miserable I have no idea.

My headphones are about to blow out my eardrums, but they still can’t drown out the whispers of my demons. They have a strong hold on me tonight.

Why am I writing all of this? Why am I putting it out on display? Because writing this is the only thing keeping me from cutting myself. There is nothing I want more right now than to rip my own skin open. To watch myself bleed. In my current state I would go deeper than I’ve ever intentionally gone and I wouldn’t care. I’d be too tempted to give into my demons. So here I sit, in a dark room, headphones blaring, vision blurry from tears, letting my fingers write whatever it is my heart and soul are screaming.

I’m sick of feeling like a monster. I’m sick of feeling caged. I’m sick of feeling bound to these creatures forsaken by God. I’m sick of the images that haunt me. Things I dare not share here.

I’m sick of feeling. I want to be numb, cold, and still.

If anyone is still reading, this is not a suicide note. I wish I didn’t exist, but I do and because I exist and I have children I want to watch them grow. I want to raise them well so I will have living, breathing proof that I have done at least three things right. Three wonderful things out of a lifetime of fuck ups. I can live with that.

I hope they will one day understand I love them more than my own life and I will do anything and everything in my power to keep them safe. I hope none of them go through a fraction of what I have. I wish this pain upon no one. Not even my enemies. I hope they will realize I am only human and I am flawed, but I have loved them from the start.

Disturbing & Disgusting Nightmare

Nearly two years ago I had a disturbing dream that has sat in the darkest corner of my mind, haunting me, beckoning me to come figure it out, but never helping me to try and figure it out. Last night I had that dream again. Why it waited two years to come back to the surface I may never know, but it was just as disturbing as the first time.

I was in a lavish house, almost palace like. Large windows that went from floor to vaulted ceiling, opened wide, and had flowing, sheer white curtains. I was sitting amongst a large group of people (my friends I’m assuming, though I don’t actually recognize any of their faces) and we laughed, drank, and had fun. I leave to go to the bathroom and as I enter I start to bleed from my vagina. Not menstruating, but heavily bleeding as if I’ve been cut. I scream for help and a few people rush in and lay me down in the bathtub holding towels to me while we wait for paramedics. Suddenly I’m sitting out in the common area again and everyone is laughing and having fun, but I’ve now got a large tube coming from within me and I’m holding the end of it closed as I watch it fill up with blood. The pressure becomes to great and I can no longer hold it closed and blood goes everywhere. I scream and cry and no one seems to hear me.

I try and try to stop the flow and finally I am able to keep the tube closed. I look out the large windows and in the distance I can sense the presence of lionesses. An entire pride lurking just beyond my visual field. I know they can smell my blood. I scream at everyone in the room, but it’s as if none of them can hear me. Like I don’t actually exist.


Suddenly everyone is gone. I’m left alone, holding a tube that keeps bursting open, and I can feel the lionesses coming closer. Next thing I know I’m pushed down onto a chair and a man resembling Freddy Krueger is in my face and he speaks to me. “Do you like what I’ve done to you?” He asks menacingly as he raises his bladed hand, moving his fingers around so I can see blood, my blood, dripping from them. Flashbacks begin to race through my mind as I “remember” him shoving is hand up my vagina and mutilating me. I scream in terror and he rips the tube from me and I bleed profusely. I try to hold my hand over my wound and stop the bleeding, but it’s futile. The lionesses are now coming through the window and Freddy is laughing with a crazed look in his eyes as he watches the lionesses begin to bite into me.


I wake up in a cold sweat and tears running down my face. I hate this dream. It’s haunted me for two years and just as it started to fade from my memories I am forced to relive it and it is now so very fresh in my memory. I don’t understand what my subconscious is trying to tell me other than I’ve been sexually abused in the past. Yes, thank you Brain, I already know this. So why are you reminding me of this? What purpose will having this horrific nightmare serve?

Trying to carry on with my day-to-day life, caring for my children, and just doing what I need to do while this is so fresh in my mind is near impossible. My heart feels as though it will burst from my chest at any moment. At the current moment I have no one I can confide in so I’m stuck here, trying to ground myself so my mind doesn’t get carried away with reliving this nightmare while I’m awake.

It’s not working out too well.

Midnight Venting

I am doing everything wrong. I don’t call people to keep in touch with them. I don’t write hand written letters. I text, message, and/or email. It’s not a disconnect thing or even a technology thing, it’s an I-can’t-hear-you-on-the-phone-very-well thing.

I don’t keep in touch with my family members very well and I can count the number of old high school buddies I talk to on one hand and still have fingers left over.

I’m so distant from my family in California and I have very little knowledge of what’s going on out there, but I’m not completely out of the loop.

A few months ago, before I deleted my Facebook account, I got into a minor fight with my youngest sister over a post I made. It was an article I had come across via a friend and it was about girls who grow up without a dad. I made a remark about how I had two chances at having a dad and they both sucked and I was able to relate very well to everything in that post. I took a stab at my ex step-father, saying something along the lines of how he was/is a terrible father and that pissed my youngest sister off and she asked me to remove my post. I refused.

That didn’t go over too well. I apologized for offending her, but it’s how I truly feel so I would not be taking it down. She went on to defend the ass and trash our mother while I did the opposite. She took a stab at me by remarking on how I’m way out here and haven’t come back to visit since I’ve left. Something that is out of my hands given the fact that I have three young children of my own and flying home costs money we don’t have.

I want so badly to go back to California for a visit. But I have some concerns:
1. My mom no longer lives in Southern CA, she’s in Northern CA and I would obviously be staying with her since my ex step-dad and I have absolutely no love or respect for one another.
2. I wouldn’t even know how to go to my old house to see them. If he answers the door I’m not sure what would happen. If my siblings answer the door I wouldn’t be able to go inside because, well, animosity.
3. I don’t even know if my siblings want anything to do with me.

My youngest sister is the bright, shiny apple of her Daddy’s eye. He is able to live vicariously through her because she is involved in something he loves more than probably anything. She has not seen what I have or lived through what I have lived through. She has not felt the terror he made me feel. She doesn’t not live with the anxiety I live with that stems from him. She claims he’s changed, but how could I know since I am not there. I told her if he’s willing to call me up and apologize for the shit he’s put me through then I am willing to listen and reconsider how I view him, but until that happens I will continue to see him as nothing more than a monster.

I have yet to receive a call. And I expect to never get one.

The situation is killing me slowly on the inside. I’ve told all of them they can talk to me pretty much any time. I can’t always pick up the phone and call them because I have a long list of things I need to get done in the day. Being a stay-at-home mom is anything but a vacation. Just because I’m home all the time doesn’t mean I’m free all the time to do whatever I want. If someone reaches out to me I will make time, but if no one reaches for me I need to keep doing what I need to do. I can’t always be the only one reaching.

Can And Will Be Used Against You: Real Life Research

This is oh so very true! I absolutely love this!

Bare Knuckle Writer

The tractor sent flowers to the hospital for Al, which everyone agreed was very classy for a piece of heavy machinery.

Whenever I’m around people and one of them tells the often-embarrassing tale of a particularly weird thing that happened to them or around them, the following happens:

Person Who Didn’t Tell The Story: *turns to me* That’s going to turn up in a story one day, isn’t it?

Me: Probably, but I’ll change the names so only we know who did it.

Person Who Told The Story: *nervous laughter*

It must be how psychologists feel whenever people start acting “normal”* when they’re around.

Rest easy: most of those stories you tell me and mine do not end up in our writing. Sometimes it’s because real life really is stranger than fiction; I still find it hard to believe than a well-educated person who had…

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