moving_mountains_91

Can we all agree that it is time to change history, before it’s too late? Can we agree that kids are dropping like flys, at the cost of their young struggles - that are somehow so grown up all of a sudden? At minimum, can we just agree that change is imperative - or we are all doomed? Oh and that if we don’t continue to change, the change won’t stick...Think about this with me. As we get older, we become more responsible. We start to make “for better or worse” decisions and choices. We eventually try to  put on our big people panties and take on life, so to say. With time, comes obstacles, and with obstacles comes viewpoints. Basically, we all go through shit, and we take that and create our own personal views of the world, of what’s wrong and right with it, and based on that we make personal choices of who we want to be. We try to become what we follow and then we try to stand by what we preach. And then we live our life like that. As we get older, different things start to matter in different ways and we go through different struggles - in some sort of fashion - and those struggles mold our very beings.

Get real - out of all the ups and downs that one is bound to go through in life, most prefer the good times over the struggle. But the truth is, we ride through the good times like they will always exist. Like times won’t change one day. But they will. They always do. Another struggle is always bound to come - eventually. And following that, there will be another way back up - at least eventually - if you try. Something got you to the point you are at. Some struggle, from a previous day, got you to the moment you are currently living right now. And those struggles are just as important, if not more important, than the good that you got from them. We live in the moment, or try to at least, and then we try to grow. And when we do grow, we slowly forget to remember the dark moments that got us there, for what they were actually worth. Coming from someone who was a previous fuck-up, it almost feels more natural to frown upon the bad. It becomes easier to hide the pain of  what you previously went through under the progress that you have built. And it’s always been more of the norm to rep the good on your shield over the ugly. It doesn’t take a genius to determine that it's always easier to act like what is not currently in front of us, isn’t still existing. Over time, and for right reasons, we become so proud of who we became, that we forget to applaud our demons for the assist in getting us there. 

Look, beliefs are an important part of every person. Belief systems make up families, communities, cultures, etc. People identify by them and some spend their entire life living up to their belief system. We even make beliefs based on beliefs and within other beliefs. And sometimes those beliefs are taught and sometimes they are decided upon.  Normally, we either teach what was passed down to us, or we have a life-altering experience that makes us decide to go a different way. And that should be okay, you guys. In fact, it should be more than okay. Changing your views means you are growing. It means you are finding a new and improved way to look at life. You are changing, so to say. And those that change, prosper.

If you can’t tell, I am on this huge STOP with the judging riot, picket sign and all. It’s simple. People should be entitled to their own beliefs without you considering your judgmental vantage points. And that’s because there is a reason that people have the beliefs that they have. Something in this world, somewhere, built them to be there - for that one person. Flip it, just for shits and giggles - because it isn’t just the judgement. It's just as much that too many people have their own beliefs, and there aren’t enough people trying to understand the beliefs of others. And when you put both perspectives together, it comes with a dividing line of hate in the game of right and wrong. People deserve to belong…and they deserve to belong because people are human-beings, and they have hearts..and they matter. When we put walls up to keep others out, we do it based on our beliefs of what is actually right and wrong in our own  eyes. And technically, there is nothing wrong with taking that stance…but what’s so wrong with keeping an open mind? Is it so wrong to think that you might be wrong? Or that your belief might exists within your realm, but maybe not in those standing around you? 

We all go through different kinds of experiences, right? We all live very different lives. Hell, we all even live life differently. Think about all the different moments you have each day. Take it further than that…imagine all the people you see out each day…and each one of those people  is experiencing their very own unique version of the moments in front of them. And even when people coexist within moments, they still exist differently. They are lived by the Gamer1 perspective and they are viewed depending on all of the previous moments Gamer1 has lived up until that current moment. I personally struggle with my pride game. I prefer to be right, and I get enjoyment out of proving a point. And damn does it hurt my ego when I am wrong. I will literally beat myself up (in my head, of course) for being wrong - even though I know I am bound to be wrong sometimes. Why though? What’s the point of doing that to myself?

Recently I’ve been recovering from a mental break gone sideways and I’m processing through some of the things I did, said, or believed during the time that I experienced off my medicine and without sleep, and I’m slowly starting to realize how wrong I actually was in those moments and about things that I could have sworn were real at the time - to the point it is almost humiliating. In those moments I didn’t understand how everyone else could go on living such a normal life around me when clearly everything around us wasn’t right…and in those moments I knew that I was right and that all of the things that I was seeing and believing were actually existing around me - which means it had to be existing around them. As I am picking up every single piece by myself, it is becoming more and more clear that what I was experiencing during those moments weren’t actually happening in the real world…but they felt real because of the traumatic memories trapped inside my mind - which I was the only one that had lived through. In short, my experiences weren’t actually happening around me in the way that I thought they were and others definitely weren’t experiencing the same moments that I was experiencing. And I’ve been struggling with swallowing my pride because it felt so fucking real when I was living through it. The more that I am healing, the more that I am realizing that there is nothing I can do to erase those moments. They happened and they are what they are and I can do what I want with them. And that is my choice. And my change. I am learning that what I experienced had to do with my mental health breaking and the C-PTSD episodes that I was experiencing from past traumatic experiences - and the people around that felt entitled to judge actually had zero idea what was going on…in fact, drugs was their first thought and that couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

I am starting to believe that if there isn’t any way to go backwards, then I can only go forward.  I am trying to worry less about being wrong and right…and focus more about the experience for what it actually was. And by doing that I am finding that I’m a lot happier than I previously was when I am by myself…Around certain people (like my family)  I’m still secretly ashamed and embarrassed of what happened - even though it wasn’t my fault. Honestly, it is really sad. It is frowned upon to break. Breaking is determined to be weak. Falling apart is for sure a sign of weakness. And how fucking crazy for someone to see shit that doesn’t actually exist? And how could that even be possible, so stop acting like that already…right? What’s even crazier is that I used to be one of those people, in a different kind of way. I had never been through such an experience myself that I simply didn’t understand what it would be like myself and I definitely didn’t understand how it felt to live through something like that….and I never really though about  how it felt to be someone that had to live with the recovery of having those experiences. I knew what it was like to recover from drug addiction, but that was a choice. Mental Health and Mental Illness exist and you guys let me tell you…they are very fucking real to the person experiencing them. And it shouldn’t matter if you see the why or the how or even the when. Hell, it for sure shouldn’t fucking matter who is right and who is wrong in those situations. 

The truth is that most people go through things in their head that they would never dare admit out loud…and definitely not to a group of people out in public. But what if that could change the world? What if every single adult made the decision to speak up a little more about their true inner self - broken pieces and all? Could that leave behind the possibility that more kids wouldn’t feel so alone in their little beings and they wouldn’t feel they had to live through it alone in their own little world? Maybe, I’m not really sure. But I do know that I was once a broken little girl that suffered through her mental illnesses in silence because I never heard any of the bigger people talking about it themselves and that lead me to believe it was just a me thing for the longest time. I refuse to believe it is just that, though, and we all know that’s the truth. It also led me to believe that I wasn’t worth being wanted and I starting forming other assumptions that I was less than I actually was - and I did that because I live with a mental illness. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I stopped taking my medication and I had zero idea how fast the darkness would come swopping in. Trust and believe ya'll - mental illness fucking sucks. And ones living with it would give anything to get ride of it. 

People shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable living in their own skin that they hide away from the world. And they definitely shouldn’t feel like that just because they suffer from something that a majority of their peers hide due to the shame they personally find in it. Mental illness fucking matters, you guys. It exists. It is out there, even if you haven’t been graciously living with it. And we have to make it matter more that it currently matters. The world should be a safe place to exist, even when we are surrounded by our darkest moments. And when it doesn’t feel safe, we should be able to count on those around us to feel better, rather than fearing the judgement we might end up encountering from them, especially the ones that end up witnessing our most broken moments. I can’t help but think maybe I’ve been looking at this the wrong way. Maybe broken is perfect and perfect is broken, even though that is far from the belief system I was raised in. And maybe those that wander really aren’t lost, but just searching for more than they currently have. And isn’t that the point? Shouldn’t we treat our views and beliefs the same? Shouldn’t those two things continue to change in order for you, as a person, to continue to grow? And isn’t that what we are all out here aiming for? 

Back in my old junkie days, I spent a good amount of time in rehab facilities. And to keep it real, that is one of the safest places I have ever felt to be free - and me. and that’s because everyone there was also a little fucked up - just like me - and they didn’t have a problem admitting it. And that felt safe to me because I knew I wasn’t being judged for my downfalls. It was a safe place to get clean but also a safe place to heal. This go around I wasn’t on drugs, so my house was my safe place, which means I isolated myself in my own misery for a little bit. And that sucks you guys. I’ve lived in that moment. I knew I wasn’t on drugs, but everything in my life started looking just like it did when I was on drugs. I saw the judgement in the eyes of those around me..and trust me - I felt every fucking bit of it. And it hurt. I had to learn how to put up my own wall against ALL other’s and their judgement just in order to be able to get enough inner strength to put my life back together - by my damn self. So that’s what I did…one foot in front of another, day by day until I started finding myself again.

It is taking longer than I’d like to admit but I am starting to come back to me. And I am starting to remember who I can be and who I am under all of my armor. I had to lose myself - again - in order to find the newest version of myself - again, which only means that I am onto the next chapter in my life. For a minute I thought I was losing everything, again. And I wanted to give up. I was barley holding on. BUT - I knew I had been through worse. And I knew if I could make it through that moment, that I could make it through the next one. That’s all you have to do guys. Is just make it through the next moment. And remember that you are always a bystander in someone else’s moments - all the while you have no idea what they are going through in the life they are hiding from the world - and everyone is hiding something from the world. Try to remember that your beliefs and your views don’t always matter. And if they do, you should express them humbly and understand that they may not be received upon the way you wish them to be. 

Don’t be satisfied with where you are at in life. Don’t be content and happy with the progress you have made. It’s okay to change your beliefs, and that shouldn’t come at a price. And it for real takes strength to look someone in the eyes and admit that the way you whole hearty believed was wrong and ended up being at the cost of others. People change. Experiences and moments change people for better or for worse. And sometimes you might have to take 10 steps backwards in order to move onto the next milestone in your life.And sometimes that means leaving behind everything that you have ever known - including your family - to believe in yourself more than you want them to believe in you. 

Our scars make us who we are. Make them the new hot topic at dinner. The world isn’t a perfect place. But it’s a beautiful type of world if you can find the sunshine. That doesn’t come easy for everyone, so keep that in mind that your previous struggles could possibly be what saves the life of another in their more dire moment. Speak up about it now, before it’s too late. You never know when it’s going to be to late when it isn’t something you can predict happening.

The thing with abuse - in any form - is that it ends up being something that the victim has to carry with them forever, long after the abuse stops. It becomes something that they have to live with - forever. And it doesn’t go away once you become a “survivor”. It might become more tolerable, or easier to deal with, but it doesn’t go away. I am speaking from experience. For me, it literally broke me down to the bones while I was living through it. I never knew what I was going to come home too. Or what was going to come home to me. And it didn’t take long for our “home” to become the most dangerous place for me to be, depending on what kind of day my “man” was having. I tried leaving multiple times, but I always let him come back. Once we put a baby in the middle of the equation I had a decision to make. And that decision was going to affect my child either way I played it. I’ve never been good at following my own intuition but I knew if I didn’t leave, my baby was either going to experience the abuse himself or have to watch it happen to his momma right in front of his little eyes. And I couldn’t let my baby go out like that. It took awhile…and eventually there was no going back, or letting him come back. 

Things change over time. And what can feel perfect one day, can feel a whole lot different 5 years later - depending on new circumstances. Right after I left my abusive relationship (and got sole custody of my baby) I felt like things were going to be okay for the first time in a long while. I could breathe and I felt safe knowing that my baby was safe, even though my heart was breaking every single day. There was zero part of me that thought what had happened to me would have caused a long-lasting affect on who I was. It had literally broke my being down to the bones while it is happening but from there I thought it had just became a memory. You know, something that I had to carry with me in the back of my mind for the rest of my life. But what I didn’t realize until 5 years later is how significantly it had changed who I was, and what kind of life I was willing to live. Honestly, I thought things were fine in my head, and that things could only get better. And things did get better - until they became too much (with my new circumstances 5 years down the road). Eventually my mental health started spiraling and I started crashing. That’s when  I experienced my first PTSD episode. That single experience changed my entire life perspective - now that I am beginning to heal from the trauma it left me with. 

See, I recently got divorced. I got married looking for happily ever afters, but it only took a year - and several of his lies later - for me to realize that I had made the second biggest mistake of my life. I ended up making the choice to leave the marriage, rather than work it out. I know, I know…but I knew that if it only took 1 year of marriage for me to be able to admit to myself that I had gotten married for all of the wrong reasons, that divorce was inevitable.  And I also knew that “true love” wasn’t one of the reason’s that I had gotten married. It was a humbling experience and it took his “fuck-ups” for me to be able to express my desire to leave. Once we split, there was no looking back …for me that is. For him, that is a different story. In his heart break, he started coming around my house (our previous house) when he shouldn’t have been. And me catching him was  all it took for me to see that I had a lot more trauma from previously being a battered woman  that I was ever willing to recognize, yet alone understand or feel. 

I have learned that abuse is bound to cause trauma - in some form or another. And sometimes that trauma is so significant that it literally alters the life that one is comfortable living in their own skin. Since my first PTSD episode, I realized that I used to be way more of a ”normal” person than I am now. And by “normal” I mean that I was able to go out in public by myself without feeling paranoid. And I was definitely able to be around other people out in public without feeling the need to run in a different direction. I was even able to live in silent moments without feeling the need to constantly look over my shoulder. Can we be super honest for a minute? Hurt doesn’t secretly go away over time. It is something that we, as humans, learn to live with. We are bred to put one foot forward every day and move on with our lives…but it isn’t that easy for some people. Or it might be in the moment, but years down the road it becomes unmanageable and moving on is nothing short of a long shot, even though you technically already moved on. 

Trauma is infinite like that. It randomly knocks you down, over and over again; and with that same token, it gives you a brand new opportunity to rise again - stronger than the time before. It’s been a dark experience for me, this time around too. I didn’t suffer the bruises or emotional defeat, but it still took my life away, and everything I had built in it - for the moment. And I am struggling with the fact that I am having to rebuild from ground zero - trying to heal from him yet again - years down the road.  Up until the moment I wrote this (5 years post abuse), I never really cared if my abuser walked Free or not. It was more just something that I was grateful to be away from. But that was before I knew that that I am going to have to live with the aftermath of “PSTD Episodes” for the rest of my life. And the more that I heal, and the more time that goes on, the more I am regretting not having a louder voice at a time when it mattered more. And it isn’t because I wan’t him to pay for what he did, although that would be nice. It is more because I am realizing that him and his violent hands are continuing to spread a life altering disease, something I am personally experiencing, at the cost of others - without giving a damn about what happens next in this world. 

Twist with me. I’ve spent a lot of time angry for the damage that he did to me…that I allowed him do to me because I wasn’t strong enough inside to want to stand up to him. And I am more angry now than I was 5 years ago - but it is for different reasons now. And I am hoping that in 5 more years I will look back and probably see at least one of the next stages of “grief”. Right now it sucks, but as I more forward I am feeling the growth - at least internally - even when my life is sucking royally.  And as time moves along I am starting to see that life is what you make it. And basically, you determine what you get - out of what you have had - and it might break you momentarily, but in the end you don’t have to let it all be for nothing. And when the time is right, maybe you will outgrow the pain that you are currently feeling, in a stance of doing what is right in your new view of the world. And those are the moments that will eventually matter more than the pain I am currently feeling, in a new shed light kind of way. Time will change things. It just will. That’s human nature, at best. 

Prior to my recent breakdown. not having a voice when it mattered wasn’t my favorite part of anything. In fact, it seriously fucking sucked. BUT….today I have a louder voice than I ever would have, had I had a voice when it matter. And I am just now learning how to have a voice , which leaves my mind wondering the possibilities of where I can go - if I choose to follow my own light. It takes time to be able to heal from the past. And within time you will find that you are healing from the past, no matter how slowly it seems you are going. That’s what happens when you try to control all of your life. I did that - in an effort of trying to regain what little pride I had left. And I feel more of that pride today, than I have ever felt before because of one reason…I have a reason to be proud. I overcame a life that most don’t ever get out of. And I withstood the struggle in the midst of a very physically abusive relationship. If I can get through that, there is literally no “plane that I can’t learn how to fly…” so to say. 

I’ve got to keep my head up. No matter what, I was built to keep my head up. And if I was built to to keep my head up, that means that you were built to do the same. In your weakest moments, all you have to do is hold on. And it’s fair to say the opposite. Sometimes, in your strongest moments you need to take a step back. Learn instead of live. In all of your moments, be humble and stay kind. Survive until you can live. Live until you can learn. Learn until you can speak. Speak when you need to survive. Break the cycle with me…find beauty in the pain, because there can be beauty in it - if that’s what you make it. 

Having a kind heart matters. And it’s about the only “rule” that I truly care about having in my house. See, I’m the mom that is at home teaching my kid to step in the middle of a fight, IF_and_WHEN he witnesses someone being bullied. He might get in trouble at school, but he will never get in trouble at home for standing up for the right thing. And kids are fucking mean, you guys. Really, all I care about is him having a kind heart.  My mother isn’t always the biggest fan of my parenting style…and she “wouldn’t allow” half of the things that “I allow” - or so she says when she clearly isn’t on board with the way that I “discipline” - or teach my children…But what she and others don't understand is that I’ve been through a different walk of life…and I wasn’t put on this earth to roll with other’s beliefs. I’m more here for the Moana type of life…where listening to “no” in dire situations isn’t what I stand for. Really, it all comes down to kindness - and understanding that there is a reason for everything…and that it is always worth taking the chance to understand that reason before you react to what’s in front of you. 

Listening should always come first - regardless of who you are talking too - but it should never be your only light. Why? Well, it is simple. Sometimes listening to the advice of other’s isn’t worth what you are going to get out of the end game because they don’t see or feel all of what you are going through. At the end of the day, you are the only one who can make your next move. And sometimes, you are going to have to go against everything that you have ever been told just to  prove a point for yourself…and for the ones that haven’t made it to where you are sitting - because we all started somewhere, at it wasn’t from the top.. Let me tell you - I have lived, live, and will continue to live a very different life than most people will ever understand. Honestly, I wasn’t supposed to get out of my previous lifestyle (you know the shooting up herion junkie days of mine)…and I know that by the number of times that EMT had to come rescue my ass. But I did and that doesn’t mean anything other than  I have a different type of light to share with the world…

I eventually started packing up my shit and started moving on from my addiction and those surrounding it. I got a good job and built a new group of friends within that job…and I became a single momma shortly after. Anyways, in an effort to continue my growth, I left out some of the most important parts of my story…See, most of those people in my life now have zero idea what kind of life I actually led before. They know the basics and surrounding details but nobody has the fully story…and I promise only a very few know what I have actually been through…and continue to live through every single day - because at one point I let a man put his hands on me in a very mean way anytime he got mad and he had anger issues. I did let a few people in to some of my darkest or scariest moments, but there are very few that actually know the real me - and why I am the way I am…and why I whole heartedly stand behind the line that I do…

The more time that passes, the more I realize how much I have been holding myself back from healing - just from still being so ashamed. I never shared the bad stuff about my life. I wanted them to like me because it was also my job. I had bills to pay and babes to feed…and people tend to frown upon past junkies…And it wasn’t just my job. It was everybody, everywhere. I learned how to cover up what made me by keeping those details to myself - at the risk of being frowned upon - because I still judged myself. And it wasn’t just the judgement…it was very much the shame that came with the very ugly and dirty life that I was previously consumed in. On top of that, you’d be surprised at how much shame and embarrassment comes along with being a battered woman, especially when you are living through it - or trying to recover from being IT.  

And that’s the point. They have it different than me. They haven’t been through some of the things that I have been through. Trust and believe, that is to their advantage, at the time being, because recovering from and healing from feel the same, and might even look the same just scattered over time. See, recovering from a situation is simply getting on with it, for the time being. And then time happens and the days turn into nights and eventually you start crying less and less. Within time, you may find that you have moved on, but eventually time allows things to come back…and if you never really deal with the pain, it will knock you to your knees - in a different way - time and time again. Time is weird like that. It starts giving you the  chance to think things through. It allows you the opportunity to decide what is worth the pain, and what was a bad judgement call. And in time you live, and learn, and eventually life either makes you or breaks you. And from there you either deal, survive, or conquer.   

I am learning that sometimes you have to take what little  you have and find a way to build an empire with it - even if it doesn’t seem like much to start with.  I am literally playing with fire right now, but I think the trick is finding a way to do it the right way - with the right people - in a humble kind of way - from the ground up..and we all need to do a better job of remembering that for some that might be their very lowest moment. And for other’s it might be their second in line. Don’t you think it would do the world a little bit of good if everyone tried their damn best to think like that? How far could we come if each one of us tried to be more understanding, and less judging? Can you find a way to let another’s perspective in, without truly walking a day in their shoes? 

Break down a little with me...

I’ve spent the last few months hardly ever taking my headphones off. First, it was a distraction during work, from work, while working. It didn’t take long before my house was too quiet and I just couldn’t think straight without some sort of noise. Some might say that is sure to happen when you are a single momma of 2 kids with 2 dogs and a work from home job - without any friends. Really, the music was the only way to drown out the loneliness that my life had become. Eventually, music and time was all I had on my plate…It has been a bittersweet experience. It started as a means of surviving and as I am healing I am finding more to laugh at than if I didn’t have music playing...Honestly, you should try it. It almost makes life feel like you are living in the middle of a movie…with background noise and all - if you let it. And from there you can make it what you want - and you can do it in your own way - without having to worry about the judgements of others, which is currently one of my personal goals. 

It wasn’t that long ago that I couldn’t get a word out of my mouth - with enough courage for anyone on the other side of the table to be able to make out. And that’s because I was raised to believe that the fight wasn’t worth the reward if it meant possibly making another human being upset. Basically, I was always being told that it was better to take a seat and listen simply as a means of not causing a ruckus. And if you had to make a ruckus, that it should be for the right reason.  Here is the solid truth. I am breaking so badly that I can’t live my life without my headphones, and the music. But at the same time - and mostly when I am out in public - I am able to find beauty in my surroundings because of the music. I might not be able to follow the whole “Sit down” Dad speech at the cost of hurting others feelings, but that is basically my stance in life... I’m not trying to bow down to those below me anymore. And I don’t feel like you should either. I am spending a lot of timing listening, just not to others anymore. And I am working to speak up more, about everything that is right. It might end in a “fuck, of course there’s a no u-turn sign!" when I missed my turn and am running late a majority of the time,, but eventually there’s gotta be a point where enough of the right people are are standing up.

After my Grandpa Hergott died, my dad introduced me to The Farmers Creed. The last line of the poem reads: 

I believe when a man grows old and sums up his days, he should be able to stand tall and feel pride in the life he’s lived.

I broke a few months ago when I was trying to “tackle” some of my previous traumas. It took everything from me, just like it did when it broke me the first time. And that’s when I realized that I never truly healed from some of the experiences that I went through in my life. I mean I had definitely recovered from where those places, people, and experiences had left me, but I hadn’t really moved on. Look -  I’m not the “take it slow” kind of girl. And I’ve always been the kind you can knock down, but can’t keep down. In an effort to keep growing, I was always “attempting" to move on and I was always taking on more and more responsibilities (in every aspect of my life) to always continue that growth. I never wanted to stop…and before I knew it, I didn’t have a choice to stop, because there wasn’t enough time in my day to get everything done.  Eventually everything became too much and it took me to my knees, long enough for me to leave my security blanket - aka my job - behind. 

It has been more than a bittersweet experience - this go around. I’ll admit, this is the first time in my entire life (31 years in) that I have ever stopped and focused on myself. And I am definitely running out of money quickly, which is becoming stressful, but I’ve had more time than I’d ever get, just in these last few months, to actually think about my life…and my purpose. And in a time of feeling lost and unsure (let’s be real, I’ve got kids to feed), I somehow found a way, to find my way, back to all of the good places, people, and experiences that also happened. This time is breaking me in a different way, but having it has allowed me the chance to heal in a forever type of way - and it’s giving me the chance to REMEMBER why I am who I am, and it’s allowing me the opportunity to HOLD ON to the good memories and USE the bad ones as ammo - for my future growth, of course. 

Let me break this down for you…The past is the past. And there is literally nothing that you can do to change it. But you don’t have to let it hold you back. Your past experiences make you who you are. They can take you and break you, or they can be what they are and mold you - and they can even do both. Let’s get real already…really what happened was that I recently gave myself the opportunity to become my very own version of Wonder Woman, because I gave myself the time to think. I’m not super impressed with where I am sitting right now, but for once in my life I stopped focusing on everyone else and started looking within myself. Through doing that, I allowed myself the opportunity to envision a few new possibilities about my past that I never saw before. I’ve been through some shit…and I have let it aide in the mass production of the 10ft high walls that I’ve put up over the years. I knew it wasn’t the most healthy way of moving on, but I didn’t realize how much I was still letting it control my life... And let me tell you, it has only made me more and more cynical over the years…which only hindered the kind of opportunities I allowed to come into my life. 

Wonder with me, ya’ll...

What if the experiences that previously broke your every being somehow turned a page one night and actually became the experiences that built you 10 ft taller than most of your surrounding “partners”? Some of this world is ugly. And some of that ugly contains beautiful pieces that just need a little extra backup. We all wanna talk about change, and equality, and expansion, but we continue to look down on those struggling. Some demons aren’t very forgiving…and most leave you with a character change…but does it have to all be bad? Or can seeing the world for what it is actually give you some sort of advantage in life? Life is about choices; it’s about personal choices…and personal choices will always somehow impact another person’s life. And for some it might be impossible to understand that or to realize that…and it only takes a given point for one moment to change everything.

Like I said, through the healing process I found my way back to the good ones. And by doing that, I realized that life isn’t that bad after all. And I am slowly starting to realize that maybe it (being my past) doesn't all have to be for nothing. See, there are so many fucking things wrong with this world…and in my opinion it starts with everyone keeping their mouth shut about the bad things they have outgrown. And why? I seriously struggle to understand that part. Why does who we were have to hold such a heavy burden over who we are? Is it because we don’t forgive ourselves or is it because we don’t forgive others? Are we spending too much time only understanding the life we live, rather than trying to learn the lives others live? Is history becoming something we are trying to prove correct, or can the good ones find a way to rally their troops together to prevent it from reoccurring - with the vengeance it carries? If you ask me, we are all simply frowning upon the wrong type of people. 

I previously mentioned that I was the Captian of my soccer team in my younger days…I played on the same team for a very long time and we all basically grew up together. Well, I started as a forward and as I got older my coach realized I was stronger as a defender. From there I had to learn how to lead my team from the back…rather than from the front. Years later…and I’m talking when I started my admin role, I watched my superior carry the same kinda tactic. See, the VP of my (previous) company believes in the very same thing - and I watched him lead from within the entire time I worked for the company. It’s weird timing but it took my very last “stance” at work for me to be able to slow down enough to remember how badly I broke when I experienced my first traumatic event. And that one event, at one point broke my very young being…and at that moment I had thought it would always be a broken experience…but today I am wondering if really I had just spent the last 16 years forgetting who I really was - because I never let myself get over that…I simply just stuffed it because I never had anyone to talk to about it. And eventually I even tricked myself into “moving on” into my next chapter…which was less than I was before I lost who I was.

Time isn’t always on your side. And when time is on your side, maybe the stars just don’t align. And it’s important to remember that some people live like that every single day of their life, because they never catch a break. And eventually people like that become bitter - even when they truly are good decent human-beings. Why are we letting it get that far? Are we giving the wrong people the right chances based on the wrong ideas of right and wrong? Are we depending on the wrong people in our most desperate moments, thinking we are “doing the right thing” simply because history (aka all of our past moments put into our previous times) says it’s right?  And why are we thinking like that anyways? Would our present look so scary for our youth if we were really doing such a good job at doing the right thing? We are all clearly failing somewhere - because shit isn’t adding up. 

I’m not trying to let my kiddos go out the way some of these other kids are going out. I don’t want that for my kids, or your kids, or our kids. Take it personal. We’ve all been through something that we aren’t proud of, right? Try to humble yourself here. Just because it isn’t something you are or have personally experienced, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist somewhere within the world, to another human being. And we shouldn’t be teaching out kids to only exist within their own world - because our world is bigger than that. And that is how we should be approaching every situation within every day, in my opinion at least. Can you slow down enough to think about it in every single moment you are in? Is your next move going to make a better - and bigger - difference? Or could the aftermath it might present be adding to part of the existing problem? And do we have to define what the exact problem is? Or can we all just believe that clearly a problem exists, somewhere within our world?

Having a voice matters. And it’s more than important to remember that sometimes voices don’t exist within situations, but they exists within other moments that are made by other people. Sometimes things are going to get blown to shit. And people somewhere are going to pay the price for it. And sometimes, the exact opposite is going to happen - just by chance. Sometimes, what you have been holding onto can actually be what saves you - years down the road; you just have to make it happen. And that may be impossible for you to realize or understand in the moment you are living in. Things got dark for awhile, for me. And they still are very much cloudy. But some days are getting better. And their is more laughter in my day than their previously was - even when I thought I really had my shit together. I have learned that I have a fucking point to prove…and it is something that I spent way to long learning...

You should never allow another person to take away your inner self. And that is something we should be instilling in our kids. We have to teach our kids to stand up more than they sit down. It doesn’t have to be led with so much anger. If the kind ones don’t stand up with their point to prove, the angry ones are going to start speaking up more and more…and haven’t we all witnessed enough of that? I know I have spent way to long sitting back and watching life play out in front of me to not start speaking up a little. And I am starting to realize that it has less to do with the hurt that I once wished upon those that hurt me and more to do with what happens in the future to those that still stand a chance - aka the good ones.

Keep in mind - just because people are smiling, doesn’t mean that they are actually okay. And just because someone is acting “a little crazy”, doesn’t mean they are actually an unsafe person. And people do deserve a chance to speak…because sometimes that is the only thing that they are holding onto in that very moment. Sometimes, that one chance was/is all someone needed to finally stand up to their scariest devil. And taking that away from someone is one thing…but simply not giving it to someone is another. And we don’t have to let the angry people be the ones holding all of the power. We don’t need more of that. It is seriously speading so quickly that our kids are paying the price at school - and I’m not okay with that. 

Don’t be okay with that. Don’t shake your head at what you are witnessing at the world. Humble your damn self and remember what got you to the point you are standing in. Even the strongest people in the world fall down sometimes. And even the weakest shine during the darkest hour. If you can’t stand in their shoes, imagine that their existence is one that you have yet to learn..and in those moments, take a second to learn their life - before you judge it from a different perspective. 

How many out there are actually perfect? And never, ever make a human error? Never make a mistake? Never do something that you would give anything to take back? I sure try to be perfect…it’s actually one of my downfalls. I strive and strive for perfection and for some reason always fall down a little when I realize perfection is impossible.  It’s part of  life - and we all gotta live through it. I’ve spent a majority of my life wishing that I was anybody but myself. It’s not that I never loved myself, or who I was inside. It was more that I always wanted more. Even in my darkest and ugliest days, I still found myself dreaming of more. It did feel more impossible in those days, but the vision still existed. Once I started rebuilding my life, and got the job that saved me, I let my hustle lead my life; and outside of being a mom, work was the only thing I had. It was great for awhile. I enjoyed working my ass off AND I was good at it. It showed, of course, and I moved up pretty quickly… at least once I realized that I could only kill an entry level Administrative Assistant position for so long - even if it was for the VP of the company. I loved my job and I hated leaving that position/role…and I seriously had a hard time accepting that it was time to move on to a new bigger_and_better role (within the same company), mostly because I felt like I was betraying what I had spent 2 years building. 

The VP eventually “forgave” me for leaving his side (joking, of course) and I was able to forgive myself for actually leaving his side. It ended up being the best decision that I made, simply because I got to start using more of my brain power with the new gig - and I really enjoyed that. To be honest, it was the first time since high-school that I had used my brain for anything other than killing the cells that existed within and really it gave me a purpose for the first time in a long while. The problem was that it didn’t take long for my job to become my newest addiction. Eventually I became nothing short of a workaholic… and of course, my leadership team didn’t mind, especially when it never had to come out of their pocket. I didn’t mind at first, because it gave me something to do. I’m a minimalist and the bucks were short, which means internet and Cable TV (for-fucking-sure) wasn’t in the budget.  I did eventually get internet as the world was changing before our eyes…and working from home became a perk of my job. And let me tell you! This was great..again, at first. It started with 2 days a week, turned to 3, and before I knew it, COVID hit and I was working from home every day of the week. To make sure we all stay on the same page, I want to express how much I love working from home. There is literally nothing better in the world - at least if you have to have the sit-in-a-cubicle kind of desk-job. Basically, if I was going to be staring at a computer for a majority of every single day, I want to at least do it in the comfort of my own home - in a hoodie and baggy sweats. 2 years later, when I became a Manager, I realized that the time that I had thought I had “overspent” was actually my greatest advantage - simply because  I had already built all the relationships with the rest of management as an entry level admin for one of the big wigs…

Shortly into COVID, the company I worked for started taking a huge hit - talking the employee vs loss ratio game . Before anyone knew it, the good ones started dropping like flys and their work started piling up on the ones remaining. I hung on for a very very long time because I thought I could help save "their basement from flooding”. I’m a single mama of 2 boys, and one of the dad’s isn’t around to help, which means that I rarely ever get a break and if I do, it is at night after the boys go down for bed. Even when I was going through some major PTSD episodes at home, and some seriously intense therapy to recover from that past, I still left that shit at the door  - every single day - because that’s what the world expects. Anyways, eventually that started  to break the company simply because it started breaking the individuals that remained within. - and they aren’t willing to take ownership until it was too late. Listen - the “perk” of working from home is only a benefit if you work under leadership that truly believes in a work/life type of balance - more than they believe in a “serving the company” type of way. And it is sure to fail when workload doubles the whole 40 hour work-week expectation -  especially when exceptional employees are striving to give their damn best - every single day - simply at the sacrifice of doing what is best for the entire company…And what happens when “LEADERship” becomes so busy taking care of their own day-to-day 8am-5pm tasks that they forget to monitor the workload vs hour vs pay ratio of those on their team? SOLID GOOD PEOPLE will slowly start leaving to find better - you know, to find something more equal to their actual ethic - and the remaining will take the hit - over and over again - until they can no longer take it.    

 And here’s where mental health comes into play in this chapter and why it is on leaderships plate to make matter.

You don’t know what people are going through at home, or in their own head, at any given moment. Some people live within abusive relationships and show up at work the next day like everything is just peachy. Some people struggle with depression and can hardly make it out of bed in the morning - but they can’t afford to get fired. Look, we could continue with the “some people…” for pages and pages but let’s keep it real. The truth is we don’t know what other people’s trauma is. And we don’t know what everyone is holding in (or onto for that matter) - for the “Greater Good of the Business is Business" etiquette that we all carry. And that is/should be respected because it has to be…but the other side is even more true. People’s mental health has to matter - MORE. We all go through shit that we don’t talk about. You do. I do. We all have. And we all should do a better job of remembering that part of moving on from things and healing from past traumas is learning how to let go and move on. And if we gotta hold that shit in during the 8am-5pm working day, then we for sure need the time at night to be able to unravel.

At the end of the day, we all focus more on being happy. That’s at least what we are all out here striving for, right? We all know how easy it is to throw on a smile. And we all know how easy it is to stare at someone that is smiling and automatically assume that they are happy. It is in our human nature. And you guys - fake smiling can even trick your brain a little into being happier. But we all go through more than we are willing admit. And there are stages to healing. And it comes in waves sometimes. And what might be fine one day, could be the total opposite the next day. And unless you are the person going through it, you don’t understand it - because those are not your shoes walking in it. And taking advantage of that is wrong. People actually matter more than money. And what they are going through should matter. And it shouldn’t matter who you used to be or are currently. Doing the right thing, in the right moment, will always matter more and doing it kindly is like BEAST_MODE Bonus Points. 

If we all started caring more about what is actually on the inside, and less about what we see on the outside, we might just find that we are all a little fucked up at best and that it’s okay to break sometimes - as long as you don’t unpack your bags there. Basically, always get back up - even when you fall. And even if no-one is there to catch you. Sometimes in order to fly, you have to fall. And if the people around you don’t understand that, then you don’t need them - even if you want them. And if you can’t understand that, you should quietly sit down and let the others lead the way. 

I have always been one that has had a point to prove, but didn’t have the voice to prove it - and having a man smack the voice right out of me made it a million times worse…literally and figuratively - for awhile. But really, it was more than a man. It was others in general, and always wanting to make everyone else happy. And it took being by myself, when I wasn’t technically at my lowest rock bottom, to realize that other’s are going to think what they are going to think regardless of my opinion of their opinion of me…and that is making me realize that having a voice for the rough&tough is more important than being another ”respectful” part of the problem…

See, the “stars” - speaking astrology -  say that I am granted the ability to have two personalities, because I was born with those twins. One side is quiet and reserved…and the other side doesn’t ever shut the fuck up. Look, I simply enjoy being right - even if it amounts to nothing. And there is nothing more that I hate than being wrong…Oh, and there is nothing more enjoyable to me than having a “respectful battle” between parties for the greater good of the team, especially when I am right. BUT one of my biggest problems is that I am pretty sure I am always right - no matter what situation I am looking dead in the eye. And sometimes I find/found myself getting into pointless arguments, that take/took more energy than they are/were worth, just to be able to say that I am/was right in the end. And sometimes that meant I was my own worst enemy - especially when I was living with a man who didn’t like to be told no. Anyways, I am slowly learning that sometimes being “right” doesn’t matter as much as”doing right”. And sometimes staying quiet says more than when you run your mouth. And sometimes the very opposite is true and more right...

Funny story - We recently had a new family move in a couple houses down from us; and they have three kids. My 5 year old wanted to make friends but was nervous to introduce himself so he asked me to come with him. I was close to telling him that he could do it by himself because honestly I was just as nervous, if not more. After a short debate internally, I decided I wanted to teach him to be strong, rather than tell him to be strong - so we did it together. Come to find out, the family doesn’t speak English. Two nights into their friendship and you would never guess that they don’t “understand" each other. It’s the whole ’Don’t raise your voice, improve your argument” stance, but the opposite - if that makes any sense. Sometimes, you can find alternative ways to communicate with others and you don’t need a voice. But sometimes you are the only one who can speak and you simply don’t have a voice to do it with - And those moments are worth talking more about….even if it means you are “eventually” talking about it, through a form of forgiving and healing. 

When I first met my therapist she tried to convince me that we needed to start with my childhood. I, of course, disagreed, because I really did have it pretty good - especially compared to other’s, Honestly, I would even compare my childhood to what I thought was “perfect”. For shits and giggles, let’s rewind together.

I grew up in a pretty privileged way. We didn’t want for much and there really wasn’t any “explosive” scenes that happened within my home. I was the baby in the fam, youngest out of 3…and I was the only girl (besides my Mom, of course). It was less of a mini-me situation and more of a “Cinderella Story” where Mom and I didn’t get always get along and Dad didn’t say much. We did get in trouble when we did wrong…but it was more of  a “go to your room and think about what you did” kind of situation. On top of that, I was the shy little girl, with bright big blue eyes, and I would hide behind my “daddy" any time someone confessed how beautiful “dem eyes” were/are. If you can’t tell, I've never done well with compliments and/or emotions. And that started from an early age, like my therapist suggested, and it was simply because not many of those experiences happened within my “perfect” house. And it wasn't done with ill intentions; we just didn’t talk about things like that. And to be more than fair, back in the day - no matter how far back you go  - it was considered more normal to do as done…to be just another part of our never ending human existence, recreating trauma (yes, by accident) within every single generation a family carries the name on for - without even understanding what was happening right under our noses…And the “why" checks out - basically just because science_and_research hadn’t traveled that far through time yet. And that means that the past can hold you back if you let if…and you can blame the deck if you want; you can blame the people at the table; and you can even blame yourself for raising when you should have folded… OR you can boomerang the bitch (your life, that is) and let it be the reason you have a voice - once you are finally ready to have one. 

Anyways, keep going on with the age game and I started finding more peace in the isolation. And eventually I found that there was more company by myself - alone in my thoughts - than with actual company, having to  entertain other’s energy, along with their opinion of me. Eventually, the older I got, the more decisions I had to face on my own, without my parents knowledge or consent and I found myself in sooo many situations that left me hunkering down, with nothing more than a trembling voice and no left foot to balance on. And it took me going back to those places during therapy (with my licensed therapist, aka life coach for those that get scared by the term therapy) to realize that sometimes the opposite is also always right, from somebody else’s perspective. And sometimes those other perspectives don’t have a strong voice - and sometimes they never will - in the exact moment they need to have one - if we are talking about taking care of the bigger problem…you know, the people out here intentionally causing PTSD in others. And honestly, their voice shouldn’t be the only determining factor when having to decide who wins the game - but it should always be part of the factor, without having to ask for a turn to speak. Right and wrong should matter. And lines shouldn’t always come into play. 

Ask yourself this…what happens when truly evil people get to hang around? Other people end up getting hurt. And then their people’s people end up getting hurt. And the cycle continues, only the “right ones” end up paying the price by having to relive the trauma, every fucking day of their life. It’s that simple. Yes, people deserve chances. But we live in a world that is filled with fake acting perfect people - that are really not fake, deep down within their core. And then the other side is equally filled with evil people, putting on a perfectly fake act. See, most people aren’t as happy as they walk around acting…they have just been raised to go about their day doing the damn best that they can…while the other side is adapting to “looking the part” - just so they can go about living life their way - with zero consequence of the aftermath they are leaving in their destructive path of wrong and ill intentions.

I kinda grew up voiceless, so to say. Or I was born that way by nature, and I just never figured out how to speak up. And that’s partially because I didn’t technically have anything “good" to talk about and mainly because I frequently found myself making the wrong choices on my own - and in my own head - that putting my trust in other’s hands became a safer and easier bet to make. Honestly, I was more comfortable hiding behind others anyways - Take an introvert, with an original and ever so basic shy type of attitude, who thought more than she spoke, raised in a home where "the real" bad kind of people only existed on fake crime TV shoes that were based on kinda true realities, and mix that with an actual dark road, filled with actual bad people…That’s how my life started getting twisted so easily (and without fear) - See, I didn’t need a voice when I was little because I did live in a safe and happy home and I was able to find comfort under my dad’s wing, for just about anything. And lets be real…the older I got, the easier it became to bat my eyelashes at him and become one of those good kinda bad kids - under their noses. Anyways, eventually it was time to leave home and when that happened, I took everything that I had learned growing up (basically nothing but fairytales), and took it with me out into the great big real world - and then that’s when all of those other doors (black and white, remember?) started to open and the decision of "what’s next" was always left on my shoulders - and I wasn’t a trusted ally of myself. 

Back up a little…we are still talking domestic violence and the aftermath that is leaves behinds. My parents are truly good people. And my goodness do they love their little baby girl (and always have)..but my mom and I didn’t have the typical mother and daughter relationship…and I was never given “the sex”talk , the “man” talk, or the “love yourself first” talk…and I had super-painful periods, which I inherited from her, and had myself a pizza face after hitting puberty in 6th grade, which means that  I got prescribed birth control for acne and cramp relief. True story - my mother made the choice to tell me that it wasn’t strong enough to protect me from getting pregnant…that was in an effort to make sure that I would still confide in her and share my most innocent dirty laundry with her, of course. It was a trap basically, and a different type of life lesson. The unlicensed life coach in me has to point out the obvious - my mom clearly wasn’t comfortable talking about anything regarding sex. Hell, I didn’t even know that it was normal for adults to have sex well into their marriage until I found viagra in my parents closet while I was looking for change to steal (previous drug addiction, remember) and she couldn’t even prepare me for my first trip into the big girl world. And from there I realized that my family had more secrets than anyone in it was willing to share - and we did a really good job of covering up our shit so that nobody would ever come close to judging us. 

But I AM THE BLACK SHEEP in my family and lying to me (and my mental health) in that moment taught me the complete opposite. It taught me that even your closest friends can play tricks on you, and if you can’t trust your mama with your business, than who can you really trust? And if you think it taught me to rely more on myself, you are dead wrong. Instead I started relying on men - any fucking man that would take me. She had no idea of course and would probably have a heart attack if she knew all of who I really used to be - and in an effort to keep my mom around for now, I’ll save some of the good good. In short it broke our relationship. And when I met the man of my dreams I def didn’t feel safe telling her that he continued to beat my face, head, and heart on any given day - because I still wanted him to be invited around the family. I mean hell, we were going to be our own family and we’d for sure be raising our child together…so they had to continue to like him, at least a little. And for whatever reason, I wasn’t willing to let go of that hope, simply because it was what I wanted - speaking long term picture. Basically, if I could get clean for the kid, than he def would too. And one day it would be the perfect little family that I grew up in - and that is how easy my already voiceless voice turned into a beaten and battered woman.

At one point, he was my man in the moon and I tell you what, I sure did follow him around like a lost puppy. I didn’t have many friends to start with - especially if you reconsider the fact that I was spending most of my time hanging out with other junkies who were also looking for their next high. He became my best and only friend- before he ever laid a finger on me. He was charming like that. And I drank his poison for my own sick self-destructive adventure. And I literally would have followed him anywhere, and stood by him through anything. I even put myself in some super sketchy situations that could have turned out very differently had life not gone exactly how it went - for whatever reason. Anyways, I didn’t have anybody else, including my own family - which was strictly because I made some super serious and less than worthless choices in my shooting-up-dope game days. But then I started making much better choices…and he didn’t, because he didn’t have a baby in his belly to protect. So I turned my life around…which in return made his less than average self even more mean - out of straight envy. I could have been 9 months pregnant and he would still try to argue that at least he hit me on the side of the face, rather than straight for the kiddo-in-day-belly area...

And I still didn’t say anything. Because a) I didn’t know how to believe that everything I wanted, everything I depended upon, everything I loved - simply wasn’t going to be and b) I didn’t know how to get the words out without other people telling me that my previous junkie self was probably being over-dramatic. And that’s one of the reasons that I have so much to say now - because enough is enough. Over 6 years into being a normal human being again, and over 6 years of being a normal part of my family again, and even over 6 years of being a normal part of society again and I am still getting the looks of disapproval from anyone that cares about me, but also knows about my past - and what’s sad is that in reality I am just breaking through a lot of traumatic events from a very physically abusive relationship (that I never told anyone about) and sometimes things don’t always look exactly as they are, and sometimes screaming/crying at the top of your lungs doesn't change that.  

Look - once you fuck up your life royally, there is no going back - in their eyes. But if you choose to, you can decide to use that part, aka your past, to your advantage. You can find beauty in the pain, so to say, if at one point you actually lived through it. And I am actually  slowly learningthat it has more to do with their own fears and less to do with my personal strengths.  They don’t see it that way...And that’s because they aren’t strong enough to deal with their fear of losing me, because in reality, they really were lucky to get me back in the first place - and in the dope_kind_of_Recovery_world, once is a long shot… - but possible. And you literally cannot understand that, yet alone talk about it, if you haven’t actually lived it. Believe it or not, the exact same thing is true about PTSD, or C-PTSD if you want to get super personal. It all looks and feels the same, to the person living it. And they should be the only person that is judging what they are going through. And if other people are invited to the party, they simply shouldn’t judge - because they just don’t understand. And they never will. 

Why do we go around telling people to buck up and deal with their shit just because "other people have it worse” ? Or because “big girls/boys don’t cry"? 

Can we be real for a minute? Life isn’t always fair - regardless of the hands you get dealt from Mr. Joker down below. And is it so wrong that some people need a little breakdown in their life in order to find some healing stones? Look, sometimes even the best have it rough and life just fucking sucks, and for no reason other than shit just sucks. The real truth is that those times come for everyone, regardless of one’s position in life. And sometimes you really have to stop and look deep within yourself to decide what's really worth it to you - in the long run, of course. Basically, life is going to keep spinning regardless and your existence is simply what you make it. Days will pass. And they will turn into weeks and then months and years…and you get the point. What you do with those days may not seem like they matter much at the time - and what you are able to do with them might even be (or seem)  limited, but the thing is…you really never know - and what you do with each minute might actually matter more than you realize in the moment.  And if it doesn’t seem like it does, just find a way to make it matter more - at least for/to yourself. . 

If you can’t tell already, I am kinda on this SPEAK UP about mental health kick. Call me cynical but I don’t think enough people talk about what is actually going on inside their head. And more than that, I think it is fair to say that your average person isn't walking around spilling all their deepest darkest secrets, just for Karen down the street to frown upon. I know - for a fucking fact - that it isn’t human nature for one to go around spilling all of the ugly parts inside of them. I mean, why not walk around every freaking day living your best life?  I am kind of kidding when I say that for one reason…mainly because it is a two way STREET, and you know there are going to be crosshairs in the middle. See, it makes me feel better when I get all dolled up for the day. It makes my day  feel “fresh” so to say and that gives me a kind of motivation. But, for a world slowing falling apart,  I observe such “perfect people” when I am out in public and I wonder how many people are actually fighting demons inside that nobody else can see - all while walking the perfect walk - every fucking day. And of course, that makes me wonder why more people aren’t speaking out? And I do see things changing, don’t get me wrong, but not big changes. Not the kind of changes that co-exist across cultures and colors and borders. And it doesn’t matter what type of border we are talking about. The borders are the problems. And if they aren’t, then the red tape and 'do not cross’ lines are to blame. 

Things happen to people. And sometimes those things change people on the inside  - for forever. And sometimes those “changes” can affect every choice one makes thereafter. And sometimes those choices are simply a last resort escape from a death_by_suicide type ending - even if it doesn’t appear to be that on ones outer-shell (GO HULK!). Look, I’ve lived in many different kinds of places, and some of those places, others would refer to as “living on the streets". See, I stayed in a house but it wasn’t the type of house I was raised in - with basic things like heat, filtered water, a stove, or a microwave. We would have to scramble together the funds just to get a ghetto hotel room with a hot shower and a missing peep-hole…Classy, I know! And I didn’t have enough money to buy food to eat, BUT I did somehow manage to find a way to treat my fix most days, until each high would drift away - and I’d come back to the low reality that I was stuck inside. In those moments, the guilt_and_embarrassment would kick back in - revved up with a drowning vengeance, and the shame would start flowing back to the unbearable mess that I had made of my life. It became a never ending cycle of bad choices and the holes that I was digging started getting deeper and deeper with every day that passed - as you would expect when you are aimlessly digging your own grave. Let me tell you folks - the deeper down you go, the closer you get to crossing paths with that Joker you are have been betting against at the table...and it doesn’t take long before actual rock bottom is the reality you are living in. 

And you guys, some roads you cannot get off of. And isn’t that worth talking about more? Isn’t preparing our children for the possibility of some realities, without scaring them straight the hard way? This is real deal talk - this is owning your demons (OLD and NEW) in the eyes of your children, in the hopes that maybe their underdeveloped brains will grasp just a portion of what you say. Within my time of healing, I have found myself driving around a lot and finding some extra laughter in the little things around me - sometimes. I have also found myself driving straight through some of the darkest days of my life, from a time when I was sure I wouldn’t mind if my last day was every day. Those days were back when I was staying in the hood - where you never knew what you were going to run into on any given corner. And homelessness is/was a real fucking thing, under every well covered bridge area. And as I was driving through this round, I found myself thinking back to the days I was living (hardly - at best) on those same streets, and it reminded me how low of a state that is…and of course, it got Ms. Wonder Woman wondering what their story was and how they landed on such shitty ground…and how I (an innocent bystander of their life) would never know...

Let’s twister this…It took me back to something I hadn’t thought about in awhile - a memory so to say. Go back with me...My parents had came to that shell of a house in their attempt to bring me back “home”- keep in mind, that “house” was under the ownership of a meth addict, so picture Hoarders Inside and Out, without basic necessities, tin foil on the windows, and mini_hut_by_room for each tweaker squatting down that evening, This was the first night that Baby Daddy #1 really hit me square in the middle of my face - full fucking power. He was high on meth and he ended up calling the cops on himself, with a warrant, which means he ended up going to jail…And I ended up dipping on a hike halfway across a not_so_safe area, at night, feeling safer than the area I had just left - which is really not saying very much. Anyways, my parents tried to come to the rescue, but instead took pictures of the outside of “my location”, which killed the whole Here 2 Rescue vibe they were hoping for. And I am not trying to hate on my parents…but can you imagine what that felt like for the owner of the home, who was fighting demons bigger than they would ever realize, yet alone live? And they were trying to help me, but in reality they became just another part of the bigger problem…it just wasn’t the problem that was breaking them...

And that’s why mental health, life, and alternative methods to healing start to get messy. If you don’t catch things at the perfect time, the end up consuming you. And once you let them/it consume you, you start to let others in where they don’t belong. And that’s when you start to make choices that might just start to affect the chances you get at life, aka the extra doors that start opening/closing - depending on each choice you make thereafter. Yet with all that, and everything everyone goes through to get where they are, they/we still drive by and pass some kind of judgement (harmless or not, kind or less than), even though you will never know their story. Doesn’t that make you think? Even just in the smallest way? That something led them to the very moment that they are living in, and they don’t even have their own place to do it in? And if they do, does it matter if they can’t do it out in a public type of way - due to the worry of being judged by others? And trust me guys, the one reason I am having some of these ”realizations” is because I ended up losing my mind out in public...

But that is the point. I sit here all night, literally ashamed of what happened. But I also drive around my hood trying to act like it doesn’t bother me in the smallest way. I mean, at the end of the day, I cannot go back in time…which means it kinda is just what it is. But maybe if more people didn’t hide who they really were like deep on the inside, more people wouldn’t feel so ashamed when they break. And maybe if people didn’t feel so ashamed when they broke, they wouldn’t feel like there was only way other way out - death…or at least a walk at life that resembles it.. 

Look, even if you are ever so perfect today, you still have a story to tell. You didn’t get there from nothing. And the bad represents the good you found. So find a way to change the world, with or without you in it. And find a way to speak about it...With or without borders. Find a way to love - just one thing. And make that enough. Because even the worst moments can be turned around - basically given a second chance at life in the darkest hour…before it’s too late. 

How many of you have ever sat alone, in your head, and wondered what in the hell your purpose was? Or maybe you used to know exactly who and what you were going to be…but shit got dark and you found yourself letting someone else decide what would be the light to your fire? Look - one of the hardest choices that I ever had to make was deciding that I was going to take my baby away from his father…but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to protect your children. And that’s when I made the decision that I had to pack my shit up - and leave what I thought was the “love of my life" once and for all. Stay with me…because I’ve been there - and I’m still here to tell you about it.

See, baby daddy #1 used to be a really good kid, with an even better heart. His looks were fucking beautiful (down to the bones), and he had a smile that would light up my whole world - and everyone else’s too. Oh…and don’t forget his voice - at least when he was being the sweet version of himself. But that changed…he changed. Technically, we changed but that doesn’t belong in this part of the story…and I’m going to tell you why.  In a real world, where love didn’t exist, it would have only taken one day for things to change. And It SHOULD have only taken one time - but it didn’t, because he promised me it wouldn’t happen again - over and over again.. And you guys, he did love me - at the beginning. And our son was made from nothing but love. It was just that our love got lost within his lost battle of himself and then I let him take it out on me - literally and not in a way anyone deserves. And let me draw this out for you, detective style -  it kept happening and each time IT got worse. See, this dude was a big dude…at least compared to my tiny mini-mouse sized self. And he had ocean-sized hands that were probably bigger than the size of my entire face. And all it took was him smashing his fist into it one time, for him to learn that my face didn’t bruise very easily…and by easily - I mean that you can break my nose and nobody would notice the aftermath. 

What makes this story even harder for me to tell, is that multiple people warned me that he was a Woman Beater and they warned me multiple times - and these people included his own family, and his ex-girlfriend. Even then, I refused to believe that he would ever do it to me…but they had proof. See, he had already done it to his ex (technically his step-sister from his childhood). Anyways, the only difference between us two girls was that she did bruise easily - And for those that can’t cross the dots yourself, this means that he hunkered down to his low standards and hit her where nobody would be able to see. And then she had to walk around - obviously with clothes on - and smile like everything was fine at home. I don’t know much about her story - and of course not from her side - but I do know the truths that he fucking told me. How sick is that? He literally laid the red flags out for me, by telling me how he used to hide his abuse from the world, and made her hide it too. I met her one time And he went to jail that night..It’s funny how the world spins. Let me tell you the story. 

His sister was having a family BBQ (what we do here in the boondocks) and with his ex being his step-sister and all, she was invited, with a +1 included for her boyfriend (who was gold compared to his fucking ass). Anyways, I was barley pregnant. And I mean at the very beginning of the pregnancy when you look more like you ate too many Ben&Jerry half-pints, too many days in a row and less like you have a baby growing inside your body. And I’m sure that was going to be embarrassing for him but good lord - how the fuck do you think I felt? Clearly that was besides the point because I am pretty sure he went and got high on meth that morning - when he was supposed to be working - strictly just to ease his nerves of what was about to happen. And I say that because when I got to his sisters house - with the entire fam, aunts_uncles_ex gf’s_new boyfriends_etc -  it didn’t take long for him to start being less than nice to me and overly nice to his ex. And at first I thought maybe I was just “being pregnant" with the pregnant girl hormone thing happening..until I went into the bathroom to cry and his bad ass aunt came in right behind me (without knocking) and told me not to let the bitch see me cry. 

We walked out of the bathroom together and I put a big girl smile on and just stayed away from him. Until he started following me, just to keep egging it on. See, he was trying to scare me…with his intimidating and now drunk self. And I sat there in front of everyone and tried to ignore it. And his family watched until he started making threats like “just wait until we get home.” Eventually, even the family with the thick blood started to stand up for me. And you guys, I am talking even his partially paralyzed uncle stood up to him. What happened next, you ask? Well, it didn’t take long from there for a fight to break out. And you guessed it…somehow baby daddy #1 started to get into ex’s new boyfriend’s face…and new boyfriend got to scream in his face that he didn’t know what family was. Which, how fucking ironic…considering baby daddy always wanted to talk about how thick their blood was..

Anyways, back to it - Sister #2 ended up taking baby daddy #1 back to our apartment before step-grandpa shut the shit down with a personal phone-call to the authorities. And I’m not sure what happened next, or why, but all of a sudden Sister #1 was asking me for our address. I gave it to her without thinking, and within seconds of hearing her repeat it back to the phone she was on, I realized exactly what I had just done. And…it gets pitiful here - I was already scared shitless to have to go home with him later that night because  I knew that I was going to end up taking the hit for everything that had broken down that day, pregnant or not. Sister #1 had even offered me a bed in her house so that I didn’t have to worry about it. At the time, I seriously felt like she had betrayed my trust - because he was already in trouble with the police and I didn’t want to or think that I could do the whole baby thing without him. I knew what was about to go down and I started freaking out on the couch...and guess who comforted me from there until I went home safely? The previous girl that he had beatEN the shit out of. See, I think she gave the real Sister #1 the 411 on what was about to go down…or would go down if they didn’t step in. Don’t get it twisted…it took me until now to realize that may have played a part in the aftermath, but my ass surely bailed his ass out as quickly as I could get it posted - which was like 4 days. And things were oh so perfect for a few weeks after…until the next low hit - and then we were back at it…and I was even further along in my pregnancy.

Looking back, I’m guessing, technically wondering with my wonder_woman_ass, if the ex _girlfriend/step_sister was trying to do me a solid - one that she herself never did, but later wished she had. Anyways, that’s the one fucking reasons that I am going to sit here and run my loud ass mouth, with the ex step sis included (you know, blended family unblended), for the world to hear - once this fucking book gets published. Don’t worry - he gets a free copy, for 2 reasons:

1. IT IS NOT OKAY TO TREAT PEOPLE LIKE THAT. And it def isn’t okay for a man to beat down a woman - with words, or his hands. And what is even more true - is that it is even more wrong to put so much fear into someone that 5 years later they can’t even get shot with a nerf gun by the kid the abuser abandoned - without it triggering some type of PTSD episode. But I am learning that as I fight through the healing, that it sometimes takes a little while to be able to talk about some of the struggles you once went through. Sometimes the courage and bravery doesn’t come until a little later on, once you become a survivor.  2. I hope that by some miracle hearing what you did, and seeing how far that I have gotten from you, reminds you of the low life self you are..and maybe you end up growing a little on the inside - and from afar. 

Sometimes you have to pack up your shit and leave. And sometimes you have to run as far the fuck away from your past as you can, just to keep your baby safe. See, that’s what I had to do. 3 months after baby #1 was born, baby daddy #1 dude dipped for drugs. And not too long after that, he tried to kick down my door to get to our baby that I was trying to protect from his tweaker self, rolling downhill, which was always when things turned violent. And I almost took him back again after that, until he picked his own life over his baby’s first birthday and the option for 50/50 custody. And the only reason I continued to ask for sole custody (with negative hair follicle drug testing pre-monitored-custody-visit confirmed) was because he didn’t show up to court that day.

I HAD to RUN for awhile. And now I have nothing but time on my hands. The chip on my shoulder ain’t going anywhere, anytime soon. It look awhile to get here, but now I know that I don’t have to run. And I can let all of his dirty little secrets out, just to protect myself moving forward - which is what I should have done the first time he ever put his hands on me.

Here’s the thing, ya’ll - we all come from somewhere. And sometimes, that somewhere gets a little bumpy. Some people can/will figure out to swerve when that happens. And some people fall the fuck down for a minute. Who are you to say that a little character wouldn’t be so good for the home team? Basically, what I am saying - is that if you look deep within, no matter where you are from, or how far you have fallen - you can get back up. And it is totally not a bad thing to fall down for a minute. We all do. And if you don’t, you should - because that means you are holding onto a whole bunch of stuff that you need to let go. 

And that’s the thing with choices - and the whole “Your Plan/God’s Plan” theory. How long do we have to strive for perfection before we realize that perfect is so last year…and that really the past sucks for everyone in some form or another. And in other forms - the past, dirt and all, should cut a clear path for some heroic Wonder_da_hood_ Woman type shit to take place. What’s that mean to you? Run with me…let’s see where we go. 

It doesn’t matter the type of hood that you grew up in - went to - are currently in - or strive to be in. We all live and we all learn. And sometimes, we wouldn’t be who we are if it wasn’t for who we were. See, I came from a pretty good family. Meaning, we didn’t want for a damn thing and the house was true with intent and love. BUT we didn’t talk about any of the hard-type-of-shit. And I kinda grew up thinking that we all lived in this little perfect Disney Land - kind of - world, filled with little fairy god-princesses. And then I actually grew up. But before I was technically ready to grow up. I started making grown up choices before my brain was even close to making grown up decisions for me. And I came from a family that didn’t technically see the world for what is really was/is. 

We didn’t talk about shit in my house…let’s just keep it real. I didn’t get the “Sex” talk…really we didn’t even talk about the possibility of the creeps that could be out there, and we def had to fast forward through all the sex scenes when we watched movies as a family. And to this fucking day - talking about shit like that makes me uncomfortable. But in a backwards and twisted scenario. Let’s get down to the dirty now. I have two OLDER brothers…who I have always been very, very close too. And sometimes I like to joke around and say that they raised me…or that I was raised by Werewolve’s. And that’s because they were my role models from an early age…only difference was that they were boys and I was (and still am, in this new growing-age) a girl. Clearly - that was a map for disaster...

I was also the "oh so shy with a mean type of temper” kinda girl, which I got from my dad’s side. Oh and I am still sometimes that same"oh so shy with a mean type of temper” kinda girl, just repping my own last name…which came from my dad’s side. And to restate the obvious, I am also still born on what I like to call the worst of Gemini’s birthdays…and go Twins..so basically - I was kinda doomed from the day I was born. And I had each one of my brother's by my side until the day they graduated high-school, and went on to fly with their newly_and_ever_so_freshly_built_wings. And you guys - guess what, right when the last brother left, I had never felt so alone…and guess why? I was going through puberty and had my very first big girl traumatic experience - which was getting cut from my soccer team. And from there, I had no back up. So I found new friends - that had my back - at the time. And  then I came to crossroads with different devils, by myself. And found new “friends” that didn’t have my best intentions in mind…but be real - I def didn’t either…and even during my worst moments, around the worst people that I once hung around as friends, and in the worst types of areas (like real-deal type hoods) I still met people that had my back. Which is a very solid reason that I am still here, living_and_breathing_and_writing. And just so you know…it isn’t all bad...the hood can actually be a very beautiful place to be…if it is filled with the right type of people…because it definitely has the right type of art…

And that’s why your past shouldn’t follow you, in the wrong type of way - but only if you choose to walk in a different type of light. See, it doesn’t matter where your actual feet are walking, currently. You can still find good people.Even in your darkest moments. And you never know...you might just find that different types of hoods will cross paths with other type hoods, just born and braised by different type meat, and they might just do it at the same time - just in order to grow together. 

If you all can’t tell, the chip on my shoulder isn’t going away any time soon. I’ve fought my ass off to be where I am at and I’m proud of how far I have gotten from the old me - and I’m not letting one little breakdown take me out. See, that’s where I am at in my life. I literally broke my shit down to ground zero and I’ve made the decision that MY walls were built 10 ft tall for a reason - and I’m not letting anyone in that doesn’t belong. When I said that I broke my shit down to ground zero, I mean that I had left everything that I had spent the last 5 years building - straight  in the dust, like it was nothing…and without a backup plan. And it made me feel like everything was for nothing - built just to tumble. But, once I started picking up the left-over pieces, I got to realizing a few things...

I realized that haters are going to hate - and there is zero way around it. To me, I like to think that means they (you know…the judging type) have more going on inside themselves than they are willing to admit in the mirror. And when that isn’t true, I like to agree that everyone is entitled to their own opinion of me. Hell - you guys - it took me 30-fucking-one years to finally understand that people are who they fucking are…and if their less than perfect self wants to judge my less than perfect self, then fucking have at it already. Trust me, that statement probably says more about my less than perfect self…but at the end of the day - I’m Done losing sleep for other’s that don’t deserve my time. 

Oh! And I realized that at some point I had to outgrow my parents…and their less than average viewpoint of their me. That sounds harsh - but I mean that as kindly as I can. See as parents, we always think our kids can do better. At the very least we want them to do better than they are currently being. And I think I am learning as a parent that as our kids get older, we start to expect more and more out of them. Really - it’s like a NEVER ending cycle of bullshit. Parents judge kids in some for or another and kids judge their parents in some form or another, even years down the road. And that’s why at some point you just gotta let that shit go. You eventually have to realize that they also are who they are. And when you find that point, you have to understand that you still have to find a way to be you - the adult version - who no longer needs guidance. 

From there, I realized that it is a whole lot easier to act like you don’t care, than to actually not care. No matter how old you get, how cold you become, or how much you give/up - you will never be enough for other people, if you are not enough for yourself. And what a fucking buzz kill honestly…because then you have to go home to yourself and feel the pain alone - and that isn’t fair. See, after I got off dope - I understood the hesitant looks that I got from family/friends every time something got rough for me. Hell, I felt it too. But after so long, you would think that it would get better…and I say better because you guys, it is the worst feeling in the world to have someone look you dead in the eye and have their face admit that they don’t believe in you…and after some time - people deserve a solid chance at a normal fucking life. And that’s when I realized that there was more wrong with the world we are living in than I had originally thought. And that is because we are so worried about other’s viewpoint of us, that we aren’t all living our most honest lives out in public…

And that’s when shit started to get real for me…in a twisted way. I realized that in order to move forward to a better future for myself, I had to let most of my past go…including what other’s thought of me. And don’t get me wrong - I am at crossroads with where I am standing…I am still far from being in a better place but I have grown and I’m still here to tell you about it…EVERY DAMN DAY. Let’s not get far from the story.. We are in the middle of some important things…that my breakdown helped me realize...

I am beginning to realize that not all of my past was for nothing. Some parts still hurt - a lot - honestly, more than I am ready to admit - but that doesn’t mean my fight is over. It just means that I still have a lot of growing left to do. By now, we all know that I quit my job…which is why ya’ll get a book so quickly…See, before I did that, I had ZERO fucking hobbies. And I hated anytime anyone asked me that damn question because how freaking embarrassing to have no idea what you liked to do…and how sad to have nothing to do that you truly enjoyed…BUT - once I quit my job - and had nothing much to do with my time - I found things that I enjoyed…and always wanted to do…and I found that I am actually pretty damn good at them - by fucking default. One lost…two found - if you ask me, technically we are winning. 

And I have no idea all the things I am going to realize within the next part of my healing process. But I do remember what it felt like trying to recover from addiction and the embarrassment of being a homeless junkie. See, that was the last time I cut my circle down to nothing. And what a plot twist for turning 30. I thought that was the year I’d start to have my shit together. But for once I started focusing on myself - lost everything (or felt like I did) - and then had the option of who and what I allowed back in. And for once in.my life - I found beauty in the silence and strength through the break. 

Regardless of who you find watching during your weakest moments, try to find the courage to move forward, your way. See, I learned this the hard way - no matter the fun that I thought I was having. Don’t be twisted - it’s not like I was having any fun during my break, but once I started healing in the tiniest way, I noticed that I was actually just burning some of the bridges that I thought I needed (aka - the existence of everyone’s opinion) but actually didn’t. 

I’ve told ya’ll, I have spent a good majority of my life sitting back, watching others, just to even determine what my next play would/could/should be - pretty much based on what others would call it out as. See, I was strong but I didn’t technically have a backbone, and I def didn’t have a voice that was loud enough for anyone else to hear. But that’s because technically I didn’t love myself. Don’t get me wrong - I cared about myself. And I cared about my existence but I was a lost girl without a purpose. And I cared way too much about what others thought about me that I was hardly surviving when I was alone. And let me tell you, sometimes as you start cutting out all the unnecessary bullshit from your life, you will find yourself with nothing…much at least. But the bottom is where the good stuff starts growing - you just have to find a way to get past all of the stuff that is hurting your current being. 

And honestly, that’s the problems when you pass your judgements onto others. Which is also the problem when the wrong people are walking around here yelling the wrong argument. Think about it…what happens when someone is already beaten down by the voices that exist in their head, and then they are given added people watching and judging - just by stepping outside their house? You guys - some people can barley fucking get the nerve built up to just open the damn door, yet alone take their first step out, for that day. And they have to get up and do that every-single-damn-day. 

Look, my dears - people are gunna talk shit. And they are going to talk about you - and on you. And some people will try their very hardest to destroy your name, along with your damn self. I recently learned that sometimes less is really more, especially when we are talking healing through trauma. Basically, you gotta find a way to be you - in a world that will do anything to change who you are. And that’s why we all have to do better. What you do - and say - and even think  - does play a role in other people’s life, at least from their perspective - which you will never know or understand. And then what happens next is put on Gamer 1’s shoulder, to carry for the rest of the world to observe. And that means we (human fucking kind) have 2 options…We can either change as one or we can sit back and expect history to repeat itself, with the devil on its side, and of course a vengeance (strictly because that is just life for ya’ll, folks…). 

First and Foremost 

Don’t give other people that much power over your life. It’s almost like putting on your air-breathing deal in a plane crash, you do you first. Gamer 1 - technically, your life and the ending you get is in your hands - it is literally up to you. You gotta start with you first. And you gotta try and not care what the world thinks about you so much…because all that does is leave us with a bunch of fake-fakes standing around like they something…

To be basic&blunt - It isn’t fair to fuck with someone’s mental health, when you don’t know the kind/size of monsters they are already fighting, and in a world you know nothing about. Don’t be what everyone else around you is…we don’t need more classic’s.. We need more of those broken freaks that get judged all damn day. 

On your last breath, how strong would you be? How long could/would you keep swimming, IF it meant you would live to breath one-more-day? Let’s think Titanic gone Gods of the Galaxy, taking down the bad in Harry Potter…where in the world could I be going with this one? Um’-On, Daisy…Get real, already - this is Dora Finding Nemo. What I am saying - asking rather - is when you are at your very lowest/scariest/hardest/weakest moment - in a sink-or-swim scenario - how far would you be able to swim? Well, because I’m me, and we are - healing-while-writing/reading  (and I had me a mini-painting therapy sesh since I started this…) Anyways, think with me…go back to Disney and how we prepare our kids for their first dream crush (Rudolph <= Santa.)…only to keep crushing their creative_and_ever_so_growing brains as they turn into teenagers. Eventually those kids have to fly - with or without us - and as parents, we gotta teach our babes how to fly - Because at some point, they are going flyn with or without your ass. 

Now keep rolling…backwards. As adults, we can’t continue to blame our parents for doing their damn best, with what they had at the time. That’s the thing with trauma - it exists within generations. And it exists within science…and education…and learning from the past. At some point, our parents have to become our friends….even though we are born-braised-and-raised to believe the opposite is true. My past kept me from allowing myself the opportunity to let go of some other things (aka - let your brain run wild with me, I’ve lost a lot), like missing people - my ol’ school homies - that I didn’t realize I could find, without looking. 

This is where trauma gets tricky…and don’t get me wrong. I ain’t no doctor…but I have dealt with it personally, so I am breaking it down - from the opposite kind of angle. Sometimes we have more than we even know. And sometimes the hurt feels so strongly, that some of the bad portions start slowly creeping up. You guys…in the midst of my wildest-fucking-break-down, I basically mind-mapped the darkest_days_of_my_past, like the things you are taking to your grave with you (from your rents, that is), and gave it to my dad in an effort of letting him help me pick up the pieces…so jokes on me - or was at first. Now, I am trying to laugh in the humility of the entire awkward experience that we shall never speak about…because that’s how it went in my house. Come back to family now - because, sometimes, when nothing else exists, your family is there holding the pieces and helping you glue them back together.

And that’s actually where I learned how to be so strong. See, crazy story about a super-hero type of man that raised my dad…His name was Edward Hergott and he was my Grandpa. He was a man of few words, at least around me, but he didn’t always have to say very much. And I don’t know the whole story - so long story short, he was honored with a Purple Heart from the time he served with the Army - for basically telling his commanding officer to stand the fuck down - in order to save his troop  I never got to say goodbye to him (from cancer years and years later, like well into my life) but I do believe in a certain type of reincarnation, the Disney Moana version of course - and I know if he were still here in some type of way, that he wouldn’t have any question where his Wonder-Woman-n-en granddaughter would end up at. 

And that comes back to blood - and some being thicker than others. You don’t have to go out like whatever you are currently at. You can always find a way to grow. To Co-Exist with the other-side. To at the very fucking least, be more understanding of. We all have things that are burning inside of us. We all have things from our past that we are not the most proud of. And we can either live with those things or we can learn to let go of them. 

You guys….let’s be dixie and keep twisting - Who has the vantage point now? Let’s see… I’m going recent mental breakdown = where we/I landed. Honestly, it made me realize that I had more to deal with than I realized. See, remember my breaking-badly-moments? And even my more recent breaking-bad-momma-moments? Well, I found my way back to more than I had before I started breaking in the first place. I could break this down so many ways…so lets take a turn - and do it.

1. Da Hood - You guys…my most recent hood, aka my neighborhood, is actually a safe place. And it’s my new safe place. And It doesn’t matter how safe, because my neighbors witnessed my weakest moments and are still living next door to me. They saw my happy - and then - they saw my break - and then they saw me slowly pick up my shit (with my big girl panties on) - and continue to handle my shit - LIKE A DAMN BOSS - might I fucking add. 2. My Home Town Squad - aka MY good guys…this part is funny as all get out. Back in the day, when I was breaking the bad rules, I used to hate (OR get sketched out badly) by the 1st Responding Type of Hero’s, especially the PO-PO. But be clear - that is because I wasn’t backing the kind. Before I broke, yes - badly - I would have never walked toe-to-toe in a hood I didn’t (and still don’t, kinda) belong in, strictly because I knew there was nothing there for me but what I had already left in my past. And I wasn’t going there, ever again. And even in my worst moments, I didn’t think I could do it without somebody else literally driving my car. I wanted to go - but I wanted to run shot-gun. Eventually, I FOUND myself, and realized that I could drive straight through and literally SEE the good guys having my back. 3. MY OG Squad - These are my guys. Remember, you can be who you want these days, so boy/girl/he/she bullshit don’t belong here. You are who you are in my world. Within the last 5 years I have literally cut or lost every single “friend” that I had…or so I had thought. But - eventually medication came before meditation and I started beauty&da-beatn it... and that made me start thinking about the people from my past that I wished upon a sleepless night were still around. One by one I started talking to “my good ones” and realized some pieces from my past just didn’t fit with the puzzle I was building. 4. What Mattered - Anymore: Here is where we can go sideways. I learned that by backing my kind, most of my past didn’t matter in the way I was previously carrying it. By that, I mean, I was proud of my past, but I wasn’t willing to share it, with people I thought couldn’t bear to hear the weight it had been causing me. And now, I can’t stop sharing. And I don’t want too. Because - the_real_world really does exist, for more than those willing to admit. 5.What Didn’t Matter - Anymore: and here we can do upside-down…with no idea what way is up. Right now, I am more worried about learning what I don’t know, than using what I already know. And I know that is wrong in a broken-type of work, where mental health comes last - but its gotta come with a stand. And that past simply has to gotten got…so to say. 

How many of us go through the day thinking - gotta be strong... nobody wants to hear about it, anyways? Twist it - how many of you ask how somebody’s day is, with every hope that they don’t repay that kind gesture by laying all of their baggage on you within that very moment? And how many of us think that, so we wouldn’t dare_2_do that? The better question in a VS REALITY type world - are we all overly consumed with ourselves OR are we are overly tired trying to keep up with Disney World? My meaning - We have humans trying to keep up with  machines just to try and stretch the wallet to the kitchen (speaking from experience with 2 growing littles), while also trying to keep up in the fast_lane_lifestyle that we all live in.  We have to keep up, just to keep up. We are building a world that is "so quick” (think light-savers vs Ice Age) and it is breaking man-kind. Why are we pushing our communities so hard to the point they resemble what a machine can do? 

My point here…is we all act like we care. And to be fair, I like to assume that we do all care, at least a little. But we are all so busy trying to keep up with life that we are forgetting to notice what is going on around us. We are living in a society of technology advancements and pushing people to keep up, without noticing what’s going on at home - or on the inside - because society says that shit gets left at the door. What I mean is that, we all have our own baggage. And WE all walk around with the intentions of leaving our personal life at home.  

Twister this, Dorthy style - with me, because I’m still healing. So much happens when we are little, in our tiny brains, at home. And babes go through all of these little traumatic disasters that adults don’t see; simply - because - kids - can’t - explain - it, which means it sticks around. And then we have all these little tiny trauma monsters that start growing UP within our kiddos who start growing up and forget to use the parts of the their brain that technically doesn’t exist yet. Years following all of the trouble, we have young adults making decisions they shouldn’t be qualified to make, for people that don’t even know who they are yet. Even more years later, we have adults being pushed to machine-like levels, still having no idea who they are. And they are parenting kids who are experiencing things the parent couldn’t understand even if they wanted too.

Uh Oh…storms building up. Ima keep taking it back. To what was my first traumatic experience - as a young kid - around 15ish…right when all dem pretty boys & bad choices start showing up…- My soccer coach, a very decent looking man himself, was my half/time rock gone dad from another family, for a very long time. I was the “Team Captian” for ourteam. Right around fifteen, my mental health started fucking with me. Or it was just puberty and I didn’t know how to deal or talk about it. So I didn’t. Anyways, my safe place was soccer, with my team, and my coach. And the win/vs/loss ratio didn’t matter, technically. It was my happy place where I could be free - and - me, with no need to talk about the messy suffering happening within my own head_or_space. See, I had two seperate, but equally good, groups of friends. I had my soccer girls - where solid good (mostly) decisions were made, unless it was summer and we were at camp…and I had my school friends, who I mostly hung out with when I wasn’t with my soccer team. It was more of a sisterhood though, really, just ran/coached by a man. But I made a mistake one night, and got drunk for a jr,high basketball game, and my life kinda started whirl winding - and I’ve tried not to look back ever since. 

See, I have always been one that has dealt with her emotions alone - literally and totally by herself. Yes, I mentioned I was an introvert but I also feel like I am a super socially awkward person. And most people piss me off. But that’s because I have my own shit going on. Back up a little…we are still talking trauma/mental_illness. I started going to alcohol with my school friends first. And One night I got REALLY drunk. And I got caught. At school. And the principal had to call my rents to come pick me up. And girls, let me tell you. I got in TROUBLE that night…even though I had my boys out there trying to stash my ass in the car. Anyways, I called my coach that night over and over again. Because I was hurting and I needed my other dad/brother. I regretted it immediately the next morning. We never talked about it…nothing was ever said. But I did get cut from the team the following year, which was shortly after this incident. Oh and he didn’t tell me that he was cutting me from the team. He just let the next in line call me for round 2 back ups. And we never talked again, at least in a form I have wanted too for a very long time. 

That was the first time my heart had truly been crushed in a million little pieces. And I dealt with it alone, because I didn’t know how to have such strong feelings out in a public-kind-of-way. And eventually, enough time had passed where I was able to stuff those feelings away so fucking far that I forgot to actually deal with them. Within that one moment, I lost my safest place. I lost my happyest place. I lost my team. I lost my coach. And I lost all the memories that we made together every single year. I missed fighting and playing (in all the ways we did) as a team. Instead, I went on to making my own decisions, for a self I no longer loved-or-cared about the way I used too, and have since ended up as a lone-survivor type of girl. But that’s why I am here, sharing what I went through. In my eyes, I looked up to a man that left me as quickly as I needed him and I spent so much of the following time looking for a love that didn’t exist, But I don’t know what he was going through, or the point that he was hoping to prove by making that decision. And today, 16-ish years later (my old soccer number) I am able to put it on paper, through a different life crisis. 

And that’s my other point. Nobody wants to talk about it. And nobody else has fucking time too. But we should, because it matters. We should, because the world is on fire. Our youth are at risk. My coach left me when I needed him. He left me in a time that my mental health was breaking. And I no longer had a safe place to be me, so I went out to find substances that made me not feel what I was going through. And then I started making bad fucking choices with equally sketchy people. 

That’s the breaking point today. Because the bigger point is that too many people spend too much time fighting for the wrong things and end up leaving the wrong people for the wrong reasons.

As I mentioned, in my previous 9lives, I was a frequent-rehab-flyer and you can probably imagine some of the other drunks and junkies that I met. And some of them were really good people, just trying to get out of the sideways choices they were making. That’s the thing, though. Sometimes good people get put, or put themselves, in the middle of very sketchy situations. And sometimes they cross paths with people that seem good @ the time but in reality, they are truly evil people - down to the bones. I learned it the hard way - All it takes is one misstep with the wrong crowd to end up going down the wrong path. Keep in mind, even if you go down the wrong path, it doesn’t mean it’s over for good. It just means you gotta find a way out. And if you happen to fight for it - YOU WILL find it. And when you find it - YOU CAN CHANGE it. But that choice is still up to you, GAMER1.

The first friend that I lost (like truly lost, 4ever) died from a herion overdose shortly after high school. He wasn’t even old enough to drink alcohol legally. Crazy story…his addiction was so bad that he left rehab to get high and never made it back. And I promise you, when he made the choice to walk out of that safe place, he wasn’t planning on accidentallykilling himself. And that’s why the drug game isn’t one to fuck around with - you literally have no idea when the devil gets to win. To make things even crazier, I met his rehab counselor a few years later, in rehab, as my roommate, which means her addiction to alcohol came back after she was treating people for addiction. That’s the thing with that specific devil - that game is EVIL. You are literally playing poker with the devil and that little bitch can see through your cards…doesn’t sound very fair huh? 

Plot twist…ready, set…go!

If someone was once a fuck-up, by your own Reader 1 personal definition, how long do they have to pay for their consequences before you starting treating them like a normal part of society? How long do they deserve to be treated as less than? Say someone was once evil, and did a truly evil thing, AND SERVED THEIR TIME, BUT has also since CHANGED...then what?... And I don’t mean “stopped doing bad things as part of their court ordered probation program”. I mean truly - down to the core - changed, and 110% for the better. How long does the world get to frown down on them for? Rhetorically speaking…that is. 

I’m a people watcher by default. I live through watching the world from an outsideR, GAMER2 mode. And I do still find myself passing judgements, by default. But I’m human and I am working to lessen that, as part of my own chance to change. Honestly though, sometimes I find myself wanting to ask people if they notice that they are wearing their internal thoughts all over their face.  To me - that’s why SOCIETY is falling short as a whole. Call yourself out…you looking up or down right now? See - as I sit back and watch others I find myself judging the world we are living in and I don’t find myself asking why it is so dark. I personally feel like I know why - even just in the month or so that I’ve been in a better spot (mentally speaking, that is…still JOB_more_ORless over here).

My belief:

It’s us. It’s all of us. Where’s the help at? And I don’t mean the PROTECTING THE PEOPLE kind of help. I mean the SERVE OTHERS kind of help. We all have flaws. We are all human. And we are all passing the wrong kind of judgements. And it needs to stop. We shouldn’t be making others feel so badly just to me our one-self feel better. 

LOOK - We live in such a fast fucking world these days, that no one slows down to notice anything anymore. Everyone is so busy with just their day to day lives, myself included, that we don’t see the world for what it is. We sit at home, within our own family circles and check off items on our daily honey_2_do lists-of-less-than-nothing accomplishments. And then we look out the window from our 3rd-story-mansion-sized-homes, from the outside PERSPECTIVE.  That’s me speaking figuratively, of course. My way of saying - we are clueless to what happens behind closed doors, yet we feel entitled to look down on others by default.  

Today - if you read_or_hear this - do ONE thing. Realize that you are above no-one, no matter what they look and act like. WE ARE ALL HUMAN. And we can all have super-powers if we want. We just gotta work together to get there. Think Toy Story gone PJ Masks.

Sometimes people go down bad roads…and they end up facing some pretty hard_core fucking consequences. Sometimes, chances are given to people when they are not warranted. Sometimes people pick a dark(ER) path, and they are given chance after chance to change…and THEY CHOOSE NOT TO - over and over again. Sometimes, when too many chances_to_change are given, bad things end up happening to good people. WE could even reverse this, for good times. But really, it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, sometimes, chances go sideways, even for the good ones. And sometimes, what was once an opportunity (deserved or not), completely goes underwater. - Basically,  misgiven chances, turned wrong choices, gone BOOM-er-ang. 

It’s another pretty fine line, where GAMER1 mode comes in. We cannot stop evil. Hell, we can’t even stop all the bad from settling within some souls, but we can try to contain it. And sometimes that means we need to be better about the chances we are giving to people. Just to be clear, it gives me chills to say that. Because the opposite is very very true, depending on the vantage point of the game. 

Look - I’ve watched so many people, people I loved, people that were good people - go sideways. Meaning, I know people who have killed themselves, I know multiple people that have been murdered, and I know a lot of people that have lost people they truly cared about to the game. And it doesn’t matter what game we talkin bout. We can play them all - Drugs, homelessness, mental illness, misfortune, shitty timing, dog ate the paper, whateva. It’s the aspect of the game that we should make matter.  We at least need to make it matter more, without breaking the good that has already been built within. We all have to make better choices and it starts with how we are looking at people.

And this is where we are going to take a YOU-turn. You can decide what way your head goes. But, IF YOU ARE A BAD PERSON (and keep it real, you get to define what that means…) you can give yourself a chance to change. If you are judging, stop judging, If you are doing something you don’t like seeing in others - stop doing it. Basically - and you all know the saying - but ima say it anyways….BE THE CHANGE YOU WANT TO SEE. And if you aren’t out here trying to be part of the change, then ask yourself if you really deserve the kind of chance you are currently living? If not, step over. Because the colors, the choices, those breaking-in-a-bad-way, the filthy-rich, the deaf-and-the-blind, the broken&beaten, EX-FUCKING-CED-RA, are ALL the ones we gotta fight more for...

What does that mean? Basically, we just need to try harder to save this planet. If we don’t, the whole thing is going up in flames. Think about it for a minute - with all that’s going on in the world today, what is it going to look like in 5,10, 15 years? We can worry about the days, months, and years if we want. Or, we can start changing within ourselves, and leave the rest up to fate. Fate doesn’t look so good though, when the world is in a downward spiral - with technology/money/power increasing at a SUPER FUCKING FAST RATE.

Remember how I told you all about my best friend? The bird box girl/boy version that has tats all over his face? And remember how I told you that when we are together, I sit back and watch the way others look down on him? Well, it seems like it doesn’t bother him…and idk, maybe it doesn’t…or maybe he just hides it deep within….OR MAYBE he has just experienced the dirty looks and mistreated fronts for so long that he came to accept others for WHO THEY ARE. Look I’ve been in his shoes. And because of my past - I still live in his shoes - just not as much, and in different ways. Personally speaking, it still really bugs me when I experience it and I am working towards not letting it bother me…but it still does -> BECAUSE HOW FUCKING RUDE? And we all wonder why society is falling apart... - or maybe it’s just me and I really am Sneaker Ella > gone Wonder Woman > living on a planet that is slowly burning to the fucking ground...

Anyways, Ima back it up here because I have shit to share - at least for those in the back that are trying to deceive your degrading fucking eyes. Take a trip to my past with me - to my very, very, bad days - you know the ones where I was shooting up heroin in da hood…slowly going from the walking-junkie to the walking-dead-junkie. Oh and if you haven’t ever over-dosed on opiates via junkie-lifestyle, you may not get that expression. Basically, there is a fine_and_very_thin line between being a junkie and being dead. And right before the dead part, there is an even thinner line of time, where you know you are close as fuck to dying, and you even look dead, but you are very much kicking and breathing. Slow it down now...

Using drugs typically starts off as fun & games…and it is fun until you realize that you are playing Russian Roulette with the Devil and you accidentally end up getting addicted. From there, it continues to be a choice, BUT (big but, literally) once you are addicted, the game changes. The fun is gone, the devil is 10 hands up, and you are 10 ft underwater, barley breathing through an empty straw. And sweet babes, from there - the choices you start making, start coming with higher-paying consequences - and you technically don’t even realize it at the exact moment you probably should/or/need to…and that’s because you on another fucking level, in a not-so-hot way. 

Branch out and mind-map this with me. We goin different ways now. Once you hit the point of using needles as a way to main-line drugs straight into your veins, basically like you're some sort of fucking doctor, the aftermath you have been causing starts to turn into different levels of ROCK-BOTTOM…and that little da-weeb devil is just sitting back and watching to see which bottom will be the rock that takes your ass out. See, eventually, good people will stop putting up with the bad people, aka the ones that choose to do bad things to good people, and your life-float will being to sink. 

Here is something that some of those people in the back don’t know…the road you are currently on can always get darker. And there is always a chance that you can become something or someone that you are currently judging. What I mean, is that back before I was living as a homeless junkie, with a bunch of other homeless junkies, in a house without food or fucking hot water, I never thought that was a possible bottom for me. I was seriously a frequent flyer at the closest rehab and somehow I honestly still didn’t think I would_or_could ever end up there. Whatever is more than impossible, that is what it was. It couldn’t and wouldn’t happen to me. You all know the sayings we all use too fucking often…well jokes on your fucking ass because It always can…and if it does, you should feel much lower than your new “friends”.

Here’s the deal-li-o - while people sit there and judge - aka sit there with those sideways lookin faces - other people are getting hurt. FEELINGS GET PASSED ON FROM OTHER PEOPLE'S THOUGHTS AND/OR LOOKS. And yes, some people have the super-human ability to let that shit slide, but most people are just putting on a front for the time being. 

End game - for this post at least - is kinda a plot twist in itself. Sometimes, in order to feel something for others, you have to have gone through it yourself. And if you haven’t, maybe you aren’t needed on scene. And if you find yourself sitting in the back with your head down - maybe this ain’t your rodeo. All you do is pass hate when you judge. And if you haven’t lived it, you don’t deserve a seat, cause you falling short yourself. Stand back and let the good ones out to play. Because if we bring enough of the right-kind-of-good-teams together, the bad doesn’t stand a chance.