Philophobia What's in a Name?

I did come to the realization that for whatever reason God brought me to this ridiculous situation, which seriously I'm the only one dealing with, it's for something. Only time will tell. 

Honestly I wish I didn't ever think about the fake life I envisioned. I think even the piercings and shoving my gauges back in to feel physical pain is me trying to self distract from the emotional. Masochism at it's best. But even though I feel like an ass about the whole drunken texts thing... I'm going to chuck it up to this. When my brain couldn't even function, I thought about apologizing and explaining I'm really not a douche, that the entire thing was unfortunate. So he should be flattered. He's an attractive guy who has lots in common with me, and not that he knows that, but I do. And I would really like God to move whatever mountain is here so I can heal and get some peace about the whole thing. But for whatever he wants out of this, I'm trying to not take it in vain. 

I don't think Isaac really loves me. I don't know if I believe Tom actually gives a fuck about the whole thing. So by design, I'm left with this mess. And I don't know if these thoughts/daydreams I have are because I opened myself up because I believed in the impossible and left myself vulnerable. All that is left is just that. An open wound. And so it's easier to think about some wonderful man that could have intellectual conversations with, than it is to deal with the fact that I am a hopeless romantic. 

Benga used to tell me I was philophobic. For those reading this that don't know what it means, it's a person who is afraid of love. Like real life afraid of loving, and being loved. 

I don't fear love. I fear I will never receive it. People use it so loosely. They throw it around the way they drink at a bar. It's casual. It's void. There isn't a thought to them, just a feeling of dopamine and oxytocin. That's lust. That goes away. That's why people cheat. Why they leave. Why they get divorced. Why they run. When those initial feelings go away, and maybe even after some time, there are not very many people sticking it out to do the work. 

Love is work. It's without condition. It's yeah the sex is great, but what happens if your partner gets paralyzed in a car accident and can't fuck you anymore? Are you going to change their diapers? Are you going to look at them the same way when you're pushing their wheelchair? When you have to hand feed them for the next 30 years? What if they get dementia? Are you going to abandon them in a home for someone else? Or are you going to defy the urge to jump ship and be true to your vows. 

I'm not afraid of love. I am afraid that no one is really able to be real and get honest and survive that. I want to be married one day. For a really long time I was afraid to even say that out loud. I've been proposed to 6 times. And I'm not afraid of marriage at all. But I could never say I do if I knew that the other person couldn't meet the dirty requirements of love. I know I can. 

Love is a dirty job no one actually wants to do. It's hard work. It's swallowing your pride, because for fucks sake pride doesn't keep you warm at night. It's accepting all the crappy habits they hid from you in the honeymoon phase. It's cleaning up someone else's messes even when you're busy with your own. There isn't a marriage for me that could ever include the word divorce. It's a sit your ass in the other room til you get over it and I don't care if it's a decade later, we're getting through this. It's dishes in the sink that didn't get done after you were exhausted. It's loving someone even after you find out their insides are ugly. It's yelling and fighting, and sucking it up and admitting you're an asshole that just needs to be loved too. It's cleaning puke when your partner is a fucking mess, sick or dumb drunk. It's getting over the fact the toilet paper for some reason is never on the roll but right next to it. It's people pushing people's buttons because ultimately, and here's the fucked up part.. I believe everyone else is so afraid of love they spend their time pushing their spouse's away just to prove they can. So afraid to actually be loved despite how bad we all fucking want it. So we nag, and bitch, and throw fits, and fight, and end up pissed off, because if we are successful in pushing them away, then we make up lies to ourselves that it wasn't meant to be. It proves they weren't strong enough to handle us at our worst. Denial and deflection. 

Rather than just accepting we are all a fucking mess. I haven't met anyone I trust to stay after the dopamine wears off. It's not that I didn't want them to. I've stuck out some horrible situations. And I'm not saying if your partner is beating your ass, stick it out. I am saying life happens, and when you really love someone, like actually truly love, you don't care about how much of a mess they are. What stupid choices they've made before. You get through the cancer. The long excruciating months or years without sex. You let the one who doesn't remember who you are talk to you like a stranger, because you already know you're their best friend. Because the mere presence of the person you choose to love (and it's a choice, one you have to make over and over and over again, every single fucking day) was worth giving your life for. 

It's a Buddhist belief that says, To live is to suffer. Everyone wants the easy way out. But anyone who has any idea of what real love is, knows it will involve a lot of suffering. But it's a gift. A huge one. To feel, to touch, to smell, to taste. The things we take for granted are the exact reasons this is heaven. They equate pain to being in hell here. But pain is also a gift. One frankly I am not always so graceful with. Because I'm human. But I know.

When I have ever thought about getting married, it wasn't this big giant ceremony with a ton of people. It was the man I love, me, my kids, our favorites out of our families, and maybe 5-10 friends. In my Nana's backyard. Sharing the kind of love I have built inside of me isn't for the entire world, but something I would only want to share with the people I want to celebrate it with. I never imagined a millions flowers, or a giant dress. Simple. Because love, even though very difficult at times, is such a simple and private thing to celebrate. We can still have drinks, and dance, and just be. It doesn't have to be a charade. That's how I want to be married. Quietly. Life is loud enough. 

I have the words ' Rough around the edges not for the faint of heart' tattooed in Italian on my back. 

I'm not for the faint. I don't come perfect. My rough edges are badges of honor that I've survived this long. They are my battle scars proving I was here. They are a fail safe to keep those who are weak away. I have a love in me I've never seen in another person. Honestly it does get disheartening. To be a lion and love ferociously. To want to devour another human being with it. I want to be his rib. His laughter. His rock. His comfort. His safety. His ears. His eyes. I want to be what God created me to be, the piece of him that he's been missing to make him whole. And I want my rest, yearning to be home inside his chest where I was made from. 

I'm not afraid of love. I'm afraid I will never find my Adam. Afraid I will never have the comfort of all the bad days we could make it through. Afraid I'll never find someone to read to on good days. 

Love is exactly like me, logical, and yet so irrational. Perhaps why I love it so much, even in all of it's mess, it's worth the wait, the trials and errors, the work, the suffering, I know because I believe I'm worth all of that too.  

DOUBLE D DAY

Before we get to today's exciting events.. I still feel like an uber ass for texting Tom last night. Clearly a good reason to not fuck with normal people. Although for me not actually that surprising. I've done a lot of dumb shit before, especially drunk. Like 10 years ago I go out drinking with my cousin, who is my designated driver. We go to a venue my friend owns. (I've done some crazy shit here too, I used to manage doors, money, bands wants and desires, my favorite memory was hanging out with Mastodon playing hide and go seek fuuuuccckkkkeed up loaded off the cocaine..... honestly playing hide and go seek in a 4 story creepy asf venue fucking rocked, it used to be a Free Mason building) back to the story..

This guy is determined to take me home. I let my cousin know in advance do not let me get drunk and have this guy take me home. I'm an idiot when I'm drunk, I don't need my mad pimping skills getting me randos over some free drinks. And he bought plenty. She didn't let me go home with him. When it was time to leave, we go outside, and they all hit me at once. I feel sick. My cousin who is frankly just like me knows I'm about to puke. And these people were passing us as they get out of their car and being dicks for no reason. So she tells me to puke on their car. So I did. And even as an older adult, I'm a big enough asshole I still think that's funny.

So drunken Melissa antics really don't surprise me. I'm a fuck.

But I did stop in the local bar where the shitty shenanigans started last's bar fight. I walked in and gabby the bartender grabs a cup and Starts making me a drink. I had to stop her and tell her no, I just came to talk to you. She looks hella confused. I just told her I apologize for yelling an being an ass last night. Her response: You don't have to apologize, that dude was a fucking ass. I tell her I know, I've known him my whole life, he knows my family, and the guy who sexually abused me growing up, but regardless of that, I'm an adult and you had customers and I feel bad. She reassures me not to feel bad at all. I asked her to pass along my apology to Jack (favorite bartender, he makes me really good margaritas) And I thanked her and came home. Glad I'm totes allowed to be a fuck in public and it was actually justified though. Things I love hearing... I'm right.

So the rest of today....


So I did a thing today. Being the masochist I am.. I officially have a double septum piercing. Kinda really geeked about it. I went in to size my gauges and have new plugs put in, and get a new nose ring. My horseshoes have a tendency to lose balls quickly. As my hot girl lady putting my new nose ring in and tapering me tells me to lay down... (yes ma'am) we're talking and I mention I'm thinking about getting a double septum. She gets so excited so quick. Lets me know when I decide to do it, come to her she will hook me up... Of course I asked like what are we talking here? She said she'll do it for only the cost of the jewelry. She's been dying to do one and she can put it in her portfolio.

Ummm.. bitch lets do this now. When I say she's excited, I heard several times how I am now her new favorite person. How she loves me... And while she's setting up and I'm laying down, I hear, like I really want to tell you I love you right now but I do't want to make this weird. I was all.... it's cool you can. So she did, a lot. And I told her I loved her back. Apparently these are not that common, I haven't actually ever met someone with one. So she got to take pictures and send them to her other piercer friends and I was bragging rights because they hadn't done the either. I felt pretty cool for that one. Which being me, is pretty fucking rare.

She did mention she had a girlfriend, who she bought the same pair of plugs we were shoving in my ears. (the I love yous came after though) And I went in thinking my holes were way smaller. I had stretched to 5/8 before and it's been a decade of them being out. I have worn other earrings not with a stud but the hook backing kind. No one can tell I had them before unless I tell them. So I went in thinking I was going to be maybe a 10, but closer to a 12. Fuck no, we got muther fucking 2's in there. Which means it won't take me nearly as long to stretch to where I want.  I don't think I'll go super big again, I haven't decided for sure where I want them to be.

But my life choice for my birthday was Fuck It. I'm being who I want. My friend Ray is a tattoo artist there. I'm trying to talk him into letting me be an apprentice. It's going to take some work but I think I'll win. Fez (lady piercer) asked why I wanted to do the apprenticeship.. I said because I turned 33 and decided fuck dudes, I have cancer, I'm tired of trying to make everyone happy, and I don't want to slave my life away serving ranch til I die.

Fair enough.

And that was my day today folks. Not too shabby. And now you can all see how awesome it looks. But I can't wait to change the horseshoes out for just rings or something else. Healing is a bitch.

God oh God

I'm fucking retarded. 1... still half drunk from last night. Uuuuuggghhhhhh. In my my defense, some guy was buying free fireball shots for everyone. I was already slamming double shots of Jack honey. And drinking margaritas? Why would I do such things? I don't actually have a real answer for that. My tea kettle is on. I took a xanex, hopefully I fall back asleep. I'm retarded. Not on the spectrum but perhaps I should look into that. Because it's a real possibility I am. 

2. I drunk messaged Tom last night. The real one, I vaguely  remember... I'm sure some incoherent nonsense I'm afraid to look at. My bad dude. I think if I remember correctly I said we could of been friends. I also kinda remember telling him I wear checkered vans????? Because at 33 that's definitely what the fuck matters in life. I think I blocked him too. Also a very Melissa thing to do. Get the last word in and don't let anyone else say anything??? Because in real life I have the mentality of a 7 year old. FML

3. Bar fights. First who the fuck hits on a girl with zero cleavage out??? I seriously asked the bartender if I even look approachable? She said yes.. I asked how? I show up in my pajamas. I'm wearing a shirt, and I swear, honestly, I have zero idea where in came from in my life. It just appeared one day. It says something about bacon on it. Black long sleeves, the writing is on the back. And my favorite grey leggings. WTF? Now normally I go to the bar especially on the weekends, and hide in the corner because they're busy. Everyone leaves me alone. But it wasn't actually that busy. Not that I look to see what patrons are what... I came in, the rail was open, I rather like the bartenders. I sit down, almost immediately start getting hit on by randos. That's when I ask Jen the bartender why I look approachable. I mean seriously, some dude called me Renee, and for the first three minutes I played along. It was just another asshole moment brought to you by Melissa. 

 He kept calling me with it and I was like I'm Renee. This guy puts his arms around me and hugs me, and in that instant I knew I shouldn't of played along. No dude, you're actually touching me, stop. Please Stop. I told him my name wasn't Renee and he argued with me until I showed him my ID.  But I did go to school with the kid, and let him know he remembered me from there. He was still excited he knew me. Then more followed. 

If you know me.... I don't talk to other locals. Everyone in the I'll say 3 small towns adjoining all went to the same school and fuck everyone from the same school. Apparently I'm hot enough for them now as if I didn't remember being the really weird girl in high school. I was. I'm still okay with it. I guess they're past that. Nope, not me Still the really weird girl. Please leave me alone.

My free time includes getting drunk alone and sleeping on the beach. Writing in a blog. And now we can add drunkenly harassing Tom. Drunken embarrassing myself was always on the list. But now we're throwing celebrities in there???

So back to the fight. Dudes last name is Bumgardner. He's been around since I can remember. He could be a traveler though because he looks exactly the same as when I was a kid. We live in a 1.3 mile long beach town. Everyone knows everyone. He made some retarded joke at me. I don't think he cared for my witty comeback. No one usually does. Whatever. So he starts getting irate. Then because we live in a small town and rumors spread like wildfire, even if they're true. He starts talking about his friend, his very good guy friend who molested me for most of my childhood when he lived in my house growing up. 

Now, I can deal with a lot in life. I do mean a lot. I try to be graceful (fail miserably) and kind (I do okay there) But one thing I can't do... is stick up for pedophilia. Sorry, I work with kids, not really in my array of talents there. So as this guy is belligerently yelling across the bar on what a nice guy his friend is, (there is a large group of people between us, including 3 out of the 5 people who just hit on me) I yelled back???

And when I did, it was something a long the lines of (I'm lying this is exactly what it was) YEAH, HE WAS REALLY A GREAT GUY WHEN HE WAS SHOVING HIS DICK DOWN MY THROAT WHEN I WAS 6. FUCK YOU BUMGARDNER. 

In my own defense.. I didn't say it because I was drunk, I said it because it was true?

Which then obviously led to a screaming match where everyone heard. And the bartender Jack came and tapped me on my shoulder and asked if I was cool. I had to apologize to him. And completely look away and order another drink and ask to cash out. 

Men get so butthurt. (side note, I just actually added butthurt to the laptop dictionary) And I am not a person to deal with anyone's shit well. I used to. I used to be a fucking doormat. And I would fantasize about going out with a bang. And one day, like magically over night, I got tired of fantasizing about things. So I went out with a bang. It only started this year. Right before the rape. 

I had this super douche bag manager at Dave & Busters, which is a horrible place to work anyways, (also serving ranch is a complete waste of my time because I'm licensed to work with kids in school) and I walked out about two hours after my shift started and posted a note on the server page.

I'm really proud of that actually. 

Frank is the biggest ball sucking muther fucker I've ever met, and his cum guzzling whore of a mother should have swallowed that load. I've never had the pleasure of meeting a bigger bitch in my entire life, Eric you're cool, Josh you're cool, but Frank, FUCK YOU. And just so you servers know, there are plenty of places that will treat you with respect and you will you will make twice the money in half the time and deal with zero of the bullshit.

And that was my parting gift. And honestly, it felt fantastic. So in that moment I decided to stop being docile because it was always a stirring in my soul to go out with a bang. Bucket list shit. I hated that job. Not to say I wasn't an asshole before I just bit my tongue for the most part. This people is why I need Jesus. 

I stormed in my house drunk as fuck at 1 am. My Nana was still up. I told her the gist of what happened as I'm parading around my house grabbing blankets. I remember her saying "Oh No" and I went and slept on the beach. My happy place. 

I think I woke up around 4 am and came in the house. When I just woke up I found most of my belongings outside. That happens when you're me. At least I didn't loose them.

And that ladies and gentleman was my evening. 

And on a lighter note, the one guy who I wanted to hit on me at work, I think may have... and he was grateful for my jukebox selections and tried to talk to me. Apparently I can compile 3 word sentences when I'm nervous. The best whole sentence I got out was while he was just talking happily to anyone who would listen and was like even though this isn't NIN I'm happy about whoever played this. (he did know it was me because my friend Ashley was sitting next to him and we discussed my selection) And as I'm cleaning behind him and he says this, I just say, It's because closer isn't an option on the jukebox so I went with the Arctic Monkeys. 

He turned around and was I'm so glad someone here knows about music and has good taste.   

Melissa awkward moment *says thanks and runs away. 

Split a piece of wood and I am there

I'm going to write about something that has wrecked my heart and I hope for someone or anyone who reads this, it wrecks yours too. I'm going to tell you about me, and I hope you choose to get through this, and you will understand if you do. 

I'm a recovering sex addict. I used to self harm. I've tried to kill myself, and had to have my stomach pumped. I've actually been almost paralyzed from being in toxic and abusive relationships, I could barely walk for two years. I've lied about horrible things, learning humility is a great teacher. I was recently raped after being celibate for almost 3 years. I like wine, maybe a little too much. I've been addicted to drugs. I was sexually abused almost my entire childhood. I yell A LOT at my kids. I recently lost everything, my house, my car, the guy I loved for a long time. My son is special needs, and terrorizes me and breaks things on an almost daily basis, and I have ZERO patience. I used to be a drug dealer. I'm nowhere close to where I think I should be in life. And I feel lonely every day. And the lonely to me is the worst part. And I HATE the expression "God's perfect timing" because honestly I want what I want, and I want it now.

I'm Melissa, and I'm a Christian. I am a constant mess. I refer to myself as a Christian, but I have a very grandiose view if religion. To me everyone is right, and everyone is wrong. I think of religion like this. A room stacked ceiling high with stuff. With one person in in each corner that can't move. They can only see what is directly in front of them. Now they have zero idea what's in front of everyone else, so they think everyone else is wrong. But everyone is right, and everyone is wrong. 

I love being a Christian, because Christ was a martyr for love. And if there is something I know the world needs, it's exactly that. Unconditional Love. To paraphrase the bible, it breaks down to two main rules. Love God, love your neighbors as he loves you. That means unconditionally. Those are two really simple rules. In Christianity, we are the church. It's not a building as most people think it is. It's us. 

I've been a vagabond for most of my life. (Wanderer) Bouncing from one church to the next looking for my home. And in such, I've had the pleasure of meeting so many wonderful people that have really changed my life for the better. The same though, I've met a lot of people who scared me from going back to those churches. Pastors, members of the congregation. My heart often misses a lot of the wonderful people I've met in those places when I stopped going, but I find it so hard to be able to worship next to people who spout all these what I believe "antichrist" ideas all over their facebook pages. They support hardcore immigration laws. (forgetting in the beginning we were once immigrants and even Christ said to welcome them for we were once foreigners in the land, or that we are to love our neighbors, (to me that has always meant all of them, he never specified different)) 

Nearly a year ago I went to check out the church I attend now. SomaCity. At first, it seemed a little quiet, I grew up in a Pentecostal and Baptists church. If you've never attended one, we are the crazy ones that shout and scream, and feel the Holy Spirit and run up and down Isles. I love to praise. But I gave it another chance, and then another. And I kept going. (Now I still will get my loud Amen's in, as well as Preach, and Hallelujahs) After the first time I went, not only (I really think this is cool) did I go to the welcome center, get a free t shirt, (I love t shirts!!??) but I got an email because they actually reached out immediately and invited me to lunch. They do it for everyone once a month. They just wanted to introduce themselves, and buy you food, and explain how they started and who they were. I was all like.. free Mongolian BBQ?
Sure, I'm in. 

Now this church was different from the beginning. I didn't show up to a church building. I showed up to the Franklin Park Mall movie cinemas. Strange right? But not strange in a bad way, just different. And one of the first services I attended was around thanksgiving. They had a message, which is one of their core values, that GENEROSITY IS NORMAL. 

Now, most people talk about the greed of the church. I've seen it firsthand. I've been to churches where they line you up for tithes. Calling you a snake if you don't give God what's his. Passing around the collection plates, and you notice when people do and do not put money in there. There is a stigma of judgment there that I know most people have and hate. Always talking about if money is evil why do churches ask for it? In this sermon, the church showed all the things and charities where money was going. There wasn't a collection plate. We have "treasure boxes" You can put money in there if that's what you choose, but it's between you and God. And they're just boxes located a couple of places so if you choose to, it's not a public spectacle. The money in there, is allocated outside of our church as well. One of the charities they donated to was Cherry St Mission. I myself on my own spent a lot of time volunteering there, not only directly, but taking my kids to feed the homeless every thanksgiving. I don't agree with everything Cherry St. does, but they do reach a lot of people. Soma showed 3 other missions we sponsor, and the places and the work they do, things I really loved already. So I kept going. It was a core value I wholeheartedly believe a church should be doing.

One of the biggest things I had been searching for in a church was a church doing what I think the purpose of the church is. Being the hands and feet of Christ. Embracing what Christ was and loving anyone and everyone outside of the walls of the church. I always thought a church who only loved within their walls was to be frank disgusting. 

Another reason people hate sitting in church besides their fear of judgment, is how boring it is to listen to the same "tired" stories out of duty. We listen because we have to, like a job requirement on Sunday mornings. Not at SomaCity. You will not fall asleep. My pastors make fun of themselves. They are honest to a fault. They're nothing close to being self-riotous. You will laugh, a lot. In out last service we discussed the woman at the well. The Samaritan woman. Sammy, one of our pastors, named her Lindsey because she didn't have a name in the bible. Then broke it down to a way that was not only hilarious, but understandable to a generation with a short attention span. He keeps you on your toes with laughter. Like Lindsey was talking to Jesus, and said she didn't have a husband... And Jesus, was all like girl, I know you don't have a husband, I'm talking about the man you aren't married to your living with, but you have had 5 husbands and I know all your business girl... Then Lindsey went running door to door telling everyone and how it leads to a 2 day revival. Then he explained how your story doesn't have to be pretty. Lindsey was likely a hot mess, but that had no bearing on Jesus using her to reach other people. He can use us, in all of our hot mess lives to do the same. 

This is what Christ has always embodied to me. You won't walk into a sermon at my church damning homosexuals to hell. You won't listen to a white privileged man talk about immigration laws and keeping people from coming through the borders. You will never hear a message of hate inside our gatherings. Something that to this day I see leaders of other churches posting on their facebook pages. And it breaks my heart. 

What you will hear is, Generosity Is Normal. And that's not a plea to give our church money, but not to be afraid to give the homeless guy on the corner money, or help someone carry their groceries to their car. It's any and everything you can do, not even revolving around money, or church, but to show the rest of the world kindness. To be forgiving, and giving. We are our brother's keepers.

If you ever walk into SomaCity (I highly recommend you do regardless of religious beliefs) You will hear honesty. Last week (and this is one of my favorite things) I listened to my pastor explain that if you think you and your significant other fight, he would be able to go toe to toe with you with his wife. They go to counseling, he needs a life coach. He struggles to read the bible. You will hear a man, who is not only funny, but earnestly willing to admit he's not perfect because he stands in front of us. But more so than that, he needs to be real with us, because everyone has a story, and maybe instead of sugarcoating those stories, that in doing that scares people away. That we need to start being honest about our struggles, with faith, with life, with addiction, with immorality, because (and I've known this line for so long and it's always on the surface of my beliefs, so when he brought it up it was a big Amen from me) 

THE CHURCH IS NOT A COLLEGE YOU GO TO AND HAVE TO BE ACCEPTED, IT IS A HOSPITAL WHERE YOU GO TO BE HEALED. The world expects Christians to be "perfect" we have a view cast onto us that we are always kind, we never struggle, we love God so that must mean we all have it together, that he blesses us beyond measure. And that shadow is killing the church. It scares people away. Even more so, never ever, not once, did God use the riotous to lead the strong. He always hung out with the outcasts, the sinners, the weak, the afraid. So we as a collective need to break down our walls and start being real. Just because we love Christ does not mean we have our shit together. (I curse like a sailor and struggle every single day with absolutely any and everything you imagine) 

We throw block parties. Parties at the college campus. Not just so you know who we are, but so we can just love on our city. One of our core values is, WE LOVE OUR CITY. We don't care who you are or what you're going through, if you're Christian, or Muslim, or homeless, or rich, or gay, or a single mom living out of your car, my church wants to know you. We want to hug you. We want to listen to your story. 

I knew Soma was my home because I have a tendency to go astray. And while I attended churches for years sometimes, no one ever came looking for me. Not a phone call or a text. And that's not to say these weren't good churches, they just weren't my home. I equate it to if you don't come home at night, your family is going to notice. They are sending out search parties. They worry about you. A few months ago I did this. I was going through a lot in life and I stopped going. I got a text. Hey we miss you, haven't seen you, is everything okay? I explained what was going on, I didn't have a car anymore. She asked if she could come over later in the week, just talk and have some coffee... (I have social anxiety, and agreed to it anyway) And she did come. She brought me iced coffee, and a bouquet of flowers and gave me a hug. And she talked with me for hours. Even though she had noticed I was gone, she took the time to come find me, and on top of that made arrangements that if I needed a ride, my church, my home, would get me an Uber every Sunday back and forth home. (I live a 35 minutes away???!) 

They didn't care, they cared I was a part of their family and they were there to be just that. And I knew I was home. It was the one thing all the other churches I had loved too, hadn't done yet. It wasn't the fact the offered me a way, it was the fact they loved me enough to be the hands and feet of Jesus, and left the 99 to look for the lost from the flock. 

So, If you are unsure about church, or denominations, and you maybe find yourself searching for something you feel is missing in life. If you feel lost. If you're not perfect, and don't want to be overwhelmed with "perfect" people, or judgmental people. Or greedy people. If you just want a place to have a good laugh, and to fill your cup. Our doors are always open. We offer coffee, maybe some snacks. And a lot of hugs. We have childcare for all ages. We are ready with open hearts to genuinely be there for you, regardless of anything. We don't care what religion you are, or even if you're atheist. Heck if you just have nothing better to do and just want the free coffee.... Or if you are like me and struggle with absolutely everything in life... (you can sit next to me too if you're afraid ;) )

We meet at the Franklin Park Mall every Sunday at 9:30. And even if you aren't ready for that, I will be happy to answer any questions you have. We also have a ministry app if you want to listen to a few sermons to make sure I'm not making all this up. It's Soma City on the play store. Black box White writing. @Soma City Church or click the thingy i just tagged them in and check out our facebook page

But also, if you just need someone to talk to because you do struggle like me, and you don't want to check out my home church where we meet, I am here. I can just be here for you. And you don't ever have to check my church out. I will love whoever you are no matter the hot mess.

The Tom Catfish doesn't know when to stop

I'm angry and I don't think he has any idea on why. I don't think he understands the principles of basic emotions. Or science. For every action there is an opposite equal or greater reaction. It's simple.

At this point, and trying to avoid phone calls at 6 am from a man who thinks he's in love with me... I've made my demands very clear.

See, I was not the only person affected by his actions. The real Tom didn't ask for any of this, and while he's had limited exposure to the entire situation, it's was his name that was stolen. And sometimes in life, especially in my case, our names are all we have. It's the foundation of our being.

I involved the real Tom's family. I went off on real Tom. Things to go along and match the already embarrassing situation I'm in. So I demand honesty. I demanded apologies. I demand the whole truth nothing but the truth so help us God. Until then, I have zero reason (actually had plenty of negative reasons not to) to continue to speak with him. So for your viewing pleasure. A list of my demands.

Dear Uterus

It feels as if though it's are trying to escape. Pressure that feels like it's either going to explode, or an alien baby is going to emerge out of it. Which if that actually does happen it may be cooler than just sitting here in pain. I might be hospital bound.

I'll pay someone willing to cut my uterus out cheaply $20. Someone come do it. I'm so serious.

Romeo and Juliet, getting drunk and eating percocets

My brain hurts most days. I just went and bought some beer form the store and it's warm. Disgusting. Can we talk about we are persecuting a victim while actually considering letting a fucking possible rapist into the supreme court? Jesus Christ man. This is the exact reason women don't report crimes.

I was raped around 5 months ago. I didn't report it. My friends and family found out after I started hyperventilating and couldn't sleep anymore. Someone asked me why I didn't report it.  

I was dating this guy for 2 months. I had just like many times before invited him over to my house. To snuggle and lay in my bed and watch some Netflix. I'm a recovering sex addict. What does it look like at 33 years old, to explain that situation? So I didn't. I internalized it. It ate me alive. But in a system where women are repeatedly told we bring rape upon ourselves, how the fuck are we supposed t be honest? I took it upon myself to take all his dick pics and post them on my facebook. Well at least all of the ones of him at his job in his uniform taking pics in the community office. Tagged his job in it. Nothing happened to him. I know because he works at Dave n Busters, and my friend Rebecca went in the other day and told me she ran into him. Called him out about raping me. He gave her a bunch of free games. Asked how I was. 

The worst part of the rape was having to drive this guy home afterwards. Listening to him apologize as he watched me cry. As if that made it all better. I waited 3 years as a recovering sex addict to even try to date someone and two months after I had this was what I dealt with. Yay. 

He did this not even a week after I found out I had cancer again. 

Again because I was first diagnosed at the ripe age of 19. It was removable. And again at 21. It was again removable. It stayed away for a while. I waited to go to the doctors this time. I knew it was back around 2 years ago. I remember one of the last pap smears I went to the doctor engaged the device into my vagina, looked down and with a look of horror on his face when he looked up at me and asked exactly how many procedures had I had done?

All together? Including biopsies? leaps? removals? I lost count. Enough that I avoided the doctor like the plague. I couldn't afford insurance anyways #thisisamerica So at first, even though familiar, the pain was minor. Now two years later being diagnosed almost 5 months ago, Everyday waking up feels like my uterus is trying to weigh itself down and force it's way out of my vagina. Fun right? An intense pressure I am now trying to drink away. I made an appointment today. It's kinda unbearable. At this point I'm breaking down and keeling over at my job. Crying hysterically. My Nana begging me to go to the hospital. I can't afford that shit. Dying would be cheaper.

Cancer fucking sucks. I know it's to the point there really isn't much left for them to cut away. While I was talking to my friend Nicole last night her response was I'm sorry I know you wanted more kids. Not really? Yes when I smell babies my uterus works with the biological clock screaming at me to implant, but realistically I have have 6 years left til I ship my daughter off to medical school, leave my son to hack the planet and I'm free. I hope at this point they realize with every lesson I've taught them that I am not a safety net. Once you are 18 you are on your own My job is not to coddle you, but prepare you for such future. There are 7.6 billion people in the world. Life is not fair. They do not owe you anything. They do not care if you fail or succeed. Everyone is out for themselves. Where as my job is to prepare them, my ultimate goal is to make sure, I am not releasing another asshole selfish fuck upon the world. I am raising humanitarians. That kind of success is not optional. We have one planet. People will come and go... The Earth is what needs to be cared for. There are enough selfish, greedy, people in the world, and I am not raising a contribution to that. 

My daughter has wanted to be a cardiac or brain surgeon for the last 4 years. Hopefully I can channel my son' strong will to eliminate national debt. Then we can be freed as people to not work our lives away to buy back the products we make for someone else to get the money.  My daughter working with doctors without borders. So I'm not that upset I can't have any more kids. I'm working my damn hardest to raise the two i have correctly and this is never easy. But I'm doing the best I can.

I wonder sometimes though if I care so much about being the love in the world and wanting to do so much about everything because of the lack of care I received growing up. As I stood over my son doing his homework today as he grumbled, and disrespected me, and pissed and moaned, I reminded his my own mother never cared about anything but dick and making sure the dishes were done by the time she came home from work. Funny enough, as a teacher, never not once sat with me to do my homework. Try explaining that as teachers called you out your entire life. Sorry I didn't get my homework done, I was too busy cleaning so my mother could have a male visitor over who would likely abuse me.... Sorry I didn't do that long division. I wonder if I will, or at least I should say at least I fear, standing over my children and expecting greatness leaves me to worry that I am just raising more selfish entitled people to endure the world with. I pray I am not. That maybe I am exactly who I am because of how little the world cared about me. Quiet battles are usually the hardest to go through. 

Fuck my life.

I fucking hate Fake Tom

This after my evening is what I decided. I fucking hate this dude. You know I am in the habit of forgiving nearly every person in my life. Except fake cancer, and now Fake Tom.

I thought I would be fine. I thought, you know I really wish I could understand the way human beings operate the way I tried to understand The Naked Truth after William Buroughs wrote it. It was a two week drunken binge.. No one can understand it. No one can understand the way people work. I keep coming to this place of screaming at God why? WHY? WHY? WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU BRING ME TO THIS IDIOTIC SITUATION??????????????????????????????????

I can't yell to the heavens enough. I drove through black skies to get to my friend Nicole's after work tonight. Tornado warning. I very obviously have a death wish. I even like to take my hands off the steering wheels and close my eyes when I drive sometimes. My death wish never comes true. Like the heavens mocking me repeatedly. I saw the spiral of clouds and had zero worry. I'm not brave I'm just stupid. Stupid for believing in humanity. Stupid for wanting to understand a hard human life. Stupid I kept trying to be love and embrace it. I'm stupid.

The more I tried to understand how a human could just lie and take advantage of another human being the more he feeds into these reasons why people just fucking suck actually. And now, now I'm pissed. I'm pissed I have some fake surreal life I will never live. I'm pissed there is zero reason for the real Tom to ever know me. To ever care. I'm pissed he has a hot talented girlfriend. I'm pissed I am just another faceless human in the sea of people to both real Tom and Fake Tom. I capitalize Fake because to me it's his real name.

I want to be in love with a funny, sexy, intelligent, man who wears checkered vans. Instead I'm again the butt of God's joke. I'm mad. And it's taken months to build up to this. You know at first, I had some misplaced anger with real Tom. He could of been nicer, but lets be legit, dudes under a fucking microscope. So I don't blame him for being less human that most. I'm sure in his real life with people he trusts he's a great guy. But Isaac..... Fucking Fake Tom Nigerian Isaac....


I literally just lost everything over a man. I wrote two words in a pit of despair and that was worth fucking with my head for months. As if my insides weren't rotting from the inside out from cancer. As if I wasn't already starting my fucking life over. As if I was a shitty human being???

I volunteer, I feed the homeless, I make food boxes for junkies and needy families. I'll give my last dollar to the guy on the street, I mentor urban youth because they have no adult in their life they can trust, I am a fucking Sunday school teacher. Granted I say Fuck a lot. I do know it's a lot. I didn't say I was perfect. But in the realm of being a decent human being, I absolutely do my best especially given my circumstances. And I don't want to boast on myself... give all credit to the universe because the crappier things got for me, the more I wanted to be the change I wanted to see in the world.

But I want to scream. I want to rip all my hair out and go Brittney 2007 crazy.

WHY? WHY THE FUCK DID GOD GIVE ME THIS SHITTY HEART THAT GETS WALKED ALL OVER AND WANTS TO BE NICE AND UNDERSTAND PEOPLE AND I DON'T GET ANY FUCKING ANSWERS????????????????????????????????


I want to be sedated. Someone please for the love of God and all things holy I'm begging you... Come give me a fucking lobotomy. It's one thing to be stupid and know you're stupid and then feel bad because the only thing you never want to amount to in life is being just another shitty human. But then knowing you're fucking retarded and not doing anything about it is completely different that having someone remove a part of your brain and then not knowing you're dumb. I would prefer that.

I'm looking down the barrel of a loaded gun and I want someone to pull the fucking trigger already.

I DO NOT LIKE BEING HUMAN ANYMORE.

For fucks sake.

It's just my imagination drifting

I spent months talking to this person I thought was Tom. Months of my life trying to figure out who he was not just through conversation, but looking at his social media. Learning the real him as much as the fake. I thought they were one in the same.

The things my mind can't move past. His love for books, and art, and music. His sense of humor, not just what people assume is it, but the surreal intelligent humor he uses on a daily basis. The things while I was trying to know him I assume most people wouldn't notice. Like when he posted himself reciting as many Canadian prime ministers as he could. It was his intelligence there that was incredibly sexy. Not just the random facts he could say from the back of his head, but the fact he knew them in the first place.

Not just his love for music, but vinyl. The only real way music should be heard. I don't know if it is a generational thing, but a real music lovers heart. The smell of a record you just pull out of a sleeve. I see him still making an everyday name for himself. And I know that behind that facade of what everyone wants from him, that there is this real life, human, intelligent, actual being. I like that his eyes don't open to the same size all the time. Likely a look developed after looking at people and thinking what the fuck so much. My eyes do the same thing. I like them even more in his glasses. I've seen him in a thousand black t shirts, and prefer him in purple. And his bowed legs. I love the fact that even with age this man still enjoys wearing checkered vans. In the same way I do. Something I refuse to ever grow out of.

I can't help but wonder if the circumstances were different if we could of ever been friends. I'm not a fan. Before the last couple of months I hadn't thought about his since I was a teenager watching his stunts on MTV. I don't much believe in celebrity crushes. I don't follow bands, or actors,or actresses. I don't really even watch TV. Rarely movies. I much more prefer creating, living my life rather than watching others live theirs out. So these thoughts I carry now perplex me. I don't have crazy people thoughts like following him on tour, or smelling his underwear.

But I do wonder what it's like to look him in his eyes, and listen to him talk about something he feels passionately about besides show biz. To have an actual conversation about something that isn't rehearsed. I think about this life I thought about for months. Rubbing his feet after a long day. And making him laugh, not waiting for him to make me to. I thought so long about pillow fights, and pacing back and forth in front of his studio doors until he could give me his undivided attention.

I thought about him in a raw human sense of being.  I actually thought about him. Learning his likes and dislikes. And kissing his jaw line. And listening to him snore after a long day. Holding his hand. And honestly I feel bad now that I think about these things. Knowing they are not plausible. Knowing that I really am the one torturing my own mind at this point because it was always just a dream. Knowing that in the real world people who live lives like his will never see a day where they see someone like me. I've never dreamed of being rich and famous. It's a little grotesque for me. But imaging a life with this person I thought I was talking to for months came to a screeching halt. And I liked imaging the smell of books together. Rainy day cuddling. Making his coffee. Showering together. Talking with the bathroom door open.

I hadn't thought of those things with another person in so long. Even living with Benga, it wasn't me imaging those kinds of things. I was just reacting, just living day to day without hope.

There were no mutual ideals we shared. But studying this man for months knowing we enjoy and embody so many of the same things. Knowing he could be a good person. And we had so much in common. I'm left wondering if I'll ever dare to dream a dream like this again. And just as I told him, it didn't hurt because it wasn't him, it hurt because I opened myself up. And at first that was true. But now, now it's more than that. Now its the disappointment from bearing the idea that there might not be someone in the world whose brain is like mine. It's the idea of settling for less than that kind of sexy intelligence.  It's giving up the idea of reading while playing footsie with someone. And the thought that maybe I won't find someone whose eyes do the same things as mine. Something maybe only the heavens could of aligned.

It's an unnerving fear that I won't end up with someone I could share so much with, that there would never be a dull day of our lives. It's a question the Universe of possibilities and still being forsaken. He's adventurous and gentle at the same time. And in all my life, I haven't met other humans like that.

It's a genuine disappointment that he was incredible to me. It's mourning a person that is still alive and never knew you existed. That's a different kind of heartbreak for a person like me. A person who continuously mourns dreams. 

Brainssssssss

People are getting on my nerves. My uterus hurts, I have a tooth that hurts. Crystal my biological mother got Benga's dog Knox stolen. Thousands of dollars sunk into this dog and she claims the kids let her out and not back in when they went to play outside, but I want to know who the fuck lets kids 8 and under play outside by themselves in the middle of south Toledo??? Someone pulled up on Knox, opened the door, and of course, the dog who loves to go for car rides, jumps in.


First of all... she's fucking lucky her irresponsible almost 60 year old ass didn't have a child kidnapped because of her negligence. Seriously it could of been one of the kids. But no, it was our dog. And she had the nerve to cry. I hope whomever took her treats her better than she was there. Who leaves kids to attend to themselves? This is why her name is Crystal. Not mother, not mom, not mommy dearest. This person who left me to be molested and raped and a victim of incest my whole life never learned any fucking lesson at all. Fucking disgusting. That she would be left in charge of lives at all.
IT COULD OF BEEN ONE OF MY NIECES OR NEPHEWS. IT COULD OF BEEN A CHILD.

It is not okay. The complete absence of care is not alright at all. My Nana said she had 7 kids over. And clearly she shouldn't of if she could not provide adequate care. I manage kids. I teach 10-15 2 and 3 year olds every Sunday. I spend my free time volunteering with youth. Mentoring and monitoring them. Never has one escaped past me. Let alone I had 4 dogs at one point, never, not once was one misplaced or stolen. The worst that ever happened was benga leaving the back door open and the neighbors calling me while I was 45 minutes away, and I speed home to get them in 15 minutes, and Lenny is just waiting on the porch for me to get home.   Never could I imagine thinking these kids were old enough on their own to play outside. They range from 2-8?????

It makes my blood boil. How people can be so irresponsible and on top of that expect sympathy. It's gross.

Also this whole Isaac situation (fake Tom) is irking me too. I still ignore him the majority of the time. He still thinks he loves me. When he says it I say thank you?? What am I supposed to say? Hey I now you're still catfishing another woman as Tom. Also 4 other men as 2 different porn stars and frankly I can't believe anything that you say. Like at all. And he asked me yesterday what I was doing and I told him I was writing in my blog. He to the point of arguing with me demanding I tell him how he can read it too..

No. I dated fake cancer on and off for 3 years. Who censored me to the point I didn't want to write anymore. It literally has taken me years to want to write again. And to be completely honest in my writing. No fear. The last thing I want to do is listen to some random butthurt man on why I should filter myself.

I don't want to filter me. I don't want to worry about anyone's feelings before I type something. I want my brain to be free to say whatever it wants to. This is therapy to me. This is the daily jumble I like to get out, it's been helping me sleep better. The more I write the less I worry about. It reminds me of that retarded infomercial... Set it and forget it. That's how my brain feels about writing. I get it all out here and I don't have to spends 2 hours a week telling someone in an expensive chair what pisses me off and why, sugarcoating it in the first place to turn around and hear, You really don't give yourself enough credit. You got up today, that's an accomplishment.

No, it's the bare fucking minimum and sometimes I am not even strong enough to do that. I don't want smiley faced stickers and two thumbs up.

So this is my safe place. To say all the horrible abrasive shit no one actually wants to hear come out of me, on top of if they do labeling me as fucking insane. I'm not crazy (although I might be who knows) I just don't care for the stupidity of the world.

And this guy begging me for my link. Nope..... he asked if I was really telling him no... Yes I am

I don't care if strangers know what the hell goes on in my head. Sorry but no one who would actually randomly read this could say anything or try to guilt trip me into being emotionally dishonest.

But if real Tom reads this.... Don't you want to run away together? Aren't you tired of being funny for everyone? Don't you know you have more to offer?? Don't you want to talk about books? And go on actual adventures? In the woods where no one knows where you are? We could go fishing, and have bonfires, and I could sing to you, badly. And read poetry softy. I would take the soft blade of my fingers and gently stroke your chest. No cameras. No autographs. No pictures. I could show how much the rest of the world doesn't exist, at least until you ready for them again. And then I could hide and wait for you to need rest again. Loving me takes zero dollars. And I would bake you cookies. And we can paint together. I could be your best friend. I could exhaust you sexually in the middle of nowhere. I know you love what you do, But I could be what you love to do too. *This has been another fantasy brought to you by Melissa. *Also on the very slim chance you do ever read this, I do know these things are seemingly impossible, and I blame Isaac the Nigerian for putting these ideas in my head. I pictured them with you so many times thinking I was talking to you morning, noon, and night, that it's hard to think of other good things now. I maybe had a crush on you when I was 14, but I did forget about you for so long. And I wonder now why the universe put all this in my path. *And Also Also.... One of your eyes opens more than the other and I don't know why but when I see a picture of you now, that is my favorite thing. And the more I think about these things the more and more angry I get with the Nigerian.

Here are the convos of him trying to talk him into letting him read my blog.

The way, The Truth

God wrecked me this morning. Like completely. I was on my way into church, and I was thinking about my story. Specifically when God really started to change my life. When I was staring down the barrel of a 22 thinking I was about to die. How that could have been the end of my story right there. That could of been the end of me. Head blown off in front of my family right down the ally.

But that wasn't the end. That was my beginning. That was where all the pieces of my brokenness started to come together to form a good human being.  I was a mess before that. Only ever caring about myself, having fun, and getting whatever I wanted.

I knew God my whole life. I grew up in the church. I saw first hand how to live as a sinner and still smile in church on Sundays. But I also learned that he would leave the 99. And I had a bad habit of going astray. No matter how in love with God I was, I never accepted he loved me back.

And in the moment I didn't get shot, that was my defining moment. Today is different and yet so much not. I struggle everyday. With any kind of sobriety. If it numbs you to the outside world, odds are I liked it a little too much. A little more than a little too much. Booze. Drugs. Men.

And I went into church and we were discussing the woman at the well. And how Jesus was like hey, that's right, I know all your business. And how she ran door to door telling people how he knew everything about her. And how it lead to a two day revival. How her story wasn't a pretty one but God used it. And how God needs us to stop pretending we have out shit together so someone else doesn't think Christianity is this perfect world where they don't fit in. But instead we need to tell the world exactly how broken we are. Because he uses the weak to be strong. And how our personal life stories can make what we love about God seem plausible. How we need to just admit we are hot messes and ready to love on some other hot messes. And that's the only way we make it.

And I was crying. I cried because on the way to church I was already focused on how God really did give me a do over. How he loved me enough to give me life in that moment of stupidity. And then reinforced it when I sat down in that seat and knew that it was okay I wasn't put together yet. It was those moments the world needed to know to understand that church needs to stop pretending we are a college you have to get accepted into. We are a hospital you go to be healed.

I have an amazing pastor. He doesn't get up in front of us every Sunday and pretend like he's got his shit together either. He's honest. He talks about how he struggles to read the bible. How he fights with his wife. And they need counseling, and he has a life coach. He's honest. And I think belonging to a church so set in stone their principles are truly dedicated to really being the church, that it is such a gift. Not a building, not a philosophy, but real, raw, human beings.

And they hold you accountable. I've gone to  a lot of churches I've loved before. But as me, going astray I would stop going, and not hear anything from them. I always knew that they weren't my home. Because when you stop going home... you best believe someone is coming to look for you. And I tried it here at Soma. And I got a text... Hey where have you been? What's going on? Can I just come visit you? And I knew when that happened Soma City was my home. They noticed I was gone. They came to find me. And it is such a blessing to know that you will be accounted for. You're not just another face, you mean something to them. And I don't have to be perfect, in fact, they prefer instead of that, that we are just human. And telling the truth about how hard that experience alone can be, can change other peoples lives.

So God wrecked me today. Even though I feel alone a lot. Even though I'm 33 and my life isn't close to being together. Even though I struggle with sobriety. Even though I feel like I'm going mad all the time, and I'm exhausted, and confused, and don't have answers to my prayers, and I question God everyday and I'm far from being good at being obedient. That all qualifies God to love me. I don't need to be fixed, I need to just be, and even more than that, understand that these seemingly horrific days are what makes my relationship with God all the more important. He doesn't need to fix me, he needs me to tell the world I can be loved and still not be fixed.

That's the way. That's the truth.

Like a drum my heart never stops beating

So besides the fact I have real life insomnia and the Nigerian woke me up twice today (the catfish not benga)..... fml I must of dozed off while watching bits of American Vandal. Because when I went to turn it off I noticed a message from Benga. Asking if I was up. I responded with a yes why.

There are so many issues with this scenario. Yes I text him the last two days in a row.  We spoke last week for the first time in months. In me speaking to him I text during normal daytime hours, kept conversation to a minimum and asked him questions on things he has first hand knowledge of. Which is why I text him. I just needed info. He very obviously was drunk. Asking are you up Niagara... which I assume is drunk for Are you up my nigga? And beings as I didn't see it right away, it took me over an hour t respond. I said yes why? No response, I am sure he's passed out now. So as I think about this and try to go back to bed, I am a little perturbed.

I gave you no reason to late night drunken text me. I'm not better. I'm not okay. You made me out to be a monster with my head covered in snakes. I was evil. I was so hated by you in all of your words you claimed I didn't know you, and I  was an awful human being. 6 fucking years of his hot and cold emotions. Never knowing what he wanted, always making me to be the bad guy. 6 fucking years.

I'm not ready. I'm still pissed. Pissed at myself, pissed at him, pissed in general I could again leave so much of me with someone I don't now who I am. The only thing that is left is fragments of me that are scared to ever actually love another human again. The shell of an asshole. A deliberate mean human being. I kept my texts to what he knows about. They were legitimate. Real questions and he honestly was the only person I know that could answer them.

I cried for months. I wanted to die. I was actually going to kill myself over him. Swearing I never loved him, I was awful, h wanted to not deal with my bullshit anymore, he had a new girlfriend and he as going to put his efforts in  there. Like knife to my wrist. I just spent the last 3 years of my life living with this man who always had a pot on the stove but turned it on and off. On and off. and when he would leave it on, and I would boil over, would question why.

We shared a bed. Yes it was completely voluntary. I never had to. But he fit me perfectly and who in their right mind would turn that down? And yes he told me the whole time he wasn't ready to be with someone. Unless he was drunk and then he would spew how much he loved me to me and cry, and apologize, and I always thought a drunk mans words were a sober mans thoughts. So I stayed. And every time I would go back to my own room and sleep, he would tell me I can come back to his bed but don't get the wrong idea. And I always came back, and I always got the wrong idea. When he kissed me, everything in the world seemed to fit in it's place. And then we both got complacent.

Our bad habits wore on one another's nerves. Endless love turned into an endless fighting. It was exhausting. Something he thinks he endured alone. As if always picking up after him, and having to search for dirty dishes in his room was my favorite spare time activity. The difference was I just wanted to be held, and he just wanted to be with everyone who wasn't me. He never learned once in the 3 years of living together that all he had to do was hold me to get me to shut the fuck up. I didn't need more stuff. He was an excellent provider. He worked damn hard. I knew that. And never in my life have I ever had anyone take care of me the way he did. But while having things is nice, he was always the only thing I ever wanted. So where he was exhausted from working and giving, I was exhausted from never getting what I wanted.

I could of slept next to him forever, proudly, and happily. He was my friend for so long that him taking him away was the worst thing he could of ever done to me. So much I still don't know who I am anymore. I barely laugh. I fill my time with this instead of people. I live out imaginary relationships in my head that I pretend are okay, not because I'm crazy but because at least daydreaming takes my hurt away for fractions at a time. I'm trying not to cry thinking about it right now.

So I text him back before I started writing this and told him I'm not ready. Not for drunken texts. Not to be friends. Not for late night conversation. Fuck he wanted me to go away. He doesn't remember the good times. The shit that haunts me he has zero fucking recollection of and I'm supposed to keep loving as if my love, my heart, was worth nothing more than a grain of salt?? I love big. With all of me. I don't actually know another way. Who wants to be kinda loved? I want the whole fucking cake, pie, dinner, dessert, coffee after all of that... I'm not even close to being ready.

At the end of it, after he decided he was hurt, when I was raped, I begged him to come over, sobbing, just so he would sit next to me so I felt safe. He came over and pretended to be an ass. He is one, but more so. Telling me the person I think I know is gone, I don't want him, he's just an asshole now, he's only going to take from women.

And I know him. I know him better than I know myself. I know how he acts when he is mad, or hungry, how quickly he gets irritated when he's sleepy. I know every crease in his face while he eats. I studied him for years trying to perfect loving him. The things he was saying were definitely words coming out of his mouth but I never heard them before. Peoples vocabularies are always changing, their souls do not. That doesn't mean good people cannot do bad things, but it does mean if you are inherently good, you always will be.  Benga is good. Not just a good man, but a good human.

I know because I loved him for so long. And I knew in that moment where he was saying these ridiculous things, he wanted to be a bad person to make it easy for me to go away. I too wish it were that easy. It's not. But he started talking about when your demons come calling. And he don't have time for feelings anymore.

As I laid there sobbing, full panic attack ugly cry begging him to stop, I explained, that is not what it looks like when demons come calling.  When your demons are demanding payment, you will look like me. Hysterical, not wanting to live, and emotional wreck. You will have no control.

My Nana wanted me to check myself into a hospital I was so bad. I was so alone. Where were my friends I had been there for endlessly? The people I called my family who I would drop anything for? No one was there. Everyone I had ever loved besides my kids and my Nana were gone. If I die are these the people who will be at my funeral? The ones that didn't dare love me back the same?

Maybe why it's why I am so okay with being alone now. I had to realize I always had been.

I miss him. Every minute of everyday. I would give my life for his still without a doubt, or a second thought about it. He will never do anything wrong in my eyes, even when he does. He has the biggest heart of any man I have ever met. I would of been a fool not to love him. I suppose I was a fool either way. But I'm not ready. I can't be his friend, I can't text, I can't do drunken phone calls. It's only been two months. Everything he said to me is burnt into my flesh. Things he can never take back. And no matter what I will always love him, I will not keep standing inside of the flames and continue to get burnt.

The difference between him and I is simple. I remember all of the good and most of the bad. Every smile, every time he held me through a nightmare. I remember every kiss and every cuddle. I remember every single thing he ever did for me, every I love you and I'm sorry. He was priceless to me.  He, on the other hand, remembers every fight. Everything he ever bought. He amounts our relationship to a dollar amount. Money he spent over a duration of our life together. I was a cost he figured. It wasn't memories he was investing in, it was a dollar amount to be thrown in my face later. I was another cost. Our life was. And my heart was never for sale.

Inspirational quotes and shit

My friend just text me and told me I was an inspirational person to her. I hope the inspiration is to be nothing like me.

My daughter came into the kitchen a little bit ago and asked me what I was looking for. I said my mind, I hadn't seen it since 2005 before I had children. She replied "that's harsh"

She got me good one day. She wanted me to make her food and I said, What do I look like Betty Crocker? She said, No mom, you look like little debbie. She got me. It's hard watching your brains develop and get better than you. And she did it so fast too... it's a damn shame.

I'm dying right now though. Season 2 of American Vandal. Season one was semi genius anyways #whodrewthedicks now... #theturdburgler This is America now. I can dig it.


And this is my life, blogging, drinking wine. Surviving off pita and hummus.

Also because I was left rather confused as to what this guy wanted after our date, I took the direct approach and just asked. Asked what he was looking for, whether it was romantic or just friends. He thankfully he answered honestly, and said he didn't know. I just explained that I wasn' sure, he payed with his bdsm toys wit me, but didn't try to bust a move on e. And he did seem really into his phone, and talking about his relationships with other women.

He apologized an explained he is on the phone that much because of work, and he knows I had recently been through some BS and was okay with taking things slow.

I can respect a man trying to respect me. Is it wrong if I tell him I just want him to wear me like the crown I am. Romantic right? Like I am not trying to marry you...

The sex addict in me is starting to take over. In a 3 year sober period I have found I may have even less of a reason to respect men than I did before. So much so in fact, that, I wonder if I will even be okay. If there is even any human in me anymore. I wonder if I can get away with going on a fucking spree and still be okay with me in the morning.

Lord help me. Or.... Lord help all of them. The addict in me wants to relapse.

Tis but a scratch

I hadn't heard from the date guy in about a week. I more than assumed that he wasn't interested. He's incredibly hot. Not that in the realm of things I think about people that is at the top of my list. But he's edgy hot. Gauged septum. dreadlocks. Likes to wear pink. The out of the everyday norm are things I enjoy. Punk rock genius? Definitely what I would be into. Kinda the same boat I'm in. And while I had fun on our date, I mean we did hang out for something like 7 hours. Which is a accomplishment itself if you ask me, I just assumed when I had only heard two sentences from him since, he wasn't interested. Which is fine by me, I most certainly knew a long time ago I wasn't everyone's cup of tea.

But I woke up this morning with a message from him saying he had been locked out of something on his phone and wasn't able to shoot me a message, but he was really interested in me, if he didn't scare me away, he had a lot of fun together and wants to hang out again soon.

I'm down... I'm still a little thrown off that I actually know who his booty call is. Also that he claims he didn't know that when women ask to bathe at his house, or take naps in his bed, they were in fact trying to sleep with him. I am like a super monogamous person. I can deal with open relationships, I have before, as long as both parties understand the rules of engagement, no harm no foul. Neal (fake cancer) never played by the rules. He actually just thought what was good for the goose, was only good for the goose. He couldn't handle that I could separate my emotions in the same way he did. And one time, on one of our infamous breaks,  started fucking this guy that I had introduced him to. He was my friend first. And we both happened to be single at the same time and found one another on a dating app. We had disgustingly filthy sex for months. I'm talking so dirty I didn't want to look at myself in the mirror afterwards.

I do miss Vegas sometimes. He was great in bed. And he was down asf. Like he understood the rules. We tried group sex with other people. Some of my funniest sex memories are with him...

But anyways, at one point Fake cancer and I had made up. We had gotten into a fight and I screamed at him I fucked Vegas. Where I thought he would hate me, he invited me over. We talked about it, and when I said it had went on for months, I still remember the question that came out of his mouth...

You fucked Vegas? or you were fucking Vegas, because fucked implies it happened only once.

I have been fucking Vegas. I didn't go into details, but he was happy I had just been honest. Fast forward to a month later.. I get a new cell phone, throw the old one in a drawer at home... Fake cancer comes to stay the night, steals said cell phone... charges it, and goes through every intimate detail of not only my sexual escapades with Vegas, but everyone I had been seeing and talking to, all the things I had said about him, and then butthurt texts me saying someone forwarded all this information to him. And the best part, even if that had been true, he acted like me having group sex while we were on a break was any of his fucking business. Mind you he cheated on me and wasn't honest for three fucking years????

I eventually found my cell phone at his house. Of course he still denied he had taken it... Like I was stupid enough to believe him. Fucking retard. But where do some people get off? I never pretended to be innocent. I just understood the rules of the game we were playing. It was a don't ask don't tell policy. Not to mention, I was forthcoming about our mutual acquaintance without going into details.

But this is exactly the problem. Men don't understand that while we have hearts, we do know how to . turn them off. We do know how to play by their rules. They don't like us being emotionally available, and being okay with any scenario. They hate they think they are smarter and yet we are fully capable of doing the same things as them.

To me sex is sex. Love is love. And you can love to have sex, and you can make love... But we are able to distinguish the difference sincerely about the options.

But the physics major.... Hot, into the same kind of things as me. I love being able to have conversations with a person who can comprehend how my brain works. It is so few and so far between. I nearly forgot what I was talking about.... I've waited since fake cancer to be with anyone. Very few even peak my interest in the first place. But I definitely don't want to start something and end up jealous, or non committed at this point. He seems to kinda run through women. He doesn't much like taking his time. And told me openly his last few ex's couldn't handle his schedule.

I'm a needy person. I am aware about this myself. I'm not afraid to tell men if you have to question if you can handle me or not, odds are you cannot, do not try, we will both end up hurt.

But this guy can comprehend my brain. He likes to read books. Even when we were on our date he kept discussing us in a future tense. Like we can go here, and we can invite friends to do blah blah blah.... I was a little thrown off by that actually. And I'm still daydreaming about a fake scenario that likely will never happen with a man who barely knows I exist.

How did my love life end up so complicated when I don't even have one?

When will my brain give me a break?

Why can't the real Tom just be in love with me? And then say fuck being on the road all the time, that he read everyone of my messages with fake Tom and he does want to hide in the woods and go canoeing and have me read books to him? That he wants me to rub him down after a long day? He wants me to make him pancakes and bacon for breakfast? And listen to vinyl together.

Oh and as far as we know, the fake Tom's name is actually Isaac. He's 25.  And he still thinks he's in love with me. But I'm more mad now that I daydream about the real thing because of the ideas he planted in my head.

And frankly I just need to get laid. FML

Up in arms again... Armageddon

Bar, in the corner, by myself. I'm glad I tip well, they know to leave me alone. I hate people... I even hate listening to them talk. But I can't wear my headphones because my stupid aux chord broke inside my fucking phone. I'm pretty sure I still give off a I'm not Interested vibe.

I've talked to Benga two days in a row. Always interesting. I think I'm sleeping on the beach tonight. I don't know why sleeping in the sand and dirt are the only times I feel at home. I'm not even sure why I leave my house sometimes.

I wonder if the land of the unknown thinks about me in the same way I think about him. Like our auras have somehow intertwined and he finds himself daydreaming of me. While I doubt it, he still causes a stirring in my soul. A what if? I catch myself telling myself that it's a dream too big to dream. I believe in Invisable things, and contemplating in that realm,  nothing is impossible. I wonder if he's tired of living so big. Exhausted from living a dream, fantasizing about how simple things could be. I wonder if he catches himself wondering about me. Reading this, my thoughts and interpretations of his simple sentences, if I read him as easily as a book. And then he finds his soul stirring on the what if simple magic. What if I did sing loudly to him just driving down the road? What if I just did wake up and make him breakfast, and wait for him to come home from a late night at work, just to rub every stress out of him gently until he falls asleep snoring. I wonder if he imagines smoking cigars, drinking scotch, listening to vinyl until we passionately make love on the piano, or couch, or kitchen island.

I've never imagined myself in a life such as his, but I tend to get lost not in the glamor of what he embodies, but him, himself, who he is, what he actually carries in himself.

Love has never been my friend, but after spending months pretending and including myself in his life, I don't mind my daydreams getting the best out of me.

Isn't he tired? I could give him rest. I could give him more than what money could buy. I could love him. Even though he plays it safe. I could be the danger he craves. I could love him, not his things, but actually him... And we could lay, intertwined,  against the heavens. I could be his chaos and his calm.

I could be his world, and he, he could be mine. In the moments of serenity I see us in, I ponder, can he taste it too? How do I talk to God and ask him to make such ass thing happen? To part everything we both have ever known and leave us there for one another? We could be happy. I could erase every wrinkle and fill them with laughter. Anything else seems dulling now. That my imagination doesn't want to carry this mundane, and only wishes to whisper to his soul.

Is God big enough? I have always believed he was, but I never dreamt a love, or a life like this, and every other sense ever, has failed me.

So now I suppose, I leave it to the heavens. And hope he reads and wishes like me.