Today's Real Life

So my best friends husband has brain cancer. This sucks. And I've asked a thousand times what she needs or what I can do. Obviously I can't cure cancer, but Alex is both of our husband. He married her and I was here first, my name is tattooed on her ass, and so frankly he's married to both of us.

She calls today. Directly after I open my eyes and put on the tea kettle. What are you doing today? Me: Nothing? .. Her.. You don't work? Me: No not that that would matter what do you need me to do?
Her: I have a thousand errands and I want you to go with. Me: I'm in.

So She swoops me, and then makes a joke about how Alex is at home and asking who she is going with and before she can answer he goes... It's Melissa isn't it? She laughs and tells him yes. And asks how did he know. He replies with a... She's the only one you can call and will do anything with you, And she tells him you know what the best best part is? And he asks what? She didn't even ask where we were going and laughs hysterically. His response being... Just don't come back with any tattoos.

I didn't need to ask questions. I didn't care if I was working. It would of been a call off in a heartbeat for her. She is my best friend, our husband has brain cancer, and she needed me. Even without the brain cancer part.. she needed me. That's what friends are for. So I just get home. After running to a thousand doctors and hospitals to get every report to drive it an hour away with her to give it to a completely different hospital who will be taking care of his chemo and radiation. .... Then when we are done we stop for a drink.

She needed to get out. And we were having the time of our lives, like this is seriously my other half, and then drama from Rebecca starts to occur in the middle of our day. I deleted her form Facebook after her sister comes over the the day and tells me everything she's been saying, and it's really only things she could of said, she sends me a message telling me I'm lying about cancer, and being raped, and it's sick, and I'm just manipulating people for drugs.

Let's be clear... This is because I wouldn't give her anymore of my adderall. Or her husband... That's when she stopped talking to me. Starting spreading lies and I got the text messages to prove it. Even worse though she starts texting Benga... and while we have exchanged a limited number of texts since the end of everything, I today had to actually speak to him on the phone and break everything down.

The sound of his voice for the first time in what seems like forever and just yesterday was painful. We don't even know how to talk anymore. This person I shared my life with for so long and we were stammering to find the words. Hesitating taking turns to complete sentences. It wasn't easy. I didn't know if I would ever hear his voice again. It's still messy now. Made more complicated by Rebecca's unnecessary drama. Me trying to figure how he was making sense of listening to her say she wasn't trying to start drama and yet she went out of her way to tell him. How could common sense over look that in the first place. Him and I don't speak. We ended things messy. We don't communicate very well. Why if I  hadn't been in contact with him would he think anything but the truth? Now we have to audibly hear one another. It hurt. Not any of what was going on was his business anyways. This girl who was nothing but chaos, and it's my fault because I knew it, reaching out to the person who broke me. I know he didn't mean to, it wasn't only his fault. I take responsibility. I always did. But he thought that meant I was going to change who I was, that I wanted to be something besides something irrational for love. I didn't. And I still don't.

I yelled and screamed, and fought because he was silent. And I was willing to do anything to break the echoing of nothing between our walls. He couldn't talk about feelings unless he was drinking. And even then we weren't actually together. Friends for 6 years. Moved in with me after he broke up with his ex. I was there, and he wasn't ready. He knew I was in love with him. He would be intimate with me in so many ways, the really important ones, not sex. He provided, held me at night, he listened to me, my hopes, my dreams, my fears. I woke him up when I had a nightmare, at least until we became each others. Then would take other girls to the places that were sacred to us. Or at least me. We lived together in this constant battle for too long. He saw the ugly in me and said it was too much. He hated the person I was. He told me all the time. But then would beg me to do things for him. Go get his food so he didn't have to stop playing his video game. I took care of him when he was sick, or hurt, or needed anything at all. I did his laundry. I cleaned his messes and ran his errands. I did his bidding. And he said I never saw him at the end of it. I never cared about what he wanted. I'm more than happy to say all I saw was him, I told him that and he didn't, he doesn't believe me.... For three years not dating anyone. Staying at home. Waiting on him to hold me. Ready to be there when he was ready. He was hovering in the doorway of life. Never coming or going. I deserved it because I accepted it. And it ruined us. I feel the same way he does. He never saw me. He never in my moments of desperation saw me, fighting him for him. Because he was what I wanted. He knew it, we watched one another cry so many times for both sides of the battle.

What the icing on the cake was for him was I lied. You can always tell the truth after, but you can't take a lie back. Once it's said, it's there, somewhere, deep in the soul of the person you told it to, forever. My lie was embarrassing. A life experience forced on me by no choice of my own. It was my deepest, darkest secret. People have those. I had learned to keep mine locked away with limited exposure. I had been betrayed so many times. The feeling of flush to my face when it was thrown out casually as if it didn't happen to me. As if it was nothing. A joke I was the butt of. It was something I had no warning of. No idea. No parent that said don't put yourself in this situation... No one to look out for me. But I felt if everyone knew, I would always be labeled. Not known, but judged, mocked in secret from the people I tried to know and trust. Never being my name again but just thing that happened to me. Even my mother had used it against me for it. Making jokes. Telling strangers laughably. When I lied to him I hated myself for it. I wish in that moment I had the strength to tell him the truth. I didn't. I was a scared little girl again. Panicked. Fear stricken. I loved him for so long, I didn't want him to hear those words from me that would changed the way he saw me forever. They did anyway. When the truth came out, he threw it my face, I wasn't me anymore. It happened so fast.

With Benga, I was willing. I was always ready. It's fucked me up more than I would like to admit. Even after we moved away from each other and I spent nearly everyday with him. When I finally started to date someone. He looked at me crying at his house telling me his biggest fear was losing me. That when I told him I was seeing someone his heart sank. That's when he wanted to be intimate with me again. When he kissed me back again. And held me. And chose to be kinda open. I just waited 3 years for this? So I was more determined and several time I initiated, and I cheated. I wasn't intimate with my "boyfriend".  Benga would feel bad after, but I hadn't changed. To me it was always him. He was always what I wanted. His heart was unmatched. I was attracted to the guy I had been dating but I knew Benga. Inside and out, in all of his mess, in all of his goodness, and his insides, they were never too ugly for me. And that's not to say he wasn't a hot mess too. He is.

Leaving dirty dishes all of his floor and fast food bags everywhere. Food always on his face. Falling asleep in the middle of anything. Including porn. All the time. He would drink and drive and refused to let me stop him, even one time tried to take my son. His life was work, sleep, eat, video games, do it again. That was his standard. I don't judge him for that. His sexual preferences not always matching my own. But it didn't matter because it turned me on to turn him on. He needed a personal alarm clock, he was mean when he was sleepy. He could have a full on conversation with you and not remember what you said. He said ugly things when he was mad. He would ignore all types of things but get irritated by the small shit..

I can't be with anyone now. This wound even now bleeding, I don't want it to pour all over someone else. Enough damage has been done. I'm okay with being alone. I'm okay with knowing and loving me

But then Rebecca trying to say I wasn't raped I'm just looking for attention. So all these lovely things I try to push down and keep swallowing everyday come to the threshing floor. So here we go... the complicated story of my rape. That until now, only my Melissa best friend has heard the entire truth of. She was the only person I trusted with the inner workings of my brain. Because it is complicated. And I'm still sleeping on my couch nightly instead of my bed trying to make sense of it all. I'm not home in my bed anymore, it gives me panic attacks.

I dated a guy named Devonte. He was a lot younger. I met him at work. Attractive enough. We had similar personalities so when Benga kept encouraging me to move on with my life, I started with him. Still very much in love with Benga. We dated for about two months. We hadn't had sex. I had been celibate for 3 years. From actual sex. Benga and I had done everything but, to the point of  "just the tip" But I'm a recovering sex addict and it was something important, and very scary for me to deal with again.

I picked Devonte up and he came over like many times before. I thought he was cute, but something in me kept trying to get rid of him. My gut knew something was off. Benga told me I was a just afraid of love. This day we were watching TV in my bedroom like many other times and snuggling. My head on his chest legs intertwined. And I was rubbing my leg on his and he made a joke I better stop it. I thought he was playing, and I didn't. I laughed about it. I was just being affectionate, I am very affectionate. He slid his body over and rolled on top of me while forcing me who been on my left side to force my face down into my pillow. Where he held my head down, with one hand and pulled my pants down with his other. I froze. I was catatonic with fear. I couldn't do anything. He inserted himself in me until he finished. Inside me. No condom. It wasn't that long. I didn't know what to do, or say. When he finished he laid on top of me and stared at me.

I didn't want to believe after all this time of actually not going through it, this, this moment just happened. I didn't want to believe the first boyfriend I had in 3 years just raped me. He didn't stay long after. I drove him home. I cried the entire way with him apologizing to me. Saying he was sorry he knew I wanted to wait. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to think that maybe it was my fault. I'm a grown up. Was it unrealistic to not be having sex? To expect him to lay in bed and wait? This is where it gets complicated. As if it wasn't enough...

I didn't break up with him then. In fact, the next week I allowed him to come over and I had sex with him willingly. I didn't want to admit it was his fault. I put myself and him in that position and I didn't want to be the girl who yelled rape. How would that look? A recovering sex addict invites boyfriend into bedroom alone where we are laying cuddling and then I yell rape? I didn't want to be a bad girlfriend. It's the first relationship with actual labels and everything in God knows how long. I didn't want to ruin this guy's life forever. So I did have sex with him thinking, maybe it would cancel the other occurrence out. Maybe just maybe, even though I had waited that long, I just needed to suck it up and get over it. Maybe this is what I got for laying in bed with Benga, for giving myself, my body to him in such ways that were everything but "sex". Maybe I just needed to let it go.

After that, two days later he dumped me. I knew that it was the goal in the first place. In the moment I had been honest and said I hadn't had sex with anyone in 3 years I became a goal. And when he raped me he was just as scared I would do something as I was in general. So he waited for me to be a willing participate so he could walk away with no worries. Who would believe me? I just had sex with him. I remember texting him and asking if that was the purpose of everything in the first place? That's when he blocked me and that was the last I spoke to him.

The rape happened days after I got the call from the clinic with the results from my pap smear. My cancer was back, and because they were a clinic they had no means of giving me full treatment. I needed to go to an actual gynecologist to discuss options and referrals for all of that.

I knew it was worse this time. The same clinic actually cut it out the first two times. It was a rude awakening. I remember throwing it in Benga's face I was just going to die alone anyways. I felt the pains starting to come back two years ago. I knew it was back. I knew I wasn't doing anything about it. I am a masochist. I wanted him to hold my hand and be my rock, and when he couldn't, and when he wouldn't, I didn't want to deal with it at all. It's fucked up. I know that more and more everyday as I wait for my appointment and stretches of pain keel me over. Some days much worse than others. I didn't want to do it alone. I wanted to ignore it until maybe I gave birth to all of my insides and then fade away. I never saw me making it past 30. Death is but a moment.

Now, regretfully so, I wish I would of dealt with it sooner rather than later, just for the sake of avoiding the physical pain. I'm doing it solo regardless.

Honesty is hard. I always thought I was brave enough to say the hard things. That hasn't always been true. I've hurt people I love. I've lost who I am. I'm only recently, hiding in my house away from people and distractions am started to heal. From everything. And I don't blame Benga. At all. He's just a part of my story that left a hole in my heart. A wound that will leave a scar. A lesson I had to learn. Rebecca, won't change, it's not in her. That's only my problem if I let it be. She will be her regardless. And I, have enough on my plate. And I still have people who love me.

Hobbies are healthy

I took my dog on the beach again tonight. She tried to eat the waves. Now she understands why I'm there so much. She loves it. I don't try to eat the waves though. I promise.

I've spent my day submitting ideas and stories. This is what is now taking my time. This is a healthy hobby. This is good. A couple of the curators have noticed... one loving a exposè on denial I wrote. Said it was exactly what they were looking for.

Write what you know? I'm so in love with this book idea. Not only are these feelings and ideas hilarious and relative, but fresh from my scorn bones I can poke fun at now. #therapy.

So all in all a productive day. I could of done more housework, but really I'm happy I'm doing anything at all. While I was talking to the curator she asked if it was a mix of fiction and non-fiction and I told her her was all non-fiction I had just went through a break up in December.

I referred to last December as "just" (and it was a break up of sorts, it's still now and always will be a giant complicated story) But it's funny that it's now October and it still feels like yesterday. Just. It just happened. Times flies when you're sad I suppose. I wished I wouldn't of said it afterwards. I wish I would of just said it was a mix of both.

Too late to not be honest.

I need to get a friend to do illustrations and a story board. I can do it but not on this laptop. I need someone with the right equipment to make it easier. I don't want to storyboard by hand. I will if I have to.

We Don't Care about Rules

I've been restless. A stirring of my soul. My dog has been too. I take her on an extra long walk. Where I decide to march right into the store with her and if anyone says anything I'm going with.. She's a service animal. We walk in, no one says anything until we get to the counter. The cashier goes is that your pup?

Yes. and I yell out abruptly "We don't care about rules" ... So much for the planned excuse I was going to use. So we walk the beach side home. There has always been a closed at dusk sign, and no no pet rule.... But it's me we are talking about here. So I walk up to the chain and try to get her to go under it first. She hesitated. So I cross over, unhook her leash from her harness and she follows suit. This girl is geeked. She needed to get that excess energy out. And we live nine blocks down from the main beach where we broke in so she lets loose. Even better, it's low tide. So I hike up my pants and start walking through the water. We get back to the beach in front of my house and take her harness off. Now for some reason, and I've tried many times, she has never wanted to have anything to do with the water... my Lenny Love goes ham. Starts chasing a crane, going a quarter mile down away from me. It's a pretty secluded area. Most of the residents follow the rules. I'm not one of them. So I let her gallop through the lake for about 15 minute and then have to pick my 70 pound baby girl up and help her over the breaker wall.

I don't know why in life, but I have always been a habitual line stepper as I like to call it. Everything is dull and mundane and so set in stone. Even when I sleep on the beach at night, it's against the law. I'm sure anyone who walks the walkway in front of my house and sees me at 2 am fast asleep with my pillow and blankets thinks I'm crazy anyway, but they all leave me alone.

I need a sense of danger to feel calm. It could be my A.D.D. but you know it could just be the rest of the world tends to be to fucking boring and we only live once. When I sleep on the beach though, I feel one with the entire universe. Like the cosmos are some of my only real best friends. I feel whole.
Now scientifically we really do break down to star dust. Maybe it's a call of my atoms to quiet them. No city lights, so the stars illuminate like I'm sleeping under a kaleidoscope of diamonds. The waves as my background meditation music.

I say fuck houses man... just sleep on a beach. And start breaking rules. Adventure is good for the soul. 


and not that they are great pics but here's my Lenny Love in the lake.

I just found the best shit

HitRecord... it's a production company that takes writing submissions and one of the projects they are taking submissions for is a book for the brokenhearted... This is what I sent, I'm sure I will post more. I am queen of the brokenhearted. Hopefully I might be able to get paid for it..

 All that is left is this empty space. The void of what was and what could of been, if I would of been, a little less me. Somewhere down this divided road I've seemed to make a wrong turn into a parallel universe where two halves do not make a whole. They make two halves. It's the deafening silence killing me now. It's death to a dreamer. I had an imagination that lasted us. I visualized so many times in every single life saying our I do's. How maybe the heavens created such a perfect love that every time we died together, we decided to reincarnate just because we knew our love was so strong we could find each other. That we were a model of love for all of creation and the gods smiled down. You were my eternity. My past, present, my future. I marveled in our magic. Now I have a hollow grave. A lack luster. A null journey. I always thought we were climbing together, we could conquer anything. Now with each step up this steep mountain, I realize I am alone and there is less air. I'm suffocating. My will to keep climbing contemplates swallowing an entire bottle of anything to shut the emptiness out. You haunt me. A ghost of a person I wish with my entire being I never knew.  Where did our smiles go? When did we stop laughing? Why even though it's been so long since I heard it, is that the only thing my brain can hear and see. The way your cheeks took up your entire face when you were happy. The way you danced when you cooked. Pictures of our life once was. I wonder if you're happy now. I wonder when I stopped being the one who did that for you. The aftermath of our destruction is a synapse that my cells and atoms can't take. I'm afraid to leave this house. This bed. The place we once reveled in so many nights. Sharing our deepest thoughts, and dreams. Secrets only known by us and the sheets that have been washed clean now. I question everything, if I'm even human enough to look at the outside world. I have nothing left. Not even enough of myself for myself. Finding the will to do simple things like bathing seems to cost too much, energy I don't have and can't afford. Where did we go? Why have the heavens cursed me? I contemplate every word we ever spoke, every tone they were said in. Was it ocular and something I missed? Was I so busy trying to make things work that  couldn't see the misery in front of me? I'm not afraid of death now. The repercussions of this entire equation have left me with one knowing. That even death has to be easier than losing you. Losing me. I didn't even know I gave so much of myself I had nothing left until the shallowness of my skin started to mummify here. With every fiber of my being I loved you and I'm worn. Incapable. I hate the expression it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. To know every possibility, to meet the very piece of my soul I always knew was missing, and have it torn away. This is poisoned. Grim is my whole name. The only solace I have now is that life is not guaranteed. So I pray at any moment the universe decides to finish taking the rest of the oxygen from my lungs. The same way it took the rest of my heart when it took you. How did I ever live before and what did I do? I'm so full of disdain I don't bare the thought of moving, or answering the phone. Afraid every time it rings because I know it's not your voice on the other side. You are an audible orgasm I crave but will never know again. You were perfect. Love has forsaken me. Despair my only friend, never leaving my side. I want nothing. What on earth is there left to nourish? My soul is gone. My cup empty, shattered. Broken with not enough glue in the world to put me back to together. The only reason I know I am alive anymore is the somber wet feeling of tears on my face. The now funereal feeling of life has made my bones dry. I am earnestly solemn.

The internal battle of parenting

I have two kids. Polar opposites. My daughter, wants to be a surgeon. Honors programs. Honor roll. Responsible. Gets up every morning the moment I say her name, and gets ready for school. Gets ready, always does her chores, and homework. And at 11, and going through puberty, sometimes gets a little mouthy, but I'm going to give her 90% awesome all the time. (I told her 82% last night being funny) She helps with anything you need, she is patient, kind, and very much a social butterfly. Has never had a issue making friends. She is the dream kid. We openly talk about everything in my house. Sex, drugs, expectations, money, saving, how she has a goal and she has to work extremely hard for it because I won't be able to afford medical school. She knows it's scholarships. She knows not to be distracted by boys. If she ever comes home as a pregnant teenager it's straight to the hoover. She knows exactly what the abortion clinic is. Which I'm sure most people reading this would be like what in the actual fuck? Why would you tell her that.

She has unlimited potential. Something I refuse for her to lose track of based on the ear candy men will throw her way. She's gorgeous. And I'm not saying that because she's mine, I'm saying that because she actually is. She's tall and statuesque, and starting to fill out like damn. I've pointed out the trap boys at the corner store and told her everything they will say. And how good it will feel. But how reaching her goals will feel so much better. She wants to work with doctors without borders. She will. I am amazed not only at her beauty everyday, but the heart put inside of her. God blessed my baby with brains and beauty. I have never lied about the things I struggled with so that she knew that, I'm not raising her to be like me, I'm raising her to be way better. To be a humanitarian, and to know this: Before God ever put her in my womb, he created a man of God, who will hold the same values, that she doesn't have to go looking for, when it's time, he will be there. Until then, all she has to do is be her, work hard, and be a good human.

These are lessons I do give to both of my children. My son.... has all my brains, and all of my nonsense and distraction. He is diagnosed A.D.H.D. and, O.D.D. and P.T.S.D.. Most people know what attention deficit hyperactive disorder is. As well as post traumatic stress disorder. (I'll explain why he has it in just a moment) but most people do not know what  oppositional defiant disorder is.

The easiest way to explain this is this, his will is stronger than yours. He will always be smarter than you. If you say the sky is blue, and he says it's orange, he will argue that point until you give in and agree it is in fact orange. And he's going to be pissed off he had to argue with you and prove himself right. Now, he knows the sky isn't orange, but the point being he's always right.

Now throw that in with a brain that doesn't stop. I mean A.D.H.D. is exactly that, one million thoughts being processed at the same time and cannot be focused. Trying to remember what you're supposed to be doing, and no impulse control because when what feels good verses responsibility, impulse typically wins. And then P.T.S.D. where when your brain does actually focus on one idea, it's the stresses of the trauma that occurred. So then his brain with all of this means I have a son who can concentrate only only things he cares about. He's fucking smart. But that same genius as me, gets him in trouble. It leaves him searching for things that make him feel good to distract him.

The P.T.S.D. comes from a summer I let him stay at his fathers. Let me explain his father..

His father to is a pathological liar. My 'mother" never had talks with me about about the things men will say. And seeings how I never knew love when I was out on my own, I didn't honestly know any better. My "best friend" kept pushing dude on me and I eventually caved. He was older than me but kind. And giving and open with his life. He had 2 kids, one was like 12 (he was 15 years older than me) and the other one 3. He had custody of her and we were together all the time. His son lived with his mother's mother. Something happened but as his dad, he still hung out with him and I knew who he was. Until 5 months into the relationship, and I start getting contacted by his daughters mother blowing the lid off everything he's ever told me. I'm 19, never been in a actually "relationship". My first boyfriend was when I was in the 7th grade, and we held hands on field-trips. *side note about him, I still know him he's in a band, traveling the world now and it's funny because he was just the smallest dorkiest kid ever, and now women throw themselves at him. Hi Blake lol

My son's father come to find out, was in prison for 8 years for robbing a bank, had 3 children and just never admitted the last one. Even when I found everything it was a huge denial, said baby mamma two is just trying to start shit. He was in prison but he didn't rob that bank wrong place wrong time thing, and that he swears it's not his kid. Well two months later, after many nights telling me he wants a family with me and asking me to marry him, and all the bullshit that goes with it, I find him (on gut instinct alone when I couldn't sleep, drive all over and end up finding him butt ass naked in my "best friends" bed.) Now, he's got six kids with six women, custody of none, lost the latest to CPS because he's lovely girlfriend had drugs in her system when she gave birth. And still denying one of them.

So this is his father. But I never wanted to be a bitter person and keep my kids away from their dads. As long as I knew they were safe, they could visit. And we had decided together he wanted to really spend some time with our son so he would take him for the summer. I still called all the time. Randomly popped up with food for my son. Brought him home occasionally. Like this little dude is my heart. He's 7, getting to know his dad was a good thing I thought. In the beginning of August I got a call I needed to come pick him up. The swat team just swarmed the house, Blasted open the door, smoke bombs, guns up, everyone down on the floor, don't move, including my 7 year old. Apparently while his father was going to work everyday, he was just leaving him with his brother, who apparently was selling dope. I get him immediately, and this isn't the worse part.

About a week later, both my kids go to grandmas house for the night, their cousins are there, family fun time. My son and my nephew were in the bathroom getting washed up, my nephew is 3. My mother is on the stairs right next to the bathroom watching the kids downstairs and keeping an ear on the two boys. I get a frantic call explaining what is the horror of my heart now.

My son talking to his little cousin says this, I'm going to stick my finger in your butt now and then you do it to me, and by the time my mother jumped up my nephew had already screamed Ouch.

I jump in the car and get my son, we drive, we talk, and find out that while his father had just been abandoning him with his dope dealing brother, that he wasn't even watching him, he was letting his son take him to go do anything. Which was molesting and raping my son for nearly and entire summer. This boy was 12 years old.

So at the age of 7 years old, I feel like I already have failed him. It was my one job. The only thing I wanted to with all my being, protect him from that in the world. I knew how it felt, I grew up having it done to me. I never just let my kids go with just anyone, or hang out with anyone, still don't. They don't have slumber parties at people's houses I don't know. I introduce myself to every friends parent. I'm all over them, always have been. I thought he was safe with his dad. I thought I knew he was safe with me, what parent that wanted to spend time with their kid would ever put them into a dangerous situation???

So my son now, at the age of 12 and a half, going through puberty himself, trying to figure out who he is, questioning everything, and with emotional disabilities like his, is not always the dream kid. Don't get me wrong, I would lay my life down in a sec no hesitation, I've gone to bat for him so many times I can't count. He's been through every kind of counseling and therapy you can imagine. I let him know hes not alone. That my brain works the same way so when problems come up, I understand the way he thinks, and just because things aren't as easy to him as they are to his sister, it just means we learn in another way.

We have changed schools 6 times in 4 years. I have had countless behavioral plan meetings, wrap around services, peer to peer relationships, interventions, and advocate for my son endlessly.

His brain is constantly working, while trying not do anything to not focus on trauma, and with a condition where he is "always right"

Most of my days are spent breaking up fights, yelling, talking taking things away, listening to him scream, get violent, kick and throw things, never wanting to clean up after himself, fighting him to shower because he doesn't care about his hygiene, and trying to surrender all of this to God. He doesn't understand healthy boundaries or relationships. So he has a very hard time making friends, and he really likes computers. Gaming. He was actually kicked off the school computers indefinitely last year at the last school because instead of doing his work, he was hacking the other students laptops remotely and changing settings, and deleting other students work, renaming the system stupid things.

My son is very smart. But he's also very bored. And lonely. We even have to take these things away here. He wants to build relationships so badly with other people, he was getting on gaming chat rooms and having what I refer to as a pedophiles wet dream of conversation. Introducing himself, Hey I'm 11, I think I'm the youngest one here, anyone else into this? I'm bisexual.

For the record, I don't care if my son identifies as bisexual. Or gay, or Trans, or pan, or anything, the only wish I ever have for him is to be happy, and capable. I myself love both men and women and while I hate labels, I say I date from the human race. None the less, my son has been obsessed with girls since a young age, and I don't think he is, I think it's part of trying to understand what happened to him, and puberty. But there isn't ever an easy day. But he's told endlessly it doesn't matter who he wants to love there isn't anything that would stop me from loving you.

I don't allow him to use his emotional disabilities as scapegoats. When he is wrong, he's still wrong. And there are consequences to actions. I'm raising a man. And everything in me believes a damn good one. So last night, he stole one of my old phones, and for some reason didn't compute that when he sends pictures of himself, or screen shots something, it's still under my account and goes to the phone I'm using now. All my settings are linked.

I go through and read these messages, and it's this girl I keep taking electronics away over, because he's already admitted he's suicidal on top of having zero impulse control when it comes to appropriate conversations, and the things we can share and talk about verses information we don't put out there, and being too trusting because you really don't know who is who. Sadly even  I just got catfished and I've been having these conversations with him for years now. No one is safe. Anyone can pretend to be your age, your friend, and people are not good.

He hates me most of the time. He constantly tells me I love my daughter more. Honestly I feel horrible for both of them. I have to be so constant and careful with my son always dealing with some issue with another kid, or dumb shit he did when he was bored, the stuff he has broken and I've had to pay for, school meetings, therapy, I feel like my daughter feels like she can't mess up. While I appreciate everything God put in her, I don't ever want her to feel as if though she needs to be perfect. I love them equally and differently. But He thinks I love her more because she doesn't get in trouble nearly as much. Not even close. So she gets paid to do her chores, because she does them. She gets to go to friends houses, and live a still very monitored life, but a little less than him. And they do live very monitored lives. I at any given time will pick up an electronic device whether is be laptop, tablet, or phone and go through absolutely everything. I show up where they are by surprise to make sure they are exactly where they said they will be. And I have to meet parents, and have phone numbers of any and everywhere they are. And they still have half hour check ins. My daughter get one hour check ins... but again the difference is she's a lot more trustworthy.

My son, despite all the shit he has endured already, has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen. He lashes out on me daily. But one time, for birthday, we were going to go to the water-park and his best friend lost his glasses. (this kid wasn't even very nice to him all the time at all) but my son was so worried about him getting in trouble he asked instead of going to the water-park for his birthday, could he buy his friend a new pair of glasses because he knows they are expensive and he doesn't want his friend in trouble.

This is his heart after everything life has already shitted on him. My daughter is easy, and that's great, but I keep trying to tell him, he, he is my purpose. That anyone else (morbid humor coming stop now if you don't want to be offended) would of drown him in  bathtub already, drove off a cliff, or given him up for adoption. I tell him he's lucky he has me as a mom, because even though his will is stronger than mine, and I didn't think anyone's in life could be until God gave me him, that mine is strong enough to love him past all his bullshit. I keep telling him has something giant inside him and he could lead nations. We just have to channel it. He just rolls his eyes. But I tell him I believe in him. I ask him what he needs. I ask him what can I do so he can feel loved so much he doesn't go searching for it in chat rooms where it's dangerous, where he's getting heartbroken and how to get him to wait, and understand the same things I tell his sister.

All he has to do, is be himself, work hard, and when the person who is supposed to be in your life is supposed to be there, they will be. But I make sure he knows that while he's wilding out, he's nowhere near ready to take care of and provide for a family at 12. He will have to be the head of a home. To be able to lead a woman, even when he doesn't understand her, and be everything that his own father has not been. And at 12, I'm more than happy to get you a wiped computer, and coding books, and trust you in that scenario because he should be doing what he loves and not worrying about relationships.

I really do pray he hacks the planet. Eliminating consumer debt, and college loans.

So while my kids are night and day. And I struggle. I wish I knew other parents with kids like my son. So they could have a awkward kid night and game, and we as parents could just drink some fucking wine and not feel so alone.

Rendezvous with The Melissa & Melissa Show

Hotel accommodations were confirmed today. We need a trip. She needs a vacation. I need a vacation. It's only for 2 days. And it's a still a little bit away. But I'm making sure I'm checking all the boxes on planning. I'm so glad she is always down. And I got a call from the hotel manager saying they are more than happy to appease my "special surprise requests"

She needed a good chuckle and cheering up. I took a screen shot of the request and actually sent it to her with a message letting her know the asshole in me kicked in when that box came up. And... #weregoingtohell

She died laughing and said yes we are. I'm so saving these shenanigans pictures for when we get there to post here. Suspense.

It was only going to be a day trip she agreed to, but then I pointed out that we would get fucked up and there's no way after all we're doing we should be taking a trip back home. So I booked us a suit.

I can't go out to pick up a prescription with her without getting lost until the next day, and ending up with some random tattoo. And I ask her by saying this... So we could go do this thing, and I know your husband is dying, but he's not yet, and really he's our husband, and I'm sure Rhonda (his overbearing mother) would love to babysit him, and her grandchildren, you wanna go???

That was a fuck yes from her. The funny part is this little trip could get us in a little bit of trouble, honestly I kinda hesitated to talk myself into it. But fuck, we only live once. And both of us could use a little mischief to escape the mundane right now.

The best part is I was just listening to a sermon and my pastor was talking about a battle between the Israelite's and Philistine's and how they were completely outnumbered like by the countless thousands. And the guy who is in charge of the way outnumbered army goes to his arm-bearer, his right hand man, and they plot by themselves. And while it's a sermon about taking a leap of faith, he also brings up how many of us have that best friend that would do something like this. Like it's crazy they are talking and there's really no chance but they decide to leave everyone else and are all like.. yo what if we just go down there by ourselves? Like against an army of thousands. And his Arm-bearer is down as shit. Like we might die. But when he first asks his friend, his friend is like where you go I'm going. I got your back. I don't care this may be the craziest thing I've ever heard but shit nigga I'm in. And I immediately think of Melissa and I.

And they take this giant leap of faith to face the thousands being like 2% sure God is going to be there before them, and they really just may be crazy, but they do that shit. And God was there. And they win their battle. And the big lesson being what if God who has perfect timing is waiting on us to know he's on the other side and act in faith. We have to put in the work too.

So when I heard this story, I felt like God in his most hickabilly voice in my heart goes "Here's your sign"

Alright Lord, I to am like 2% sure this is what Melissa and I should be doing, but I'm in. Adventure is what the soul needs. And I did promise myself adventure. I did promise to love myself and do the things I wanted to do. I am glad I have a down ass bitch of a bestie to do crazy shit with me though. It's a win win.

In case it is a fail, I will later look back at this and think WTF.

But as of right now, I am kinda excited. And after my year, I need to smile. So the fuck does she.

Hot Mess Blessings and the Case of the Fake People

What's a friend?

To me, who I am, it's loyalty. It's trusting someone with your secrets. Your laughter. Being there when then need a shoulder to cry on. Occasionally make stupid fucking decisions with. It's being you and being accepted, and them being them, and you accepting them. I'd like to think I'm a good friend. I also think besides knowing I am an everyday hot mess, that I also try to be a good person to everyone.  It's definitely not an easy task. I am naturally a hot mess, I just said that.

My friends. I have three. Two I trust with my entire life. And both of them have made it past the 7 year mark. And not that there is anything wrong with the 3rd, I just feel like sometimes I'm too much for her to handle. And I'm certain she would tell you that. And we both love each other regardless anyway. I will always be there for her. She does suck at doing it back sometimes, but when she can and is, she meets lifelong friendship standards.

The first is an almost 80 year old woman with one arm. Nanny.. She used to live in the house directly to my back door of my townhouse. I would let my kids go outside and play and I had all the best shit, I worked at a toy store and a couple jobs, so my kids had everything. Ball pits, a moonwalk, slip and slides. So we were a hit. She lived there with her daughter and grandchildren. The kids started coming over, and as all good parents do, we introduced ourselves. Her daughter eventually said this is my mother blah blah blah. I didn't have any friends, and I'm a very cautious person that watches and evaluates the behavior of people before I engage. But these were good people. My kids went away for the evening and I decided to have margaritas and make some for them too. The mom said she wasn't much of a drinker but her mom was a smoker. This is during the I love weed stretch of my life. I was geeked, I had someone to chief with.

So me and my Nanny started hanging out, slowly, and then everyday. When she needed a break she left out her back door, and straight into mine. I tell her now after all this time I wish God would send me a man just like her because I would be happy the rest of my life.

Her daughter did some wilding out shit, selling some dope when she was younger in another state. I'm talking 15, 20 years ago, on the the other side of the country. Now she was going to school full time. Working full time in a doctors office. She was an amazing mom. On top of her kids the same as me. I respect her a lot. She got in a fight with her sons father over child support one day. He was a cop. In Georgia. And one day police cars pulled up like a felony stop, picked her and she went to prison for three years. Nanny was left to take care of the kids. This is now I'll say us being friends about 3 years. Best friends, and neighbors. She didn't work, only S.S. and now had 3 kids. One teenager, one preteen, and a 10 year old.

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for this woman. She raised another one of her grandchildren all her life so she was constantly there too, one of her son's was in prison and sent money to him every month. She didn't have a car. And she honestly took care of her whole family. Her other daughter was a drug addict kleptomaniac mess. So her kids were constantly there too. She had her hand full. (I said hand because she only has one lmfao) When she was left alone, I stepped up. She had been there for me. Two in the morning break-up sobbing, my car got picked up one time and she lent me the money to get it out of the impound. She was just one of the kindest, most giving souls I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.

So it was us against the world. I had to train the kids to call me if they needed anything because she was stubborn and wouldn't ask. I would drop anything, dates, errands, friends, I didn't care I stopped what I was doing to make sure they didn't go without. I refused to let them go hungry. And even more, and she loves telling people this about me, to get her anything she wanted. Even when I didn't have a car at one point, I would walk, rain, sleet, snow, to walk to the store and get her a pack of peanut M&M's. I never hesitated, I loved that I was lucky enough to find someone in the world that loves the people around her the way I had. I bought school clothes, groceries, took her to appointments, prepaid money on my phone so the kids could talk to their mom when their phone got turned off. I laugh, because I am a habitual line stepper.. and she got mad at me one time.. I think its only actually been once. She yelled at me and I laughed at her and asked her if she was done. This woman can't make me mad if she tried.

Sometimes with all her stubbornness I liked to watch her try to do something by herself that she would refuse to ask for help with, watch her struggle and piss herself off. Until she gives up and I just laugh and do it for her. This is my Nanny. Her government name is Gloria. I'm the only one who calls her that. To everyone else it's Nanny or Ann. My life is better because I know her. She's dying now. Liver problems. She's still kicking right now though. It's not bad. And I don't know what I'm going to do without her. I'll be front row with the family. Sobbing. She's already given me things to make sure I had something from her, and let her kids know I am to get some of her ashes. It's funny because she does the dumbest shit and disappears to do it, and I'll talk to her daughter who is home now and we joke about how you know Momma's always going to do what she does, and how I know damn good and well when she's lying to me. I love her anyway. Sometimes I call her out, but just chuckle about it. We've been through a lot. While her daughter was away, her grandson who she was taking care of hung out with some friends and went out drinking and driving. He died. I don't think any of us has recovered from that yet. Her the most. Her daughter got to come home for the funeral. I still have a t-shirt I had bought him for school. I wear it all the time. It's my Savon shirt. I'll have it forever.

But this isn't only the epitome of friendship to me. This is love. The mess you get through. The good, the bad, the ugly, the horrible, the excruciating. And just as I said before, if God could just make me a man exactly like her, I will die happy. I have often wondered if our soulmates aren't actually the partners we desire, but pieces of our souls from another life before that we have the privilege of knowing again in this one. I know she may have been my best friend in every life. Two peas in a pod.

One time while she had all the kids, her meth head daughter's son had been staying there for a while on top of everyone else. And meth mom found out we had been smoking weed with him.. The bitch lost it. Like came over yelling and screaming (like she had been raising him in the first place?) He was honor roll.. 15 and a good kid. A little weed compared to the rest of life was no big deal. She was threatening to take her daughter away, (the one Nanny had raised since birth) and I stood there letting her scream. She was mad, that is totally allowed. But then she put her hands on her. I didn't take to kindly to that. At all. She popped my Nan on the forehead, and I snatched her up in the blink of a second by the head of her hair blasted her in the face one really good time, and held her there bent over. She kept telling me to let her go, she was taking her daughter. Her name s Kim btw not meth mom. And I just held her there letting her know she wasn't taking shit and the only thing she was about to do was get the fuck up out of this house. Held her bent over by her scalp for a good five minutes. kept walking her to the door telling her I'll let her out right there. She kept refusing. After the five minutes passed Nan said you can let her go. In that second she was released, she screamed some about going to the police and ran out the door. I would of beat the fuck out her but her daughter was on the couch watching, she was like 9 years old. So I didn't. But the police showed up. I knew him and he was a good friend of mine. He was about 65 years old, what he referred to on the ROAD program. Retired on active duty. And he got a good chuckle out of the situation. But when he showed up, the first thing Nanny said was "If you're going to take her to jail can you just wait a minute so I can go to the ATM so I can get bail money" I died laughing. And good old Leon, (Baker my police friend) chuckles and says, oh no, I'm not taking her, sounds to me that it was a pretty even deal. I don't think I'm going to write a report.

This is Ride or Die. This is the kind of love the whole world deserves. This is my #1.


I have someone in short terms I referred as a friend. I've known her a while. Her name is Rebecca. She can be good to have fun with. She was another neighbor in my townhouses at one point. I'm talking, doing drugs, Fucked up shit "friend" She was always really good at hanging out with you when she was mad at someone else, or needed something. She pretends to be your friend and honestly she just wants something you have. And regardless will turn around and talk about you behind your back. She has a twin sister Rachael. So I was friends with them both. Plenty of times they would fight and try to use me as leverage in the middle. One was always the good one and one was always the bad one. Regardless, these are the friends you get fucked up and take drugs with and it is what it is. Always drama, but honestly I really didn't care. But Rebecca and I work together now. I only work a couple days a week. And about a month and a half ago, her husband was being a dick about something, and I was over it. It was a headache, and I left it at that. I just told him I was done with the situation, and I didn't want to do it anymore. And Rebecca had been lying about what was actually going on so her husband didn't know. So I confront her, shoot her a text telling her he was being a dick and could she tell him the truth... Let it go. Surprise surprise we very rarely see each other at work now, and she doesn't call, or write. And I chuck it up to whatever, I'm pretty used to this with her. Honestly, she's hasn't grown up since I met her. She got married, to a fiend. He works at ford. They both still take drugs. Lie to one another. She claims he cheats and steals her money. But she can't afford a new house without him. She's always been a hustler. Shiesty. Selling, trading, borrowing, lying, stealing to make a little side cash.

They make good money. She lies to welfare so she can live in income based apartments, and says they are separated so she only has to pay $30 in rent every month. Getting hella foodstamps doing the same scheme. Meanwhile they live and maintain a very nice comfortable lifestyle. Two brand new cars. And this is exactly what's wrong with the system. People who actually need it and try to do their best and struggle get denied but there are these people, who don't need it and Milk it. There was a crazy situation with her twin sister two months ago. I had to call CPS because I'm a state mandated reporter. And she's a hot mess wreck. The difference being is Rachael, has a giant heart. She struggles with drugs too, and loving and giving to much to the wrong people. She has her faults, but she is a good person.

I got a text from her last night saying she had talked to her sister (who 2 months ago did so much horrible shit to her it was unreal) and apparently Rebecca was saying some really disturbing things about me and she was really worried about me. So after I get home from work, I take the bait and ask what?

Rachael comes over this morning to talk. Apparently I'm on drugs, making huge scenes at work, pretending to have cancer, I've lost my mind, I started wearing make up and everyone is talking about me behind my back because they don't like it. I destroyed Benga's life. I did horrible things to him, and I made up being raped. And she thinks it's really sad I'm doing this all for attention. I've completely lost it, and she really needs to stay away from me because I'm sick in my head. Oh and I don't take care of my kids. They are just heathens doing whatever they want. Oh and I'm on the verge of getting fired and they have warned me several times and it's because I'm not doing my job and I call off all the time. (Funny thing is I never call off, I will get a shift covered if something comes up, but I actually just seen Rebecca at the store and she was laughing about how she called off to stick another girl there she didn't like with a bunch of work because her son got bullied at school) And she's apparently going t my bosses and saying these things. Hmmm...

I laughed. I think she was surprised, she was genuinely concerned when she came over. And I showed her the messages to Rebecca's husband when he got pissed off I wouldn't help him to do some shit anymore. And to Rebecca afterwards telling her that her husband was being an ass and she needed to tell him the truth about the drugs she was taking because he was getting pissed at me. Then my Nana walks downstairs, and I say hey Nana.... Yes? Haven't you been riding my ass about going to the doctor to have surgery because I have cancer and need to have a hysterectomy? .... Yes..? And hey, Nana.... Do I sleep on the couch downstairs every night because I got raped and can't sleep in my room anymore? ... Yes you do.. Why? ... Hey Nana, when it everything happened wasn't I pacing the floors everyday hyperventilating and having panic attacks and you wanted me to go to the hospital and I wouldn't? Yeah, Melissa why are you asking me this? One more Nana... Don't you hate that I sometimes talk to Benga because he broke my heart and it was horrible when he took everything away from me and I wanted to die? Yes.

Okay. I'm just asking because apparently Rebecca's mad I won't help her anymore and she's running around trying to get me fired, and saying I'm making up cancer, and being raped and I'm on drugs, and Rachael here was worried. I just wanted her to hear the truth from someone besides me so she knew I wasn't lying.

And Rachael, who knows her sister keeps telling me how fucked up it is she's going around and trying to ruin my life. I told her I'm not worried about it. I'm a hermit. I keep to myself. Go to work. Come home, be with my kids. I write in my blog and teach Sunday school. I don't go out. Occasionally to the beach bar. And mind my business. She asked why I wasn't more mad?...

For one, your sister has always been your sister. This doesn't surprise me. She's never changed. Rachael said but she's trying to ruin your life, her and Brian are running around telling people this.

Okay? I live by five rules. I teach them to the kids I mentor. (although if you have ever read my blog I don't have it down to a science, but the principles are the same, people can and do get under my skin) But if you can answer NO to any of these questions it's not worth it. You don't worry about it, think about it, put it into action.

1) Is it kind?
2) Is it true?
3) Does it stop you from waking up?
4) Does it change the world?
5) Is it any of your business.

Most things do not make it past question one. And then you don't have to answer the rest of the questions. And especially number 5. Because what other people think about you is none of your damn business. You shouldn't worry about it, because you can't change other people's minds only your own. And someone somewhere is always not going to like you. People come and go. Lives change, people change, you need to worry about looking yourself in the mirror every morning.

So when I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong. When I fuck up, I admit it. I apologize because even when I'm an ass, I'm an adult and in part, that means "Manning Up"

Everyone in life is a lesson or blessing. Yeah it sucks a lot of times. But learning is kinda awesome. It's why I write, I read, and think, and process, and analyze, and ponder, and explore, and research. I'm okay with me.

I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not. I'd much rather be a real hot mess than a really good liar painting a picture of my life that's only for show and tell and being really ugly on the inside.

I just realized that as I typed that.... I really would rather be a good person on the inside even as a hot mess outside, than vise versa. I'm totes cool with that.

I know good people. I know and love a woman with a soul just like mine. I know there are more than me. They might be few and far between, but you know what, I know they exist. So even though I get irate sometimes with the shitty people, I do have hope that we're out there. Hot mess Blessings.

Thank you Lord, for my Gloria one armed pirate stubborn best friend. She humbly and unknowingly has taught me about servitude. And thank you for my Nana, who even when I drive her nuts with the same stubbornness she has, rides my ass to have me take care of myself and loves me unconditionally.