mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog

[mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog]

Selfish?

I was raised, trained, and perhaps even groomed, to be a good person and always consider others, especially to consider how my actions will impact others. Somewhere early on that went too far. I stopped considering myself. I ONLY considered others and whether my actions will have an effect on them. Every time I have tried to break free from that and think about myself or my needs, I've been slapped down and called selfish. None of the people who taught me to always consider them are considering me! Not even for a second! I'm so tired of weighing every choice, even the smallest ones, to make sure no one else is bothered by my existence. I even think when it's appropriate for me to use the bathroom, or if its a bad time to shower because I don't want to saddle my family with my child for 20 minutes so I can wash my ass! Or i don't want to wake people. Sometimes I go a week without a shower because there's just no time that I wont be inconveniencing someone. I've taken a piss outside in the middle of the night so as not to annoy my mother who's awake doing laundry. (When she's drunk and acting like a complete asshole.) I'm a grown adult, living with family due to some unfortunate circumstances. Since losing my privilege to operate a vehicle I have been cut off from my friends, my chosen family, and my whole tribe. My child has been cut off from all her friends, except the little doucheball that lives up the road. And has my family, (our only means of transportation,) thought about how painful that is? Or how psychologically damaging isolation is? I can confidently say; no. So I reach out to friends, many of them do what they can, when they can. But some of my friends can only be bothered if there's something in it for them. Trying to date while living like this has been fucking miserable. It's as if I don't know how to talk to people anymore. That is, in part, why this page exists. A place where I can say everything anonymously. This is my selfish place. And I appreciate everyone whos along for the ride.

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Sent my girl to the store to get milk and eggs for breakfast... An hour later: Me: Babe where are you? Babe: I love you so much Me: What did you do? Babe: so.... this is milk & eggs.

[mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog]

The Neverending BULLSHIT!

Okay I'm coming clean right now. I caught a motherfucking STI! I have been a sexually active human for approximately half my life and I've NEVER CAUGH A DAMN THING!!! I'm furious. No, I passed furious fucking weeks ago! Here's the story as I've lived it. Met guy online, kinda. (We'd met IRL sometime last year when he went on a date with someone I knew.) I was honestly not looking for a relationship or anything I just wanted to have some fun. He wanted me to agree to an "exclusive arrangement" until he could find someone to ultimately ship with. (RED FLAG #1) I reluctantly agreed but left myself room to back out if I needed to. The condom discussion was a fight. I wanted him to wear one, he didnt want to. I talked him into it. (RED FLAG #2) We hooked up ONE FUCKING TIME! ONE. (The whole night was all wrong.) And the condom "broke"... Right, likely story. I think he tore it. (RED FLAG #3) He got super posessive even before we hooked up and was constantly accusing me of lying and sleeping with other people.(RED FLAG #4) Within days I knew something was wrong, my gens. were ablaze. I got a call after a regular piss test that they found an infection and that I should go to the doctor. I reached out to him right away and asked about his last testing. He got angry and accused me of giving him something (despite the fact that my tests before him were all clean and I had proof on paper.) He was still mad and claimed it was me. (RED FLAG #5) I got diagnosed with trichomoniasis, trich for the duration. Its a parasitic infection that is spread amost exclusively by sex, for those who don't know. I've had nothing but complications, reactions to the only med known to cure it. 3 Rounds of that medication later, and the shit was still active and is causing various other health issues. And the final straw? He messaged me one night. I assume he was drunk, and admitted to me that he was diagnosed with trich almost 2 years ago, but he never got it treated. At first he thought it went away when his symptoms did. But he was rediagnosed a few months ago, and decided to go untreated to get back at his ex. (RED FLAG # 1BAJILLION) WHAT A PETTY SCUMBAG! Now its been over a month, I'm still infected. I've done 4 rounds of treatment. I'm in nearly constant, excruciating pain. And nothing can be done about this fucking pitiful human waste stain of a man. I might lose my uterus before my 30th fucking birthday. (Because it's now accompanied by PID and MULTIPLE ABSCESSES) But he's free to go on infecting whoever he wants because he's not getting treatment. Figures, I've always played it safe. I've always kept up with regular testing. Even when I'm ignoring my regular doctors, my OB sees me every 2-6 months depending on my level of sexual activity. And after all that, this happens, I don't even know what to do. It just hurts. Mentally and physically. I just needed to put this out there and get it off my chest. Thanks for reading. I'll keep my prognosis posted.

[mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog]

10 Years Ago Today. (The Death of Hope)

It was January 18th, 2007. I woke up at 6am, got myself together and went to work. I did a 7-2 shift at one store and picked up a 2-6 shift at the second.

When I got home I paid my bills. (Yeah, 19 years old, 3 jobs, owned my own vehicle, paid my own rent, utilities, phone, car insurance, and credit card bills. Rare by today’s stands.)

I picked my friend Matt up and stop one was Wal-Mart. I got the book for my brother. After, we decided to go get something to eat. As we sat in the restaurant my phone rang, it was Scott, my boss at the studio, he wanted me to come in and help with a project “real quick.” I told him that I would come but I was bringing Matt with me. I worked for a couple hours, then around 1030, we left.

It was cold and rainy. We got in my car and headed out. About halfway home we were talking about “safe cars” and how, at the time, safety sacrificed aesthetic appeal.

I was mid rant,

“I don’t even give half a shit how safe it is. You wont EVER my ass driving a Volvo-o-o OH FUCK!”

Screeching tires, smashing glass, crunching metal, and then THUD. My dome smashing into the driver’s side window.

That “oh fuck” was the sound of me realizing that the odd light coming through the car in front of me was actually an oncoming SUV in the wrong lane. And subsequently ending my life as I knew it.

The car in front of us swerved right and got hit into a stone wall. I saw no traffic on the other side so I swerved left. At that moment time seemed to stop. For a split second I thought we’d made it safely out of the way.

Then the impact.

The Jeep slammed into my passenger door at an angle, slicing open the whole side of my little car, like a fucking tin can. And fusing the door shut. The airbags deployed, the car spun a full 3 revolutions, blowing out all 4 tires, and finally came to rest facing the opposite direction I’d started in.

In the impact I attempted to shield my face, got hit hard by the airbag, and was flung backward into my seat. It was as if I was stuck to the seat, spinning on a nightmarish carnival ride. Glass was flying all over the car digging in and cutting in wherever it landed. I could see everything, the car that hit us, the car he hit before me, and the cars stopped all around. When the driver side tires blew out the spin ended abruptly, smashing my head and shoulder into the window and door.

I felt the car stop and I could smell the burning rubber. I looked over and saw Matt, bloody but conscious. Smoke was filling the car. He managed to groan out “My door wont open!” I was numb from the brain down and no one was coming to help. I thought the car would catch fire, knowing I shouldn’t move or try to move him didn’t matter, I wasn’t burning alive in that car and neither was he! I climbed out my door and grabbed him, dragging him across the console and out, basically on top of me. We both stood up, he was unsteady but standing nonetheless.

That was when I saw my car. I lost my fucking mind. I had no idea how injured I was, all I could think about was the superficial, I had no more car. It was twisted, mangled, and destroyed.

The woman from the car that had been in front of me got out and started screaming across the road at me. She called me every imaginable word from A-F. She thought I hit her. I tried to yell out to her “I didn’t hit you!” but hardly any sound came out. I was horrified.

Some other woman drove right through the accident scene, weaving around the debris and stopped by my car. I thought “oh thank god, she’s going to help us.” wrong. She leaned out her window and barked “Move your fucking car, you’re gonna cause another fucking accident asshole!” Wait, what?! She thought I was the one who caused it.

Everything started to spin, I ran for the side of the road and grabbed the nearest sign post as I started puking my guts up into the brush. I threw Matt my coat to sit on because the ground was too wet, and I continued to vomit.

A guy walked over and started talking to me as I leaned against the post trying to regain my strength. He asked if I was alright, he told me I was bleeding quite a bit and that I should sit down. I refused. He stood there and talked to me a while, he said everything would be alright, that the ambulance was coming and they would take care of me. Then the EMT’s and police were all around and I think that man had just walked away.

An officer was over by me, 2 were directing traffic, another was with the woman from the other car, and 4 cruisers holding 6 or 7 officers were in the parking lot across the street. Guns drawn, strategic positions, spotlights pointed on what appeared to be the white Jeep head on in a tree.

My strength came back real quick when I saw them dragging the staggering shitbag out of the truck. I started screaming, or I thought I was screaming, and I was heading over there. The officer on my side of the road grabbed ahold of my harm and told me to stop. Fuck no po-po. I wasn’t having it. The old woman started screaming at me again, presumably because she thought I was blaming her. Her officer restrained her but I was still not stopping. The officers directing traffic came to help restrain me until the EMT’s made them let me go to avoid hurting me further. By that point the motherfucker was being cuffed and stuffed into a cruiser.

I spun around to the muffled voice of a man asking me to sit. He stuck a plastic brace around my neck and started tending to my face. He said “you need to go to the hospital, you’re cut up badly and I’m fairly certain you have a concussion.” There was bloody gauze all over the tray beside me and Matt was already strapped into a gurney on the ambulance. I got a glimpse of myself in the bubble mirror on the back of the ambulance and nearly threw up at the sight of myself. I started to cry and agreed to go. They set me up on a backboard, strapped me in, and away we went. The EMT monitoring me looked nervous, he started talking faster and louder asking me questions over and over. Until I lost consciousness.

I woke up in the ER, a police officer was standing by my bed talking to a nurse. I was hooked up to an IV and monitors. And holy fucking hell everything hurt.

The nurse rushed to my side when she saw my eyes were open. She said I was lucky. That I’d only been unconscious for about 30 minutes and that my dad was on the way. She expressed concern that with a head injury they were unable to wake me. She told me I had severe contact burns to the right side of my face and neck. Severe burns in my throat from the powder on the air bags. They had pulled over 30 pieces of glass from lacerations on my face, neck, back, chest, and side. I had a fairly severe concussion, and was showing signs of partial paralysis.

It was a lot to take in. Again, thinking superficial, “My face is burned!!” then a sudden jolt “WAIT! PARALYSIS?!” She looked at me with THAT face, that semi-sincere sympathy face. “I’m sorry but yes, your left hand and arm are unresponsive to stimuli. We’re going to do some imaging. Just try to relax, but don’t go to sleep.”

A doctor came in and started talking. He had these packets in his hands and “blabla..response…blabla…nerve damage..blabla..permanent.” He took out these little needles and started poking me in my toes. I told him to fuck off and “ow my feet”. He started poking up my legs. I threatened him if he didn’t leave my legs alone. He poked my hand. I told him to cut the shit and stop poking my hand. “Hand?” he was looking at my other hand, followed his eyes and there it was… The needle, being poked into the palm and fingers of my left hand. And if I didn’t see it I would never have known. I only really remember feeling empty at that moment. Like I was just floating and none of this was real.

My dad walked in a few minutes later and I lost it. All my strength left me and I cried like a terrified child in my father’s arms. I told him what happened, and what the nurse and doctor said. He was surprisingly calm.

As they wheeled my bed off to imaging i saw Matt, sitting up in his bed with his parents sitting beside him.

The imaging was terribly painful and they wouldn’t let me walk or sit up.

My dad did a little bitching and they agreed to let me go under his care. And they told him to keep me awake as much as possible.

I cried the whole way home and then some, I couldn’t lift my arm, How would I play? My throat was burned, How could I sing?

My audition was coming up in just a couple of weeks. I'd be ruined!

[mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog]

10 Years Ago Today. Hopeful and Happy

It was January 17th 2007. I was 19, an aspiring musician. Working 3 jobs. 2 of them in retail and the other as a studio musician and sound tech. I was looking forward to my 2 big auditions coming up in February in NYC. I truly hoped this would be my "big break." I was auditioning to essentially do what I was already doing, but it could lead to so much more. I was a talented, dedicated, goofy, little shit with a big presence and small ego. My brother had gotten a Nintendo Wii for Christmas, and I was the one who spent a night camped outside of Circuit City to get it for him. He had been playing the new Legend of Zelda game, Twilight Princess. Since I had grown up on Zelda games, I was excited to play along with him. But he was stuck, and I didn't have a lot of time to help him get through some of the tougher parts. He had been begging me to get him the game guide book, I just hadn't had the time off to go get it for him. But I had the following night off, so that was my plan. I left the studio around midnight that night and traveled my usual route home. I had worked all 3 jobs that day & I knocked out before my head ever hit the pillow. If you asked me that day where I saw myself in 10 years, you'd have heard a proud story of success and happiness and hope, so much hope. Like a bright little light as I've been told.

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Needy Ass, Lyin' Ass... Ugh!

Oh. My. Fucking. God!!!!!!!! I can’t, this guy has my brain doing somersaults (and not the fun way.)

I talk to this guy (formerly Mr.M) every day. And still every day he needs more attention.

He’s posting on social media stuff like “I’m so lonely.” “I’m always so alone and no one understands.” and “if I disappeared would anyone even notice or look for me?” and. “Why bother having friends on here, none of you ever check on me.” ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! HE’S ATTENTION SEEKING LIKE A LITTLE GIRL.

We’ve broken up twice, he ended things both times. (Long fucking story, what a shit show.) And at this point I feel very little, one way or the other.

—————— Tangent Incoming——————–

Now back when we were together, (round 1) I was extremely affectionate, cuddly, loving, and physical. It was entirely unlike me to be like that, but at the time it felt right. He would often ignore me and push me away. He was really cold and distant for a long while at the end.

After the (1st) breakup that feeling (my clinginess) was gone. And the second time he left because I was taking to long to feel better after we “got back together.” (We went on 3 dates and I paid for all 3.) He wouldn’t allow me to talk about what happened or even mention it. So no, I wasn’t healing.

———————– End Tangent ———————

But I digress, This FUCKING DUDE. We talk every single day over text, same as always. He comes over on his days off, same as always. We have sex once a week, same as always. BUT It’s not good enough for him anymore. He says it feels like we don’t talk anymore. He says it feels like he never sees me. And he says it feels like we haven’t slept together in forever.

He also feels like I’m not affectionate anymore, like I don’t “desire” him. And he says I make him feel alone.

I can agree I’m not affectionate like before. I just cant be.

But I still text back and forth with him more hours in a day than I see my own child (because she’s in school.) I’m still spending 75% of my meagre $115 a week paycheck on him in gas and food. (When he still gets 3-5 times more than I do in a week.)

[mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog]

Help a Bitch Out Here

I would love to hear everyone's tjoughts on this bullshit. My ex/current boyfriend has 3 Facebook's. One he doesn't use, but he's friended me from the other 2. He only talks to me on one, but uses the other all the time. (I see his comments on stuff that our mutual friends post) I've told him that I don't like it and that I think its shady. He's still doing it. And the other night we're out, playing pokemon go, and he hands me his phone. He asks me to get the game up & running while he drives. No problem. Until... There, right there, on his home screen.... OKCupid... Oh fuck no. I asked him what that was about and he said "I'm just trying to make friends" then swore up down and sideways that he's not flirting with other girls. Thing is, I don't care anymore. We've broken up twice. I'm all fucking set. He's still talking to the fucking cuntmuffin that caused 80% of our early drama. And he sees nothing wrong with any of this. So done.

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Long Road (Celiac Edition)

As some of you know, I have celiac disease. I was diagnosed just days before Thanksgiving last year. Now, I didn’t punch the pedal. I wasn’t skipping my family Thanksgiving dinner. I ate the stuffing and the gravy. I enjoyed the pastries and the beers… But as was the annual tradition, I was in the bathroom dying in pain for the better part of the evening. Putting a name to it didn’t make it any easier… Or any less painful.

I started learning, trying out options, and researching the best ways to create and maintain a safe diet.

But I lacked something very basic. I didn’t have support. My family couldn’t understand, nor were they willing to try.

My doctor sent me home with pages of information for my family. From “what is gluten?” to “how to share a kitchen with a gluten sensitive family member.” They still couldn’t be bothered.

One of the sheets titled “Sharing Kitchen Space with a Gluten Sensitive Person.” Said to create a space in a separate room for the gluten items to keep kitchen contamination to a minimum.

My father was so angry that the doctor would even suggest something like that. How dare I put him out in his own home. So he bought a tall cupboard and covered it with big labels that read GLUTEN FREE.

Almost every day there was flour all over the kitchen or crumbs from that day’s toast and bagels. I tried living with a canister of clorox wipes at my side but it proved fruitless.

The thing is, the changes I had made were helping. I was still having issues a few times a week, but I hadn’t had a bleeding episode in a while and I was finally losing weight. My face, neck, and chest cleared up. All the blotches and hives were gone.

In the spring I bumped into an old friend and he commented on how much better I was looking.

When summer started things got really hard. I was no longer doing the grocery shopping, and I was running out of the foods that I had stocked up on. Burgers and sandwiches and pizza and fried takeout were the staple foods in house. Gluten free is expensive and my income was gone.

I gave up.

I gained a bunch of weight back, the bleeding became the norm again and the constant discomfort and pain were just a part of my life. My skin went to hell again. And just out of ease and convenience I let it happen.

I tried, but I was too busy to try hard enough to make a difference.

Now summer has ended and I’ve been trying to get my shit together but again the food is so expensive, I’m too broke. My family won’t buy the GF stuff.

But I've realized something, without support I cannot have success. It's been nearly a year, when I follow through and do what I'm supposed, to I feel fantastic. I need to get back to that.

[mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog]

Halloween Story Time. (Second Half)

Girl-spawn and I moved on with speed, making up for the time loss. First house around the corner is this little pocket mansion. I waited at the bottom of the driveway and sent her to collect the sugary goods. There was a bunch of older women with their brood of kids (ages ranging from 6-16) coming from a house behind us. They came close just in time to hear my kid rashing on a group of teens "Youre too old! You can't trick or treat!" While I agreed with her I wasn't going to let her rain on other peoples' parades. So I called out to her "Be real! I'm dressed up running around with you and I'm pushin 30! Don't be a party pooper!" A new voice very close to me says "I gotcha beat I'm 42." Ohhhhh lord the smell. I didn't want to turn around. It was like standing in a cloud of my younger days when cheap brandy was the best we could afford... ::vomm:: This Marinaded Madame slid up next to me trying to figure out my costume. She offered me alcohol and before i had time to refuse she was fumbling through her friend's backpack. "Oh it appears I've selfishly drunk them all." as shes holding up half a dozen empty nips. I think my kid sensed my displeasure. Or maybe she just knows the expression i make when I'm trying not to punch someone in the face. She runs way ahead calling for me, which made me very quickly exit the circle of alcohol scented middle aged messes. As we continued on I found myself annoyed with the number of older teens wandering about. That and the number of cars. This neighborhood used to have an active driving ban on Halloween from 6 to 8. But I guess they don't do that anymore because there were cars everywhere, and they were not being careful. ANYWAY, as predicted, my girly got tired just over half way. She opted to finish out the big circle (the neighborhood is like a 3 mile oval with 3 cul-de-sacs off one long side, we live on the middle cul-de-sac.) So she decided to keep going but she skipped a lot of the houses. I didn't push her, it was getting late. We come upon a house with music, a huge fire pit in the driveway, a full size hot taco bar, and food and drinks for everyone. The guy who's apparently running this circus points at me. "You want beer or wine?" I tried to decline. He said "I got red, white, bud, and light.... So you want beer or wine? I agreed to take a beer. He offered she and I hot food, she grabbed bottled water. And we opted to take a break and warm up by the fire with a bunch of other folks. They don't even have young kids! That's fucking awesome. And I guess he does this every year. THATS how it should be. Someday I'll own a house and I'll do it. I'll make something delicious and inexpensive, have refreshments, and a large enough fire pit for the kids and parents alike to want to come to my house. We left there and headed home with cold drinks and frozen hands.

[mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog]

Halloween Story Time (First Half) An Unprepared Dad

Let's skip the shit show of trying to feed & dress kids who are squirming like jellyfish doing the electric boogaloo. We leave to go trick or treating… Mr.M has the 2 year old in the stroller. And for me personally the little dude was waaaay under-dressed. T-shirt, pants, one piece costume with hood, and sneakers. No gloves, no base layer, no sweatshirt….. Um it’s October 31st, this is New England, it’s not warm. Think 40°. So we go down the road and at the first house he takes forever to get the little guy out of the stroller. Now my little hellion is 8 years old, she’s like a fucking jet engine GO!GO!GO!GO!GO!!! So needless to say, she was not having it when she saw how slow the boys were going. So after 2 houses she was getting frustrated and started trying to run ahead. Admittedly, I was watching the clock. I know shes got a good 45 minutes to an hour of run time before she gets cold and tired and wants to go home. The first 2 houses took almost 20 minutes. So between freezing the baby and the slow roll, I was getting annoyed and started rushing him. He could feel my frustration and he started huffing like a bitch. He ended up stopping back at my house to get his gloves and a blanket for the little one. The poor little guy was still freezing and seemed to have no interest in getting in and out of the stroller and going up to houses. (Because he’s too little.) After a little while Mr.M decided that it was too cold and that it was time to turn back. I bid him farewell with a great deal of relief but he was acting weird. They turned back and my little one and continued on.

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I'm Feeling Conflicted

I am single again.

Its been a few days and my emotions are no longer raw. My nerves have soothed. I am sad, but not that sad because I'm kinda glad its over.

My daughter is taking it incredibly hard. She’s convinced it’s all her fault because she behaved badly towards him often. I cannot seem to tell her enough, that this is not her fault and that things are going to be okay.

I am supposed to see him today to return his things, his rings, his coat, and a couple sundry he left here. But the clock is running down on him today.

It’s the first day of school and the bus will come at 4. Its 1 now. He has a limited window here because I don’t want this to cause my little girl more pain.

**UPDATE** He’s coming tomorrow instead. Tomorrow night after she goes to bed.

I feel like I should care more or something.

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My Kid Almost Burned Down The House!!!!!!

So I grew up with “don’t play with fire” ads on TV.   I’ll admit I’m still a bit of a pyro, but only when acceptable, like in my fire pit outside.  I don’t set random shit on fire and I actually never have.  The closest I’ve been to a “menace fire” was the time that I set fire to a pile of dried grass, twigs, and leaves at a vacant football field in the middle of winter with a couple of friends.  No charges were filed, we were stranded there with no shelter and it was freezing out.  TOTAL SIDE NOTE!!

Tonight blew my mind, my 8 year old daughter asked to sleep in my bed, which lately isn’t news (the last 2 weeks it’s probably happened 5 or 6 times. And at 9pm I’ll say no but by 3am I will usually give in. But tonight I said yes before she even went to bed, she’s going through a change of schools, she’s struggling with the life change that comes with mommy dating a man with a kid. And she’s not taken any of it lightly.

So tonight I allowed this, and I left the room.  I wasn’t trying to go to sleep at 9pm. 20 minutes later I entered the room and found myself bewildered by the distinct smell of smoke. Not cigarette smoke, no, like a fire.  I asked her if she smelled it, she said no.   As I yelled up the stairs for my brother, who is usually responsible for small smokey smells and menace fires near the house, she suddenly yelled “MOMMY NO! I DID IT NOT HIM!” I was taken completely aback by this. She started sobbing “I-I-i-i- I had an accident!”  she screamed.  “I made your blanket on fire!!!”

My world fucking broke.    She could have died, she could have burned herself.  She could have set my parents house on fire, and neither of them would have known because they were in bed, mostly deaf and dead asleep.  But SHE COULD HAVE DIED!!!!!!! She had the wherewithal to put water on it, to put it out.  There were burnt bits of blanket everywhere, my room smelled of burning, and half my bed was soaked. THANK FUCKING GOD SHE PUT IT OUT! THANK FUCKING GOD SHE’S OKAY! I got my hands on the blanket and was fucking devastated.  There’s a 3 inch hole surrounded in massive singed burns occupying about a square foot of the blanket.  That blanket was VERY expensive ($150ish), and is basically the only thing I sleep with.  

Once I got it out of her she said that she found my electric lighter (I own a tesla coil lighter that I never use, it’s a novelty thing) and she didn’t know it would burn the blanket she “just wanted to play with it”

First off, I haven’t charged that thing in over a month it should be dead.  it was in the bottom of a drawer in my night stand. and my kid who’s been around lighters and fire and such her entire life thought THIS was a thing to do, fucking erased me. 

I was quiet for a while, I brought her up to her room and told her “I forgive you, it’s okay.  I’m glad you are alright, it could have been a lot worse and you got lucky.”  But amid all that I mixed in a heaping helping of “You could have died, you could have burned the house down, what about the pets... etc”    I don’t feel bad for it either, she still had no remorse and blamed me for having a lighter where she could find it.

SHE WENT THROUGH MY DRAWERS TO FIND A LIGHTER, THEN HELD IT UNDER THE BLANKET AND TURNED IT ON!!!!!!  AND THEN AUDACIOUSLY BLAMED ME FOR OWNING IT!!!!    She cannot light a conventional lighter, but this one is a push button, and 2 purple lines appear, it makes a noise and it makes fire.  She knew this.  But she said she didn’t know that “it would make the blanket burn like that” I want to be relieved that she’s okay but I’m fucking pissed. I’m relieved that she’s okay and that nothing significant was burned... But what the fuck am I going to do about that very expensive blanket that she burned a huge fucking hole in?  What am I going to put over myself tonight when I do go to bed? I can not afford to replace it, so I cut out the hole in a square and I’m prepared to use it until I find suitable replacement that I can pay for.  

The biggest takeaways tonight are: That I cannot leave her alone for even a minute.   She’s going back to counselling, because she knew right away that she did wrong but she did it anyway without fear of consequence. I don’t know what to do about this. I can’t trust her, she tried to lie to me about it until I got another person involved,  if we didn’t live with family what would she have done? She’s still got honesty in there somewhere, she didn’t let her uncle go down for what she did.  

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New Plan

Okay so this may not start right away, it's Wednesday and I'm tired as hell. But I'm going to start trying to post every for every other day. Just something short, something about what's going on that day. I've got family drama to document and I need to keep those things in order because if shit hits the fan it will be important.

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Why? (3 Months Ago.)

I was in a store on Wednesday and I realized something. No, I felt something. I could feel the way I was walking. And that might seem weird but I’ll get there.

I felt myself taking very small steps, staying well out of the way, and almost scampering around. I was being small, aiming to take up as little space as possible. I’ve felt very small for a very long time.

I lost all my hair in September of 2014, I had only been dating Fuckface for a few months. A lot of my identity was tied up in my hair. I’m a firm believer in loving yourself and if you want to change something, stick to things you can control, like hair, makeup, clothing… That kind of thing. So losing my hair was like losing me. And I relied on him to make up for how much I hated me at the time. I didn’t come back from that emotionally, even though I thought I had.

After my hair grew back I tried dying and shaping it a few times, but he bitched every time. “You’re killing your hair it’s never going to grow” or “why’d you do that, it looks shorter this way.” Deep down it sounded more like “you’re still not pretty like before” or “nope, still ugly.” So I stopped trying. One time not too long ago, a couple months, I got it cut and I didn’t tell him. He freaked out. When he showed up that night I don’t think I’ll ever forget the face he made. I loved my new cut. he clearly didn’t.

I’ve been making my own space smaller to make up for his thoughts and opinions of me. He doesn’t matter, I do. I’m done walking small. From now on I will take big steps, breathe deeply and smile. My hips will move and I will not fear myself or my presence. Because that is who I am. I will not fall to his crushing opinions anymore.

[mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog]

Feeling No Pain

So I was thinking tonight. Fuckface tells me (yes he’s still taking at me) that he’s picked up a ton of hours and is working 7 days a week. Yeah I know I’m doing way better than him emotionally anyway. And sure I’m seeing someone… But 7 days a week?! Is he for real?

And then it hit me…. and as horrible as it is I could not help but smile. So much for all that speaker equipment that never got installed. And so much for that stupid little RC car, you have no time for it.

I didn’t put him there. He chose to debt dodge and didn’t tell me anything about it. So I can’t feel sorry for him in the least. He’s now reaping the consequences of his 2 years of control over my life. He let himself slip the whole time.

He got all that money from his dad’s passing and chose to squander it on stupid shit.

Now is when I release it. It’s all over... I'm free.

[mommy-needs-to-break-shit-blog]

It is lady..... It is.

Me: i can't guarantee you a day I don't do the schedule. Unfortunately that's out of my department. Customer: Well, what IS your department? Me: Customer service, accounting, IT, and payroll ma'am. Customer: JESUS! Your name should be on the company.