Sorry to disappoint, but this isn’t a fictional story… I haven’t had much time to put into my writing lately, but I wanted to give you guys a quick glimpse into what I’ve been up to lately!
1. I have a baaaad rash of POISON SUMAC. 🌿😭 A few friends and I thought it would be fun to go creek swimming, but to get to the water we had to walk through some high weeds and grass. We must’ve walked through a patch of poison sumac because OH MY GOSH my legs are broken out and itch soo bad! It has spread on both legs, both feet, up onto my hips, and on my bum! I’ve never had poison ivy, so when my fiancé broke out I didn’t think I would too! Turns out, I did and I have GOT to get to the doc because I can’t take this anymore!
2. We had nearly $500 stolen out of our house this past week. It puts a huge strain on paying the bills this month. We don’t know who did it or what to do now that the cash is gone. VERY frustrating!
3. I have a job interview for a full time position at my current workplace! After the awful poison sumac and stolen cash, this news was a light in a dark tunnel! If I get this job I will make $3 more an hour and be offered great medical benefits. Fingers crossed I get this job!!! 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼
4. Babies grow SO FAST. My daughter Della turned SIX months old on the 5th!! She is the best part of my day and it’s so fun watching her grow!!!
What have you guys been up to? Sorry I’ve been a bit absent, but I’d love to chat!! Drop a comment!
Maintaining friendships after parenthood is hard. Most parents will agree.
But I always kind of had a hard time keeping up with others even before I had a baby. I have always been more introverted, and I can’t really think of a time in my life where I truly felt like I had a “best friend.” Sure, I had people I trusted, hung out with, and considered more than a simple acquaintance, but I never really felt a connection deep enough to where I felt totally comfortable and completely understood.
A short time ago, I had an old high school friend message me and ask how the baby and I were. I hadn’t heard from this friend in quite a while. I will admit, I was being petty about her not coming to visit me like I feel a good friend should. After all, she lives a county away from me. When she messaged me, I was busy doing whatever thing I had on my list of things to do as a working mom, so I gave her a simple: “We’re good.”
I didn’t mean anything negative by it. I was just … BUSY! So she ended up getting upset about how she tries to keep up with me now that I have a baby and that all I do is shut her out. I can see where she is coming from. In all honesty, I will probably always be the type to keep my distance when it comes to outsiders. I like friendship and I do believe that healthy relationships are important, I just no longer have the time to put a bunch of effort into people that aren’t making an actual, solid attempt to see me. You can make every excuse under the sun as to why you don’t go visit someone, but when it comes down to it… it just shows that you don’t actually care that much. And I told her just that.
How much you care is how much you try.
On the other hand, I had a friend that actually put in a great deal of effort to see me and meet my daughter for the first time. When I first got out of high school, I headed straight to Eastern Illinois University. There I met a girl named Tiffany. Now, we both only went to school there for one semester, but we were thick as thieves. We would run out to my car and smoke cigarettes, go to the frat houses, and hang out in our dorm rooms. All college fun… but that wasfour years ago.We never lost touch.
I actually met up with Tiff in Chicago about a year ago, and then this past weekend she made the four hour trek to come visit me and meet my daughter.
I’d say that is a helluva lot more effort than most people give.
And we had only seen one another one time in the last four years.
My point of this isn’t to bitch about the people that aren’t putting effort into relationships.
My point is…The people that care, will show up.
It doesn’t matter if you only knew them for a total of four months.
It doesn’t matter if you haven’t seen them in years.
I’ve hit a wall with my writing. It seems that I’ve ran out of all inspiration that is required to create a “good post.” So that led me to come to the conclusion that I am going to take a break on my blog. Sad face.
I just want to make sure that I gather some quality ideas and meaningful words so I’m not just pumping out average, boring posts just to fill my wall. I did not start this page with the intention of only focusing on follows or likes. I started this blog so that I could share my story and provide words of encouragement and advice to those that have been through similar situations.
For now, I want to focus on me.
But have no fear… I will continue to read and interact with what everyone else is writing. Maybe I can find some inspiration from one of you.
ALSO, Mathew S. and I have been working on a cool fiction collaboration that we will hopefully be publishing sometime in the near future.
Have a great week – I can’t wait to share with you all again sometime soon!!
I think about how many years I have missed out with my mom and it makes me angry.
I think about how many times she has blamed me for her drug use, addiction, and relapse and it makes me angry. There are no words to give a heartbroken daughter that will provide her with comfort or normalcy. I will always be the girl that carries the baggage and burden of my mother on my shoulders. I will never escape this pain. It will not go away.
And that makes me angry.
I’m angry that I’ve always been expected to just accept things the way that they are. I’ve gone out of my way to keep the hope that one day she will take responsibility for the wreckage she has caused. But she never will, and that makes me angry.
Someday I will have to explain all of this to my daughter in a way that doesn’t make her hate my mom as much as I do. It has never been my goal to influence hate from others. I’m only telling my truth the way I have perceived it. Perhaps the way I see it is harsh, but that’s what anger will do to you.
I make no apology for trying to repair what she broke.
I make no apology for being blunt about how I feel.
I make no apology for finding an outlet for all of these feelings. Putting this pain into my writing is what helps me heal. It helps me make sense of my story. It helps me comfort others that feel the same way. And let me tell you, I am far from alone.
And the fact that my situation is far from rare makes me angry.
So today and tomorrow and the day after that, I will be angry.
I wrote a few weeks back that my mom was getting out of jail and going to rehab. I was excited, but I tried hiding it. Part of me knew something was going to fall out. The thing about hope is that even though you can prepare yourself to be let down, you can’t prepare yourself enough to not feel the hurt of failed expectations.
She went to rehab for five days.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t heartbroken, but how I feel is much more than just a heartbreak.
I amfuriousat the system. I amfuriousat our courts. I amfuriousat the people that turn a blind eye when they know that someone needs their help.
SHE COULD BE A MOTHER. She could have been our mother forYEARSnow if someone would have taken even aSECONDto pay attention to what the hell was going on in our situation.
It all started in the early 2000’s. The first time she was arrested for possession and fighting. I would have been around five years old. So you arrest a young mother for fighting on the streets while high on who-knows-what, and you’re not going to do anything to make sure it doesn’t happen again? What about the second time? Third time? Fourth time?
Oh, right. THAT’S when we finally take the kids.
But she should have been provided the rehabilitation and help she so desperately needed WAAAAYYYY before it ever got that bad. It has been eighteen years since this all started and nothing has been done to help her. I am furious because in this country drug addicts can relapse and relapse and relapse and get locked up several times without getting any help! By now, we should all be aware that it is cheaper to rehabilitate addicts so they don’t relapse than it is to lock them up over and over and over again…
When did we stop caring aboutpeople? Or rather, why don’t we caremoreabout people? It is unfortunate that many addicts’ stories are just like my mother’s. An endless cycle of drug addiction, arrest, lengthy prison sentence, release, and then it starts all over again. And again. And again.
I lost mymotherbecause our court system isdesignedto allow addicts tofail.
She was arrested this last time for possession of meth. She was sent to a rehabilitation facility for FIVE DAYS after a twenty year-long span of drug addiction. Do you want to know why? Because they release those that aren’t seen as a risk of relapsing.
ARE YOU F*CKING SERIOUS???!
She has been an addict for twenty f*cking years and you’re gonna tell me that after FIVE DAYS in your facility, you think she isn’t going to go right back to the drugs?! WHAT. A. JOKE.
This is what I mean when I say that the system is designed to let people like her fail.
I am heartbroken. Outraged. Furious. Disgusted. Appalled.
If she would have gotten help the first time she was seen as having a problem, I could have a mom in my life right now. But instead I’m sitting here pissed off, writing a blog about how the government helped in making my life a living hell.
I’ve never talked about mental health on my blog before, but I figured it’s a great topic to talk about, and since May is Mental Health Awareness Month, there’s no better time than now!
When I think about words that describe myself, I first think about words like happy, energetic, motivated, determined, etc. But the truth is, there are more times than I’d like to admit where I feel the exact opposite of those. There are days I want to pull the blankets over my head and sleep the day away. There are days where I feel sad, have no energy, no motivation, and no patience.
According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, 1 in 5 adults in the U.S. (46.6 million people) experience mental illness in a given year. Also, mood disorders, (including major depression, dysthymic disorder and bipolar disorder) are the third most common cause of hospitalization in the U.S. for both youth and adults 18–44 years old.
So if so many people are affected by a mental illness, why do I feel so alone when we realize that I may be suffering, too?
When I look back on my life, my darkest time was definitely throughout my junior high school years. I remember talking to the school counselor a lot during my 6th, 7th, and 8th grade years. It was the time in my life where I most struggled with the absence of my mom. I think it was when I first started to fully understand what had happened to me and began to realize that my life was much different that those of my classmates. I was angry a lot of the time. I grew up in a family of six siblings, and at this time I remember I would get in trouble a lot for hitting on them. I don’t consider myself a hostile person, but at that time I was looking for an outlet of my emotions that didn’t involve talking about or dealing with the severity of them. I resented my mom and the fact that she chose drugs over my sister and I, but my sister was years younger than I wasand couldn’t fully understand what had happened. She was only 3 when DCFS took us from our mom. So I was dealing with all of those demons completely alone- even the person that I went through this with couldn’t help me.
It was my eighth grade year when I hit rock bottom. I had a bedroom in our basement, and my bed was one of those bunk beds that had a desk under it instead of a second mattress. I was sitting at that desk listening to some of Eminem’s darkest songs and thinking about how much I hated what I was going through. I got up and searches the medicine cabinet for any and all pills I could find.
I went back to my desk, laid the pills out, and started writing goodbye letters to my loved ones. Before I got through the last letter, I was bawling and starting to realize that this wasn’t something I could go through with. I imagined what my family would be like as they read these letters, and I realizedI loved them WAY too much to put them through something like that.
I went to school the next day. During PE hour, I gave my best friend the letter I had wrote her the night before and explained to her what I was feeling. We cried together in the locker room and she took me to go get help from a teacher.
I’ll never forget that moment.
We grew apart in the following years, but I have treasured that moment of love and understanding for all of these years. She was the one that picked me up without judgement and led me to the help I needed. I love her for that to this very day.
Many years ago!!
There is no shame in getting the help you need.I recently read a post on Facebook that said something along the lines of hoping that one day getting help for mental health would be as normal as going to the doctor for an injury, and that getting released from school for mental health would be as normal as leaving for a tummy ache. What a world that would be.Let’s end the stigma against mental illness and help those suffering get the help they need.
I have finally hit 50 followers! I just wanted to dedicate this to all of you awesome readers that follow my journey, read my story, and leave your comments.
When I started this blog, I had no idea what I’d be getting into. I’ve always had a passion for writing, and I knew exactly what my platform was going to be. Writing has always been a great outlet for me, and it’s something I love to do!
I started to write a book back when I was in high school, but kind of just let it go to the way side. I’ve decided I wanted to get back into creative writing and work on publishing chapters of a new book! I already published a prologue for it, if you are interested in reading it I have left the link at the bottom of this article. I think it will be a fun journey and a great way to challenge myself while also pursuing a long-standing dream of mine.
Anyway, THANK YOU for your follow, your friendship, and your support! 50 followers may not sound like much, but this blog has turned into way more than I ever could have dreamed!
I have always been a mildly jealous person. Not that I am in a rage when I see someone with something I don’t have myself, but I am the type of person to let little things hurt me.
And the one thing that probably makes me the most jealous and hurt is when I see others rave about how much they love that their mom is their best friend.
You say you love your mom, but I can’t relate.
I have had a lot of outreach from my blog’s readers. I often hear how others have really connected to what I write about my mom, so I wanted to write one for them- For those that feel the same hurt that I do. For those that have had their own pain and find it comforting to know that they are not alone. For those that relate to this title before even reading the article… This one is in honor of you. (Thank you for reaching out to me, telling me your own stories, and sending love. I hope that never stops!)
I was 7 years old when I was taken from my mom by DCFS, and I actually do have a lot of great memories of my mom from before then. Maybe I exaggerate how awesome those memories really are, simply because I have yearned for more time with her ever since I could understand what even happened. I remember her tickling me while snuggled up on the couch. I remember how good her pepper gravy tasted. I remember how beautiful she was as I looked down on her from the top bunk of our bunkbed.
There were times I would lay with my face in my pillow crying, just so my sisters wouldn’t hear me. I never googled my name because the one time I did I was terrified to see a nasty methed-out mugshot of my mom. I was mailing letters to my mom while she was in prison, whereas some of my friends didn’t even know how to address a letter or buy a stamp. I changed the TV channel every time I saw a CrimeStoppers commercial come on, just in case her picture would pop up under the WANTED list. These are things that I’m sure the average kid doesn’t have to deal with, but they shaped me into the girl that grew up angry and jealous of everyone else that brags on how awesome their mom was. You may love your mom, but my mom has hurt me more than any person on this earth. I do not feel sorry for how blunt I can be about the pain that she has caused. I do not feel like I have to sugarcoat the emotional and mental hurt that she has brought to my life. So when you say you love your mom, I can’t relate.
You may think, “… But she’s your family, you should love your family no matter what!” Here’s what I have to say to that: Would someone that truly loved you do that to you? No, seriously. Yeah, I get that family is important. My family is truly one of my highest priorities, but someone that can cause you that much heartache is not family. She could look me dead in my eye, tell me she was done with the drugs, then walk down the street to a buddy’s house for a hit after I drove away. So when you say you love your mom, I can’t relate.
I remember one of my high school best friends would bring a perfectly folded and packed suitcase with her to every basketball tournament. To this day, I still remember standing there watching as she opened it up and took the beautifully arranged items out. Something as simple as that made me wish that I had my mom do that for me. There are so many small things moms do that get overlooked, but there are people like me that notice every single one of them. To those of you that have that amazing relationship with your mom, I hope this post makes you realize your love for her even more. I hope this gives you the urge to go hug her and thank her for nurturing and loving you the way a real mother should. You are living a life so many others can only dream of. Never waste a moment to tell her how much she means to you!