Day 15 – daylight or destruction? Or both?

My job has apparently officially let me go – I knew the moment was coming – and I know I can’t work – but was hoping it would wait out until at least my appointment with the neurosurgeon.  Something the company could have done – considering I’ve been on medical leave.  Kind of need the medical if your on medical leave.  But it’s fine, just another hurdle to overcome.  Just something else to figure out.  What’s going on with the coronovirus is scary.  What’s going on with the world is scary.

My music is moving, dropped several tracks this week.  One official version, one for a contest, and a collab.  My music showing the healing, but the stress of the bills, rising everyday.  The medicinal medicine that’s already hard to get a hold of – that will be gone soon – but some how I still have hope that beneath all of this is a stage of healing like no other.  My music becoming better.  I’m feeling more free.  Free from negativity – and it’s showing.  Face brighter, lyrics lighters.  My latest track – one of the best I’ve released so far.  I’m really starting to feel free.  Starting to feel alive – but here soon – the stress from the bills will consume what little good I am feeling now.
My job pulling my benefits before my neuro appointment is a real disappointment.  It was bad enough I couldn’t work, now – no medical.  This is how people end up homeless, on the streets.

I’m confused with myself right now.  How can I feel better, especially knowing that I have bills coming and no income?  How can I wake up in the morning and actually feel like I can breathe knowing that my financial structure is caving?  I don’t know.  Maybe because I know that my mental health is just as disrupting as my physical health, and right now I’m battling a triple hitter of horse shit – but I keep trying to push through.

I’m staying positive amidst it all.  Feeling refreshed and new.  I know that somehow, some way – my dreams of running my own business from home that includes my baked goods, bath essentials, things that calm the chaos of the world – I know soon – that will be how I survive.  I just got to find a way to make it from point a to point b so I can make it to point c.

Until next time, breathe, meditate, image therapy, yoga, music.

Please check out my latest track:

Obsessive Compulsive Desires

If you can help in any way – please visit my GoFundMe,  PayPalMe or as always – just find a “Momma Rapper” track anywhere – and press play!!!!

 

 

Day 13 – Hope or Hype – either way I got to keep pushing forward

My mood is finally stabilizing – and not just on the surface, internally.  I’ve began to speak up when I can feel my anxiety rising – and when I’m uncomfortable I have began the methods taught to me about grounding myself.  All these attempts to cope with this deep healing stage.  A thing I have to keep reminding myself every time I wake up in the morning.  I know that what I am going through – this is temporary.  Each day it’s like I feel a shade brighter.  Each day passing, I can feel the storm lifting.  A storm that has been there for quite some time.  I’m not sure how to handle the light shinning in.  Not sure how to handle the sensitivity I feel right now.  Not sure how to feel about feeling fragile, or the fact that even feeling fragile I feel empowered.  Greg being so supportive – doing all he can to help support the businesses – while also supporting the house, the bills.  All things I’m terrified with me down for my mental and physical health that will all crumble.  He keeps assuring me things will be okay – and deep inside, I know they will be, but watching your life, and what you little you have be at jeopardy of losing because my mental health has taken a complete detour on my journey.  This is not where we are supposed to be right now.  We should be looking for a house with a yard where I can plant seeds to grow flowers, food.  A yard for my dogs.  A yard I can walk barefoot in.  A yard that I can breathe and enjoy the sun, the earth.  I shouldn’t be at home feeling like this.  I wake up in the mornings, make my coffee, take my shower, do some cleaning, and then turn around and spend about 2 hours in the morning trying to figure out what my stomach plans on doing.  My gastro issues that have grown so much worse over the past few months.  I found out recently from therapy that most of my physical medical conditions – common with people with C-PTSD.  Intestinal issues, reproductive issues, common with C-PTSD.  Maybe not the specific condition itself – but the areas in general.  The hysterectomy came at 31, gastroparesis 32.  The bulging disc and spinal stenosis – probably from around the same time.  As much as I got thrown around with my ex – I’m surprised it’s not more is jacked up than that.  And let’s not forget the car accidents.  My body – just physically tired.

I can’t even eat without my body giving me some kind of bullshit back – so naturally after a while – you just feel defeated.

The only thing that makes me feel better?  THC, CBD

And barely legal in this state.  Also something that soon will be gone.  Then what happens with my mental health?  My physical health.  The medicine of all medicines that helps me to function, calms my anxiety, calms my gut, calms my head, all things I need – and soon – not sure how we are going to pay for it.  Disability taking 3 months is super scary – the rep assuring me that is worst case scenario – but with my working credits and prior applications – we are hoping not as long.  Greg continues to assure me, everything will be fine.  He has mentioned pulling overtime to learn another part of the machine at work – but I know, really – that’s just him doing what he can to cover what extra burden there is – but he can only carry so much weight.  We split our bills evenly here – everyone responsible for what they are responsible for.

I’ve worked so many years to build my credit, taking out credit accounts to build the credit – and now – because I’ve used those accounts to buy things that Katie and I needed when we were finally free from all the dumbshit – which I shouldn’t have – but after a while – you need towels to dry off with – and pots and pans to cook with – things we lacked when we moved into the place in Tampa by ourselves, using the Publix cake spatula as a turner for the griddle we had.  The few things we salvaged from the wrecking ball of our life.  The tin container that held our most prized possessions for several years had finally been unboxed.  Most – just boxes full of Katie’s drawings from her childhood – her trinkets – outfits – pictures – all stored at a storage facility in Land O Lakes.  Finally unboxing life, what little we had left of it.  Sleeping on the floor, then gradually to beds, then gradually having sheets, then curtains, then a couch, then towels, then a coffee pot, then a life.  Piece by piece we built.  Each and every time – we would build from nothing.  This time – I wanted to build alone – stronger – buy a house – something my daughter would always have – so she would never feel bound to a relationship – somewhere she could feel free.  I wasn’t able to get it done.  Another failure after failure – but still pushing through.  I move.  Get a better job.  The job, comes with a co-worker that enjoys nitpicking about people’s PTSD – knowing that I suffer from it – but always making it about her Son-in-law – but constantly repeating “I ain’t responsible for no-one’s feelings” – a pun to the breakdown I had at work several months ago because of her bully like behavior – and because I had shared with my boss that when she is asking me questions on the dot, that the lack of response, wasn’t because I didn’t know the answer – but when she asks the ways she does – it triggers a shadow response – and I stumble on my words.  Hoping it would resolve some of the issues I was having at work – but all that happened was they escalated in silence.  Me knowing not to say anything else – because my boss was pissed when I went to HR – every review since then – straight shit.  One I fumbled up so bad – I was having a complete anxiety attack during a review – something else I couldn’t handle.  Group reviews.  A group of people sitting in an office asking you to show them your skills.  I can’t type but 5 WPM when someone stands behind me – (120 WPM when no one is) but you want me to show my skills, in front of all of you, right now, like it was awful.

I’ve associated my job with multiple traumas, and even talking about it now is giving me anxiety…

My physical health, my mental health – all weak right now – and I know right now I need to take the time for my body to heal – and that is what I need to do.  I’m scared of the aftermath of finances, but I keep hoping and praying that some how, some way, more than just Greg will believe in me – and I can offer the world different ways to find peace, whether it’s through music, food, or love. I have a lot to offer, I just got to offer it in the environment that is healthy for prospering.

I’m trying to create business after business, some red tape here and there from that.  I have created a “wish list” of items from amazon to create the bath essentials line under the “I Smell Cakes and Candy” umbrella.  I need the supplies, so I guess I need investors.  It took me over 1 year, purchasing little by little to get what I have for my baking business – but I need to obtain additional licenses here in Georgia, including a home inspection – so the baking will be put on pause until that happens, and that could take a while.  These are things we uncovered yesterday as we are trying to also create a line of carry out cooked foods.  The cottage laws here are different than in Florida.  Katie is ServSafe – but we also need additional classes.  All totaling over $300.00.  The bath essentials could be something that I could get going quite quickly, especially since I have several channels, and a creative and artistic soul – they wouldn’t be like anyone else’s.  I’ve signed up for kickstarter.  A crowdfunding site to help people with small businesses.  We will see how that goes.  I have a lot of ideas, goals for ISC&C and Momma Rapper Music since day 1.  These are my little dream doll houses I have been building.  I would be great at it, I just need those special souls that believe in me.  The cost of the bath essentials line startup:  amazon

This would include the soap, the bath bombs, the entire line.  Everything down to the boxes.  The profit margin will depend on which soap or bath bomb line, of course offering 3 different types of soaps, and several different types of bath bombs in a variety of different shades.  I’m confident in my ability to be able to create such wonderful and artistic things, whether it be the bath essentials, or the baking, or the music – the ability to create – it calms the chaos.

 

I am blooming….

The sun is rising…..

I need to be free to fly….

 

 

If you can help these wings fly please visit my GoFundMe or PayPalMe 

Or remember – you can always send a penny my way by pressing play on any of my tracks on any streaming service!!!!

 

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Amazon Music .99 Download

Tidal

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The rejection I didn’t need….

I just got home from picking up – what I was hoping money from the cupcakes I made to put on display at a local place here.

I walked in – excited to hopefully only pick up the envelope.  Instead I walked in, my cupcakes were turned in, and not on display as they were on Sunday.  Not one single one sold.

My heart almost crushed when I seen they had been pushed to the back, not really visible to anyone.  Several hours and money wasted.

I was really hopeful that if I put these beautiful creations on display somewhere, all it would take it just a few people trying them – and my baking business would be in full swing.

But no.  They were pushed back, dismissed.

Wasted.

I took them and dropped them most of them to various places on the way home.

They were too beautiful to just toss.

I just wish, for once I could catch a break.

 

 

Day 12 – down for construction

The title seem relative…

That is what I am listening to as the new apartment complex is being built next door.  Something that has been quite the nuisance since I’ve been here.  I guess, also hearing the sounds of construction could also be a slight trigger.  Not one that sets me in a mood – but one that sets me in the need to be flighty.  When you walk out my front door, the fence, it’s chain link, and like 5 feet from the door.  The apartment/ construction site’s way of trying to minimize the students sneaking out of school.  But really, it looks like a prison.  The fences are tall – and they line up with a wood paneled fence – once you go around the corner – it’s beautiful.  The front has a little area to put like a picnic table and what not – but really – who wants to sit and look at metal all day – combined with bare sun???

Which – Spring is coming – it’s going to be miserable here.  We had hoped to be moving into a purchased home by now.  Well I had.  Greg – he is down for whatever, but I just don’t even know how we are going to make anything possible – but there’s a part of me that knows this is just a bump that will take me to something greater.  I don’t know if it’s the guided imagery videos or what – but there is a huge part of me that feels like soon, I will be doing what I love to make money (baking and music), we will be living in a purchased property that has land for my furry kids, soil to touch, earth to explore, peace in my soul, life finally slowing down enough to enjoy it, to enjoy creating, building, things I have a serious desire and passion to do, and be able to not only provide, but to even prosper, but how?  I have the basics.  I have the brains.  Now just the client base.

I really wanna open my own bakery, a place where my daughter can work, and Greg.  A place where we can create, live, and love life.  For now, I’ll keep pushing my sweet treats locally in hopes to manage bills enough to not burden Greg  too much.  Even though, he considers none of this a burden.  For him, he sees the pain, he sees the healing, he sees the soul ripping apart while the band-aids lift so I can finally stitch up all the wounds of my past, so my past will not continue to bleed into my future.  Things deeply buried that have been rising one track at a time, never seen by myself, subconscious lyrics that meant so much more than I had even imagined…

My subconscious was giving me a warning message through my music – and for me – I was just writing music – yes it meant something – something deep – but looking back – it’s so much deeper.

I can remember looking over to Greg, he does too, the minute after we published “That’s Some Shady Shit” I looked over to him and said “I dug a little too deep with that one” The odd thing is – the song is fun – like I was easing myself into the realization about something so deeply rooted about to be unsurfaced.  The last verse had given me chills, but the excitement over the song – still there.  To this day.  The track won first place in #September #heroes #contest My dedication track to Eminem.  More so hip-hop in general.  The one thing I had alone because no one in my family listened to it, plus I connected with some of the evol shit on a different level.  The trailer hood lifestyle ain’t no joke – and ain’t for the weak.  The shit going on in my head really wasn’t about love or broke down trucks – although I love country music – only a few songs hold any place in my soul. (They almost all Reba…)

The verse:

Your lyrics – those were lit
Funny thing was,
I had notebooks of my own
Just 15 and already feeling grown.
A few painful seeds already sewn
Wanting to wander off and listen to you alone.
Never feeling right in the light,
never sleeping at night
Putting up that good fight
Receiving that knife
It’s okay, I’ll be alright
Em will hold me tight
My kryptonite
I put it down in graphite
Send it through Satellite
Love, Em

I might

 

Take it however you want to, cause right now I’m trying to unfold it all.  But my notebooks, they have always been the key to my emotions, my thoughts.  Often not even realizing what I am saying fully – just watching the pen glide across the paper – or the words typing across the screen – it all just flows….

The lyrics, I know what they mean.  At the time, maybe not so much, but now, yea…

The next song that came after that kind of has me a little nerves, but you can also see that I was teetering with my emotions heavily at the time – even if I didn’t realize it at the time.  The beat itself was called “Matter Undermined” – just seemed almost too perfect right.  The lyrics deep.. The song intense looking back.

The lyrics:

My soul
It’s seizing
my back
its bleeding

I was trying to give myself a warning that something was coming.  Something very emotional, very deep.  I may have not listened, but I am now.  I have no choice to.  The moment to deal with this is now.  Where it’s the ideal time or not, is there ever?  My mental illness is here, and needs attention, and I need to take to time to let it get better.

I have no choice to.  If I continue to inject myself into these situations where I am uncomfortable or negatively influencing my outlook, I will honestly loose my shit.

I keep reminding myself “I am not stuck” but dam – why does it have to be so hard?

Hard or not though, I will overcome this battle much like all the others…

 

For now, my dreams will become my reality, one beautiful cupcake at a time. 

 

If you would like to donate to the cause please click below

PayPalMe

GoFundMe

 

Day 11 – the 3 month wait

Just wrapped up my call with social security.  Some good news – some discouraging news.  This process for disability is a 3 month long process.  So what’s happens now?  I have my businesses up and running – but still working on getting customers and generate revenue but I’m also still trying to figure out how to get my daughter off of the air mattress in her room.  Why does my mental health have to play such a huge role in functioning?  Why can’t I just suck it up and get my ass back to work?  Why does the thought of being inside of a closed room terrify me?  Why can’t I just be normal?
All these questions – and yet – most I actually do have the answers – but do I accept them?  I am not sure.  I know I am working on at least understanding it.

Something my therapist has already answered – but it still raises the question – why is it me that has to feel and be so awkward with other humans?  But I guess, if not me, then who?  I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.  The ability to be able to navigate the office – the skills I have are desirable – but my inability to have the people skills necessary to function in a normal office setting – well, I’ve never had that – I have been faking it – trying to make it work for the past 25 years.  Since I’m good at it – figured that is what I am supposed to be doing.  But I know, deep down, sitting in an office for 50 hours a week was never on my bucket list.  And now – not even sure if it is on the “I need to survive” list.

I have gotten to the stage of my mental health – where to be frank – it would almost be better to be homeless and hungry than to step one foot back into a closed in office space filled with so much negativity that it eats up the only good I have left to give this world.

My daughter – the one who should be overly concerned – she is calm – she is content – she simply stated “Mom I like you being home”

I mean I have missed so much of her life growing up because of working that really maybe this is the universe saying okay, you have given so much – now it’s time for you and your daughter to spend some time getting to know each other – some time to enjoy a breakfast without rushing out the front door, some time to enjoy an evening ride without it involving running from my ex-husband.  Some time to just enjoy each other’s existence.  Something I also have been enjoying with Greg.

But what happens when my world falls apart, because the breadwinner, the rock is no longer the rock, but more so the water flowing over the rock?

I just bought a car 6 months ago, our roommate is moving out, Greg can only handle the financial weight of so much, and has already been doing so much to keep my mind at ease during this C-PTSD wave of emotions.  I have my own bills.  Credit I have worked endlessly to repair – all of what I have built is about to all burn in the ashes of my mental health – all because I can’t, not now, and not any time soon, sit my ass back into a chair, behind a closed door, with so much consuming negativity surrounding me.  Hell, right now, I can’t even go to Wal-Mart without feeling completely overwhelmed and manic.

And for years, day after day, I have sucked it up, I don’t understand why right now – I just can’t.  I survived the abuse – now I’m just trying to survive my head….

I’ve been doing meditation, yoga, image therapy, all in attempt to kick start myself back so I can inject myself back into society, but for now, I think this moment of healing is necessary.  Maybe my world needs to fall apart one more time – so that it can grow even bigger and more beautiful – or maybe I am letting everyone around me down because I am in my own head, but I will be no good to anyone if I continue to feel like this.

For now… I just need to breathe….

 

If you can help in any way – please hit my gofundme or paypal.  Any help would be appreciated.

 

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Day 6 – World falling apart….

Woke up this morning and it’s just like the shit doesn’t get any better.  Right now I am really trying to feel better.  Just trying to get back to feeling functional, and yet each way I turn it’s like a slap back.  First, couldn’t find my phone this morning – finally found it – and apparently I hadn’t paid my phone bill.  I remember logging in, and I remember doing the payment – but what I forgot is that the card was in the car – and I didn’t get the CVV # right – so I never finished making the payment, and now – after the fuckery with the bank – I won’t have it this week either…

Explain to me how I get hit with an overdraft fee with positive monies in the account?  Now I get the second overdraft fee… but not the first one…

And now I don’t have the money to pay my car payment….

And people wander how people end up homeless….

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And like fuck I am trying… I really am..

The very thought of even stepping one foot back in that place sends my anxiety through the roof.  Apparently I have associated my job with my childhood trauma.  A discovery like so many  others I have had during counseling.  I have been under psychiatric care since Friday.  I have slightly been losing myself month after month because I never dealt with or treated my C-PTSD.

I already had stress, stress just from trying to walk out my front door to pretend to be normal to be able to pay my bills.

But what happens when your mental health breaks down and the biggest thing on your plate right now, is just trying to make it through the day?

I don’t know what to do..

I am praying my disability appointment yields some hope.  Trying to stay positive right now is really becoming a challenge.

I’m already over today and it just started…

Like for once in my life, for the love of God, please just give me a break for a few days so I can heal..

 

 

I created a gofundme – if you would like to help or share that would be great….

 

gf.me/u/xpqfbc

 

Day 1 – My path to recovery – my life with Complex PTSD

I have had one of the worse weeks emotionally of my life.  Something the EAP counselor is calling a breakthrough.  To me though, this doesn’t feel like a breakthrough – it feels like I am completely and utterly broken.

If you don’t know what an EAP counselor is – it is that number they give you through your job just in case you lose your fucking mind.  I have seen therapists over the years – some to deal with the trauma from my ex-husband – but what I never really dealt with was the PTSD I had before I ever met him.

Imagine that – I had PTSD before my abusive relationship.  Something up until recently, I had never tied together.  I guess, now looking back over the past few years, I can tell that I was preparing for this eye opening, connect the dots, unexpected realization of life events that led up to the moment that I said I do to someone who had already physically abused me before I walked down that isle.  Something I had went out of my way to dig out of myself.  Something looking back I almost wish I had never done.  But I had to understand – I had to figure out why I kept getting into these negative relationships that negatively affected my outlook on life.  I mean basically I was seeking the root cause to the issues that led up to the constant failures in my life.  I mean you can only have so many failed relationships in your life before you really have to just sit back and think to yourself – why – why am I allowing these people to treat me the way they do?  And not just bad relationships – but leave your ass in the hospital praying you gonna make it through to see your daughter again kind of bad abusive relationship.

I would be completely dismissive about the abuse too.  Like it wasn’t that big of a deal.  But it was.  The effects, life changing.  To top off the already emotionally unstable basket of mine – I allowed my daughter to witness this abuse.  Another thing I never really understood about myself.  I had to understand why.

I survived the abuse.  No one ever talks about surviving your own fucking head when the abuse is over.  They talk about being strong enough to leave – that there is life – but what happens when you do – and the dust settles – and you start to really analyze your life.

Well you figure out shit…

Something I’ve always known – but never really correlated it all together.  I have always known that I have OCD.  I have always talked about it openly, ever since I was young.  Something easier to accept I suppose.  People interchangeably use the term “OCD” to describe moderate cleaning – but really OCD is an obsessive compulsive disorder, which means you can really obsess about a variety of different things – but often most associated with cleaning because people with OCD need order and often live in pretty clean environments – again we need order – plus control – and since we don’t feel like we have internal order – keeping our environment in order is calming.

The thing is though – my OCD really stems from my C-PTSD.  C-PTSD and PTSD are two very different conditions.  PTSD is a single event, or a series of events in a short amount of time, while C-PTSD is when someone goes through multiple traumas throughout their lives, or as I like to reference as – a series of unfortunate events.

When I started living completely alone – I started to observe and analyze current and past behaviors.  Everything from my past drug use to interpersonal relationships to just day to day activities.

There are some things that I began to notice.  A detachment from others.  An obsession with Law & Order SVU.  An obsession with locks.  One thing that I do, that was incredibly eye opening….

When I sleep, I cover my privates with my hands…

These are things I have always done….

I connected too many dots….

I accepted abuse in my adult life, because I loved an abuser throughout my childhood life, and not one, not two, but three of them.

You see I was raised with boys – all ranging in age.  A few older, a few younger.

I was also raised in the middle of a family with a long line of pedophiles, some in state prison, some in  county, but quite a few, so as you can imagine – really – the girls in our family really didn’t have a fighting chance.  Something, also up until recently I hadn’t really put together.

I also dismissed these actions as childhood curiosity, but there was nothing curious about it – the only person that didn’t understand what was fully happening at the time was me.  And plus – it had to have been normal – it didn’t happen once, twice, but three different people – and the only person that hated it was me.

So there had to have been something wrong with me.

A feeling that I have been feeling my entire life.

A feeling that my job has dug out of me to the point to where I have been self-destructing.

A feeling that has brought on a flood of emotions.

You might ask yourself, how does my job bring out those emotions.

Well…

I work inside an office with a woman who hasn’t liked me since day 1.  Not sure what it is really – but the consensus at work is that she is just a miserable person.  Such a miserable person that it has left me on the floor in the bathroom at work having a full blown anxiety attack.  Her consistent attempts to seek out anything I do to get my into trouble – the constant negative feedback – the nitpicking about my hair –  her bitching about me being too loud while on the phone (conducting business I might add)  – typing too loud (that what happens when you type 120 wpm) but nothing happened, other than my boss getting pissed off at me for “breaking chain of authority” whilst smacking papers around at her desk.  People at work keep trying to tell me not to let her win – but the thing is – I shouldn’t have to fight to work….

My boss isn’t any better.  She doesn’t try to curb her behavior – only mine.  Something that is un-rooting this childhood trauma by the seams – because the biggest thing I have realized..

All my crazy and erratic behavior was ALWAYS for a reason.  All the weird shit I do – it  isn’t just because I am fucked up – I mean – I am – but it isn’t because I was born fucked up – it wasn’t because I was born with someone wrong with me – it is because I have had some fucked up things happen to me.  A soul can only take so much pain before things start to break down.

I have finally figured out why I have a hard time connecting, why I always feel out of place, why I prefer dogs over humans, why I always feel anxious, why I always feel everything so intensely, why my memory sucks, I get foggy headed, can’t stay awake during meetings.

But it isn’t really making me feel any better.  It is almost making me feel worse.  Like it’s been a lifetime of fuckery.  Like a lifetime.  A whole fucking life.  My innocence was taken before I even understood what that even was.  And then I got looked at like I was crazy and erratic my whole fucking life – and NO ONE – NO ONE around me ever noticed?

I had all the classic signs of some one who had been molested, and you are going to tell me, that no one, not once, ever, in our family, at school – no one – NO ONE could ever tell that there was something not right?

It is the same shit I am going through at work.  It has gotten to the point to where I can’t even drive to work without crying.  I mean, it’s like everyone at work knows what a miserable person my co-worker is  – they know what she is doing – like I have reported the incidents – and yet NO ONE has done anything – except tell me how I needed to change my outlook on things – again making me feel like it’s me.

I have an appointment Monday – but have been advised by two counselors to not return back to work until after then.  I’m scared of what will become.  I’ve known since probably week 2 at my job that my job was going to be a trigger, but thought I could manage my symptoms, but now we are 8 months in and I know if I step one more foot back into that place and have one more episode – I will be hauled away in cuffs, headed to the psych ward – because of course I’m the crazy one..  Doesn’t matter that for 8 months someone sat across from me intimidating me every chance that she gets – then to have management turn away and make it out to be how I’m perceiving things.

Things were already tough financially – and now – because for some fucking reason – I can’t just get over shit – I can’t take it when people are hateful continuously – I feel like I’m living my abuse all over again…  Abuse after abuse after abuse – and the only thing consistent in all aspects is me….

So how am I going to do this?  I have no fucking clue.  But what I do know – I can’t live like this..

I did do some research – cause you know I’m trying to understand – and I also kind of figured out that sitting in an office – probably isn’t healthy for me – especially when there is constant negativity in the workplace..  I mean I feel like I already knew that.  I mean the things I enjoy – music, working out, dogs, creating, writing, reading, all these thing have always help me channel my energy – these are also supposed to be the best jobs for someone like me.  But I’m struggling with the fact of not feeling like a failure.

It is like all this shit that has created who I am – all that pain – while it make me strong – and made me the woman I am today – it has also made me weak – made it to where I’ll never have a piece of property to leave my child – not unless I can figure out a way for my baking business and my music to compensate my income.

Which… I should be working on that today….

Well I guess I already am – cause I seen “author/writer” on that list of good jobs for people with PTSD.

I guess I knew two years ago that this point was coming.  I mean for fuck’s sake – I called the blog itself “The Beautiful Truth”

The fucking beautiful truth is – I am a fucking nutbag because people jumped on my heart and soul before it had fully developed… it wasn’t ready for that kind of pain..  and then I had to love each of you past it because you were family…

And maybe I’m saying this out loud – because maybe one of you is reading is – and maybe this is how I heal – maybe this is part of the recovery.  Maybe this is how I finally explain my life to my family – the ones that were always confused about my shit storm of a life…

Not that any of them would ever believe me… Because remember I am the crazy one….

But I am ready to move past this in my life.  And if that means I need to stop molding to society – and create my own little world to survive – then dammit – that is exactly what I’ll do.  I don’t know what that is going to look like cause right now all I can think about is getting to my appointment Monday and trying to decompress today…  I called into work… brings it’s own financial burdens – but I can’t work in this condition.. you can call it weak – because right now I would agree….  But you don’t get strong without once being weak…. and at this rate – in the end – when I get through this little bump – I’mma come out on that other side one of the strongest bitches you ever met…

If you have ever been a victim of childhood trauma – take an ACES test. A score of 4 or higher is serious – and you should get treatment before you get to the point I am at today.  I got a 5….

To my two female cousins if you are reading this – know – you aren’t alone… I don’t even really know how to approach the subject with either of you because I don’t know where your at with your mental health – and I don’t want to unscab something – so I will leave all that very vague…

And FYI – I have thousands of cousins – so you can have a nice time figuring out which two I’m talking about – but they know……One grandma the oldest of like 17 I think – and the other the oldest I think of 15 – but fuck I can’t remember (the story of my fucking life) – but legit I have too many – I can’t even keep count.

AND HERE’S ANOTHER THING – IF YOU ARE IN MY FAMILY AND YOU READING THIS – AND YOU WANNA COME AT ME WITH “FAMILY SHIT BEHIND CLOSED DOORS BULLSHIT” – FUCK YOU – ME AND MY KID AIN’T BEEN A PART OF ANY FUCKING FAMILY OUTSIDE MY MOM AND 1 AUNT – YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT FAMILY – FIRST YOU MUST BE ONE – WE BEEN HAVING CHRISTMAS AND BIRTHDAYS SOLO FOR YEARS

MY FAMILY IS HERE…

To my Mom, if you ever read this – I know you asked me once and I said no… there was no way to tell you.. still isn’t – at least not face to face – you know how I like my Smeads (notebooks)… but you didn’t fail me as a Mom – you are a great Mom – and I wish I could remember more about my childhood – I really do – but I don’t… I feel like the bad consumed all the good – I know I have put you through hell – and I am sorry. The world hasn’t been too kind to me when the lights go out… that is why I always stayed up reading at night – if the light was on – I would at least get in trouble from staying up to late – so I knew you were coming to check on me.. My adult life, the struggle with my addiction, the acceptance of the physical abuse, the bouncing all over the place – it is all because I have been running – running from what has happened – but I am TIRED of running.. I have been trying to plant roots to show you I am finally ready to help you understand – buying a house – that was all to feel foundation under my feet that was new – and I pray soon – I will have a house – and you will come see me – and I will be better – I am ready to settle down with Greg – and I am ready to build a firm foundation for my child – even though I have already fucked up her life enough – and she is already an adult – I have time to fix it – time to help her through her PTSD from seeing the abuse between me and asshole – before she becomes a mom -the cycle ends here.

Some people might ask yourself – why here – why do this here..

Because this is my journal.  This is my life.  Over the past two years – I haven’t been sharing my life with you in hopes of nothing more than people to see the real me – not the person people claim me to be  – but the real me..  Most days – it’s real basic – work, home, work, home, work, home – but then there are those days to where it’s not – the days that I hear something, see something, smell something – and then I’m not okay – BUT FUCK I AM TRYING.. Every day this is a struggle.  Some days better than others.. Life is hard.. We are complex..  Together over the past two years you have been watching me heal – and repair a lifetime of bullshit – and you didn’t even know – cause I did it with a smile on my face – and truth be told – I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW ..The music – the “Momma Rapper” a coping mechanism – my songs written based on the very events – put in a creative manner – but if you read the lyrics – read the meaning – back in September – “That’s Some Shady Shit” – while I promoted it as a track for Em – it was really about me realizing my pain has been there for life – and I have been slowly uncovering it because I am finally away from the abuse and in a loving environment where I am allowed to have feelings and not get looked at like I’m fucking stupid..  Alone for 3 years to process – and now about to celebrate 1 year with Greg – which let me say – I have been non-stop with the waterworks all week – and Greg  – no judgment – just love and “What can I do honey”  I have been here – healing with you – this has been my group therapy, my work through, my processing…

I find peace here.. With you… Whoever is reading this…

This is where I come to release the demons….

You will see me get through this…

Admitting you know you need help is the first step…

The second is smoking a blunt waiting on Monday to get here so me and this counselor can figure out how to deal with this before I lose my shit.  (FYI Marijuana is natural, is medical, also treats my gastroparesis. Two big issues, 1 beautiful flower, again I choose pot over pills)

The third..  Walk the dogs

Then yoga…

Then maybe some song writing….

 

Don’t mind me… I’m healing….20191130_095345-1