Selling it all to travel and really live!

For years we've talked about moving out of our small, barely over 1,000 square foot home and into something bigger. We bought our house when we were eighteen and nineteen years old. We didn't know a thing about what we wanted in a house. Now that we're nearing our thirties with two children, we have a much, much clearer idea of what we want in a home.

The last few years we've considered all sorts of things. From moving into a bigger place, to buying land and building, to moving in with my mom and starting a business, to moving states, to Canada, and to selling everything and traveling in an RV. Needless to say, we're tired of the societal standard and prison. We're tired of the bubbles people are consumed in. My husband is certainly tired of slaving his life away for a home he basically only sleeps in and a family he doesn't have time for. We dream of the world, and live in a prison.

One morning, a few mornings ago, I woke up and finally made a choice. It seems almost crazy, I'm sure. But we've decided. We're going to sell it all and travel. Recently we refinanced our home with the intention of renting it out and purchasing a bigger place somewhere nearby. Ultimately, we'd eventually move again and rent the new place as well, setting ourselves up for residual income for the rest of our lives. It's still a fantastic plan. But one that still required a great deal of stress and money and slavery to "the man". Not to mention, buying in this market (where we live) is insane at the moment. So selling would be fantastic, but buying, notsomuch.

Plus, we considered homeschooling for a while. Now that our oldest has been in public school, we're even more on board with homeschooling than ever. We'd prefer private school over all other options, but it's just not feasible for us. Our daughter's change in behavior, bullies and twenty-three to one student teacher ratio in school on top of being sick constantly, just isn't doing it for us. Not to mention, her teacher expects her to have mastered the grade by midway through the year because she's already so advanced (a little credit to her age - being that her birthday was three days after the school cutoff and she's a year older than the majority of her class). So she's going to be pretty bored.

The more we mull over our options, and talk about what life in an RV on the road and homeschooling will be like, the more on board we get. We have found so very little to worry about. We will all be happier, more connected to each other and God, and we'll all learn so very much. If it doesn't work out, we have family here. We can park our RV in a driveway, put the kids back in school, and get back to work until we find a house we love. If it does work out, we still only plan to do it for a few years; until we find a place we'd like to settle in. Unless it really just ends up being the best thing ever and we do it forever. We assume we'll likely find a place to settle, and maybe even buy some land and build our dream home.

We're already so excited to finally have a real plan, that we just want to pack up and put our house on the market yesterday. But we're going to finish out the school year and make a rough plan first. Our goal is to stay at parks, where you volunteer your time (about 20 hours a week or less) in exchange for free hookup/electricity, etc. Some parks even give you a spot and still pay the state's minimum wage. My husband will work on cars on the go, and I'll open a craft shop and do photography. I plan on looking into blogging/writing articles as well. There are apparently resources for people who travel to make money on the road, but I haven't looked into them yet. So with our plan, plus the multitude of resources for making and saving on the road, I'm not very worried about money. I'm going to learn to coupon (which I've been needing to do anyway) before we hit the road as well. Also, you have to apply/reserve a spot at a park sometimes up to six months in advance. So we have a lot of researching and planning to do. Not to mention, selling our cars and buying a truck and 5th wheel that will meet our family's daily and schooling needs.

We're excited to finally be able to see family around the US as well, that we otherwise would never have time/money to travel to see. We've been wanting to rid our lives of junk and clutter and material things, and this is the most perfect opportunity. On top of saying sayonara to bills like internet and television and astronomical property tax and home owners association fees, etc. We'll be saving more than ever, while learning and connecting and experiencing more than ever. And we truly have almost nothing to lose. We've got back up plans, B, C and D and are so ready to really live that we can hardly wait.

I hope that once we start delving into real options, maps, parks, plans, etc., that it's still something we can handle and that we don't get scared away. It seems almost overwhelming, in an incredibly freeing way. Scary, and exciting.

We're skipping out on Thanksgiving this year, for the first time since we've been together - so almost ten years. We typically have such a busy and stressful holiday season, that we've finally kind of cracked. Having been the only ones with a child (up until recently) who had to have a Thanksgiving at my mom's, my mother-in-law's, my grandmother's and then also with my husband's boss and then Christmas at my mom's, mother-in-law's, grandmother's, with my husband's work and then sometimes my dad driving in or the pressure of having to drive to his place and or figuring out how to get each side of the family to get along at a couple of the places over so many, or trading off holidays....... is actually sort of awful. Our families don't get along among themselves, much less together, and my in-laws are a very big family who have families, so it's just getting a little crazy and now we have another baby and it's just not something we're willing to deal with this year.

So, for the first time we're sneaking under the radar and driving down the beach, just the four of us. It'll be a little bit of a test to see how we fair in the travel trailer for three or four days; obviously somewhat different since we won't have the things we'll actually be living with and the stipulations will be pretty different. But since we've finally made the choice, it will be a nice test to see how we feel about it when we come back home.

Hot Mess Mom and Life Group Admissions

Boyyeee it's been a rough week! It turns out, I'm fitting the bill for the "hot mess mom" pretty well. I've sort of always been in that realm, but I didn't exactly admit to or accept it easily. Sure, we can all get tired mom brain from time to time. But there does come a point where you have to stop blaming being tired, and accept that you're just a few fries short of a happy meal these days. Someone once told me that the act of childbirth actually kills brain cells. I don't think I believe that, but lately I've been having to wonder...

My stepdad once told me that he believes "mom brain" happens because your mind is purging and sorting old information and memories to make room for all the new things you have to know and that you're going to learn, and of course, being tired doesn't help. I thought that was pretty wise, especially coming from a man, who'd never had mom brain.

Here's the Signs You're a Hot Mess Mom video. There are a few by these hilarious ladies that incorporate the different kinds of moms, but boy is this pretty spot on! Seriously, search for the others though. They may be even funnier.

On Monday after I dropped my daughter off at school, I came home and realized we'd left her books in her room. Again. So, I loaded up the baby, and the books, and trekked back up to school. Her teacher didn't have the class in the room, so I asked if she needed help with anything, since I was already there. You know that moment, where your brain and your heart are NOT on the same page? I was asking to help her out of the kindness of my heart, but my brain was screaming at me to shut my trap because I had no time at all for that, or the capacity.

She definitely had work. I took home twenty something folders that I traced a snowman on one side, and Christmas tree on the other. It took ages with the baby. It was very unwise considering I was leading the Girl Scout troop on Wednesday, and the procrastinator in me hadn't even planned it yet. Luckily I got the folders done and back to her teacher the next day, and planned the meeting which went off without a hitch. The girls loved me, thank goodness - because we all know how blatantly mean honest kids can be. And I adored them, too. They all get along so well. I taught Friendship & Kindness, and Considerate & Caring. The girls earned two patches after we did three fun activities and a craft. I had them make little cards that they could hand out to other kids at school, the grocery store, etc. that could help to make others feel happy if they're looking sad or lonely or left out or scared, etc.

We played a jump over the tape sort of game where the girls stood on a long piece of tape and I said a scenario, if it was a nice, considerate, caring, friendly thing, they jumped forward. If it wasn't, they jumped back. They had to decide, and they did a fantastic job. The other activity, we sat in a big circle with a fluffy ball. We picked another girl and said something nice about her, and then tossed her the ball and continued on until all the girls had had something lovely said about them at least once. There was time leftover so on a whim we did some role-playing. I put the girls in situations and asked them how they should handle them. We read a couple of stories and overall had a fabulous meeting.

I volunteered for this one specifically because there's a girl in the troop who is also in my daughter's class, who doesn't treat her well. She's a bully, but not in your typical kindergarten sense, which is totally surprising to me. I didn't realize kindergarteners already knew how to bully, first. But this little girl isn't just outwardly mean, she's manipulative, and it blows my mind. My daughter comes home telling me stories about things that they did, excited, but I'm staring blankly at her, not understanding how she can't comprehend how mean that the other little girl was being. It makes me sick, and angry, you know?

So I was hoping to be able to teach the girls a little bit about treating others the way you want to be treated, and thinking about how the people around you feel and such. I think we did well. Hopefully it sticks with them. And Praise the Lord for making it through the day! I woke up with a migraine, of course. I took my meds four times and still couldn't kick it. So I suffered through the day and the meeting and came home and crashed at 8:30 with the kids. I hate how the migraines linger the next day though. Even if my head doesn't hurt, I still don't have any appetite and amd in a fog. More-so than usual of course.

My husband and I have been going to a Bible study group for a couple of months now. It's with other married couples around our age with kids around our kids ages. We'd talked about finding friends like that for years, but never made a move on it. Then he cheated on me after hanging out with a shitty single friend who needed a "wing man". I honestly am not even sure how I'm still in this marriage. I was sure that we were through. This wasn't the first time he's done this to me. And as devastating as the times before this were, it was almost as if I expected it this time, deep down inside. Which is strange, because it completely blindsided me. I cried for maybe a day, but more almost in mourning of the ten years I'd lost and for my children. Then I couldn't cry anymore.

After a couple of weeks of him not living here and begging for another chance to really make a real change, I decided that I owed it to my kids and to the ten years I'd lost, to really give him one real chance. Without prompting or suggesting anything, I let him know I was just going to stand back and see what he could do. What was important to him to change, to do, etc. He started going to church again, and signed us up for the study group. He also started counseling, which he still goes to.

All this time we've been going to our group, we've never actually said what happened, though have made it known that our marriage was on the line. Finally last night, we were flat out asked, and so we told. I don't have a problem telling. There were times I'd wanted to relate to others in the group by saying something about our situation, but didn't, because my husband doesn't like talking about it. He obviously has a hard time telling people the truth, but in a way, I understand. I don't have a problem, because I haven't done anything wrong. He doesn't want to tell because he's embarrassed for being a giant piece of inconsiderate trash who shit on his marriage, multiple times and he's going to be judged for it. I get it.

Two of the other couples there said that they could relate because they had that happen in their marriages, but it was the women who had done it. For some reason, I just really and truly can't, no matter how hard I try - understand it. I would never, ever do that to someone. That's the ultimate worst thing in my book. You do not, treat anyone that way. You don't lie and break trust like that. There are just so many other options. I just can't relate, and just can't understand. Which is saying a lot for me, because I'm the type of person who is open minded enough to be able to see things from all sides, and all points of view. Maybe I can see, I just refuse to give any fucks, because I've been so hurt by those things over the last ten years.

Anyway, It's been since September now, and I feel like we've almost fallen back into the same old routines. It's scary for me, and makes me sad. All the things that led to our unhappiness before, are creeping back in. My husband is struggling with building a relationship with the Lord, and I know it's the only thing that can save our marriage. Yet, I'm almost waiting for him to build a relationship, banking on him to be the one who helps to strengthen my faith and get me into a better routine, too. I don't know. I feel like we're just floating along right now, slowly going back to old ways, not really changing. It's terrifying. Because if that's what's going to happen, I know it's definitely over.

Presidential Election

How about that election, amiright? It's hard to fathom how divided our country is. Putting aside all of my own opinions, views and preferences; taking myself out of the vote and just looking at the people of this country... I'm deeply saddened. People who supported Hillary Clinton and feared things they claimed Donald Trump to be; racist, sexist, violent, bigoted, and more, are doing exactly all of those things right now in response to his win. His fair win, mind you. If you can call all that the media and Hillary did to foil him, fair. They're rioting, lighting the American flag on fire, pulling people from their cars to beat them up under the "assumption" that they voted for Trump, spray painting monuments and more. All of the things they were against, are the things they're doing now. They resemble children who didn't get their way, and who are throwing giant temper tantrums. Many people considered the Hillary supporters to be the sort of people who believe themselves entitled to all things. They were said to be a generation who were so coddled, that they had to have "safe places" and needed trophies for 20th place because "it wasn't fair". They were called liberals who shoved their views and opinions down the throats of everyone around them, wanting laws and rules to cater to them rather than simply include them. Then it was said that the Trump win was the backlash from the majority finally having enough of that.

It's hard being someone who sits in the middle, and sees both sides. Listening to friends and family and strangers and hearing their opinions, views and fears, and understanding. Everyone wants change. But people are failing to realize that we're all really on the same side. We all want a safe and healthy world for the future of our children and grandchildren. We do want equality. We want a world of love and kindness. There are certainly extremists. There are definitely racists, sexists, bigots and ignorant intolerant blatant assholes. But those people are on both sides. Some of them, didn't even vote at all. We have to unite and come together as a people to make real changes. The president isn't going to make changes in your school, your neighborhood, or the relationships of you with your family and friends. It's still up to you to show the world love and kindness and to teach it to your children. We can successfully leave behind and even change the hearts of the bitter, hateful people who both voted for Hillary, and who voted for Trump. Violence, doesn't solve violence and hate only breeds hate. We can make a difference in the world, way more so than our elected president. People are putting too much faith in a single person to get things done in a world they want to see love, kindness and acceptance in. Especially by violently protesting the very system that allows all of that to be possible.

I've been thinking about almost nothing since the election, but the election and the things that have followed. I've been reading, and listening and watching. I've been thinking, feeling, hurting and fuming. It's been hard to place myself in firm decisions and opinions about what's been happening. I agree and disagree with so much at the very same time. I think that it probably isn't very far fetched to assume that I'm not the only person out there who feels this way. Or who would stand up and fight for people of color, members of the LGBT, our veterans, or anyone else who's basic human rights are violated or who isn't being treated with equality. I'm not the only one who wants bad people and evil things to end, while being open to loving and teaching love. I can't say too much, since I'm still finding my own feelings and opinions through this time, but I know that I can be a good person no matter what. I can choose to be a person who's filled with love and hopes for a good world and who takes opportunities to show that to people and help change hard hearts through kindness instead of hatred and opposition (considering that never works - why don't people see that?).

I think that's one of my biggest pet peeves. The soap box of social media where people seem to think that berating, belittling and slandering other people and things, will actually change their minds and opinions about something. My mother is a prime example of this. People need to realize that the moment you start to attack someone, they put up a wall. They go into automatic defense mode, and the things you say, even if you are a hundred percent right, will go in one ear and out the other while they're simply trying to defend themselves against your attack. People seem to forget that there are real human beings on the other end of that comment or post. The majority of the time, the things people say, they would never say to someone's face directly. Because that isn't how you should treat or talk to someone. Yet they become keyboard warriors on the computer, not giving any fucks about anyone else's feelings or views. If you want to change someone's mind or heart, start with gentle education, love and kindness. Otherwise you're wasting your breath and giving everyone gray hairs.

Native American Ancestors

In reflection of the Dakota Access Pipeline, which is still currently a big deal with large protests, I wanted to talk about my ancestry. I'm part Choctaw, so my kids are, though less-so obviously. We are registered (my son is a work in progress - it takes a little while to register). When I was pregnant with my son, a little over a year ago I delved into my family history. More for my children, so I got into my husband's as well. But I knew I was part Native American and had heard stories growing up about my ancestors. I learned things in school about the settlers and the horrible things that happened to the "Indians".

While researching, my grandma brought me this print out from a book she has about some of our ancestors. This is what it says;

"Choctaw Original Enrollees

James Alexander Loran Robinson
Submitted By: James G Robinson. grandson

My great-grandparents (parents of enrollee) were James Robinson, born in Mississippi (date unknown) who married Emiline Folsom in Oklahoma after traveling in the "trail-of-tears". He passed away in 1902. Emiline Folsom, also born in Mississippi in 1839, lived until 1928. My parents (Calvin Calhoun Robinson & Verial Orinda Goddard) were married in 1926, and my mother related to me that Emiline spoke limited English but was able to express her vivid memories as a very young girl of the difficulties in journeying to Oklahoma. Great-grandmother Emiline apparently despised white people with a burning passion until the day she died. Very little was ever said about great-grandfather Robinson, as he had departed the scene before my father's birth in 1907.

As I previously commented, my grandfather James Robinson, was born in Blue, Oklahoma in 1859, and during his early years as a young adult was a hell-raiser. He ran with an infamous outlaw gang headed by two negro brothers for several years in Cherokee Strip country. So the story goes, he was eventually captured in Eastern Oklahoma Territory (e.1885) by the authorities and taken to Ft. Smith, Arkansas where he appeared before a federal judge (said to be "hanging" Judge Parker). He was sentenced to be hung if he did not divulge the gang's hideout locations. He replied that he could not do that, but if given the opportunity he would bring the gang leaders in himself. Because the authorities had spent years unable to capture the leaders, apparently the judge felt that he had nothing to lose. He struck a deal with my grandfather.

Reportedly, several weeks later, Mr. Robinson rode into Ft. Smithe leading two mules with the bodies of the two brothers draped across them. Subsequently, this same judge appointed grandfather Robinson as a Deputy U.S. Marshall, assigned to Indian Territory, where he served for many years before retiring in 1920.

During his service as Dep. U.S. Marshall, he killed many people, and created many enemies. When his first wife, Mary, died (e. 1900) after bearing six children, grandfather began "sparking" a farm-owning widow. One time, he departed for New Mexico to track down a wanted felon, expecting to be gone for many weeks. However in the Texas panhandle, after only a few days, he received a telegram that said felon had been caught and was being returned. Grandfather happily reversed course, looking forward to a reunion with his young widow friend. Arriving well after dark, he walked his horse across the rear yard to her bedroom from which window a light was showing. Expecting a glad welcome, he instead saw that she was in bed with another man. Without dismounting, he drew his .45 Colt and shot the man dead, through the open window, and rode away. In relating this incident to my father a few months before his death, my grandfather laughed heartily, thinking it was a grand joke.

Then, there was the instance about two years later (e.1903) when Mr. Robinson was sparking my future grandmother, Pearl Billingsley. They were at a country dance being held at a farmhouse when Mr. Robinson drew his .45 and shot a man dead in the middle of the dance floor - claimed the man had insulted his female partner.

Another anecdote; For several months he had pursued a woman wanted for murdering her husband with an axe, finally running her down in a flop-house in Chicago. He kicked her door in, catching her standng- alongside her bed dressed only in an underslip, and told her she was under arrest. She asked him to turn his back so that she could dress. He complied, but being experienced, placed himself so that he could watch her reflection in the dresser mirror. She instantly leaped to the bed, yanking the spread back to grab a pistol - he shot her dead.

Many times I asked my father about his dad, and usually would merely shake his head. When specifically asked, he said that his strongest memory of his father was the long periods of absence while off man hunting. Over the years, a fairly clear picture emerged of my grandfather, based on cryptic comments from my parents, uncles and aunts. He was physically and mentally tough; generous to a fault with his friends, vicious mean with his enemies; indeed, he was a very, very dangerous man who would not argue with anyone.....his word was final and absolute, and he brooked no arguments. EVERYONE addressed him as Mister Robinson---including his wife, children and all acquaintances. Until he became bedridden a few weeks before his death, he rode his gray horse, packing his old .45 Colt, with his Winchester .30-30 across the saddle pommel.

Maybe the federal Judge knew what he was doing when he appointed him as a Deputy U.S. Marshall - send someone after the outlaws who was tougher and meaner than they were.

Great grandfather - James Robinson (#863)
Born: Date unk - Mississippi
Died: 1902 - Stephens County, Ok
Great grandmother - Emiline Folsom (#743)"

That's the last I have in the printout. So these were my great great great great great grandparents on my mother's side. Five greats. I'm still trying to piece some of the details. Are the numbers listed there, their ID numbers? Because I thought I'd been told that it was Emiline that was the Choctaw. But she hated the white man until her passing, so either something strange or even unwilling came along there, or James was also Choctaw? I'm not really sure. The family history stuff is actually incredibly confusing to me. Especially since I signed up for Ancestry, and there are so many conflicting pieces. Even with James and Emiline, or Emeline, as she's listed there. I wish it was all much simpler to understand, as it's incredibly interesting.

Stomach Flu

I must be getting old. I'm 28, but my body ain't havin' it. I felt a little unwell on Tuesday night but just blew it off as allergies, because, Texas. I woke up on Wednesday feeling really nauseous and achy to the point I asked my six year old if she wanted to stay home from school because I just couldn't manage getting myself dressed, the baby changed and her ready for school with a packed lunch and breakfast... Just couldn't even. I curled up in a blanket in the middle of the floor and threw in the towel. My husband didn't offer to take our daughter to school so she stayed with me, until she realized that she might miss a boy in class' show-and-tell day, and suddenly it was the end of the world if she didn't get to school asap. She made it in time.

So up I finally went and got her to school about an hour and a half late. She got her first tardy pass, but was happy (positive little thang) to know how that process worked for the future. I came home and declined rapidly. Here's where I insert TMI. With a clingy, hungry ten month old, I started throwing up. My husband had to come home for the rest of the day to babysit, because I couldn't come out of the bathroom for long. It was the worst. I'd go from constantly freezing, to throwing up and sweating, headached and miserable, and the muscles in my legs, butt, thighs and sides hurt to the bone.

The next day I woke up and was glad to realize it had been a few hours since I'd thrown up, which was a fab sign, since I'd been doing it every hour or so. I literally would have one sip of water, and up it would come. I couldn't keep down anything. I got so dehydrated that I was blacking out and my tongue was dry. If it had lasted much longer, I may have had to go in and get an IV.

I was still feeling like crap, but joyous to know I was on the up and ups, when the baby projectile vomited. Wednesday was a very long day. Between having a migraine, and being achy and nauseated, the ten month old caught my bug. Poor little guy sat in my lap all day, which he doesn't tend to do, loving to be on the move. We brought the rocking chair into the living room and played Baby Einstein all day while he nursed, threw up, slept, woke up to rock and watch BE, nursed, threw up and repeated.

Yet somehow, he kicked it (the throwing up bit) in about five hours. He seemed totally fine after that. He was even able to keep down Pedialyte and nurse well, whereas I, couldn't keep anything down for almost 24 hours, and here on Saturday am only at about 90%. It probably didn't help my case that I couldn't keep any nourishment and was still nursing. But we do what we do for the love of our babies. He's well and happy, and I'm, I'm almost there... Hashtag old. Or rather, hashtag mom. When you're sick and can't get a nap like the baby does all day, feed from your being, and still have to get up all night because no one else will, what do you really expect?

It doesn't help that my six year old is off from school today and I'm tired as I'll get out, buuut she can't stay quiet long enough to let the baby sleep for more than 30 minutes. Love her to bits, but this girl could not be quiet long enough to save her life. Lord never let her in a situation like that! I've finally got my appetite back to, almost, normal, so I think I'll try to make some apple turnovers. Extra apple for me, and zero apple for the picky textures eater. I'm so ready to be well again.

Claustrophobia

I know it's been a while since I last posted. Sometimes I do that. Between just not feeling like writing or really thinking deeply, to just being busy and tired. This whole blog has really become more of a journal than anything else. But I'm just rolling with the thoughts, so that's okay. Maybe one day I'll start posting something more useful to other people.

My husband and I started seeing a new therapist this week, yesterday actually. Our previous one was super expensive, quite the drive, and didn't really sit well with us. Neither one of us felt like he was actually offering any sort of guidance, and he'd often take too much time to give analogies, and though we were seeing him separately, we discovered he was saying many of the same things to us about things he'd done that day which didn't add up. It was just strange. Plus, I made him cry, and for some reason I just feel uncomfortable now. To be clear, I wasn't mean, he just cried hearing my story.

Our new guy is much closer to us, and works for our church. In one single sitting, we learned more than in the whole month+ of seeing the other guy. He basically said the same things I've been saying. That my husband is the one who really needs therapy to figure out why he continuously hurts the people he claims to love. He said we can come in together every three or four sessions to sort of touch base and talk about the marriage and how things are going. He's a very smart and lovely man. We could both tell that he genuinely cared about us and wanted to help. Not that he was looking for a paycheck.

Multiple different times, he seemed happily surprised that I was still here and trying to make things work. Even though I'd wanted to divorce, that I was trying for the kids, and because I felt like I'd been given 'signs' to forgive and heal this marriage, that it was amazing and not something he often saw. He said that I lacked the nasty bitterness that spouses usually had, especially after ten years of living this way. I said the bitterness was definitely there, but he said that it was normal, but the way I talked to, about and understood my husband, was amazing, and purely by grace of God.

Recently, after what my husband has done, I've asked him how he would feel if I'd been the one to do what he did. Would he still be here? Would he have forgiven me so quickly? He's tried to put himself in my shoes, and has answered that he honestly doesn't know. It's a tough and shitty situation, and he understands that. But, the therapist proposed that he "flip the script" entirely. That he put himself in my shoes for our entire relationship. My husband's attitude and demeanor changed almost instantly, and he couldn't even look at me. The entire car ride home, he didn't say a word.

I was scared, thinking that he was upset. Maybe he didn't like the new therapist. Maybe he realized that this wasn't something he was willing to fight so hard for. Later when he got home after work, he admitted it was because he felt like such an asshole. He was so ashamed at all he'd done and taken for granted. He said he'd never once in the ten years we've been together, put himself in my shoes. Never wondered how he'd have felt if I brought my ex to his home while he was at work and lied. Never wondered how he'd have felt if I constantly turned my phone off and disappeared, showing up at three in the morning gouging holes in the door with my key because I was so belligerently drunk I couldn't get in the house. Never wondered how he'd have felt having to clean my vomit off the couch or floor while our daughter slept because I got drunk with the girl who worked next to my work, again.

And the list goes on. He'd never once considered those things. What it might feel like to be home with children and doing his best to please and take care of his family day in and day out without my appreciating it in the least, and always needing and searching for 'more' for 'better'. The therapist said the things he's always looking for to make himself happy are like vapor. The moment he gets his hands on them, they're gone, and he's already searching for the next thing. Because things don't make you happy. My husband measures success and happiness by what he's accomplished and has. But the therapist, like myself, believes that's wrong. Success is measured by a happy family, home and where you stand with God. 100 years from now, nothing will matter but where you stand with the Lord. You can not take worldly things with you when you die. And I think my husband finally realized that the things he's always striving for to make him happy, never have, and how true it was that they were so like vapor.

For the first time in ten years, I really feel like I have hope, that things are going to change for us for the better. Not that they'll be 'good' for a while, while I'm sitting around waiting for the next time he hurts me. But that his heart is actually going to change. I don't want him to change the things he loves. His hunting, fishing and car hobbies, his love for the outdoors and Jeeps and travel. His favorite foods and clothes. I don't want any of that to change. What I want to change is his priorities of those things, and God and his family. He admitted last night that his job was the top priority. Then side work, then his hobbies, then somewhere down the line was his family, and God was off to the side there somewhere.

He's finally recognized that he really needs to reevaluate what's most important and why. Thank God.

Me on the other hand. I'm doing better with my anxiety, thanks to the Prozac. I've only had two or three attacks in the last couple of weeks, as opposed to the multiple daily. Last night I had a weird feeling, but I couldn't relate it to anxiety as much. It felt very, claustrophobic. I felt claustrophobic inside my own body. It was strange. But I think it was because my mom's husband stopped by while he was out riding his bike, and we talked for a while.

He and my mom aren't doing well in their marriage either. They have far less problems than we have, and nothing so serious as adultery, but they're both so very unhappy. They have both quit their jobs to pursue self employment; they've both started their own businesses. It wasn't a leap for them, because their house and cars are paid off and they had plenty of savings (on top of us paying them $20k+ that we owed them for our home in a lump sum). But even being in their positions, they're just so miserable. It kills me. I want to see them happy.

But he was venting a little bit and we got on the subject of how my mom seems to think I had a childhood safe from seeing the fighting and problems my parents had. He said that she's actually said that they made sure I didn't hear and know of the problems. But, it isn't true. Not only could I feel it, I heard them shouting at each other plenty. Did she think I went deaf in those times? It makes no sense. Has her mind blocked them out? There were times I sat in my room alone crying, and scared, because my dad would put hands on my mom.

I had said something about moving in with my mom and her husband had me clarify. In the eight years they've been together, he never knew that I didn't live with my mom until I was eight. He said she made it seem like I'd always lived with her. When I opened up to him about it, and about my great grandmother who was very much more of a mother to me, and he passing and how she passed in the end, he was mind blown. And angry.

In merely a month, a handful of people who have heard my story, have cried, been shocked, and not known how to respond to me. The realization for me, that while I'm a 'normal' person who has taken bad situations and become a good person because of it, but that I really and truly do have a rough and painful story, made me feel claustrophobic in my own head. It was like, for the first time I didn't say, 'Oh yeah, well such is life - what doesn't kill you...', and really recognized that I have some demons in the closet, was very overwhelming for me.

My stepdad says these are things I need to address with my mother some day. Obviously I plan to, someday. I just don't know when, or how to start. I also don't want to hurt her. She's been through enough, too. But I also know she needs help, and healing, and I want to be there to help her in those things. I want to have a real relationship with my mother before it's too late and I'm just someone regretting that I never got to have that with a parent.

Prozac

I know I posted that I started taking Prozac on Monday. Today is day five. It's hard to explain how I feel. I feel like it's obvious that change is happening in my head. But it's also made me really, really tired. I can still be pretty irritable, but I've also been laughing a whole lot more. I feel a little moody, which is weird, because I wasn't moody before Prozac, I was just filled with constant anxiety.

Every now and then, I can feel the beginnings of an anxiety attack, but then I just feel a little bit dizzy instead of like I'm having a full blown attack. Then I'm back to "normal" in a few moments. It's just that, I feel different. And weird. I can't explain it. It's totally possible that it's just because I'm so dang tired. I get weird when I'm really tired. Hopefully this passes.

Today I helped my grandma get her church website up and running and looking nice. The baby slept for four hours this morning, which was awesome. I binge watched The Vampire Diaries. I should have been doing other things (though I did set up a website) but I feel like I give no fucks today. None. I read The Vampire Diaries series a while back, and thought it was pretty awesome. It wasn't a thing like the show. Names are the same, but that's almost the only thing. The show has definitely sucked me in, but it isn't all that fantastic. Not like a book anyway.

I have, well had, a friend named Mark. We were pretty close back in high school. He used to tell me my stories were "so pointless". I know he was giving me a hard time and we generally laughed about it. But just now after I read my Vampire Diaries ramble, I thought of how pointless my stories can be. He wasn't lyin'!

It doesn't help that I feel like such a scatterbrain today. I can't tell if it's just that I'm tired, or if it's the Prozac messing with my head. I keep doing things that are weird even for me, and then can't really recall the through process that lead me there. For instance, earlier I got up and closed the blinds. Almost instantly I was frowning at myself and opening them back up. I couldn't figure out why I'd chosen to do that. I hate having the blinds closed in the day unless the baby's sleeping.

My doctor said this phase would pass, that it's common in the first couple of weeks. If it doesn't, I'm going to quit taking it for sure. I'm in such a funk, and thought it was supposed to take people out of funks, so..... Not to mention, when I drive, I have to continuously check my mirror to make sure the baby is in the car. I'm so out of it that I'm afraid I'm going to end up leaving one of the kids somewhere! I haven't done that before, and really don't think I could manage it now, but these last couple of days have just been strange. I'm definitely in a fog.

Anxiety

Can you believe I'm actually having anxiety just at the thought of writing about my anxiety? Turns out, anxiety is a mental disorder. And it's pretty intense. Growing up, my mom had anxiety. I never really knew what the word meant, and she never talked about it. All I really knew was that she was a rigid, emotional mess, most of the time. I remember being on the highway once, and my mom pulled off into the shoulder lane to throw up because she was having such a severe panic attack.

Now, in my adult years, married with two kids under my belt, I'm plagued with the same demon. My own mind. I understand her better now. Before I had children, the world was my plaything. I'd do just about anything once, more if I loved it. I even earned my advanced scuba diving license and jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. I wanted to travel the world, ride in a hot air balloon, explore mysterious jungle caves, dive at the Great Barrier Reef, and about 300 other things. When I became pregnant with my first child, I still thought I'd do all of those things. But the world became a terrifying place when the realization that I was in charge of a completely dependant life, that it turned out I loved more than life itself.

I still believe that one day, I'll do all those things I'd once dreamed of doing. They're just on hold for a little while. And while I'm okay with that, I understand that the anxiety I feel over those things, isn't really okay at all. It's very irrational. But I can't turn it off. My daughter started school this year, and the anxiety that filled me with, was overwhelming. I lost weight over it, that I didn't need to be losing. Sometimes, during a perfectly normal errand or routine activity, horribly disturbing things will pop into my head. Things that could be possible, happening right now at my daughter's school. Where is she at this moment? Is she being bullied? Can the teachers see her on the playground? Is there some mentally unstable person shooting up the playground?

And it's all downhill from there. The anxiety becomes crippling. My breath becomes short and shallow, I get dizzy, my heart races, the ground moves and I can't form full or rational thoughts to save my life. On the outside, you'd never be able to tell. That's the tricky thing about most mental disorders. And no matter how many times I tell myself that it's fine, that those things aren't happening, there's that demon whispering, but what it they are?

I think contributors to my anxiety have been horror movies, that I used to like before I had kids, and the news. The movies planted the seeds and the news watered them. I know the world is a horrible place, with evil lurking at every turn. I also know that there's good in the world. It can't be helped, that a parent would want to try and ensure that their children never meet with this evil. I don't mean that I want to protect them from everything. They're going to have troubles and trials, I know. And I know that's a good thing. I mean the pure evil. The kidnappings, the twisted bullying, terrorists, etc. Even comparing the odds of something like that happening, isn't good enough for my anxiety. If it's possible for someone else who never thought it would happen, it's possible for us. And nothing in the world is worth me chancing something like that.

I thank God everyday for blessing me with such a happy and outgoing little girl. It reassures me that even through my own issues, because no one is perfect, she's still thriving. I haven't screwed her up. Victory! For now. The other things that have contributed to my immense anxiety, are the judgemental Judy's out there. People get behind their little keyboards and are just awful to each other. Perfect strangers acting like no one else out there has a soul. They're so judgemental and nasty. With my horrible self esteem issues, it's hard to take attacks like that. Especially when there really is no reason for them. Another reason I turned off the comments to my blog, which is sad. What if there was someone out there, that maybe God sent my way, that could help me? But I'll never know, because in my mind, all I'll hear are negative things and get judged as f*ck. I'm already vulnerable enough as it is.

Recently, my husband cheated on me. I'm sure with the pouring out of my heart, it will seem obvious as to why. I'm all sorts of damaged, and I guess just too hard to love. I get it. But after that, my anxiety started getting out of control. The night he cheated on me he was supposed to be home before midnight, around ten. I woke up at almost two, and felt awful. Something was wrong, and my intuition was telling me so, before I ever even knew what time it was. When I realized it was morning, I was sure that something was wrong. My heart was racing and my stomach was sick. I called him, but he didn't answer. I called the shop where he said he'd be, and no one answered. The feeling I got then, is the feeling I live with constantly now. At every little thing, even when it's just my mind thinking of scenarios that will never happen. My heart starts to race and I feel sick.

I went to the doctor three days ago, and asked him to prescribe me something to help me to not have to feel like this anymore. I'm officially on Prozac. I'm hoping it will help, but am afraid if it doesn't. I'm also afraid that it might change the parts of me that sort of make me, me. I don't want it to change who I am, I just want it to help me not think that the world is about to implode at any second. Today is my third day taking the Prozac. He said it will take a couple of weeks to start working for my anxiety. For now all it's done is make me tired, and feel, weird. Just sort of, unexplainable. I feel different, but I'm still having anxiety, so I know it's doing something. Everything in my life just feels so uncertain right now.

I'll try to focus on the things I'm certain of. I love my children, and they're depending on me to get better, and be the best person I can be. I'm trying to take life one day at a time right now. It's so hard with so much going on in my mind so constantly! Also, fun fact; Blogging about my feelings and life makes me hate myself for some reason. I can't figure out why. Do I feel like I'm being whiny? Maybe I'm feeling towards myself the way I think other people will for knowing who I am and how I think. Maybe I just hate this anxiety ridden, no self confidence version of myself. I can't wait to see her go. Bye Felicia!

This is a great article, called How Girls With Anxiety Love Differently. The beginning describes what anxiety feels like, perfectly. It also describes how my dreams typically are, and strangely enough, almost describes one I had in high school, to a T. I hope that I won't always be this way though. I don't want to learn to live with it at all. I want it to go away foreevverrrr.

"You’re swimming in an ocean, and without notice or warning you begin slipping under the surface. You kick and kick, slowly losing your breath. You can’t breathe, but you keep kicking. No matter how hard you kick, how hard you try to scream, no one can hear you or help you. Your lungs are burning from the lack of oxygen; you can’t reach the surface. You keep reaching toward the sunlight; you see the surface, but you can’t get there. You’re stuck 10 feet under. You’re without air; you're without your breath; you black out.

That’s anxiety. Anxiety consumes you; anxiety becomes you, and for hours you’re alone. You’re drowning, and no one can save you, no matter how loudly you yell.

As a result of constantly feeling like this, girls with anxiety have their guard up. We handle almost everything with worry, and we are on edge, wondering what will set off our anxiety next, and just like that, we're back feeling like we're in that ocean."

BUT, then I read this, Thin Slices of Anxiety, and while it's spot on, it tries to make light of anxiety My husband of course, paints it in a much darker light. I wonder if I hate myself because it feels like my husband hates me. Am I taking Prozac because I need it? Or because I have someone who can't help me through the struggles and only exacerbates my anxiety, who simply wants me to change myself?

Unwillingness to trust

Recently my husband and I got into an argument. He thinks poorly of my inability to trust others. But no matter how hard I try, and try to look at it, and analyze people and situations, I still just can't trust. To be completely honest, I don't feel like anyone should be giving out trust all willy nilly. Certainly not to strangers or even acquaintances, but even to people who are family, or who you've known "forever". What makes anyone think they just have a right to your trust because so many days of knowing some things about you have passed? Trust, in my opinion, is earned. And it can absolutely be shattered, even over a long period of little damaging things.

My trust, specifically, can be given over small things quite easily. But when it comes to things like my home, finances, children... my trust must absolutely be earned first. But, my husband seems to think that I still can't trust anyone enough. We got in this argument specifically because of our children. He wants to be able to go out on the town, and leave our kids with a sitter. Our oldest is six, and I have no qualms leaving her with two or three select people. Our youngest is nine months now. He has refused to take a bottle of any kind, though we tried various bottles and nipples so that my husband and daughter could feed him, too. He is currently in his separation anxiety phase (which is a milestone and expected of a baby who realizes a mother's worth), and I've never been a fan of leaving my kids anywhere when they're too young to communicate to me if there's been a problem.

So, while I do suffer from anxiety, and do have "issues" trusting people, it also doesn't make logical sense to me to leave a baby who won't be able to eat, with people who won't be able to console him, while he can't communicate needs or issues. I also find that the fact that this is a very short amount of time in the grand scheme of life, that it's a little bit ridiculous to throw such a big fuss over the fact that I would prefer to be momming my baby, than out getting drunk. Do I value marriage? Absolutely. Do I think that everyone needs to spend time without children? Of course. Would I love to have some time away from my children? Most days, at least a little bit. (Kids can really wear on the ol' nerves.) But, I value the safety of my children and expect my husband to be on the same page when it comes to them. They are only babies for a moment before they're grown and gone. We have the rest of our lives to go out on the town and focus on just us. Not to mention, there are so many other ways to focus on us that could make us both happy and that are free or cheap that don't require a babysitter.

Of course, my husband and I aren't on the same page there. While I could happily uncork a bottle of wine and sit on the porch under a blanket, watching the stars and talking while the kids are asleep... He seems to think we aren't valuing the marriage if we don't get dressed, drive downtown, spend a load of money yelling over a crowded restaurant, and paying someone else to watch our kids. While it's okay not to see eye to eye on everything, there are so very very few things I'm set in stone over. I'm a cheap date, super easy going, granted him all the freedom he wanted, and have always done so many things for him regularly to help him feel loved and thought of and cared about. He seems to think he also does that for me, by going to work and bringing home a paycheck. He's officially done his part then.

Trailing on back to the topic of trust; I don't even know where to start trying to trust people more. I honestly don't want to. I don't think there's anything wrong with me wanting people to earn trust. What is it with people these days just thinking they're so entitled to everything from money, to attention, to someone else's body to my damned trust? I look at people too logically to just think everyone is trustworthy. From the moment I meet you, I'm already tallying, noting and paying attention. You're already getting filed away into my mind by the way you talk, act, dress, smell, and certainly by your stories and demeanor. And I rarely forget details. Maybe it's some kind of defense mechanism. But you can bet your bottom I'm listening and paying attention, and cutting no slack when it comes to whether or not someone is qualified to have my children's lives in their hands. Obviously the place you've filed away into, can change. The more I learn about you, get to know you, see you... it's ever changing.

But here's where my grudging comes in. Once someone has chosen to purposely do wrong by me or my children, there's almost no coming back from that. I fully understand that as Christians, we're supposed to forgive. Most people seem to think forgiving and forgetting go hand in hand, but they don't. At least not for me. I can forgive you enough to continue talking with you, be nice to you, and help you when you ask for help. But I have absolutely not forgotten who you are. And it would be so very unwise for me to do so, to just give you my trust again. That would make me naive, wouldn't it?

It's such a strange subject for me. I'm trying to see flaws in myself as far as trust and grudging go, but I'm always constantly reminding myself of why I have every right. This is my life, my heart, and at times, my children's hearts and lives. The most important things on this Earth to me. Why in the world would anyone just throw caution to the wind when they have already been so wronged, or have learned a person's true (and not good) ways? My husband has made me feel so flawed over these things for so long, that I really believe him, that these are major issues for me. But I wonder if there's really so much wrong with the way I view these things.

Just over a month ago my husband's coworker rolled his car and totalled it. So my husband let him borrow one of our cars. While logically I thought that it was unwise; this man suffers from depression, makes over an hour commute to work, and just totalled his own vehicle, my husband thought differently. He blatantly ignores things like those, and I'm not sure why. Perhaps he wants to look like the good guy or the hero. Being the wife and person I am, I stood behind my husband's ultimate decision without argument. Just last week his coworker wrecked our car.

It cannot be pure coincidence that I'm always right about people. And because I am, I have to listen to myself; my gut and my heart. Signs from God, perhaps. Wisdom. Intuition maybe. It drives me mad with anxiety when I go against my own natural feelings. But I'm not sure why my husband and I can't see things more eye to eye.

He has a friend, who he'd still call a best friend, for some unknown reason. No, his reasoning was because they grew up together. And again, there's that 'I've known you for so long you owe me your trust and friendship' thing. This man once almost killed my husband, while I was pregnant with our first child, and my husband still thought he was just the best thing since sliced bread. Every single time they got together they made horrible choices that badly affected their wives and children. Once, this guy showed up at our house around ten at night, with a case of beer and his one year old, while our baby was a newborn. He proceeded to hit on me while my husband was in the garage, got so shitty he couldn't drive home, pissed on my couch and then stole my car from the driveway and disappeared. I'd recap that, but I'll just let it soak in. My husband STILL called this guy his best friend!

I on the other hand, obviously couldn't trust him further than I could throw him, and likely never will. My husband judges me harshly for that, and I don't understand it. How am I made to be the one who's not acting right by refusing to be friends with this guy, or trust him at all? I will never ever forget the day my husband nearly died, running down the middle of the street screaming his name while I was pregnant because he was laying motionless in the road over stupid choices by this guy who would do it again! Yet I'm made to be the problem somehow. It's killing my soul. I can't win. I'm not trying to win though. I'm just trying to understand me, my husband, my marriage... my life. What's wrong with me? What can I change? Will I be forever broken? Damaged goods, unworthy of true friendship and a happy marriage?

Over these past few weeks I've come to a realization that no matter what issues I have as far as trust, there is something much deeper and underlying that causes my husband to trust people in ways that hurt him, his family and his bank account, over and over and over again. He can't say no to people either, which has also caused a huge number of issues in our relationship. I truly think that for all the things in my life that have lead to me having such poor trust in the human race, I was only set up for failure in this marriage, in this specific relationship.

My husband has broken my trust in ways that no other human being ever has. From horribly deceptive lies, manipulation and cheating. If I had to repair myself before and couldn't, how will I ever heal now? I don't even know where to start. I don't even know if all the problems I have with myself, or have been told I have, are really problems anymore. Is there really so much wrong with me? Or was it manipulation from the very beginning, taking what small problems I had and amplifying them until I felt and maybe even acted like some kind of monster because of it?

No one is perfect. But I just want to be in a relationship where I don't feel like I have to be, and that if I'm not, I'm just not worth a thing. Not worth honesty, not worth commitment, not worth love. That's where I am now. All I want is to be me with someone who loves me and helps me through my issues or flaws. I want to be with someone who's going to bring out my very best, and so in return I can do the same. I want to lift each other up and be a team based around love and trust, even, or especially, when times get tough. How do I get to a place like that? How can we ever repair this broken of a marriage now? If I can't trust his mother who took money from us when we were pregnant with our first and trying to get his license, how will I ever ever trust him again? How will I ever trust anyone ever again?

Backstory

I wanted to write up a backstory to attach to my "introduction". It would help to know an outline of my past and present, and maybe help me to pick pieces apart little by little to help figure things out and ask questions. It's really important to me that it's realized this blog/journal is in no way intended to expose or hurt anyone. It's simply the truth of my life and how I've viewed it. I know that one day my family will see this. I want them to someday, I think. It's so hard to say with the relationships we have currently. With the things this will dig up and the hurt it will surely bring. But hopefully in that, there will be healing, too.

I was born in the Texas panhandle to an eighteen year old single mother. She had a boyfriend who she met working in my grandad's bar, who would remain the man I consider my dad, until I was in middle school. My biological father signed over his rights to me, and I recently got in touch with him a couple of years ago. I learned that I also have a half sister. We don't look anything alike.

While I can't remember, I've heard stories that I hope to learn more about when I'm ready, about my grandmother kidnapping me, and my 'dad' beating up on my mom all the time and one specific instance of him threatening to kill us. I do remember their daily shouting matches, my mom taking off in depressions and my dad's drug dealer's house where I would play outside alone because he was busy inside.

I lived with my great grandmother (gram) in a trailer in small town BFE until I was eight. We moved into this big crazy city with my mom and dad when they bought a house here. My dad was in and out of jail and eventually went to prison and my gram was diagnosed with breast cancer that she'd waited too long to tell anyone about and get help for.

My mom got a new boyfriend who moved in with us and eventually my gram passed one day while I was in middle school. As vicious as everyone claimed she was, I felt that no one ever loved me as much as she did, and a part of me died along with her. My mother refused to let me talk to anyone when I asked her for therapy, for many issues. Eventually her boyfriend proposed to her and she said no and he eventually died of cirrhosis of the liver. She moved on to a meth addict who showed up at our house one day with a gun that had a rag through the trigger. To be fair, she didn't know he was a meth addict at the time.

I moved out of the house a week or so after graduation and into my current husband's duplex. We bought a house together three months later. We had known each other for four months. My mom eventually married, something she had stood adamantly against for, maybe ever. I became pregnant and my boyfriend and I married. My mom refused to come to the wedding and still claims that's it's because she knew our marriage would never work. She doesn't like my husband, and holds grudges for, probably ever. Really, who could blame her? All the shit he's done to me, I currently hate him a little, too. And if a man was treating my daughter this way, I wouldn't be his biggest fan either.

Flash forward to 2016, our baby boy is born and my husband cheats on me, for the second time, in August. While none of this is detailed and barely scratches the surface, I hope to touch on each story and memory that arises little by little. Some are too painful at this time, for me to open up about, but I'll get there hopefully. I'm sure this whole blog is going to turn into one jumbled mess, kind of the way my head always is, but I'm going to try my best not to care or let it keep me from being 100% real.

The Beginning; Write Like No One's Reading

As expected, I'm already putting way too much thought into my first blog post. What should I write? How will I write it? What will they think? And of course, I'm already doubting myself. What's the point? How long will I even keep this up? Won't it be awful anyway?

You see, I've had blogs and journals before. Perhaps five, maybe six in total now. I can't seem to keep up with them through the phases of my life. I think it's possible that I'm always too worried about how it looks to the public in which I pitch it to. Even my journals, always so public, could never really reach the depth in which a journal truly should. I couldn't let them. Then everyone might see the real me.

On top of that these days, I'm a married mom of two; one under one and one in school. I feel like my life is changing so constantly. Not because I'm always moving, or changing jobs, or because my life is just that crazy, but simply because my mind never ever stops. And of course, neither does the time that seems to flow by so effortlessly, no matter how hard I struggle against it and struggle to fit more in a day than can be managed in such a short time. Usually, it isn't even the important stuff; the things that really matter. I can't seem to slow down enough to prioritize those things anymore.

I want to do so much in a day. I want to cook three meals, I want to clean the house or keep it so, I want to enrich the lives of my children and make them feel loved, I want to make my husband feel special and happy, and of course I want to do things for me, too. At least enough for me, that I can sit for a minute and write, read the Bible, paint my dang fingernails for the first time in nine months. But then there's always the want to do something to help my community, my church, the world and the people in it. It can be so overwhelming, especially when you live in constant criticism.

Maybe I'm just horrible at prioritizing. Of course, it could just be my personality. Sometimes I put me down for being lazy. But really, I don't think that's it at all. I can go for days, so long as my mind is clear and my spirit is high. Lately I've been so overwhelmed with life, that even the smallest tasks can bring me crashing down. When I do actually finish a few things on my long and never ending to-do list, I'm more exhausted than I should be. Maybe it's just motherhood.

I've been told so many times before that writing, or journaling, is something that would help me to figure out the mess that is my mind. Or give me solace if nothing else. I do want my story to be heard though. Maybe it can help someone out there. Probably it will just end up a giant cluster of random postings that really do define my scatterbrained life, but at least I will have them for me, maybe my husband or children one day.

I know that some posts will be me, simply cruising through the day, an autopilot of something random, a venting or some craft or DIY we've done. But others will be painful, deep, and hopefully, healing. I'm nearly 30 now, and I've never focused on something so important as my own healing, and I hope that I don't hurt anyone else through the record of my feelings and memories. Know that this isn't to expose or hurt anyone, but that it's to help me understand and heal and hopefully finally move forward from the things that have been keeping me locked away in myself for so long.

Currently, I have a daughter who just started her first year of school, a son who's nine months old now, a tiny little home in one of the fastest growing cities in the United States, and a marriage that's so uncertain, laying at rock bottom with a looming divorce. The following entries will be, a mess, my story.