Monday, January 28, 2013

Not a single pound...

I have not gained ONE SINGLE POUND since my journal started last May. NOT ONE! That means, all 53 pounds that I have lost since then...not one has managed to find it's way back onto my body. :)

I have found finally the secret to balancing. I am able to eat foods I still like to eat, in moderation. I am not actively "dieting" anymore, but I am not constantly splurging, either. For the first three months all I did was diet, diet, and more dieting. Then, I started slowing eating other foods, just once in a while. Now, I think I have finally figured out how to eat what I want, and still maintain my weight loss. 

And that's an amazing feeling. I don't have to worry as much as I did before. My last weigh in (about a week ago, the scale said 127) so that means that I have not had to watch myself so closely. I didn't want to "shock" my body into just thinking that raw foods, and diet food was all I would give it, because for some reason, I was afraid that I wouldnt ever be able to eat anything "normal". But I guess, most importantly, I did what most would call a "lifestyle" change.

Because honestly, the "secret" of losing weight, really isnt a huge secret. Don't eat as much, and you won't weigh as much. But that doesnt mean to deprive yourself of foods you really want to eat. It means, "have a slice of pizza...but not three." "have a french fry...but not 100" just being completely careful of every calorie you're eating.

And what most people don't realize, is that your day's biggest calorie consumption, is what you're drinking. There are SO many calories in teas, sodas, juices...and people don't realize that because most think "well its a drink, no biggie" but it is!! You have to consider your calorie intake even with what you're drinking. I found that when I stopped drinking so much sweet tea, I not only felt better, but the weight started almost melting off. I exchanged sweet tea for diet sodas, water, flavored water (be careful with these, some have ALOT of calories) & gatorades. Less calories, but still satisfied my sweet tooth. I can't drink plain water...too much of it is way too boring, for me.

I also became aware of what I was eating while out in a restaurant. Instead of getting something full of fats, and a huge portion..I'll either get something small, or still order something full of fat, but watch how much of it I'm eating. Too many times in the past I would sit down in a restaurant, and eat EVERYTHING on my plate because I didnt care, or was too distracted by conversation. Now, I'm lucky if I eat even a half of whats on my plate. I'm more aware. This is the biggest thing that is going to keep you going. You need to watch yourself. 

I can with complete honesty say, that I DO not snack often, or ever, really. I don't eat while watching TV throughout the day. I don't eat before I go to sleep anymore. More aware. I find other things to do with my hands so I don't feel tempted. I have fun apps on my phone to keep me distracted...I play with my kids...I cook stuff for other people. I eat my three square meals a day, and thats that. I do not sneak food like I used to. I cut all those bad habits out.

I learned how to control myself. For me, this has become second nature, the little tricks i've taught myself. It keeps me motivated. And I love looking at myself in the mirror. I'm so excited (for the first time in a LONG time) to go bikini shopping for summer! I can't wait to get myself into one of those itty bitty bikinis with the tie up sides. (I havent owned one since high school). As soon as I see myself in something like that, I'm going to feel like all this has been worth it. 

I seriously cannot wait. And I'm sorry for bragging...but dammit I'm so proud of myself. For the first time ever, I have self control. I have a body that I'm proud of. And I just feel really damn good!


Thursday, January 24, 2013

Happy Birthday Caden!

the first time I ever saw Caden as entire person. <3

January 25th 2007. Just another day for most people. But for me, its the day my entire life changed, forever.

At 3:55am, after a very difficult pregnancy, and an even more difficult labor, Caden Zane entered the world. The room was full with at least 40 doctors and nurses. There was no standing room left in that delivery room. But he was here. He was blue and purple, non responsive, and silent. I couldn't see anything because so many people were in the way. I remember my high risk doctor, Dr. Fischer still between my legs cleaning me up, and assuring me that everything was okay. He looked me in the eyes and told me "I did what I had to do, I kept you pregnant, and the baby safe, now that new team is going to take care of him, I promise." After what seemed like an eternity, and my many pleas of "let me see my baby!" ; Caden finally took his real first breath, and began crying. I don't think there was a dry eye in the room. Dr. Fischer was crying, my mom was crying, I was crying. It was the happiest I think I'd ever felt in my entire life. They immediately bundled him up, and stuck him in an isolette. I begged over and over for me to see him. Dr. Fischer told the crew to wheel him over by my bed for a few seconds so I could at least see what he looked like. He was completely bundled up, and all I could see was his eyes, they were open, and looking all over the place. I could see his silky black hair peeking out of the hat he was wearing. I couldn't touch him. And I just wanted so badly to scoop my sweet baby boy out of that isolette and just cuddle him. But he had to go straight to the NICU and be prepped for his first surgery.

So many people must have came and went out of my room that morning. I had to sign permission for everything Caden touched in the NICU. I had to sign for blood transfusions, surgery, breathing equipment, medication... So overwhelming. I never thought that I would have been in that situation. But there I was. And my baby boy's life hung in the balance.

I had to wait another 8 hours to see him again. I didn't even know if he had all 10 fingers and toes. I remember Dr. Holtzer (his surgeon) coming into my room at about 10am, and told me the surgery had went well. Everything was back inside where it needed to be, but they couldn't close his skin, and he would need another surgery. I had to wait another hour after that to be able to see him. I remember getting wheeled into the NICU for the first time. Scrubbing up, gowning up... Caden was all the way in the back of the NICU. In a room called hummingbird. He was the first baby on the right, right by the door. There he was. All of him. Under so many machines it would have made your head spin. He was completely unconscious, in a coma, so he wouldn't feel any pain. He was beautiful. Silky black hair, two arms, two legs, ten fingers, ten toes... He was real. And I could touch him for the very first time. There he was. The baby I had fought so hard to keep in my belly, alive. The baby who kicked my insides. The baby would doctors didn't believe would make it to his birthday. And there he was. So beautiful. The sound of the ventilator keeping him breathing was almost like a lullaby. And he just looked so peaceful. It was the most surreal moment of my life. I had never wanted something so badly in my life, and here it was. Just...overwhelming. The very best moment of my life.
my little astronaut on his CPAP machine. <3

And he spent the next 28 days there.
After another surgery, a few setbacks, and tons of scary days...He came home. Another milestone that most doctors never thought he'd reach. I was able to pack him up, and take him home.

First day home <3

being silly with mommy <3

So happy 6th birthday, baby boy. 6 whole years. Another year that doctors weren't even sure you'd be here. Another milestone. Another 365 days that were never promised to you. And here you are. I love you more than all the stars in the sky. I love you more than every grain of sand on every beach on every corner of the earth. I couldn't even begin to imagine my life without you, Caden. We kind of grew up together. I wasn't in any way ready for you, but you came with a bang, and showed me how to be a mom. You made me a mother. You're the most special little boy in the whole world. I am so proud to be your mommy. You're so smart. You're so crazy. You make life so much more interesting and fun. You're the very best thing that could have happened to me. And I have so much love for you. I love being silly with you, and I love hearing all your little jokes you tell me! I love hearing about your day at school. I love seeing how excited you get when you get a good color in school. I love the pictures you draw me. I love YOU! You make me so happy. And I will continue to be the very best mommy I can be to you. I love you son. Today, tomorrow, and for always. <3

first day of school <3

Monday, January 21, 2013

wife swap.

So I got caught up watching a wife swap marathon today...which of course got me thinking about what would happen if I were to ever be on the show.

I'd most likely end up in a family full of religious, gun toting, bible reading people with a husband who does most of the household chores while the mother a huge lavish house, who thinks race car driving in a sin, and has absolutely no social life.

And the woman who ended up here would be thrown into a world of endless house work, playing referee between to unruly children (who break everything), being the maid of the entire house, going on late night crazy adventures with a crew full of car fanatics, stuffed into a little two bedroom apartment.

And I'm not even sure what that kind of family could teach me. Maybe a more "wholesome" lifestyle...or maybe more patience, (most days, I have none). Maybe she could teach me how to make a schedule, and stick to it...or maybe how to be more organized? I'm definitely not sure what ANY woman could learn from me. Maybe how to have more fun? Learn how to carry a pair of slicks up a flight of stairs? Learn what a supercharger looks like? Learn how to let her kids be kids? I'm really not sure.

I'd miss my crazy life. I get caught up daydreaming about all the material things I wish I had, and all the money in the world, and what I would do with it...and even if I got to pretend that was my life for two weeks, I'd miss my humble little life. As much as I hate talking about cars, and all their dumb mods, I'd miss talking with Dan about that late at night. I'd miss making food for my family. I'd miss picking up my kids mess...hell, I'd even miss putting my kids in the corner, and getting nighttime snuggles.

Although it would be pretty rad to go life a lavish life. But with my luck, the other family would suck, and be cheesy and lame as hell. And wouldn't get my life at all. I think I live a really good, fun little life with my husband, and my kids. We always find something fun to do, even when there's nothing to do. Dan and I are really fun, and laugh ALL the time. The other husband would probably be super uptight, and not get a joke. I can call Dan all types of names, and pick on him constantly, and he just gets it, and we can have a great time. And the new wife would probably be so structured and crazy, and drive everyone in my house crazy.

I think at the rules change, the first thing that would change for Dan, would be he's not allowed to talk about car related things anymore, and he has to learn how to do the dishes. (Which, would be okay...for a little while.)  But then that wouldn't be "us" anymore. She'd probably make him learn how to cook, and how to do more housework than just taking out the garbage...and I think how nice that would probably be at first, but I'd get bored of that.

I like my house, my rules, and most importantly, my husband just the way they all are. I wouldn't want for anyone else to come in here and tell us how to live. I don't think I'd be open to trying anything new...which could probably make for great show ratings because I'd most likely be raising hell the entire time. (And knowing my husband, he'd probably be doing the same thing over here in my absence...) I think I couldn't ever let myself be in that situation, because I wouldn't appreciate it, or want to learn from it. I don't like people telling me that my ways are wrong. And to most families, or people, my life might be wrong. I might be making every parental mistake there could possibly be. And many other wives might think the way that I support Dan's car stuff is dumb, and I shouldn't encourage his behavior when it comes to all the racing he likes doing... but this is my life. And I'm so happy this is my life. I love all the time I get to spend with everyone in my family. I love the things we do together. As much as I get tired of playing pit crew to my husband, and losing an entire closet to car stuff, and tires...I'm glad this is what we do. I love the way my life is. And I really wouldn't want to walk in anyone else's shoes...and I wouldn't want anyone else in my house telling me I am wrong.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Dear Dan.

I'm not even sure where to even start.

I'm sorry. I know that half of the things I do, and say are completely unnecessary, and sometimes just down right crazy. I know. I can't really change the person that I've changed into since the last time I was completely broken apart, and left pretty much on my own. It's not your fault. You didn't do any of that. But it's not easy for me to let anyone love me, as much as I want you to love me. It's all so hard for me to let someone have half my heart, and give them the complete power to break it.

I wish that I could let all of my walls come down. And honestly, you're the only one in a really long time to have gotten mostly all of them knocked down. You're the first person I let get that close to me in such a short period of time. I never wanted to admit it, but I fell in love with you way before you even knew if you wanted to be with me long term. You gave me complete butterflies, and that crazy feeling in the pit of my gut the first night I spent with you. After the trip to the beach, I was done. You were something I never wanted to be a part of, but I couldn't imagine what my life would have been if I didn't take that chance.

You are just..amazing. You've been nothing but perfect to me. I know that more than 90% of the arguments that we have, are all my fault, and my own insecurities getting the best of me. You are not to blame for that. It is something that I have struggled with for many years, and something that I will probably need to continue working on. You know the crazy things that I've endured in my adult life. You know how scared I am to let anyone really love me. And I am so used to doing everything completely on my own, and not answering to anyone, and doing whatever I want to do, and saying whatever I want...because I was able to get away with it for so long. You have shown me that life cannot be that way, and that I cannot be the strongest, hardest person in the world. I am human. And all of the things you have shown me humble me, and make me want to be a better person. Not just for you, but for myself, too.

I know that none of this is an excuse for how I can really be sometimes. I know that it is something that you do not want to hear, most of the time. I know that we have all been hurt. I know that somebody has broken your heart before, too. And I know most of this just sounds like a complete cop out as to why I do the things that I do. But it's second nature for me to have doubts, anymore. I have been completely faithful and true to many past lovers, only to have been too blinded by love, to be hurt. And I know that it's not your fault, because you have never given me a reason to doubt you. I want to be better. I want to be able to just be completely okay, and let myself love you openly as much as I truly do love you.

I appreciate everything that you have done for me. I appreciate everything that you have done for the kids. You took me on, knowing I had kids... Kids who have been through some pretty rough stuff, as well as me, too. You were able to come into all of our lives, and just show us all kinds of love, and take all of us on. It takes a really strong minded man to want to get involved in all of my baggage. I know that I carry alot of it.

I have never loved anyone in my life as much as I love you. Nobody told me how hard this was going to be. Nobody warns you how rough a marriage can really be. I can't sit here and say that everything is so horrible and bad, but I know that there is room for improvement. And I know that I need to work on myself, to be able to really be the person that you truly need me to be. I seriously cannot imagine my life without you, and when I stood there and said my vows, I meant them. I will always love you. I love you when things are good, and I love you when things are bad. I will love you until my very last breath. You mean the absolute world to me. And I am just so sorry for being so damn blind and selfish sometimes.

For whatever it is worth,

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

A quick look into my complex mind.

"You're German, don't forget that." - wise words of my father after a heart to heart we had last night. 

I like to think of myself as a strong person. I like to think of myself as very opinionated, and anyone who comes in contact with me, will probably tell you the same thing. I am stubborn, I am opinionated, and I stand behind whatever I say, even if people want to convince me I am 100% wrong. I get a lot of slack for many of the opinions I've formed in my adult life. I think because I've experienced so much, and been through many things other people could probably not even imagine, it's made me a very stubborn, and very opinionated individual. And I'm okay with that. Nobody has to agree with me. But don't make me feel stupid for thinking what I think, either. I've lived in a car. I've been poor. I've had nothing but the clothes on my back. I used to have to hustle everything I had just to survive. I've had to take showers in a truck stop. I've been very jaded, and learned very quickly that life just isn't fair. And I've formed some pretty strong opinions about life.

I think the biggest place I get most slack for these things would be on any type of social media. I've been a member of a forum for a few years now, and most people that I've met there know what I believe in, and even call me into certain posts to really lay down what I think about most situations. And I think I have a very complex thought process. I do not believe what most media sources tell me. I do not trust law enforcement, or even my government. I do not vote in any kind of election. I try and keep what I really think about certain things very deep down inside, because I don't want anyone to be offended by these crazy thoughts I have in my crazy mind. 

But sometimes people do ask, and this is where this blog comes from. You wanted my feelings on things, and I'll tell you.

So, the list of controversial things I have weird opinions goes.

I believe that abortion should be legal, and stay that way. The government should keep their hands off my body. I am allowed to do whatever I want with a fetus growing inside MY uterus. Abortion should be easy to obtain, and partially covered by insurance policies. It should stay legal in every circumstance at whatever gestation. Now, I know that sounds very wrong, seeing as I am a mother of two children. But, pro-choice, and "pro-abortion" are two different things. I am more on the side of pro choice. And that goes into issues like choosing to abort, choosing to adopt out, or choosing to keep the baby. Pro-abortion groups lean more toward aborting a pregnancy, and leaving no other option. Most pro-abortion groups feel that adoption is not "emotionally" safe for women because they change their minds, and want to keep a pregnancy they didn't want in the first place. I do not believe that. I think more clinics need to push every option, not just abortion. There are some abortion clinics who do not even offer any kind of counseling to women who are seeking an abortion. The only reason I know this, is because way back when, I was about 16 years old, and the morning after pill had just come out onto the market. And this was back before you could get them at drug stores, and it was two pills, and a bunch of anti-vomiting pills. I went to the Cherry Hill clinic, walked past a bunch of Christian groups who told me I was nothing but a sinner and burning in hell for going in there, and I wasn't even there for an abortion. I didn't need parental consent to obtain the pills. I needed to get an exam, and was escorted into a room full of pregnant women who were there for abortions. These women were scared, they didn't know what to expect, and nobody talked to them about anything. We all sat there in our paper gowns, waiting on a doctor. I remember a girl who looked about my age who was there for an abortion. She was 8 weeks along. And she was terrified. They wouldn't let any men back there, so her boyfriend wasn't with her. She knew she wanted the abortion, but nobody came back there to check on any of us, and she said she didn't know what was going to happen. I think pre-abortion counseling is something that clinics need to have put in place. If a woman wants to obtain an abortion, there shouldn't be a stigma. And that's what most women there were so afraid of. I think if there was somebody in there with all of the women who were there for termination, giving them the complete information on what was going to happen, it wouldn't be so scary, and these women wouldn't feel like they were doing something wrong, and on top of that, feel informed that the choice they were making was not only 100% legal, but also safe, and they were going to be okay. I do not believe that doctors should also tell a woman what is best for her, and be able to give her all the information she needs to make a good decision, and support her decision. And offer lots of support. 

I am not a religious person. I was not raised that way. I do not think that the morals my parents tried to raise me with are any different than a child raised in a church. I don't think my dad ever has stepped foot in a church. My mom tried to get us to go, but it wasn't something we had to do. My dad raised me to stand for what I believe in. He told me to never let anyone change my mind. He raised me to believe I could do anything. My mom taught me how to stand on my own two feet. She reminded me that I am a person worthy of love, and I am a great person, despite how many mistakes I could ever make. They never read me a bible, and I can't even remember if they ever even bought me one. They taught us things that make us good people in our own right...not following what an organized religion says we should be. I do not think that religion makes you a better person, and it is something you should not hide behind. I don't look down on anyone for following a religion. You are entitled to believe whatever you want. I like everyone just the same. But I am more judged for not following a religion, than I judge others for following a religion. It doesn't matter to me what you believe. Whatever helps you, is just fine with me. I am completely tolerant of it. But I will not pray with you, I will not read a bible with you, and I will not make my kids go to youth group with your kids. I want my kids to choose what religion they want. I don't feel like influencing them into something I couldn't believe in is contradictory. They are free to make their own choices when it comes to religion. But I am not influencing them with anything. 

Conspiracy theories.
I am a complete left wing liberal. Of course I'm into reading into ways the government lies, and fails us on a daily basis. The biggest thing I follow right now are FEMA camps, and the sandy hook conspiracies, and the other day, a friend of mine got me into looking into the area 51 underground. I love them. I question everything. I do not believe anything unless I can see it. (Which is why I cannot follow religion.) I wear my tin foil hat proudly. People have to think I'm nuts. But, I am a questioner. I have to KNOW. I feel like it's my personal freedom to be completely informed. And if you look into half of the things going on in the world...the general american people have NO idea what's really going on. It's more fun to question everything, than become a sheeple brainwashed by the media. We have all been taught from a very early age that the news is what's going on in the world, and we must trust it. I just...don't anymore.

Law enforcement.
I will tread lightly with this one. I do not trust law enforcement of any type. I was wrongly accused of something very major a few years ago, when I was obviously the victim. I was arrested, giving a court date...and spent the weeks following having to prove my innocence of something I should have never been accused of. Back when I was with Angel, and the police would come break up our latest blow up fight, I was threatened by police, and instead of them "helping" me, like you're taught policemen do, I was told that it was my fault these things happened to me because I had to live there. I didn't have anyone who would have taken me in at this point because I was so isolated from everyone, that even my own family didn't want me to come with them at that point because things were so screwed up. The police would try and stand up for Angel in court (thank god for good judges in salem county). So, I don't trust them. I don't understand how we do not live in a high crime area, yet when something major happens, and somebody really needs help...they show up and start harassing innocent people. There isn't any real relief for victims of domestic violence in this county, either. Law enforcement didn't do anything to try and help me help myself. They arrested him, and then released him shortly after. And I was back at square one. If a police officer handed me a pamphlet and said "there's this shelter for women like you and I'll take you there" I would have went. The way that it works in the law for domestic violence victims is really messed up. I don't know if this is everywhere, or just here in this little area. One of my biggest goals is to open a shelter for women and children that is big enough to accommodate more than 15 people at a time. (The closest shelter we have in this area can only house 15 people, and its always full, most of the time. I've looked into it.) We also need more programs to help women get back on their feet after such situations. Cornerstone's "program" is a joke.

now, this one is funny. Because i'm all about "girl power" and "equality" and all that jazz. But honestly, I feel like a marriage works best when a woman sticks to her role, and a man to his. I am the maid of the house. The chef, the nurse, the errand runner...etc. I serve my husband his plates. I do everything I possibly can to make my husband's life easier. And he goes out and does the manual labor, and puts most of the money into the house. That's his job. And my job is the child raising, cooking, cleaning, and not complaining about it. He is supposed to be the one that I keep happy, and myself last. That's the way my parents have survived their entire marriage, and I want my marriage to model that. I put him in charge of making major decisions. I let him in the sense "wear the pants" ; and I am his partner. Now we occasionally bump heads because I can be very stubborn...but the submissive lifestyle seems to work best. I am not a doormat, and he does not treat me as such. 

welfare programs.
Completely screwed up "system". I have been on both sides of the spectrum here. I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth. My dad busted his ass to give my sister, my mom and I a great life. We had everything growing up. When I finally broke out of my crap situation with Caden's dad, I moved into public housing. And while there, life was easy street. The government and the "system" bailed me out of everything. My utilities were paid, my food was billed straight to welfare, and my rent was less than 200 bucks for a three bedroom townhouse. Life was really too good to be true. But the second I moved out of there, and tried to better myself, living in a privately owned apartment, everything was cut. I get absolutely nothing anymore. And I think there is where it's flawed. People will spend 15-20 years in government housing because you aren't forced to do anything. But the typical, middle class person struggling paycheck to paycheck can't get any help whatsoever. I understand where people's entitlement attitude comes from from spending my days in "the cage". The system makes it too easy to do absolutely nothing, and then when a bill isn't paid by the system, people get angry. Its that attitude that keeps people living in situations like that. Now, out here in the real world, if my bills aren't paid, or late, it's nobody's fault but my own. And I can't blame anybody like I used to be able to do while dirt poor, living in public housing. It's all so screwed up. It needs immediate reform...but that will most likely never happen because the system is raising people on it to become completely dependent, and never having to do anything. So what are those people supposed to do? They have no skills, they don't work, and they won't find jobs because everyone's been suckling the government teat. 

I'm sure i could sit here and type all day about what I think about things, but these were the ones I could remember, that you guys wanted to know! I know after reading all that, you probably think I'm just a nutcase. And that's okay. But these are my opinions. You don't have to agree with me. I still like you even if you think I'm crazy. I know I already drive my husband crazy with my views on things. Good thing he loves me anyway.


Monday, January 14, 2013


Today something as simple as receiving my new debit card with the Palumbo last name on it... is still weird and foreign to me. I know that's dumb to think that. I mean, I knew when I got married, obviously it meant a lot to Dan for me to take his last name, and of course it was somewhat important to me too.. But idk, giving up the Boyce name, the name I was born with, its still so weird. 

I don't know why I feel that way. I used to think that taking your husband's last name was something I was never going to do. (I also thought I would never get married...) It was something that showed "ownership" of me. And I am not about any of that. I was completely fine with saying a Boyce. I was proud of that name. It My daddy's last name. The one man I always was able to rely on. The one man that set the bar VERY high for any other man in my life. And of course I wouldn't have married my husband if I didn't think he would be able to give me a great life, and be what I needed him to be. But I just was holding on to that last bit of myself. I know a name doesn't mean anything at all. I could change my first name and I would still be the person that I am. But, giving that up was like shutting the door on being my dad's little girl. And nothing between him and I has changed. But it's so hard to explain how I feel. I was such a sad lost person before I met Dan. And my dad was that one man that I completely trusted, and knew would always be there for me when I needed him. He was the one who made everything okay, and made me feel safe when everything in my life was falling apart.

Then it's like I get back on my feet, my life gets better, and I met Dan. I fell head over heels in love with him, and he showed me that life is going to be okay. And I just let myself be taken completely by surprise, and trusted him with my heart. Which is something that I was just not used to. Everyone that I gave my heart away to in my past broke it one way or another. 

Him and I talked about this before we got married. I was like "no, I am staying a Boyce, or I will hyphenate my last name." And he was always kind of disappointed that I felt that way. And the more he talked to me about it, and how much it meant to him that I took his last name. And the idea just, idk, I guess grew on me. And well, here I am. 

I know thats so weird sounding, and probably makes no sense to half of the things I write. But I just needed to get that out somewhere...


Sunday, January 13, 2013

i've been cheating...

I've been really slacking on my diet lately. I mean, I never really had a diet plan in place to begin with, but I've been really careful to monitor exactly what goes in my mouth.

But lately, I've slacked really bad. It's been a really long time since I ate a potato chip, and I ate some today. And I made brownies today, and I ate a little bit. And it seems like every time I go to my mom's house, my sister made homemade chocolate chip cookies, and I always seem to cave and eat one. But it's always just one... but now I feel really bad.

My weight has pretty much stayed the same. I haven't gained anything, but I haven't lost anything in almost two weeks, either. I can't say I'm frustrated...I'm just...mad at myself. I shouldn't be doing this. I was doing really really good for like six months, and I've been falling off the bandwagon. It doesn't help that nobody else in my house is on a diet (or needs to even be on a diet). But the motivation to keep doing good has gone away.

I want to stay thin forever. I at least want to stay thin and small so I can take nice pictures this year. And jump up on my husband's truck in a bikini and not look like a hippo.

But I've realized that eating these "bad" things makes me feel really heavy and gross on the inside. Not just because I know its bad for me, just because I haven't really eaten these things in a long time. I don't like the way I feel after I eat them. I don't know if it's more mental, or if it's real that I feel "heavy" and "disgusting."

But I guess I'm still tiny because I am currently wearing a pair of sweatpants that used to be SO tight on me, and they hang off me terribly. My husband even said to me earlier "you're going to disappear!" So I guess I haven't gained anything...I guess it's all in my mind.

I just am terrified of getting bigger. I have nightmares that I am fat again. And that Dan leaves me because I got fat. And I know that's pretty dumb because I know he loves me for more than what I look like...but subconsciously, my mind says he would in my dreams. And then I get all like "omg can't get fat, can't get fat."

I just wish society didn't tell us girls at a very young age that thin is what beautiful is what is accepted and what is "wanted" by men. I don't understand why beauty can't come in every shape, and size. Why do they put "perfect" looking women on billboards, in music videos and movies...and shove it down our throats that if we want to be beautiful, we have to look like that? I am so afraid that my daughter will get sucked into that. I fear that I am not setting a good example for her because I am so self conscience about myself. I don't want her to grow up, and see that I was such a crazy dieter, and that I let my looks define me. I don't know how to put a happy medium on how I feel, and how I want her to feel. Gah. I feel like I fail there. I make little jokes about how "big" her belly is...and how much of a "piggy" she is when she eats alot.... I feel like I need to stop doing that because I don't want her to one day think that eating is not acceptable...and that the size of your jeans is what makes My issues stem from much deeper things than that. I was never fat. I just got fluffier after my kids were born, and then I spiraled out of control from there. It just wasn't healthy to be 5'2" and 178 pounds. I knew I had to do something before I hit like 200 pounds and then been up shits creek without a paddle. But, I only started my weightloss because of what size I wore, and what the scale said. I thought losing weight would just be something that would make me love myself again. And it did...but it doesn't. This hasn't been easy. And it's still not easy.

I secretly weigh myself. ALOT. I constantly look at myself in the mirror...almost all the time. I fuss about my jeans, and my clothes. I still see a big person, even though I am always reminded by everyone that I look great, and that I am worrying for nothing. I don't know if I need to seek some kind of real help for my body image issues, or if they are real, and everyone struggles with them like I do. Sometimes I can't sleep at night because I am so worried that I ate too much that day, or if I didn't eat enough. Sometimes I worry if I'm getting's all so sucky and I just don't like where I am at these days.

I don't feel like I have any support from real people I can talk to about this, because I don't want to annoy anybody with my dumb feelings about this right now. Everyone hates "that" girl who thinks she's fat, but she isn't. And now I am that girl. I don't know. It's all very stupid. I'm that annoying girl in a skinny jean who is always like "omg do I look fat?" "Can i even wear this?" yeah. that girl. the girl you wanna punch in the mouth. :(

I just feel like a failure because I haven't been so careful lately. I mean, my mom lost a bunch of weight just being careful with what she ate. And she hasn't gained it back. Her advice to me is always the same. "Everything in moderation." And I never go off the deep end. I only eat small portions of whatever I'm eating, and i don't think there's ever been an instance that I've actually finished anything on my plate. I only eat when I'm hungry, and I stop eating when I'm full. I try and stay away from sweet tea...which used to be my vice back in the day. I would drink like 5 cups of sweet tea everyday before I started losing weight. That was the hardest thing to give up.

Now the only real "vice" I have is smoking cigarettes. And I like smoking them most of the time because it suppresses my hunger. I don't eat as much when I smoke. And I know it's not exactly good to do that. But I can't give it up. Everyone gives me shit for smoking.  But I can't quit. I've been a moderately heavy smoker for like 8 years now. I'm doing better with it now than about a year ago. I've gone from almost two packs a day, to just under one. I know that horrible. But I feel like it keeps me in order, away from food. Whenever I feel like I have nothing to do with my hands, instead of reaching for a snack, I'm puffing away on a cig. So in a way, I've given up one thing, for another bad habit. But that's dumb, too. Now I'll be skinny, but most likely get cancer. And I don't want that.

I'm just in a crazy headspace today. I think it's the weather? I think it's because I haven't really had any social interaction with anyone but Dan and the kids for a few days. I don't know. I just can't wait til it gets nice out so I can at least go for a walk outside.

Any of my other weight loss friends going through an emotional slump right now? How can I get out of it? Ugh. I'm gonna drive myself insane.


you get what you give.

This sums it up way better than I could ever try to. It's perfect. Written with complete truth. I think many people go into a relationship thinking that they are supposed to change who they are for another person, and change another person so they become the "perfect" partner for you. I know I am guilty of this. I know I have done this. A million times. And that's why I haven't worked out with anyone else, and nobody else worked out for me.

Truth is, Dan is exactly what I wasn't looking for. I didn't want to be involved in half the things he does. I didn't want to be with someone like him. I had every idea of who he was already etched into my mind. Bad news. Someone I thought would have way too much bullshit to deal with. Someone I never wanted to be with. Somebody who was already stuck in his ways. Someone who didn't take relationships seriously. That wasn't what I wanted.

But he grew on me. The first night I ever really hung out with him, I was pleasantly surprised. He wasn't this person I had thought he was. He made me laugh. Over and over. Not just those dumb "fake first date" laughs. Like deep down, real full laughs. It was awkward at first because I was afraid of ever liking him. I didn't want to be close with him. I thought we would have gone out a few times, and just talked on text once in a while. I thought I'd go home, and that would be that. As much fun as I had, I never really seriously saw us becoming a couple, or ever talking face to face again.

But we did. And we took everything way too fast (so I've been told). And I realized that I hated it. I missed my old life. I wanted to go home. I tried so hard in the very beginning to change who he was. I wanted him to be what I wanted him to be. I didn't appreciate anything he did. And I felt like a lot of times he was somehow abandoning me. I spent a lot of my time alone in my house. I felt very isolated. I pushed very hard for him to stop what he was doing to be the person I wanted. I was very selfish. I pushed him away. I really at one point just hated him. I thought he would never learn how to be a good partner. I thought I was with someone who couldn't care less about me. And he was very selfish too. He wanted to keep me somehow at an arm's length. He didn't appreciate anything I did, either. And there was a complete war in the house, all the time because I was so miserable, and didn't know how to fix anything.

I just started accepting the fact that he is who he is. And that I cannot change him. As soon as I started realizing that, things really started getting better. We learned how to compromise. We learned how to talk. We learned how to be better for each other. And things really got...great. We started doing things together. We started talking to each other a whole lot better. We worked on it. And things aren't perfect, but I can honestly say that I feel much better than I did back then.

Relationships suck. And honestly, if people weren't so vulnerable, and needed love and attention...we'd all be way better off single. They're too much work. They're hard, and your heart gets broken over and over by someone you love. But I guess when you really want it to work, they do work out. And now I'm strapped down to the same person until I somebody I never really thought I wanted to be with in the first place. Funny how that works, right?


Thursday, January 10, 2013


So these days, I feel mostly like a referee.

My kids fight. And they fight about EVERYTHING. Where who sits at the dinner table, who gets in the tub first, who gets what cup, who turns on or off the TV... everything!

And it's starting to wear me thin. At the end of the day, I am so tired of breaking up fight after fight that I am just ready to cry, get a cup of apple juice, suck my thumb, and go to sleep. It's starting to exhaust my mind! I haven't been in such a constant bad mood until this week. It started earlier this week with the constant bickering, and it doesn't seem like it's going to end anytime soon.

I mean, I get it ; they are siblings, and they are pretty close in age and this was bound to happen. But holy, tap dancing jesus...I don't think I can take anymore!

I feel like I'm losing control over this situation. My mood has been very on edge lately...because if they aren't fighting, they are whining. Riley doesn't seem to talk anymore, she whines. And I would much rather her sit and cry real tears than to sit there and whine about stuff. She refuses to walk places by herself, she refuses to progress in the potty training area. I feel very defeated. I know that potty training is just as rough for her as it is for me, but she's fighting me every step of the way to the point I just almost give up. She gets the concept of it, but she doesn't want to follow through. And I just want to wave the white flag. This child will never be out of diapers it feels like!

And Caden...where to even start with that boy. He's such a loving, sweet boy...but lately, he's been very moody, very defiant, and very crabby. Not like himself. I know he isn't sick from anything because he just finished a course of antibiotics for an ear ache he had a little while ago, and he isn't running any type of fevers... He's just..being a typical boy. Very wild child. He's a lot like I probably was when I was little. He can't go with the flow. He likes everything to be the same all the time...he cannot handle changes. Even this week, normally the kids go for pizza night on Wednesdays over at my mom's house. They had to reschedule it for today (Thursday) and it threw Caden's little schedule completely off. He knew it was Wednesday yesterday because he had circle time that day in school, and Mrs. Press told him that it was Wednesday, and he couldn't understand why he wasn't going to Mom Mom's house. Oh the meltdown that came along with that...

But ; today was actually a really good day. Dan wanted to go ride FDR for a little while, and very last minute, invited me and Riley to go. It gave us time to get out of the house, and go do something besides stare at the walls. It was really great. Riley really enjoyed watching him for a little while, and would yell "GO DAN!!" and would watch him zoom by...but the weather was so chilly that after about a half hour, we retreated to the car for some juice and cookies. And she and I just sat there and got to spend really good mommy daughter time together. She was singing me songs, and pretending to drive my car. It was nice. It was nice to just enjoy time together, without any distractions and be able to just have a few quiet minutes together. I wish Caden didn't have to go to school, because it would have been neat for him to come, too. But he's already missed a few days already, and I couldn't find a justifiable reason to keep him home for a few hours at the park. I feel just a tad bit guilty about that because I know he would have loved to go.

I think those few hours out were exactly what all of us needed. It was so nice to just go for a car ride (although I am the worst passenger in a car...) and getting a little fresh air. I know that I can't stand to feel cooped up, and I know that Dan can't stand it, either. When the weather is nice, we aren't ever home. But now that winter is here, it really puts a restriction on the things we like doing. I like going to the car shows, and the beach, and even watching him ride...and all of those things we have to do when it's nice. There's not too much going on when the weather is chilly. I'm glad that Riley seemed to enjoy herself, too! I know probably half of her cranky mood was sitting around here too much. I just hope Caden had a good day in school, and is totally excited to go to my mom's tonight for his pizza!!


Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Tales of the stepmother.

It's extremely strange to say "i am a stepmother". Just as I'm sure it's weird for Dan to say he is a stepfather.

It's just something so foreign to me. I didn't have step-parents growing up. I had my two biological parents who are still together. I didn't grow up in a blended family. I had friends who had step parents, and would always think how weird that would be if that were me. I don't know how I would feel if my parents were ever split up, and remarried. But then, hearing the stories about how many birthday parties, christmas gatherings, and other family celebrations these children had with step parents, it seemed like these kids were actually kind of special to have so many people who love them. A big, already formed family, with people you grow up with. I don't really have a big family. The cornerstone of my family, to me, was my grandmom. And she passed away when I was 11. And our family kind of fell apart after that.

And I guess it's good too, because Caden, Riley, Thomas and Mackenzie are so young that they probably don't even realize it. And it's even stranger, because I partially raised Thomas and Mackenzie back when they were smaller.

I know many of you already know the situation. But some of you don't (my cafemom crowd, and some others I've lost touch with since highschool) ; but my husband is my bestfriend's ex.

Yes. You read that right. My bestfriend had the twins by my husband. And I helped raise them up when they came home from the hospital. I took a pregnant Brittany to all of her pregnancy check ups, raced to the hospital when they were born, and helped care for them when they were small and Brittany needed a set of hands. I used to spend my days just helping twin shopping, doctor's appointments...whatever she needed, I was there. Thomas and Mackenzie are like my other kids I never had, and Caden and Riley are that way with her. We raised all four of them together. Play dates, lunch dates, whatever ; the four of them always had each other. Brittany is my longest, and truest friend. She is more like a sister than anything. I have always considered the twins my other kids. I love them as if they were my own.

And I'm sure so many of you wonder how her and I have managed to stay friends through all of this. Well, Dan and Brittany were split up for a good two years until him and I even started talking. Him and I were nothing but acquaintances when they were together. There would be the weird chance that he would be home when I would be around, but we didn't really know each other. We had no type of friendship, or even friendly conversation back then. Alot of people assumed when Dan and I started dating that I was somehow seeing him behind Brittany's back way back then. That is not the case. Dan and Brittany broke up, he moved out, and moved in with another girl. We started friendly conversing in that relationship. And things took off from there. It's all a weird circumstance...

But, I know that a situation like this is normally forbidden. And I made sure that nothing I was doing was going to hurt my friendship with Brittany. And for a little while, she and I had a falling out. And I was completely understanding. I broke "bro code" ; I did something that many people find unacceptable. And I was very patient. I didn't want to burn whatever bridge I had left with her. She means a great deal to me. And I know that anyone in her situation has to be a saint to have stayed friends with me.

It's good now. I get to spend as much time with her as I always have. It's a little harder now, since we don't live within walking distance anymore. We have started to form a new normal for all of us. It's great to be able to go over there, and things be totally normal and okay. I can vent and whine to her like I always have. I can see the twins, and love on them like I always have. She's an amazing person. And she is very humble. She always says to me that she is glad that we still have each other, and that we can all stay mature, and get things to a place where everyone is okay. I'm just lucky to have her. She truly is...great. I think if shoe was on the other foot, I probably wouldn't be able to stay as mature in this as she has.

But this role as "step mom" is so weird. I guess it's good that the twins know who I am, and I am not some stranger that Brittany wouldn't want around the kids. I've always loved them, kept them safe, and did my best to be a good friend to her, too. And it seems to be working. I just want what is best for all the kids involved. I'm glad that my kids got the coolest step brother and sister ever. And they all love the time they get to spend running around together, getting in trouble together, and eating cookies together. It's nice how everything has seemed to just blend together. I am glad that I am not stuck in a situation where the children's mother is wicked and looks at me as this crazy bitch she doesn't want the kids around. That's got to be difficult for the little ones. She doesn't give herself enough credit to really see how great she is in this situation.

I am the lucky one. I get to have my step-children's mother as a big part of my life. My bestfriend. I mean, how cool is that? How many people can say that? And how lucky Caden, Riley, Thomas & Mackenzie are to have so many people that love them, and want what is best for them...and to have crazy celebrations for every holiday, and birthday. The kids all have each other, life long friends. I think that's the best part.


Tuesday, January 8, 2013

it always seems so unfair...

I was watching one of those shows about women who didn't know they were pregnant this morning...and I try to stay away from those types of shows because they always irk me. This woman didn't know she was pregnant until she went to the hospital and she was in labor.

She delivered the baby around 35ish weeks. And she admitted that while she didn't know she was pregnant, she was heavily drinking and smoking... and her baby came out completely okay.

COMPLETELY OKAY. No problems. No birth defects. Not a low birth weight.


How come the second I found out I was pregnant with Caden, I didn't smoke any cigarettes, I didn't drink back then at all, so no drinking...I stopped taking over the counter medication before asking a doctor... And my baby came out so sick? It's just so unfair.

This is why I do not believe in god. I was never a practicing christian EVER in my life. My mom tried getting us involved in church as we grew up, but it just never stuck with me. I just looked at it as a place to go hang out with my friends, but I never received any type of "message" like other people say they get from church. And as I grew up, and started forming my own opinion as to what I thought about religion, I had too many questions about it that seemed to be answered very biased.

So I gave up, and started believing in morals and goals I had set for myself, and tried to live more leaning toward good and bad karma. I guess I would consider myself an atheist/agnostic because I do not really believe in any kind of higher power... my "faith" is with the universe, and karma.

With that out of the way ;

I really wasn't testing on my "faith" until Caden. Why was it that I gave up everything for him, to become his mother, and try to do my best...did he have to suffer? Why is it that women who get no prenatal care, drink and smoke, have healthy kids? But I had to fight and fight against my own body to get him here safely. I made sure I didn't put my hands over my head (an old wives tale my mother told me once because the cord "could strangle the baby that way). I ate pretty decent. But still, he was in trouble. And I would have crossed my legs to keep him in. But even baking him that long wouldn't be good, either. The amniotic fluid ruined his bowels, and that's why he lost so much of them. He was born at 36 weeks, and was a really good size for that gestation. (6 pounds 3 ounces!) But I still watched my baby suffer. I watched him be put in a medically induced coma. I watched him while he couldn't breathe on his own. I watched him cry because he was in so much pain. My heart was always broken. It wasn't fair that I tried so hard to have a healthy baby, and I didn't. And for the first month and a half of his life, instead of being rocked to sleep by his mommy, he was laying in a hospital bed. And every night that I went home, my heart hurt. I'd see his crib with his puppy sheets waiting for him, not knowing if he would ever come home and use it. I would just cry because I wanted him so badly. And I couldn't have him home with me at that point. The uncertainty was almost unbearable.

But he's here. And everyone tries telling me "he is a miracle of god!" No. He is a miracle of medical science. 20 years ago, Caden would have died. If it wasn't for such a great team of doctors, a wonderful hospital, and a state of the art NICU facility, Caden would have died. So, how would "god" have saved him in this case...when this wouldn't have happened back then. How many gastroschisis babies that do NOT make it. Its not a miracle of god, that's almost twisted to think that. All of these kids are born with different issues. Some are compatible with life, and other children become too septic, and pass away. It's all how the hospital staff can handle each specific case.

But, alas, I am a very religious-tolerant person. I do not question what others believe. I do not share my faith with anyone. I just keep it to myself, and believe what I want to believe. I will befriend anyone, regardless of their faith. But, I will not speak about it if I am asked. I do not want to offend anyone. I don't want people to think I'm a religious bashing asshat. But for me, my life has been to complicated to leave anything up to god. I am the one in control of my own destiny. And call me jaded, because I very well could be. But the person who hurt me the most, was the biggest proclaimed christian. And that's very hypocritical, and turned me off to whatever christianity has to offer.

I know this is a mess and all over the place. My mind is running a mile a minute.


Sunday, January 6, 2013


This post, I guess is more for me. I have been struggling the last few days. And I just need some kind of outlet to get it all out, so bear with me.

I thought that losing the weight would make me feel better. I thought that I would instantly love the new person I saw staring back at me in the mirror. And it did, at first. I love the way that I look. I love the way my clothes fit. But i'm starting to struggle with other dark feelings, and I'm not sure how to sort them.

I lost parts of my body that made me happy, when I was heavier. I had bigger boobs, back when I was heavy. I had a bigger butt. I had thicker thighs. These things made me feel more "womanly". Now, it seems that I have lost these parts of my body, and I do not feel as secure in myself as I did before. Now I seem to look in the mirror and pick myself apart, versus building myself up like I used to. I start dwelling on parts of me that I think are "ugly". I get caught up in hating my stomach, my hips...I feel like "oh my god i lost all this weight and I still look horrible!" I don't really know. It's dumb and i'm sick of it.

I'm driving myself crazy. I don't like struggling in this head space. I don't really know what is wrong with me. I have become very withdrawn, and just...sad. I don't want to eat anymore. I force myself to just put something in my stomach so it doesn't hurt. I'm afraid of gaining weight, yet I'm not happy with how I look this thin, either.

I've gotten lost in my appearance. I feel like my looks, and my body is all that makes me who I am. I feel like I have nothing better to offer to anyone else besides my weight. I feel like I spend way too much time worried about what I wear, how I look, and I'm completely addicted to people giving me compliments. I don't really know where this new, insecure me comes from. It seemed like when I was heavier, I had to rely on my personality to get any male attention. I had to make sure I was funny, bubbly, and fun to be around. Now I feel like with this new body, I shouldn't have to try anymore, because I am what society considers "beautiful." And that doesn't make me happy.

I've gotten very superficial. I have never done this before. I used to laugh at those girls who spent so much time getting ready, and doing hair and makeup. And I've become that. It makes me sad. I don't like this part of the new me. I want to go back to the days where I felt beautiful in just a t-shirt and jeans and an old pair of worn out flip flops. Now I don't feel like I look good ever.

My deepest secret is that I spend alot of time taking pictures of myself. I will sit and just take picture after picture after picture. And it makes me feel really good inside because I'm like "wow, look at my body!" And then I just feel so dumb for doing that. And I get caught up on being so...vain. Vanity is something I never wanted to get myself lost in. It doesn't do any good. I look for compliments from anyone. I want people to validate that I look as good as I think I look...but honestly, I just want somebody to tell me that I don't look good, either. I don't know. It's all very confusing.

I feel like I take a lot of my frustration out on my husband. And it's not even really his fault. But I feel like he doesn't completely understand why I feel this way, either. I was told over and over again by people I loved whole-heartedly that I was ugly, undesirable, fat... And he does alot to make me feel pretty. But I just feel like there's always more that I want. I want to no other girl could ever touch my level. That I am the most beautiful girl in the whole world. And sometimes I don't feel that way. Maybe I'm just jaded, and I need more attention because I want to forget everything in my past. I really don't know. And I'm almost positive that none of this makes any sense.

I just want...some kind of validation. And it wont mean anything unless it comes from me.


Saturday, January 5, 2013


We all do it. We let things build up in our minds, and little things become big things very quickly. You take your anger and frustration out on a situation that was very meaningless, and before you know it, you've exploded. And that's dangerous. Because then feelings become hurt over something very pointless. And you've began spewing words you do not mean. 

Relationships crumble this way. I had one of the worst nights of my entire life last night over something very small. Something that built up for a week long. And it was very pointless, to me. But it was not to my husband. And it all came to a head. And it was brutal. Things that should have never been said, were said. Words were thrown around that should have never left either of our lips. It happens to the best of us. But an argument like that doesn't solve anything. 

Anger is a very tricky thing. And what many people in relationships do not understand is that anger works differently for all of us. I am the type of person that I do not anger easily. It takes a lot to really get me going. Sure, my kids may misbehave throughout the day, and I might yell at them ; but that doesn't mean I'm angry. I really try and keep my anger in check. If I am not careful, I could really let myself be the angriest person in the world, and take out my complete frustration on everyone. I rarely try and let that happen. But I am not a saint. I yell, I curse, I say things I don't mean. I let my words get the best of me. But what exactly does that solve when you're at the point of no return? You don't want to think logically when you're that upset. You don't want to work anything out when you feel like you've been pushed to that point. You don't even care what happens to you when you get that angry.

I admit, I am not perfect. My brains have left me a long time ago. I forget very easily. I feel like anymore my brain is full of thoughts that don't have anything to do with anything, and my wind wanders easily. I take everything day by day, and I try not to over-think. And that's what gets me in trouble most of the time. Because my husband is a very organized person. He likes to see things in black and white. He writes notes to himself to keep him organized. I don't. I accept that. And I try to just go with his system, because it is very new, and a foreign concept to me. But I feel like what we don't see eye to eye on most, is that he doesn't seem to accept the fact that I am just not that way. I remember things in my own way. I always know when I need to get things done, and they are always done in a timely fashion. But sometimes I feel like he doesn't see that just because I do things differently, it doesn't make me wrong, it makes me...well, me. 

And soon enough, this is where the build up went on, and exploded very quickly. I am the type of person that I am all about approach. I will listen a whole lot better when I feel like I am not being attacked. I don't want to start hearing how wrong I am, because I immediately shut down, and get completely defensive. This is what my many years of abuse has done to me. I used to be so weak, and would be ripped apart daily, that any time I hear anything negative about myself (even if its the honest truth) I get very defensive. Communication stops. I immediately feel attacked. But this isn't anyone's problem. It's something that I need to work on. But I wish that I could just get a little understanding. I feel like when someone starts going on the negative about me, I get into the same old mindset that nothing is good about me, and I'm in a whirlwind of ugly thoughts. 

But do not get me wrong ; I feel like I have the foundation in this marriage to make it absolutely wonderful. My husband is not a bad guy. He treats me with respect, and love. He and I don't fight regularly. But my point here is, we both need to work on not letting our anger/frustration build up in our minds until we get to a point like this. Because I could very well be completely unaware that he is still brewing about something, and vice-versa. I don't realize half the time (because I really am that oblivious) that he is mad about something. This is what we need to work on. It should never have to get to this point again. I am going to work on letting my anger or frustration out, and talked about before it starts to really bother me and get into another fight like that. That is my promise. My marriage means the entire world to me. Dan means the entire world to me. And I can promise him honestly that I will work on that. 


Friday, January 4, 2013

little white lies.

I don't think any truer words have ever been spoken. We spend most of our lives looking for validation. We base most of our deepest feelings based on lies. We fall in love over lies, and false promises. And we constantly look for someone willing to break all of our walls down, and prove that their lies are really truths. And sometimes you build yourself up on so many lies you've been told, that you don't want to hear the truth anymore. I don't think anyone I've ever met has ever been 100% completely brutally honest with me, until when the truth the came out, it crushed me. I think everyone can relate to that. Validation is built on so many lies, and so many deceptions. Sometimes it's so much easier to take a lie, as the truth. Because the truth is too real, and too raw, sometimes.

But we all to come to a point in our lives that lying is no longer acceptable. We form a real relationship at some point, and realize that everything we have been programmed to believe, is no longer the whole, and real truth. We have to at some point, stop letting everyone else validate who we are. There is no more gray area. It is either fact, or it is not. I think the gray area is where I let my mind go, sometimes. I have been through so much in my life, that everything I thought was real, was not. And when I found the person I wanted to spend forever with, I still have insecurities. I still feel insecure. I let small things bother me, that shouldn't. I read way too far into things that aren't really there. This is where all the lies I have been told in my past really creep into my mind, and make me believe things that aren't true.

It's very crazy, and complex how my brain works most of the time. I have learned to take things at face value. I have learned that actions speak way louder than words. I have spent my time pushing people so far away from me, just for proof they would come back. I have made Dan basically walk through broken glass to prove he really wanted me, and really me. It wasn't fair for him to have to go through all of that. But this is how my mind works. And honestly, I think all of this is just a day by day process. I am not a hurt little girl anymore. And it isn't his fault that I feel this way. He must think I'm crazy half the time, because my thought process is so strange, and complex.

But, when I really sit back and think about it, I think everyone has this type of thought process. And not many people are really aware they even think this way. Everyone has been hurt. By a lie, a cheat, a broken promise, whatever it was. We have all been broken. And when you become broken, you find ways to become smarter to protect yourself. This is my way. Not saying that it's completely justified, but that's the truth.

But, I have found my validation ; within myself. I finally stopped lying to myself. The things I have put my family through in the past, I have finally been able to own up to what I have done, and let them have real validation over the truth, and not lies. I went into my relationship with Dan completely honest, and real. I think he was the first person to ever have the real me. The me who stopped lying for the sake of getting people to like me. And when he fell in love with me, it really was me. He was the first person I let myself get that close to, based on everything real. I wouldn't say that Dan validates who I am, he just made it easier to validate the person that I wanted to be.


Thursday, January 3, 2013

The sins of the mother.

The mother. The cornerstone of your family. The nurturer, the grocery getter, the nurse, the chef, the laundry do-er, the maid, the shoulder you cry on, the cleaner-upper, the errand-doer.

When you think of your mother, that's probably what you think of. The woman who was there for you whenever you needed her, for whatever you needed her for. The woman who could fight your fights for you when you were in trouble. The woman who held your hand when you were scared. The woman who held your hair while you threw up. The woman who stayed up late with you and cuddled you when you were sick. The woman who bandaged your boo-boos, and kissed you before you left for school. That's what I think of when I think of my mom. I remember every time something bad happened, she was there. Whenever I cried, she was there. Whenever I fell off my bike, she was there. When I was scared while giving birth to my kids, my mom was right there. She was there for me for everything in my life. My right hand woman. The one who held me up when I didn't think I could go on anymore. The woman I pretty much owe my life to. I didn't exactly know her real struggles, until I became a mother, and then a wife.

I now understand her struggles. Her feelings of being unappreciated. Her feelings of loneliness. Her feelings of great despair when she couldn't figure out how to console me when I cried. Her complete frustration when I wouldn't behave the way she wanted me to. And I now understand her struggles as a housewife. How rewarding it is to be your husband's right hand, juggle the children, clean house, and keep a smile on your face. Although I wouldn't change any of this, it does get awful frustrating. There are days that I am completely sick of cleaning house. I don't feel like cooking any meals because I am completely exhausted. I have spent my day wrangling the kids, feeding them, bathing them, breaking up fights, and disciplining, and barely giving myself any time to breathe. I feel like 99% of what I does go unnoticed, or unappreciated. Nobody has directly told me that what I do around here doesn't matter. But when I forget one thing, nobody forgets that. I try my hardest to stay the person that everyone in this house needs me to be, and I try to rarely complain. But sometimes I wish that I could change roles here, and not be the one everyone relies on.

And then I feel selfish for feeling that way. I think any mother can completely relate to these feelings. It's so nice to know where every little crumb, and knick knack is in this house, and be able to offer my family a meal, a clean house, groceries when anyone opens the fridge... but sometimes I miss the days where my life was made easier by my own mother. And I know that someday I will be as great as she was. She set the bar very high.

I don't think any woman who enters motherhood really understood how difficult it was going to be. It's not just raising a baby, it's changing everything in your life, and being exactly what the little baby person needs. It's about putting everything on the back burner, and completely becoming the cornerstone for your child, and your partner. It's the most rewarding job, but sometimes the most lonely. The days are long, the nights are sometimes long. I am lucky to have the family that I have, and that my kids are very close with them, and they go to mom mom and pop pops house once a week for a sleepover. But even while they are gone, I am still loading, and unloading the dishwasher, cleaning up matchbox cars from my living room, and under beds, and worrying constantly about them. My children are always the first thing on my mind. Its most important their needs are met. Secondly, it's important to me that my husband's needs are met, and that he is happy. Then, myself last. Nobody really told me how hard juggling all of this would be. I am almost happy I didn't know. Because then I would have nothing to strive for.

The sins of this mother? Sometimes I secretly wish that I could not be as responsible as I need to be. I wish I could be selfish, and put myself ahead of everyone else. I wish that I could just let the kids destroy the house, while I slept in. I wish just once I could sleep til 9am, and that breakfast was hot, and waiting for me. I wish I didn't have to cook as much as I do. I wish the dishes could magically do themselves... but this won't happen. I am mom. And I think I'm a pretty kickass one, at that.


Wednesday, January 2, 2013

domestic violence awareness & teen pregnancy.

I recently came into contact with a woman I'd met online, through a domestic violence website. Her story is very similar to mine, so I can relate to her on probably ever level imaginable. But it makes me sad that I even have those chapters in the story of my life. But I will not be silenced. I refuse to let him win. I refuse to let anyone else be hurt by him. I never deserved anything he put me through. And it took me many years to realize that. I was so beaten down, in every single way you could probably imagine, that I forgot I was my own person, and had my own voice. So, I'll share my story. This will probably get long, and sometimes graphic, but it needs to be said. This is my story. This could be your story too. It can happen to any of us.

It all started in my senior year of highschool. I had just gotten my license, and had a nice little car, and was just enjoying being young, and carefree. I was riding around one night with a few of my girlfriends, when we saw him. (although all of you know who I am talking about, I will refer to him as "A" in this blog.) A was in a parking lot with another boy I'd knew from school. A had a locker near mine in my junior year, and we had always crossed paths, but barely ever spoke. He had just moved to our town, and was going for a "clean cut, christian" look, and those things I was never interested in. But seeing him with the long hair, and "skater punk" style, was actually appealing. So, I begged my friend to turn around, and say hi to the boys.

We pulled in, A came right over to the car, was excited to see me, or so he said. He jumped in the car with my friends and I, and we all went off to get something to eat, and head back to his apartment he had just moved into by himself. It was really cool hanging out at someone's house with no supervision of any kind. We all just hung out, ate some food, and watched movies. Around midnight, i'd decided I was ready to leave, so me and A exchanged phone numbers, and I was on my way.

He called then next day. We began a friendship. A close friendship. He would come up to the high school and wait for me to get done. I'd always go out to my car at 11:30 and see him sitting on the hood of my car. I was on a work release program in school, so I got to get out of school everyday, even if I didn't work that night. So, as a typical day, A and I set back for his apartment, and spent the rest of the night hanging out there. He told me he really liked me, and I really liked him. He was older than me, had a job, had his own place, and that was really appealing to someone young and stupid. I fell for his lies, how he told me I was pretty, how he told me he wanted to "go out with me". I fell for it.

We started dating, and for the first couple months, it was cool. We spent our time with friends, watching movies, going out for dinner. Things were good. Then, the first time I can remember feeling controlled was when he told me I "wasn't allowed to hang out with my friends" because "they don't want whats best for you like I do." which, i thought was strange. I told him "you won't control me" and left the apartment, and went home. He immediately started calling and telling me he was sorry, and he had a bad day at work, and wanted me to come back so he could apologize to my face. Whatever. I went. He apologized. I thought that would be the only trouble that I'd ever have with him.

But it wasn't, and it got worse.

He found a picture of an ex boyfriend and me on my Myspace, and flipped out. I remember him finding it, and confronting me about it. I told him that my ex was still my friend, and I didn't want to remove the picture. He became furious, and pushed me into the bathroom, and slammed me down into the shower, knocking the shower curtain down. It was like, this rage came over him, and blew up...and as soon as he released the anger out on me physically, his whole demeanor changed. He looked shocked that happened. I ran out of the bathroom crying. I didn't know what had just happened. He told me he was sorry. And my first thought was "well, i can see why he would get angry..." and i excused his behavior. This set me off on a very slippery slope.

He became getting more and more possessive and angry with me, all the time. It went from a push or shove, to a full on physical attack. He would choke me, slam me on the ground, kick me. I didn't know what I was doing so wrong. I couldn't understand why this was happening to me. If I knew then, what I know now, I would have broken it off, then and there. But I didn't. He would tell me he hits me and treats me that way because he "loved me so much" and that it was his way of keeping me "under control". And it wasn't all physical, either. He would play such terrible mind games, too. He was working a very physical job at one point, and it was Christmas. Our first christmas together. He wanted me to drop everything I was doing, and go get him from work. It was difficult, because I was spending Christmas with my family. When I finally made it down there, he was walking on the side of route 40, and wouldn't get in the car. He called me a bitch, and a slut, and that I was worthless, and he wouldn't ride with me. So when I left him there, he would call my phone and just tell me how much of a piece of shit I was for leaving him there...only for me to turn around, go back, and him do all of this all over again. He would tell me I couldn't talk to people, and that I had no reason to have any friends. He would isolate me in his house, and wouldn't let me make eye contact with people. He told me that he was the only person I needed in my life. I was already in so far over my head, and I had no idea how to get out of it.

My senior prom was coming, and I asked him if he wanted to go with me. And he looked at me like I was stupid, and already had made plans to take me out dress shopping. I was really heartbroken that I wouldn't be doing my shopping with my was our tradition. Every school dance, my daddy always took me dress shopping. But A decided it was his place, instead. He was paying for it, he said, and he had the say so in what I wore. So, i wanted a specific dress, and he told me I couldn't have it. He picked out something else, and made me get it. He picked out my shoes. He picked out the pictures I got. And then at the prom, he wouldn't let me dance. He got jealous if anyone commented on how pretty I looked. He made me sit at the table the entire night, and wouldn't let me leave his sight. He wouldn't dance with me. He wouldn't even really look at me. Then, it was over. I had missed my last big night as a high schooler because of him. I was a little upset, but this was typical. We went back to his apartment afterward.

His behavior was just getting worse and worse. And I felt so trapped because he would make me feel so guilty if I thought about leaving him. He would tell me he had no other family around, and needed me. He told me that I was going to be with him forever, and that I just "needed to get used to it." He would put his hands on me almost everyday at this point. It was so depressing. I was graduating high school, and was trying to plan a future that I wanted to have. He put dampers on all my plans and said that if I moved away, he wasn't going to wait for me, and that so many other girls would love to be with him, and I was just being a bitch. So I put all my college plans on hold. I wanted to join the Air Force. He wasn't having that either. So I gave that up. I walked the graduation stage. He was there to greet me afterwards. I didn't even really have a chance to say goodbye to my friends, or take any pictures because he made me leave. I can't even remember if I talked to my parents after graduation. I was too scared of making him mad, that I just did what he said.

I spent the night at his apartment that night, because I was too scared to do anything else. I didn't want to fight. Looking back, this was just my coping mechanism of getting myself through such a crap situation. I learned very quickly not to rock the boat. The next morning, I woke up, and realized my period was late. I panicked. I didn't want to be pregnant. I didn't want to be trapped. I remember going to the store, getting the stupid pregnancy test. And the look of sheer bliss on his face when I stepped into the bathroom to take it. I remember opening the bathroom door to see him sitting on the broken ass futon asking me what it said.

"It's positive." is all I could really say. I was scared. I didn't want this. I didn't want to have a baby with anyone like him. I always had dreams of getting married to someone like my daddy, and being completely in love, getting married, and planning my family. Instead, I conceived on my senior prom night, during a sexual encounter I didn't even really want. And now, a baby. A baby growing in my womb that was half this monster. I told him that I wasn't ready, and I didn't think I could handle being a mother. He told me I was selfish, and a murderer if i had an abortion. I kept the pregnancy. I wasn't exactly forced into keeping the pregnancy, but I wasn't exactly thrilled with it, either.

I had ultrasounds done. And blood work, and all that good stuff that comes along with pregnancy. The day after my birthday (September 11th 2006) I was in the shower. It was the doctor. Something was wrong. I rushed to A's work to get him. We went to the hospital for a level II ultrasound. The tech took forever. The ultrasound took over an hour. And I was all alone in the room. They wouldn't let my mom, or A in the room. The doctor came into the room, and gave me the bad news. "It's Gastroschisis. Your baby's intestines, and other organs are growing outside of his body. It's a boy." That's all he said. It was a boy, and my baby boy was deformed. Why? Why me?

Not only was I in a shitty, loveless relationship, now my innocent unborn son was deformed. He was sick. He could die. It got really serious. I was a teen mother. A teen mother who was in an abusive relationship, who was having a very sick baby. I felt like this was all my fault. I felt like if I had stopped an attack, maybe my son wouldn't be born so sick. Maybe if I hadn't stressed, or cried so much in early pregnancy, my son wouldn't be sick. Maybe if I hadn't done so many fucked up things, I wouldn't give birth to a deformed baby. I hated my life at this point. I just wanted to die. My innocence was already stolen from me by a guy who didn't love me, I was already going to give birth before my 18th birthday...but add this birth defect on top of it. None of this was fair. At all.

So, A moved out of his crappy run down one bedroom apartment, and he moved to a bigger place, and I went with him. I wanted him to love me. I wanted him to want to be a daddy. I wanted him to love us, and stop treating me so badly. I thought our son would change him. I thought that somehow in my stupid teenage mind, that this baby would change him.

Even pregnant, he wouldn't stop beating me. He would pull me by my legs and drag me to the ground, and pull my hair. He'd kick me in the back. He'd slap me across the face. He'd tell me I was just a whore, and I trapped him in this relationship with a baby. I had to call the police many many times while pregnant. Once, he was mad at me for something, and started throwing all of my son's things off our second story balcony. I was too afraid to go inside. I called the cops. They came, told him to knock it off, and let me go in the house. I went in, just to grab a few things to go stay with my parents. I didn't even make it to the bedroom to get clothes, when I was pushed to the ground, head slammed into the carpet, choked, and kicked. I had to call the police again. He was arrested for the 7th time. We had a court date. January 23rd. The day after on January 24th, I went into labor...and on January 25th 2007, Caden was born.

He was sick. So so sick. He was born blue, and non-responsive. His stomach looked like he'd been shot, and all of his insides were coming through his stomach. It was awful. He didn't cry for almost five minutes. I was convinced he was dead. He wasn't moving. There was no sound. The room was full with over 25 doctors and nurses trying to save him. And finally, the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. Caden started to cry. I started to cry. (hell, i'm crying sitting here writing this). My son had entered the world. And it was now my sole job, and duty to protect him. And stay strong for him. He went straight to the NICU and was prepped for surgery. And after two surgeries, a coma, and 29 days...Caden came home. And he was mine. And I was his. He was the most beautiful little baby I had ever seen. And he was so fragile, and needed alot of help his first couple months. Between the medications, the home nurse visits...I still don't know how I got through this phase. I had NO help. I did this all alone.

The relationship between A and I, did not improve. He would wait until Caden was sleeping, and would beat the shit out of me for no reason. I was already exhausted from raising the baby, and he was putting me through so much shit, I was a zombie. I was scared. I was scared he would turn his rage out onto my baby. I knew I had to leave, but I didn't know how. I remember calling my dad in the middle of the night once to just come get me and the baby. But I always went back. WHY? why did I do this?

I remember the first septemberfest after Caden was born. A had beat me so senseless a few nights before. And septemberfest is always around my birthday. I was excited because it was a good time to see friends, enjoy my birthday, and take my baby with me for the first time. He robbed me of that. He made me wear a spaghetti strap shirt to the septemberfest. I was covered in bruises. People started at me. Some people even asked questions as to wear I had gotten all the bruises from. I lied, like always. "oh i fell down the stairs, i'm so clumsy." That was the first time he ever wanted to display what he had done to me behind closed doors. He seemed so proud of himself. It was sick and twisted. And he used to stare me down when I would lie for him. He got off on this power he had over me. He knew he would do whatever he wanted to me, and I would lie and cover up for him. Because I always did.

Shit got really scary and real when Caden was around 11 months or so. A actually punched me in the face while holding Caden. I knew...I knew it was time to leave. I remember A left the house because he was scared I would have him arrested again. But what good was getting him arrested, anyway? The cops would take him to the station, give him a summons, and release him. There was NO protection from the cops. They wouldn't do anything at all. So, I just took it upon myself to leave. I waited for him to go to work. And i packed up, and I left. I promised Caden sitting in his little baby carseat that nobody would ever hurt him, as long as I was alive. And I kept that promise. To this day.

It didn't take long for A to try and win me back. And he did. Only because I was a complete dumb ass. He bought me a ring, and told me to wear it on my left hand. It looked like a wedding band. It had my name, and his on it. And I took it, and I wore it. Stupidly. I started going to trade school to become a massage therapist. I started meeting new people. It kept my mind busy. I started going to friend's houses to do homework.

I ended up meeting somebody while in school, and started a relationship with him, behind A's back. I knew if I got caught, he would kill me. I started texting this other guy. A found my phone. He smashed it, and broke it, and sprayed it down with water. I told him that it wasn't true, and that the other guy was lying. But I stopped lying. When A did find out it was true, I remember sitting in the street by his mom's house. He asked me if it was true. I didn't lie. I told him it was true. I turned my head away from him because I was scared of what was going to happen next. He made a strange noise, so I slowly turned my head. Before I knew it, he punched me square in the face. Like he was punching a man in the face. So hard. It knocked me backwards. I ran to my car. By this time, my whole top lip was swollen up like twice its size. I drove to my mom's house. I was hysterical because she wasn't home. I called her. I couldn't talk. She rushed home, and found me on the floor. She called the cops. They took me to the police station, took pictures of me. By this time, I had two black eyes, and my whole face from my nose, to my chin was swollen, and black and blue. My gums in my mouth were bruised. That's how hard he hit me. Court for that was embarrassing. They showed my picture to the courtroom. People gasped. I remember walking outside, behind A. Two guys were sitting outside, and said to him "wow, what a man you are, putting your hands on a little girl." I felt dumb. Why did I put up with this?

It took over two years, and a bunch of scars, bruises, and bloody noses...but I did get out. Without the support from my family, I wouldn't have gotten out. I am completely convinced that he would have killed me. I know he would have. I am thankful every day for my life.

But I didn't get out completely unscathed. For the longest time, I was a complete wreck. I had no self esteem. I hated men. I hated myself. Domestic violence used to be a dirty, secret word, and I would NEVER speak about it. But I found my voice. I met women who went through things I went through. And i realized that I need to share my story. I will never be silenced. I am NOT scared of him anymore. I AM strong. and I am ALIVE. and I DESERVE my life. He wanted to take all of this away from me. But i'm STILL HERE!!

The biggest misconception about domestic violence that really burns me is ;
the women CHOOSE to stay. NOBODY CHOOSES THIS! You become so brainwashed, and codependent on your abuser, that you feel like you HAVE to stay. Because most men who abuse, will completely isolate you, not let you work to own your own money, and make it IMPOSSIBLE to leave. without any of my own money, how was I supposed to just up and leave? He would give me money for EVERYTHING. I never had my own money. I couldn't even put gas in my own car. He took me away from my family. He would track every time I called them...he would beat me up for going to see them. I just stopped going because I didn't want to get beaten up. You become almost like a caged animal. You live just to please your "owner". I was afraid to put a toe out of line. I was so brainwashed, I didn't even remember I was my OWN person. I DIDN'T choose that! I DIDN'T deserve that! No matter what anyone says...yes ; i stayed with him. OUT OF FEAR! This is how domestic violence works. THERE IS NO LOVE ; ONLY FEAR. that is all you know. And whenever there is a loving moment, you feel so accomplished. but it never lasts long.

I don't want any other young girl to go through any of this. Domestic violence is very real. And it happens to every race, every age, every religion...anyone can have this story.

But I am proud of the person I am today. Without him breaking me down to a complete nothing, I would have never known the strength that I truly have deep down inside of me. I was able to pick myself up by the bootstraps, and keep living my life. I didn't succumb to him. He didn't break me. I never knew how strong I could really be, until being strong was my only option.

If your partner starts showing ANY of these signs ;
telling you that you dont need anyone but him/her
puts you down for simple things
keeps you from family and friends
pushes or shoves you
punishes you for doing something wrong
makes fun of you in a cruel way

GET OUT. DO NOT STAY. Because it will get a MILLION times worse. And you could end up like me. Completely over your head before you know it. YOU ARE WORTH IT! Do not confuse fear with love. Someone who really loves you will never do that to you. LOVE shouldn't hurt like that. YOU ARE WORTH IT! Do not make my mistakes. Love yourself. And do not let ANYONE make you inferior. You are a human being. A human being worth love. <3