Battle Front Warrior (-ish)

It has been about 6 months since my last article was written here.  I have been busy in therapy and with the ups and downs of every day life.  I’m excited that I found a LGBT therapist in my area that does EMDR therapy to help with the PTSD.  I have found that many of the smaller issues are responding well to the therapy, however, the bigger issues are more complex and resistant to surrender.  Does this mean I back off?  Heck No!  I am fighting harder and pushing harder than ever before!  Literally, I feel like I’m a warrior on the battle front pressing through the firing line.  Its almost as though I imagine that little girl version of me that has been locked in shame inside my own soul is traveling behind me and I’m blazing a path for her freedom…for my freedom.

I admit that at times its a dance of three steps forward and two steps back.  Thats when I have to remind myself that I am still one step ahead of where I was before!   Often I feel the strain of fear wrapped around my legs like leg irons holding me back.  I’m working hard to eliminate negative influences in my life and distance myself from anything or anyone that tries to continue to keep me imprisoned to shame and self hatred.

On this journey, not only have I found a peace with God but also with my body.  I’ve even dropped some weight during this year (nearly 60 pounds) but gained a little of that back.  I hope its just “winter fur” and the increase in physical activity will help to drop those pesky pounds that have been gained.

I’m still in the same situation as I’ve been in for the longest time.  The same place where I feel like I’m stuck here instead of that I want to be here. Its fear that keeps me stationary and still married to someone that I don’t love and sometimes I don’t even like.  The sad thing is that neither of us are happy but are bound to this life for all the wrong reasons.  For the kids, for the parents, for the scripture, for God, for spite?…Not very many times can we look back over the course of 15 years (this May) and honestly say its been for love.  We don’t act like a married couple.  Its like roommates.  There are no sexual interactions, no sharing, no caring or softness, no encouragement.  Just coldness and fear and quietness.  I pray God helps me with this, the biggest wall I have to cross.

I started to move on, hence the previous introduction of my now ex-girl friend, Ashley; but seeing that I’m not well enough (yet) to make the changes I desperately need to make, I had to do the only thing left that I could do…. make a decision.  I let her go in hopes she will find all that she needs and wants.  There is a significant amount of distance between she and I (120 miles).  She has a mild form of Cerebral Palsy (CP) that affects her in various ways (mostly physically; driving being one issue she can’t do) but even though she is limited in some areas she thrives in others and is a very talented author.  I have always accepted this fact about her and felt like I was strong enough for the both of us.  I guess I was wrong as the trip to and from seeing her became more and more of an issue since one of the main struggles I have is driving related and she is well outside of my neutral comfort zone (agoraphobia).  Given all my mental illnesses, distances, age, children, and marriage; I’d say it makes for a pretty good recipe for disaster.  It doesn’t make it hurt less just because its the right thing to do.  I only regret ever getting as involved and in love with her as what I am without being free from my prison and truly free to offer her a life of fullness that I feel she deserves and regret that I can’t give to her.

Of course this doesn’t mean that I’m totally giving up on the idea of having a better life in the future.  In fact, I wake up every day with the intent on making each day a better day than the one before.  I’m no longer doing this or fighting “for someone” or “because of someone”, as heart stopping as this may sound; I’m not even doing this for my children, who are my world. ….I’m doing this for me.  For my freedom.  Whether I have anyone beside me or not, I want to be happy and healthy for myself.  After all,  I deserve it and so do you!!!



CALL THE LIFELINE:    1-800-273-8255 available 24/7






A New Day Dawns

After some careful consideration, I have made some life altering decisions and by doing so I have to makes some changes in the way I handle stress, and regain my independence again.  I have decided to return to therapy for the PTSD, agoraphobia, and anxiety issues.  I was receiving counseling with a wonderful, helpful LCSW until she and her husband decided to move from our region.  I continued to see a replacement counselor for a little while, however, the second counselor was and is not supportive of LGBT, thus creating more issues of trust with her so the therapy sessions never materialized into anything helpful or, in my opinion, successful.  So I quit seeing her.  Its been well over 6 months since my last session but it feels a lot longer than that since I never was able to open up and communicate about deeper issues.

I contacted two places and found that neither of them could help me for one reason or another.  The first place refused assistance because I wasn’t in their county as a resident.  The second doesn’t offer outpatient therapy to adults, but they at least gave me numbers to call in search of help.  I fear this is the problem with the mental health epidemic we face.  Just two years ago, within 4 days, two of my friends committed suicide.  One had just been released from a mental hospital in possession of the prescription drugs he used to end his life.  It takes time for medicine of that nature to begin to work, why they saw fit to release a man who had attempted suicide 3 times in 4 weeks after a few days stay is beyond me!!!

I am hopeful to be moving out of my comfort zones, which have become a prison to me.  Sometimes I feel like I have Stockholm Syndrome.  I’ve been a prisoner to the illness and made arrangements to accommodate my symptoms for so long that I feel uncomfortable being independent.  It actually scares me to think of my life being “normal”.  Seeing myself drive without another driver, or seeing myself drive in heavy traffic and slow moving traffic areas cause me anxiety even while sitting safely in my living room.  Thinking about living in an area outside of my safe radius does the same thing.  I’m determined to make something better out of whats left of my life.  I’m disappointed in the fact that I have wasted so many good years just surviving with this disease…I want to thrive and be happy for once in my life!  I have walked around trying to overcome it alone because I have been too ashamed to seek help and refused help when others offered for fear of being seen as weak or needy.  All the stigmas that so many people face daily…I still face them too.

I hate having to keep my mouth shut and play the peacemaker while people walk all over me and my loved ones just for the sake of needing them or fearing I may need them in the future.  It doesn’t help to keep that kind of negativity in my life and I am hopeful that this new therapist will assist me in making those much needed changes.  It has been said a few times that I will never get better.  In fact the therapist I stopped seeing stated I would never travel, she couldn’t see me ever traveling with Ashley.  I would like to be able to do that and I don’t understand why someone who has a desire to learn coping skills and regain their life and do the work it takes to achieve that would ever be discouraged.  Makes no sense to me.

I will admit that travel is an issue for me, obviously.  Even lately I have stayed in the house as much as possible and have avoided any traveling as much as I can. Yet all I can do is feel that there is a better life than this.  I could understand if I have never tasted independence but I have.  I was once very independent, I drove where I needed to go, I stayed alone, I had no issues in crowds.  I had a good life.  I went to ball games and concerts, amusement parks and beaches, I traveled near and far and I had a great job working outside of the home.  Now I work from home and its frustrating to see the same scenery over and over again.  I feel like these walls get closer and closer to each other every single day.  Its as if they are closing in on me, but I can’t leave.  Its not that I don’t want to leave and its not that I don’t feel like its the best thing for me to do, its just that I CAN’T go.  I’ve tried…and I will keep trying.

Thats the thing about mental health issues.  You can’t stop just because you hit a dry spot.  We have to keep hammering and keep pressing against it.  Its a daily struggle and brutal fight but it can and will be won.

I hope that everyone stays strong, keep your fists up and fight the good fight.  There is hope, we just have to keep after it until its not a life we “hope” for…but one we have obtained.

I am always here for anyone who needs a friendly, non-judging ear.  I’m on Facebook (Samantha J Stevens).  Reach out and lets help each other make it over our own individual mountains.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1 (800) 273-8255

mental health 2 mental health

Rainbow Breaks Through The Storm

Well, it appears clouds are rolling away from the nation as the court has legalized marriage for same sex couples.  Its been a long battle, but a coast to coast rainbow can be seen (especially on the internet).  I’m glad this one fight is over.  One that, sadly, I’ve only voiced an opinion about and nothing much more than that.  I did vote when given the chance to do so for the equality, however, I never protested or wrote letters.  So I celebrate and thank all the ones who did the fighting for this day.

Social media has been buzzing like someone poked a hornet’s nest with a stick!  Flags and equality and Obama singing.  People all over voicing their opinions. I’ve almost been aggravated with it all.

So what did I do?  I built a fire and roasted marshmallows with my kids and stayed away from Facebook as much as possible.  Seeing all the happy lesbian and gay couples post about their upcoming weddings and so many of the people I went to school with celebrating with their same sex partners and THEIR PARENTS and FAMILY just made me green with envy.  Its all I’ve ever wanted and it appears its the only thing I’ll never have in this life time. So, I made myself journey away from that emotion as quickly as possible before I got deeply depressed.

I did manage to stick around on Facebook long enough to make a picture of Ashley and I in support of the new law being passed.  Shes using it as her profile picture.  Her friends and family are supportive of her and her sexuality is not a factor in their ability to love and encourage her.  Shes lucky like that 🙂  I’m thankful. I really am.  For everyone who has that kind of support.  I know I come off bitter sometimes, but its only hurt that speaks with a sour tongue and nothing more.  My heart really is thankful that many people don’t fully understand what its like to fight to be who you are.  To those that know exactly what I mean, I’m sorry you have to live like that.  I wish none of us did.  I have hope that one day it will not be like this.  I daydream of having family dinners and family holiday gatherings.  I daydream of birthday celebrations and family vacations.  I daydream of all that tonight, but soon I’ll be sharing and recalling precious memories of these happenings.  I’m hopeful.


Anyway,  Isn’t she just beautiful? (shes the one on the left).  I’m hopeful things will be alright for us, in the future.  If not, I’m hopeful she will thrive and find an amazing partner to make her life beautiful and full of love and the riches that money can’t buy.

So, HAPPY EQUALITY DAY!!!  I can almost hear the wedding bells ringing all over the nation!  Peace and love to each of you!!!

Heres a little thoughtful post I liked and wanted to share.  It kept me in check tonight.

you dont know

Does God Love A Gal Like Me?

So, alright, lets do this!

Yes, I have a sketchy past. One I don’t always share with everyone because I feel like it throws me into a pity party or people look at me like “Oh poor girl.” No.  Not poor girl.  Not pitiful, not weak.  Stuff happens and sometimes good things happen to bad people and sometimes bad things happen to good and innocent people.  Its called life.

My life was not always pristine but it was not always horrible either.  I was molested at an early age (around 4 yrs old) until I was in 3rd grade (around 8 yrs old) of elementary school.  2 males and 1 female, not consecutively but over the course of that time.  I knew more about sexuality by the time I learned to tie my shoes than most grown women will ever know in their lifetime, sadly.

I had issues with my own identity throughout my adolescent years. In fact, I was certain I was going to be a boy.  Pardon my explicit nature for explaining this, but I thought my clitoris would grow to eventually be my penis. As a young girl I stuffed my pants to replicate a penis and dreamed of having a wife or girl friend.  I always played role playing games where I was a male. An army man, a hunter, a motorcycle gang member,etc.

Once, my uncle threw away all of his girly magazines and my younger brother and I happened upon them.  What a treasure that was.  We looked with wide eyes and interested minds wondering a million miles a minute.  My mother and father found these magazines and proceeded to whip us for stealing them and looking at them.  I will never forget the question my mother asked me and the shame my chest grew heavy with….”Do you like looking at stuff like this?”  I quickly shook my head ‘no’ but boy oh boy, yes I did.  I liked seeing the beautiful women and their naked bodies.  I enjoyed seeing the expressions of pleasure on their face and imagining it was me providing that to her instead of some stud on the other page layout.  I like women.  A lot.

As a teenager my sexuality issues only grew.  I hated the day I started my period.  Up to that point I could do everything in my power to deny I was a girl.  I refused to wear bras or pretty girly clothes.  I refused to do my hair or have any interest in makeup and purses.  I stayed true to the ‘tom boy’ that people labeled me to be.  The summer between 5th grade and 6th grade was when I first cut my hair off short.  That winter I started my period and I could have cried.  I continued living my life as the girl I was forced to be.  I put the bra on, but only because I had to change clothes in gym class and didn’t want any of my class mates seeing how large my breast were.  I had a tough image to uphold and could not have it tarnished by the fact that I had a female body.

I took up sports as a hobby.  Softball to be exact.  It was the first crush on a girl that I let myself have.  I was 12, she was beautiful.  Dark hair and eyes.  We played on the same team.  I was so chicken to approach her with my feelings and so I used my younger brother as bait to find out about her.  I let on like he was the one with the crush and called to get questions.  I made comments about her body to her and how amazing her form and figure was, all while saying it was things he thought and said.  It never developed into anything more, for him or me.

The first girl I kissed was when I was in 8th grade.  She was also the first sexual experience I had and kept having for the next 4 years.  I was so in love with her.  I wanted to marry her and run away to our own little paradise.  She was abusive, both physically and emotionally.  It was during this relationship and the way she conducted herself with males around me and (for all intent purposes) in my face, that I attempted suicide, twice.  I became a cutter and I would beat my fists into block walls until I literally couldn’t feel my hands anymore.  She would walk past me with her boyfriends, who was only suppose to be decoys since the world had not caught up to our kind of ‘loving’ at that point in time, and rub it in my face that she was with them.  She bragged about having sex with them and giving them blow jobs while driving to and from places they would take her on dates.  I was losing my mind but staying faithful to her. Bitch.

It was in high school that I developed the ultimate plan.  I was going to graduate, leave my little hometown in southwest Virginia, and go have that sex change operation.  I would no longer be a daughter ashamed of her body, but I would be a son…strong and proud, with a beautiful woman on my arm, whom I would work very hard to provide for and one day…be called “daddy” by my own little bundle of joy.

So what happened between then and now?

I am still very much a tomboy.  Still masculine in many ways and sometimes still wonder what it would be like to be a male.  I especially wonder when making love to a woman and having to use devices in order to free my mouth and hands to explore other areas of her body.  I suppose the answer lies in a realization I came to of my own self.

1. I am a female who is attracted to females, and thats ok.  I kept my secret about this attraction from my parents and family and friends for as long as I possibly could.  Fear, shame, guilt, all of that were resounding notions to me if I confessed.  I grew up in a home where ‘fags’ were made fun of and when someone on television came out I would hear an echoing, “Ewwwww” from my mother and often my sister also.  I grew up gay before Melissa Etheridge and Ellen had came out.  When they did so I thought, “Yeah, I called that one.  Gay-dar works just fine!”

2. I hold a huge amount of respect for my family and especially so for my parents.  I consider myself a peacemaker and have tried to keep it peaceful as possible around my home for as long as I could remember. I don’t want to do or be anything that would bring them shame.  When my mother caught me kissing a girl at age 15, I was left with a choice.  After she told me I was ‘sick’, I could do one of two things.  I could go to my grandmother, who is very old fashioned and precious to me, and tell her I was a lesbian; or I could be sent to Maryland and be removed from the current influences in my life that were obviously persuading me to be gay.  After I walked to my grandmother’s home, determined I was going to tell her who and what I was, I crumbled.  I could absolutely not bare the disappointment and anger of my mother and just couldn’t bare it if my grandmother were to react the same way.  I chose to leave home instead.

So I spent the summer burying myself in work and day dreams that would never come to pass.  I spent the summer burying hopes and dreams and relationships that never had time to develop or fail on their own. I compromised to make those around me happy and I still do that to this day.  Why do I do that?

While I no longer hate my body, I do hate the fact that I still have to reside in hiding for the sake of peace and acceptance.  I tried coming out again in December two years ago and while my family stated they loved me and would support me, they stopped calling and distanced their selves from me.  So I crawled back into my little closet.  My mother refused to meet the lovely woman I was dating, Ashley.  Flat out told me ‘no’. and proceeded to tell me that she just couldn’t support it and reminded me it was not biblical.  Of which I told her I respected her opinion.  I hold a deep fear of being with a woman, afraid of the judgment that may follow…the eternal judgment more than the earthly one.  Mother still knows I see her.  Ashley and I are keeping our relationship open in hopes that one day we will both have our stuff together to become partners;  but we are still not welcome around my parents and we are still not accepted by my family, most of my friends, and definitely not my church.

Which brings on the question,  Does God love a gal like me?  When it seems His other children have such a hard time loving and accepting me as I am?

I sure hope so! My heart is very tender toward God and the Kingdom of Heaven.  I’m very adamant about being respectful to people of every religion and realize not everyone feels the same way.  I spent 15 years as a minister in a Pentecostal church.  I was operating in gifts of music, prophecy, healing, and revelation.  I miss that.  While my heart longs to be in that again, I am afraid.  It has been taught to me for years that homosexuality is a sin, worse than a sin, an abomination to God.  A spit in His face.  How could He, knowing me inside and out, knowing my struggle, use me in His service if He hated me and if I was so gross to Him?  I believe God to be my Father and as my Father I believe He does love me.  I believe He loves us all.  I am a mother.  As a mother I am not always happy with the choices my children make, but I certainly do not hate one because he/she isn’t a replica of his/her other siblings.  They are each precious to me, each have their own personalities, each have their own strengths and weaknesses.  I love them for who they are and I don’t waste my time with the things they are not.

I hope God is much like that in His way.   Seeing as how biblical passages teach me that God is love, I wonder how can someone who is the embodiment of Love be anything but?…how can hate dwell there?

So, does God love a gal like me?  A polished mess, a fearful woman who is the entombment of a broken little girl, kept voiceless to protect her family…molested, abused, used, scarred, and yet determined to not only rise above all of those truths; but rise through them, using them as the driving force of strength; a woman strong and proud?!?  Does God love a gal like me?  A struggling mother who just wants to find her one true love without all the drama and strings attached? Without all the stress and heartaches?  A woman looking to finally find peace and happiness, real, true happiness? Does He?

You dag-on right He does! Whats not to love anyway, right?  Heck, I might even be His favorite!!!  🙂  🙂  🙂

Confession Time: Real Talk

Anxiety. Panic Attacks. PTSD.  Agoraphobia. All very real issues for many people, myself included.

People like me are judged so often just because outside people can’t see a physical ailment, doesn’t mean a person doesn’t suffer.  Mental illness has been brushed under the rug for so long.  I, myself, have viewed my conditions as shameful and weak, something to hide.  The stigma that is over mental illness needs to be broken down.  How does one do that?  Only one way we can do that, EDUCATE.

What is anxiety?  By definition, anxiety is a nervous disorder characterized by a state of excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behavior or panic attacks.  When I have anxiety I have bouts with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder).  For example.  Driving is a major anxiety trigger for me.  When I am a passenger in a vehicle and the driver and I decide to stop to shop or eat, etc; I have to have possession of the car keys so if I feel anxious I can be “freed” from the setting that is causing my uncomfortableness.  I cannot be “trapped” in.  There must be exits at all times available to me or I will panic.  If there is an event that restricts my movement in anyway, I will panic and nearly pass out.

For example.  A week ago I was out with my son and stopped by a store.  On the way across a set of railroad tracks our tire had became punctured.  I panicked to the point I literally put my life and his in danger driving so erratically.  The air leaked out of the tire and I immediately drove as fast as I possibly could to a friend’s house.  My son put the temporary tire on the car and I had my friend follow me down to the tire shop to buy a new tire.  I then had her wait with me until the tire was ready to take home where my son put it on the car for me.  Within three days there was another flat on the other car.  I immediately called my neighbor and asked her to follow me to the same tire shop to get a tire for that car.  She agreed and her husband followed me.  While I was there, the car was jacked up and the tire removed.  Immediately I felt a sense of dread as I knew I could not move the car with it on the jack and only three tires on the car.  I ran across the parking lot, yelling at a complete stranger to stop his truck, and was going to hitch a ride with this elderly man; just because I could NOT stand the thought of standing there with no way to go anywhere.  The man didn’t stop and I went to my neighbor’s husband, who was inside the garage talking to someone about getting his brake line fixed as it had busted on our drive to the shop, and asked him to wait with me.  He stood there, confused and bewildered, but stood there and waited with me.  I was so mortally embarrassed!

This is the life I “live”.  On a leash.  Never able to get a feeling of peace.  I live in fear of the fear.  I live in fear that I’m going to have a panic attack.  I live in fear that I’m going to feel scared and trapped and not able to get away from the situation.  I live in misery and I feel guilty about including anyone else in that misery.  For example,  I have someone I love very much, who wants to be with me.  I’m not certain we could have the perfect life, in fact, I’m not sure that even exists, but I would love to know and at least try.  So why don’t I?  Simple.  I refuse to make my issues someone’s stress.  I have done it too many times.  Perhaps its pride that says, “Do this on your own and when you are well again you can offer a life worth having to the one you love.”  Perhaps its selfishness, as others might proclaim.

I have broken appointments with friends and family.  I have isolated myself to the point people rarely call upon me to do things with them because of fearing I will stand them up or change the plans at the last minute.  An example of this is, I have a friend on Facebook that I have wanted to meet in person for nearly 2 years now and because I am unfamiliar with her town and how to get there and the fact it is so far away, I have broken luncheons with her.  My heart breaks in a million pieces when this happens and I want to tell people the truth as to why I can’t show up but its so embarrassing that I just let it go and sometimes people get mad at me, I just have to let them be angry and hope, in time, everyone will understand.

Another example is when my girlfriend bought me tickets to see Mary Lambert in concert.  I was looking so forward to it.  The tickets were a present to me and something she and I would do together, and I was unable to make myself go because of the travel distance and the parking situation and the fact the crowd would be so large.  Lucky for me she wasn’t dressed in time to go and I used that as a perfect excuse.  I simply smiled and said, “Maybe next time.”

Meanwhile in my heart I wept because I wanted to go to this concert and I wanted to honor the gift she had spent money on for me.  Its horrible how the guilt creeps in and takes over after the fear subsides.

I am on Zoloft to help reduce the symptoms of anxiety and panic and up to this point there has been a noticeable change, but I still have issues.  I have saw therapist and am looking for one now.  The last therapist I had was wonderful, however, I felt like she was uncomfortable with the underlying issue that I tried to talk to her about.  My sexuality, which is a whole other ball of wax in and of itself.

Panic attacks, by definition is a sudden surge of overwhelming anxiety and fear. Your heart pounds and you can’t breathe. You may even feel like you’re dying or going crazy.  It literally is horrible. 

PTSD by definition is (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) is a mental health condition that’s triggered by a terrifying event — either experiencing it or witnessing it.  This is often related to military personnel but is found in people of all walks of life and occupation/situation.  I often have PTSD moments that trigger anxiety that then trigger panic attacks and so I try to avoid situation that seem familiar to me and have caused these reactions.   The above examples I mentioned are relevant to this part of the mental illness disorders I suffer from as well. 

Agoraphobia by definition is fear of places and situations that might cause panic, helplessness, or embarrassment. Sound familiar?  As I mentioned before, the embarrassment of these mental illnesses are a tremendous burden.  I can’t begin to express the resounding guilt and feeling of failure that arises after each attack.  Especially so since I am a mother that needs to be in certain situations with my children for activities related to school and so on and have difficulties fulfilling what I feel is my obligation at these events.

I often resent the days when I have appointments that I have to keep.  I resent travel and I resent the fact that I resent so many things that are suppose to be enjoyable to myself, friends, and family.

These mental illnesses have turned me into someone I’m not.  They have turned me into a boring, unreliable, overly cautious, person.  I have made and found every excuse in the book to offer reasons as to why I simply can’t do something.

I chalk my failed relationships up to the fact that I reside on a short leash and inside a safety zone.  Only, I don’t feel safe here, I’m not comfortable, and I hate major changes.  The oddity of the whole matter is, the closer summer gets the worse the anxiety and ptsd get.  I’m not sure if its a true reason for the increase in occurrences or if its truly a coincidence.  I do remember having most of the issue during summer for as long as I can remember back.

With hopes of a new therapist, and hopes of continued support from friends and family, I will gain what has been lost.  While it is true I cannot get the days or the events that have passed by back again, I can get something back that once seemed grey and bleak….my future, my life, my hope.  🙂

If you or someone you know suffers in silence with any of these issue, or perhaps a number of issues not mentioned here, please know there is help and there are resources available.  Its ok to ask for help (thats one lesson I’ve learned during this journey) and its ok to cry.  Mental illness is not a sign of weakness, its not anything to be ashamed of, it does not make a person less than those that surround him/her.

If you don’t personally suffer from a mental illness, I hope this article brings an eye opening message to you that will help extend the need of compassion and empathy for sufferers.  Be careful when criticizing or judging what another person might be feeling or experiencing.  Just love us through the storms, even if that means being patient longer than you want to be.

Death 5-13-15

 Whisper all your promises

Of your enduring sleep

On my broken Spirit

Where I’ll pray the Lord to keep

To watch in hopes you’re coming

And chill my fiery soul

Soothe the needles on my tongue

As darkness takes a hold

Pin me to the wall of shame

Deserving of worse I know

A scarlet letter to replace my name

When openly my secrets are shown

Glowing red the blush of guilt

Upon a tired face

Though no one asked of reasons why

For it never matters in this case

So swing low a chariot

Or rain on me brimstone

I’ve been to him a harlot worthy of each granite thrown

Just offer me one last bid

Before this deed is done

And you charge me of my sins

For I am guilty of everyone

Allow the taste of forgiveness

To wet my parched core

Let my soul find peace, perhaps rest

As I once knew before.


Lets Play Catch Up!

So its been a pretty long time since I last visited and updated my blog.

First off the kids are all doing great.  My oldest graduated from high school and is almost finished with her college degree at our local community college in general studies.  I’m very proud of her.  My son is doing much better in his academic studies and I’m thankful for that.  He had me worried a time or two but I know its just his way of being lazy and getting burned out.  Hes a good kid.  My “baby girl” graduates 7th grade in a week or two and will be attending high school…joy…let the fun begin…again!

I don’t know why it is but for some unknown reason my children have all experienced severe loss of common sense once entering the doors of high school.  It must be a virus. 🙂

Secondly, my “pup” Kyrah has grown into such a beautiful girl!  Shes the best, she truly is my best friend ❤

As for my relationship, well it went back and forth for a little while (15 months in total) but in the end (Feb 2015) we decided it was just not working. We are friends and still visit and have left it open ended for a possible future later on in life. We both have things we need to work on and with me entering into a rough stage of my separation and divorce process, the less stress the better, for everyone concerned.  I’m content just living my life right now and focusing on getting my children through this process.  They truly are my main concern.  I’m so thankful my “husband” is not a combative person and is seeming to be working through this in a more peaceful manner than he did during his first divorce.

I have to confess, its weird and a little scary knowing I won’t be able to depend on him in the way I do now.  At the same time its been like living my life on a shortened leash, while its familiar and comfortable in its own way, its also been miserable.  I don’t think it has been fair to him or I to live in our lives knowing we have not been happy and knowing that we are only together for the comfort of knowing we have someone.  In an essence we had become each others prison cell and called it home and made it as happy as we could.  It doesn’t mean it was happy, it means we survived and done what we could to make it work for as long as it did…14 years.  A long investment.

So thats pretty well up to speed on what is my life.  Stay beautiful!

Words of Wisdom:  “To succeed in life, you need three things: a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone.”  Reba McIntire

Enjoy this little diddy, hope it makes your toes tap.  We all have at least one person we would like to “stick it back to” This is “that” song to help ya kind of say it.  🙂