My Mother’s mortality

Posted: November 19, 2018 in Uncategorized

TW: child abuse, cancer, death

I suffered great abuse at my Mother’s hands. I was an unwanted child who managed to survive through attempts to miscarry. I was born sick and small, and have fought for my life since my first breath.

I clearly remember thinking that if she were to die, I’d be relieved rather than sad.

I’ve been out of my mother’s rule for a long time now and we’ve both changed a lot. Though none of our past issues have been properly addressed (ie: she denies it) we have somewhat of a relationship.

My mother is sick. She has several major health issues causing a surgery such as fixing her hernia to be considered deadly. She also had to have her legs amputated in March.

That day in 5he waiting room I reflected on how I felt about my mom and realized I would be greatly effected if she died.

She recently left me a voicemail just telling me she loved me. She’s never in my life done that. I saved and archived it because it scared me. I don’t spend enough time with her, or call her enough. I wonder if I’m subconsciously distancing myself for the end.

This is my mom, and 2 of my sisters and I at my wedding this year. It was a pretty big deal that she came. It was a huge step for us.


It’s been such a crazy 9 months with all the moving, the divorce, the kids, finding jobs… and my depression. That’s been killer. I was so proud of myself for finally coming out of my hiding place in the bathroom. The place where I hid from the world for upwards of 16 hours a day, every day hiding from my then husband. I only came out to care for my kid’s between coming home from school in the afternoon until bedtime then right back in I went until I was too exhausted to sit upright anymore so that I wouldn’t have to go to bed with him. This went on for about 8 months.

In those 8 months I reached my lowest low, I almost killed myself 3 times and I came out the other side and started to realize that I can’t live that way anymore. Now, there was A LOT going on in the background… my relationship was in nonexistent and violent and getting only worse, my kid’s were really being affected by the constant tension in the house, and I was trying to silently get my self together enough to leave.

In the spring I was able to pack my kid’s and cats and move out. Finally. Even though things are SO much better now, I still hide in the bathroom multiple times a day… but now maybe only 1 or 2 hours a day.. and not consecutively. Just when I need to breathe. I’m finding ME without restriction. I’m slowly… so slowly.. healing. I’ve got some PTSD from my last relationship but I’m working through it.

 I was outside sweeping the house  (like, the actual siding of the house.. I’m a psycho) and thinking about how drastically my life has changed in a year. Last year at this time I was spending 16+ hours locked in a bathroom, often laying in the empty tub contemplating suicide. Then I got a new diagnosis (borderline personality disorder) and realized that I had to make changes and fast. I had to get the kids and myself away from Troy (who tormented me) for good. I had to get off of the (9) medications I was on so I could think clearly bc I was taking medications for bipolar and depression – which I didn’t have (the bipolar part). BPD is totally treatable with mindfulness, dialectical behavioural therapy and a lot of self work and coping skills. 

A year later, I’m still not that great at those skills but I’m trying. I struggle every day with myself, but not with my life.

I no longer spend every day wishing I were dead. My kids and I are safe. We survived. We are thriving. 

For the first time ever  I’m in a good, loving, safe and supportive relationship. I have friends who love me, are there for me, and understand when I need to work on my own shit for awhile, without making me feel bad about it. 

This is the truest meaning of blessed and I’m so grateful. 

Growing pains 

Posted: December 25, 2017 in daily life
Tags: , , , , ,

There was a time recently when my son and I were so close. My daughter and I were so close. We were a team.

As I wake up this quiet, lonely Christmas morning I can’t help but mourn the relationship I had with my children. I cried and slept all day yesterday because they are at their dad’s, where my son lives and my daughter lives part time. I want to start making Christmas breakfast but I don’t know if they’ll even come before dinner.

I have a fiancee who adores me, 2 soon to be bonus children who love me, but my own kids couldn’t really care less. My heart is so heavy.

Merry Christmas.

Life is so boring and banal right now. It’s a big change but damn. It’s still all so confusing. I don’t know what I want my life to look like.

I’ve stopped my meds so that I can deal with my bpd with therapy only and feel so much more clear now but with it brings heartache and confusion. Ive hurt so many people unintentionally, and I’m doing my best to be mindful and live in the moment but part of my past just won’t stay out if my head. 

Brave New girl

Posted: November 14, 2017 in Uncategorized

I’m so different from who I was 6 years ago, that’s true. My experience has changed me. I’ll never be her again and that’s okay. This new me is emerging and she is humbled and patient. Reflective. 

 I have so much self work to do but it’s going to be so worth it. 

Come sit beside me, my only son

Posted: August 27, 2015 in Uncategorized

This is a blog written by a friend and let me tell you, I admire this woman to no end.

Candy Bottoms

My son has always been different. I chalked it up to being just a boy. Not that I have any clue if boys are any different than girls in their early years. I just made assumptions based off gender stereotypes and BuzzFeed articles discussing the ten things every mother of boys knows.

He is in fact different than his sisters. He does not welcome kisses or care to respond when you call his name. He rarely looks you in the eye and is content to be left alone. I thought he was just a “good” baby. The kind that rarely cries. Till I started to notice the little things. The little quirks like walking on his tip toes or sticking his fingers in his ears. I joked the biting was Conrad kisses and the pinching was just frustration. His intense focus on certain things and his lack of interest in…

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