Mind In Overdrive

Take it slow.


One step at a time.

Don’t rush.

Don’t overshare.

Don’t feel.

Feel something.

Don’t talk about it.


Keep it secret.

What if?

What if not?

What is next?

Mind in overdrive.



Make room.

Empty space.


Don’t trust.

Feel safe.

Fear never feeling safe again.

Be open.

But stay reserved.




A kiss.

The world vanishes.


So, relax.


Take it slow.

Feet on the ground.

Mind in overdrive.

When Things Start Making Sense

If I have said anything consistently for the last 3 years and 3 months it is this.

Everything Happens For a Reason.

I stand by that. I don’t want to gloat or brag or anything like that, so keep that in mind as I trace back through the years, that have led me exactly where I am today.

I work in health care, and I make very good money, with a pretty good security in my job, in all times of world happenings.

Why? How? Back when Megan was 3 years old, I went up to the worst school I could have possibly went to, and signed up for a $25,900 loan to get my associates in applied science. This was immediately after getting my GED, because I wanted to set a better example for my daughter.

Let me explain. I had such an urge to do this that I went through the entire process without consulting with my husband first. That’s not how we did things. He would have said “these loans are awful! We should look up another place to get a load through, before taking this huge step.” And me, I would have reacted as if he were telling me no, like it was a bad idea. I remember being at that school with the loan people, without his knowledge and the woman told me they were grants and that I wouldn’t have to pay grants back. I signed the 579,683 pages as she told me “what they said”, because I was in such a hurry to get started, so I would be ready!

I get my first job as a surgical tech and man! It was a $5/hour raise! It wasn’t what I expected it to be, but it was much more than what I was making prior. I went through absolute hell, with some of the WORST co-workers, but I held on. I trained and I stiffened my backbone, because I was SURE it was important. I would come home and cry to my husband about how awful my job was, and how awful the people were proving to be. I’d get written up for things that I never did, except maybe the times I rolled my eyes at coworkers. I always do that. Sue me. ha.

It was at that establishment where I learned not to trust anyone you work with. Sure, you can talk about your personal life, or listen to them talk about theirs, but never discuss anything about anyone you work with, no matter if it’s good or bad, unless you are praising them straight to their face, because even the kindest words could get twisted and turned and make you look like a bad human. I learned.

Most of you reading these posts know that I am a very talkative person, and that I am VERY opinionated. I learned to be different, because of that place. I went through hell, just to learn that I can’t trust anyone. I became the “watcher”. I got the urge, after 4 years in the same place, to move on. I wanted to do more than just the same surgery over and over. I knew I was good and I felt like I was being limited in my career.

So I vamped up my resume, and I shot it out to every hospital in the area.

First interview was a dud. I was devastated and scared that I would never be enough to move from the area I was at. All I wanted to do was scrub trauma surgeries. I wanted to be able to do anything that came through the doors.

Second interview. Flop.

Third interview, SCORE!

Trauma center, they were desperate, and offered me the job straight away! I took a pay cut, to do more and take more call. I was promised performance based raises. If I wasn’t promised that, I wouldn’t have taken the job. I am excellent at what I do, and I learn swiftly. I faked confidence in that interview, so hard, and it worked.

I started my career in a trauma center OR, and it was amazing! Everyone was like family, straight away! I sat back, though, and I listened. I watched how everyone interacted with each-other, and how each person spoke when another left the room. For a week and a half, everyone made jabs at how quiet I was. I was very reserved. I asked appropriate questions and didn’t fuck around. I was there for work, not for friends.

When “raise” time came around, I was informed that there were no performance reviews and everyone got the same percent raise, no matter how they performed.

I got a 30 cent raise.

I was pissed. I applied across the board again, in 2016, and landed an interview at a surgery center that was about to start doing heavy total joint surgeries, and they wanted me to lead the ortho team.

I accepted the position, with $4/hour raise, and turned in my notice only to my nurse manager and director of the OR.

My nurse manager grabbed me, that day in late summer 2016, and asked me what it would take to keep me. I told him what the other facility offered and he talked me up, so high, to the people in charge and got me up an additional $4/hr. So I stayed. I loved (hell I still love most of those crazy bastards that held my hand and showed me how to do trauma) my work family so dearly that I couldn’t leave. I got this $8/hour raise and was so excited! I finally felt like my bosses really cared about me, as a person.

That winter, we started getting caught up with debt. I even urged Mitch to let me set up autopay for my student loans so we could start repairing my credit. In late December, after much ado, he finally agreed. We were finally on an upward climb and I made great money. He made great money. We were getting somewhere.

Then, in January, he died.

I had to call my work and tell them I wouldn’t be back for a while, because I didn’t know how long it would take me to feel up to it. Because of my amazing work family, I was able to take 3 weeks off, completely paid with co-workers’ paid time off donations. These people were why I didn’t want to leave. Those people really took care of me. They checked in on me, daily and made sure I was doing okay. On top of donating PTO, they started a collection of money, to help pay for everything that comes along with death. Let me just tell you, dying is expensive as fuck for everyone who is left alive. (no hard feelings, btw. It’s just a fact) Please, make sure you have a life insurance policy. We had just renewed our insurance that previous November and the option for Mitch to have life insurance was removed. Either he didn’t keep it, or it was no longer an option, but that’s the fact of the matter.

Because I stayed with that facility, and kept the work family relationships I had, I was able to keep my job with them.

In late 2017, my boss, the director of the OR decided to call me into her office to tell me I was not grieving the loss of my husband properly and that I needed to go to counseling, and blah blah blah.

I was very offended that she thought she had the right to discuss my grieving process, considering she was a nurse. She knows everyone grieves different. I, Kindly, told her, “I’ll agree to disagree with you, right now. I am going back to my OR to get ready for my next total joint.”

For the next year she wrote me up for everything she possibly could. Even made-up things. I went from absolutely loving my job to dreading it every day, because of that woman. But I did it. I did it because I was the sole living parent of a 13 year old child. A child who depends on my income to eat and have 4 walls and a roof. I held my tongue. I never screwed up. Then, a disagreement and I was fired.

I was devastated. I had never been fired before in my life, aside from the time I was fired 9 hours after I announced my pregnancy at the bar I managed.

So here I was, the day before my scheduled flight to California, with no reliable source of income. What did I do? I shot my resume to every single hospital and surgery center in the metro area. I applied with a travel agency, for possible local travel positions, and drank beer and cried the rest of that day.

I drunkenly packed my bag for California and prepared for our long weekend in a state we’ve never been.

Friday, Megan and I landed at LAX, met our long time internet friends, face to face, for the very first time, and it was amazing. We went to Rodeo Drive and walked into some of the most ridiculous stores. Meg was DYING to see the inside of the Gucci store, so we went there. My phone rang. I answered. It was a hospital wondering if I could come in to interview on monday morning.

I apologized and explained my whereabouts and asked if we could do Tuesday, instead. She agreed and I tried to enjoy the rest of my mini-vacation. I received an email from another hospital and they wanted to set up a phone interview, so I set that up for another day that week.

It was looking very promising.

I get back to KC, and come straight home, and lay out my interview clothes for the next day. Nervous and excited and optimistic as always, I went to bed, alarm set and planned on nailing that interview.

I was doing amazing, until the HR lady asked me “why did you decide to change hospitals?” and I couldn’t answer. I am a TERRIBLE liar, and hadn’t ever had a problem with this question. “I was fired.” I managed to squeak out. She asked why and I didn’t know how to answer that. I just confirmed that it wasn’t a patient care issue.

She asked me to sit outside of her office and wait for the director of surgery and the charge nurse/nurse manager to come get me for the second part of the interview. 45 minutes passed by and no one came. The HR lady came out with the “I am so sorry, but they got super busy upstairs and aren’t able to come down and get you for the second part of the interview. They’ll call you when they have availability.”

I knew they weren’t going to call me.

Then, that weekend my best friend/coworker of many years called and asked if I knew this ortho rep, and I said no. She told me he asked about me in a surgery and the surgeon and her stopped working and proceeded to tell him how amazing I was. See, a director asked him if he had ever heard of me. He hadn’t, but he happened to be standing in an OR, with my best friend, and a surgeon who I loved working with, who enjoyed having me in the OR with her.

Everything happens for a reason!

I had the phone interview and that went so badly, I wasn’t sure I would ever get a job. I still hadn’t heard anything from the place I had the sit down interview, and I began to get scared. I saw unemployment, and my late husband’s social security and me having to change fields of work, because I couldn’t get hired anywhere, because no one wanted someone who had been fired.

Then, I got a phone call. “We heard about you, from this ortho rep, and he had a lot of fantastic things to say about you.” (thanks, buddy. Your words saved me!) I cried. I had never heard that man’s name before, and I had never gotten the pleasure of working with him at my previous job, but between my old co-workers and this man as the link between the two, I was offered the opportunity to come interview on the surgery unit, and damn near offered the position on the spot. I wasn’t officially offered it, because they had more interviews to do, but they said, multiple times, “we wouldn’t have called you like we did, if we weren’t highly interested in you. We were basically told we would be crazy not to hire you.”

When I first started I was scared. I was timid around the new coworkers. I didn’t say much. When they asked what made me change jobs, I just told them. “I was fired.” They were shocked. They all went to the director and nurse manager and asked if they knew I had been fired. They were reassured that I wasn’t a danger to patients or anyone for that matter, and that it was a disagreement between my old boss and myself that had nothing to do with workplace behavior.

One door was slammed and when the wind blew me through the open window, I landed on a cloud.

I will say it over and over again. Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. EVERYTHING!

I hope you understand that now, I make double what Mitch and I made when we first started dating, and triple what I made before I graduated college.

I am working hard at being a single mother. I never, in my life, imagined I would be in this situation.

A widow?

Not married?

A single mother?


Not me!

It could never happen!

I was wrong, and everything has prepared me for where I am at, in this exact time in the world we are living in. If I can tell anyone anything, its to listen to that voice that tells you to quit being afraid, and to ACT. Don’t be afraid to get that new career, try new things, enroll into college for a career that will make you happier.

The Sock In My Hand.

Have you ever found yourself holding something, and you don’t realize you’ve got a death-grip on it? Have you ever clung to rightly to an IDEA, that you couldn’t let it go? Let me tell you a little something that I learned recently.

The other night, I took my socks off and must have fallen asleep with a sock in my hand, because when I woke up the next morning, I was still clutching that sock in the same hand, so tightly that my knuckles were white, and my hand was sore! When I let go, there was a uncontrollable sigh of relief that escaped my lungs.

There’s a major significance between that sock and my life.

I have a tendency to not let things/ideas/people go, when I should. When I woke up, and I had that sock in my hand, I felt like I was coming upon some revelation about who I am.

I know I don’t let PEOPLE go, easily. I have discussed this before. When I have my mind set on something, it takes a while for me to change that way of thinking.

Like the guy (I know, I said the last blog was the last one about him, but bare with me… this part will be short), from the previous blogs. The guy I love, with such intensity that I am unaware of how to deal. It took me months to realize that I wasn’t IN LOVE with him, but only have a love for him, so much so, I would rather be his friend for life, and never lose him, rather than risking it all for sex. MONTHS of clinging to this idea that we would be together someday.

So yesterday, I fully let go of every thought of a possibility of being with him. There was this feeling of relief.

Thanks to that sock, I feel okay with this. Just days ago, it hurt to think of giving up that hope. Now though? It’s like a weight I never knew existed was lifted from my shoulders.

Thanks to that sock, that I was gripping so tightly, like I was afraid to lose it, I am going to be better at letting things go, that aren’t meant for me. Like ideas I dream up, or holding so tightly to people who just keep taking a step farther from me, with each passing day.

I am unaware of what this chapter is, in my life. I am also not too worried about it. What is meant to be WILL be, and I have to have faith that when it’s my time to shine, I’ll shine for the correct person. Myself.

I keep looking for the deeper meaning to everything and I have forgotten to live in the moment. I have forgotten to have fun NOW! Life is fleeting. I could be gone tomorrow. You could be gone tomorrow. Everyone could be gone tomorrow.

So, why was I so stuck on the “possibility” of something, rather than the reality of what is?

Me, of all people should know better than that. All I am doing, when I hold onto a possibility is hurting myself. If I continue to hurt myself, I will lose my friend, because he cannot stand to be the reason I am in pain. I am okay with letting go of those possibilities now. He never caused me pain. It was me all along.

I’ll never NOT regret turning him down, last year.

I will never forget, again, that I did that, but it was important in that moment. We had barely just started talking to each other on a regular basis. We’d always talk about how we are worth more than just sex, and I was serious. We would drink and text each-other all the time. We were never both drinking at the same time, or things would have gotten out of hand, quite quickly.

But, I’ll let go, now. For real, this time.

I am happy with letting go.

But let me be clear. Just because I am letting go doesn’t mean I’ve lost my sisterly/friend love for him. He’s a freaking superhuman, super-dad, and has been one of my best friends through all of this dating crap, and I’ll never forget that, nor will I downplay it. I wish I could tell everyone who he is, because most of you will be like “what?! Holy shit!” But I won’t share, for his privacy. I respect people, much more than most would think, when it comes to THEIR privacy. I share all of my feelings and my experiences, but I won’t ever reveal someone unless they ask me to.

But I wish I could share so everyone could see him through my eyes, and have my version of him embedded in their minds.







Great listener!


Positive Thinker.

Good looking 😉

And a complete gentleman.

I’ll cut it off here, because I could laundry list all of the positives about him, for days. Women would be BEGGING for his name and number. Haha!

So… the sock in my hand was a lesson to myself.

Sometimes, you just have to have faith and let go.

Dreaming In Full Color

This isn’t one of my creative writing blogs. This is a legitimate dream of my late husband, with no sex happenings.

I think it had a bit to do with a guy I saw, recently, across the street from Freddy’s on Shawnee Mission Parkway. He looked just like Mitch. My heart skipped a beat, even.

It may have something to do with my cousin reading cards for me. It was the night of Imbolc (which I really know nothing about, but it’s a “witchy holiday” is how I refer to it, since I don’t know. Lol)

My cousin read cards for 3 men who have entered my life recently, without knowing which she was reading about each time. Anyway. I’m a “weirdo”, and I have this fantastic pull when it comes to certain people, and there’s a telltale sign in my bones when someone is meant to be in my life long-term. When you just come out and say “you’re not going anywhere until we figure this out!” It gives off weirdo vibes to the max.

So, with each man she read the cards. With each one, The cards matched my initial gut reaction I experienced upon meeting or reconnection.

Now, onto my dream.

I fell asleep after my cousin left here. Mitch was there. He was across the street at a gas station looking like he’d never been gone, but also quite confused. No car, no wallet, nothing.

I went to him. He gasped and hugged me hard. He told me he missed me.

The dream flashed to a doctor’s office. I told him he had a heart condition and needed to keep it monitored so he didn’t disappear again.

The dream flashed to me being in a car, seeing Mitch through a window of our apartment, and he grabbed his chest. He grimaced. I stopped the car, ran inside and began cpr while screaming for someone to come help.

The dream shifted again. I saved his life this time. I was there and I saved him. I was scared he was going to leave me because of all the things I’ve done since he died.

I laid with my head in his lap crying as he stroked my hair. I told him I love him and I’d never stop loving him, but that I believed our journey together on earth was over. He told me “Your journey is just beginning. Keep following the path you’re on. What is meant to be, will be.”

I woke up with such a sense of closure, and such a sense of love and acceptance and a new sense of excitement to explore this part of my life.

He spoke words that I speak regularly, but it was as if someone was finally speaking them to me. Someone was finally reminding me that everything happens for a reason.

Every single meeting is meant to take place in each and every person’s life. Nothing is coincidence. Everything is purposeful. Don’t get angry when things don’t go your way. LEARN, then put your knew knowledge into action to create the life you’re meant to live.

That dream, my husband telling me to continue my path. Just wow. I, honestly, don’t even know what path I’m on. Am I on a path to be with my next “person”? Am I on a journey of further self-discovery, a deeper knowledge of myself, spiritually?

I guess, when it comes to this path I’m on, I’ll treat it like every other one,

I’ll keep putting

One Foot In Front Of The Other.

Happy Monday.


3 Years. A Confession Tsunami.

I wasn’t going to write, today. I wasn’t going to dive into everything that I have done recently.

I was definitely not going to admit to everyone that around this time of year, I do things I really shouldn’t do.

I wasn’t going to admit to the fact that I got off of work early, yesterday, drove to my ex’s house, and had sex. Hello, 23 years older and we still behave like teenagers with raging hormones. yeesh.

I wasn’t going to admit that I sat in his bed and responded to the guy friend of mine that I fell in love with, when he texted me. read receipts give me anxiety and I keep mine on for the most part.

I wasn’t going to confess that they LIVE A FEW HOUSES FROM EACH-OTHER! I learned that today, actually.  I couldn’t believe it. The friend could have literally watched me walk into the ex’s house. Wow… Just WOW.

Not going to mention the fact that I lied and fulfilled a desire I had. I’m not ashamed of the act of sexual pleasures. I am ashamed that I lied. I mean, I really am a terrible liar anyway, so I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew I was lying anyway. But, I also don’t see the need in saying “hey child of mine, I am going to “insert name here”‘s house to have sex. See you soon! Nope. That is ridiculous!

I don’t even know why I lied. I can’t keep it a lie, because I have a big ass mouth and I have this blog and this blog is where I confess all of my shit. Especially when I am hungry, and I am waiting to go get food and I have a brain that’s lacking in nutrients. I don’t have the ability to lie.

I wasn’t going to admit that I knew all along that I was just another “hoe” when it came to the ex. HA! Sure. Or just a woman who knows what she wants and where to get it. I’d be more surprised if he wanted to continue to see me, than I would be if he never texted, called, or facetimed again. I’m not sure I even care, honestly. I am not mad, or even sad. I just feel blank. Maybe it’s because today is what it is, or maybe its because it’s real. I won’t know until later on. But that’s what I feel right now.


My heart is getting harder and harder, I guess. I can’t lie about that, or pretend otherwise.

Last Saturday, when I was sitting in my car, sobbing like a baby, because the man I fell in love with who could never find time to hang out with me, even as a friend, told me he asked a woman on a date, is the time when I decided I was going to follow through, and quit holing out for him. I knew the ex wasn’t small, I knew he had been around the block and could hold his own in the bedroom. Why the hell not? Right? (No offense, babe. It’s just how my fucked up head works these days. And I was right. you were great. Thanks. 😉 )

Happy Fucking Deathiversary!

I’m going to eat, now, before I confess to the candy I stole when I was a kid.

I Got Issues. You Got’em Too.



Many times, lately,  I find myself throwing myself into situations I should most definitely avoid. These situations are mainly men.

Men who aren’t right for me.

Men who I’m not right for.

When does it end?

When does “real” happen again?

When do I stop? Have I gotten myself into situations so often that it’s becoming natural for me?

I don’t NEED drama in my life. I don’t. Consciously, I don’t want it either, but, I seem to draw that shit in, each one filled more so than the last.

Meet a guy at a party. Start seeing him as a friend with benefits, but when I wanted more, it wasn’t an interest.

Have an AMAZING hookup, see the guy 2 more times, then nothing. Wrong guy for me. (You’ll read about him in my book)

Fall in love with this guy, because he’s perfection in a man, one of my best guy friends.  Wrong man for me. God Damnit!

Date a guy from school, who turned out to be absolutely horrible for me.

An ex came back into my life, and I am not sure this will work. Simply stated: I don’t trust him. I’m not sure if it’s his fault or if it’s my fault or if it’s a combination of both our faults, and our histories. Whatever the case, I don’t trust him, so I am paranoid, and my overthinking mind goes ballistic of it’s own accord. Thoughts and images of him with another woman raging through my mind. WHY? But, usually, my intuition is right, when it comes to this, so I am fucking terrified. The first night out with the ex, we damn near went to town in the bathroom at a bar. Thank god the glass fell off the sink and broke.  That isn’t me. Is it? Seems to be me, when I’m with him, oddly enough. Even when we were kids, making out, hot and heavy at the drive in theatre, with his dad in the front seat of the car. Always hot and heavy. Can’t keep our hands to ourselves. Never could. Like there’s no “simmer”. Gotta find that knob, or this won’t work either. 

I don’t want to change anyone. I know that’s something a lot of women do. I don’t. I stand strong in the statement “Only you can fix you.”

One of the most commonly occurring statements to me, seems to be, “I’d love to have sex with you, but you are just my friend.

Why am I good enough for sex, good enough as a friend, but not good enough to be a partner? Why is the first thing every man wants, when it comes to me,  sex? Seriously.

So, instead of keeping my standards high, I lower and lower until the bar is just stepped over, like nothing matters.

When will this end?

I know my worth. I quit talking about my worth out loud, because I don’t want to sound like a conceited, stuck-up bitch. You know? I’m not trying to scare potential male suitors away. ha. Or maybe that’s what I SHOULD do. Maybe Survival of the Fittest is how I should treat it.

I’m a LOT. I am sure I’ve said it before, somewhere in all of these writings. I was way up then wayyyyyy down, yesterday.

I left the bar, to go get pepto for Meg, and come home. I sat in the parking lot of CVS, snot crying because my head is so twisted, and knotted over so many thoughts, and I can’t get it straight. I can’t untie the knots, and smooth the strings. Am I in love with my friend? I mean, the whole world shifted and I haven’t been able to NOT think about him all of the time. Anytime I kissed a guy, I felt like I was cheating. I felt like I was cheating on a chance to be with him. And maybe, MAYBE I created a version of him that isn’t who he is, but who I see and want him to be. Maybe I fell in love with an illusion. I don’t know.

I just want the tangles in my brain to stop.

I want it to unwind, but every time I pull a string, it makes the knots more and tighter.

I want easy, for fuck’s sake!

I mean, I am not naive enough to believe that having a relationship will be simple, but I want the trust to come naturally. Why is it SO hard for me, now? I had zero issues trusting Mitch. But he sat down with me, before our second date, and told me, “I don’t trust you.” Zero intro to the statement, and just a touch of explanation after. Then, I proved myself to him.

Maybe… Maybe I’ll just take a dating hiatus again.

When I don’t fight for attention.

When I feel wanted for more than my body.

When I feel like a partner.

When I get a say in when we see each-other, rather than the guy always calling the shots.

When he makes me feel beautiful at my worst.

When I am so obviously the only one he thinks about and wants to be with.

When I never have to question if he’s lying.

When he proves he’s worthy of my company.

Then… THEN I’ll step into something.


Until then… Respect my mess, because it is a part of this package.







This Is The Worst Month Of The Year.

I don’t base everything off of astrology, but this month has been pretty fucking spot-on, so far.

“You will be more open about your love interest.” Check! Especially since I have the best Pseudo name for him. 

“You will be very popular amongst people mid-month, as your charm draws people in.” Check! 

“Do not make any decisions based on emotion, until later in the month.” Check!


This month is a rough month for me. It was a rough month financially, before Mitch passed, and it’s been mentally rough since he has passed.

His 3 year Deathiversary is in 12 days.

I feel the days drawing near.

I feel the tears well in my eyes, and I know that no matter what I do, no matter who I get involved with, no matter what happens, this month will kick my ass emotionally.

Astrologically speaking, I should have an amazing month as long as I don’t make any big decisions.

I am not making any decisions this month, because this month would be the worst month to do that.

Small things have been weighing on my mind, and right now, they seem huge.

Small things are killing me, and I am standing here, shoving them away, one at a time.

I cannot allow January to break me, every year.

It’s a thought I have, but as each day speeds by, my heart aches a little deeper. The pain becomes a little sharper. The memories flood me. The party at my co-worker’s house, with a bunch of my favorite people that Mitch was able to attend. He couldn’t sleep that night. He held my hair when I puked. He told me everything was going to be okay. He drove home the next day. He pulled over so I could puke on our way home. He laughed and blamed the funny tasting water I had with breakfast, and not the 2 bottles of wine I had for dinner the night before. The dinner during Restaurant week with friends that Mitch refused to go to, because he just didn’t feel well. Me dancing my way out the door, singing “all cried out” by allure and 112, on my way to that dinner. Mitch calling for dinner from Eat. Fit. Go. Tuesday night, because he was craving their Turkey chili.

No one can get ahold of Mitch on Wednesday. Have I seen him?

The drive to the FedEx Hub.

The blur that encompassed me as the officer pulled me into Julie’s office.

The ripping pain that started the moment I saw the police cars, finishing me, as she spoke the words I knew I would hear.

The blur of that day. The Drive to John and Tracey’s.  The drive to Michael Dale’s house. “Enough!” Brady said and took me back to his house.

The blur of people coming and going.

Midwest transplant calling once and being rejected to talk to me, because of timing.

Midwest transplant calling again, as I sat with a semi circle of seated family members, mourning the loss of a human so amazing.

Laughing while on the phone with midwest transplant, about the meaning of someone’s name, and the immediate shame I felt as all eyes were on me.




break me.

Every single year.



No big decisions.

No relationships.

No throwing in the towel.

No big purchases.

No job changes.

No changes.

Everything stays the same.

I break in peace.


Curveballs and New Year’s Celebration!

Do you ever feel like you’re being tested?

Like, you feel, believe, think, etc 100% one way then all of a sudden, something is thrown at you, and you’re like, “whoa… wait. What in the actual Fuck?”

Curve balls.


Do you really feel, believe etc the way you thought?

In my case, yes. Every time I am thrown a curve ball, I swing. I swing hard and I hit or I miss.

If I miss, I swing again, and hit the second one every time.

You can’t be afraid to fail. Failing is what makes you better. Failing is what makes you the person you wish to be!

LEARN from those curveballs of life that you swung hard for, and missed. You have GOT this! Every single failure is a chance to learn something new! Don’t get discouraged by any type of failure.

New Year’s celebration

This year, 2020, was my first time going out for new year’s eve. I decided to buy my ticket and risk being alone. Turns out, I had a friend there, solo as well. So, we partied hard all night, and had a blast.

Things I learned about myself, while out, drinking whiskey all night, celebrating the new year with a friend who has always been more of an acquaintance.

I can dance for a very long time… In flats.

My red lipstick WILL transfer onto white clothes even though it claims it won’t. (I was shoved from behind while dancing and my face went SMOOSH into his chest. I STILL feel awful)

I can hold whiskey and keep a clear mind like a MF Champ! (very odd considering I am a lightweight!)

I am much older than most that were out that night. I could tell because my “mom mode” kicked in when the girl dancing next to me had her butt, crotch, and boob all hanging out of her dress, and impulse had me pulling her top up to cover her boob, like “oh honey! let me HELP you!” UGH! Her friend was standing next to me, and started laughing. She bent down and yelled into my ear, over the music, “She does not care!” And laughed so hard.

I shrugged and turned back to my friend and we danced a little more before we decided to get food.

That was my first time out on New Year’s and probably my last time, as well. At least until Meg turns 21, anyway.

Did you learn anything about yourself, recently?

Happy New Year!!



Megan Wrote A Paper

Meg had an assignment at school, to write about the most memorable day. Sometime that she could recall as many details as possible from the day.

Her day?


Here is what she wrote:

“It was a cold winter morning. The date being Wednesday, January 25th 2017. The only thing different about today is that I woke up a little earlier than usual, for what reason? I have no clue.

“See you later, I love you!” My dad would yell every morning as he was walking out of the front door to go to work. “Love you too!” I yelled back. I got ready for school, and walked to my friend Piper’s house to go to the bus. Just another day of sixth grade, right?

When we arrived at school, we did the usual. Put our backpacks into our cubbies, and did random school things. It was towards the end of the day, the last hour I would say, I was in Mrs. Tapko’s class for a lesson about bullying. Me and Willy were sticking the “kindness matters” pins into our shoes. It was when I was showing him how stick the pin into his thumb without it hurting when Mayelli exclaimed, “guys, Mary Tyler Moore is dead!’ and the room went silent. I don’t know what happened after that moment because I zoned into my own world and stopped paying attention to everything around me. At the time, I didn’t know why it hit me that hard about some random celebrity dying.

When the school day ended, I went to a mathletics party in the cafeteria. My mom texted me that my friend’s mom was picking me up after the party. But, as soon as she sent that message, Nichi arrived in the cafeteria to pick me up.

“The party just started!” I told her. “Yeah, but your mom told me to pick you up now,” She responded. Something seemed off about her. She couldn’t maintain eye contact the whole time, well, she could barely look at me at all. She drove me to my uncle Brady’s house, which made me caused even more confusion. “Why are we here?” I asked her. She didn’t answer my question, instead she just walked towards the house, me walking behind her. When we got to the door, I was the one that knocked. My aunt Katy opened the door, “I’m missing a mathletics party right now,” but I silenced myself when I saw Katy’s face. The whole vibe of the room felt different. I turned to my right to see the couches. There was my mom, and my dad’s brother Michael sitting there. See, that was another weird part. Michael at Brady’s house had never happened before, I thought they didn’t even know each other. Brady sat on the chair that was next to the couch. All of them look like they just cried. My mom motioned for me to come sit on the couch next to he. She pointed to the “kindness matters” pin on my shirt and said to me, “always remember that,”

I was sitting there, more confused than anything. Everyone in the room was giving me looks of pity and sadness. “What?” I asked them, getting quite irritated at the fact they were sitting there, not telling me anything. My uncle leaned across the table, “Megan,” he whispered. “Your dad..” I teared up at that exact moment. I knew something was off when Mayelli said something about Mary Tyler Moore dying. He didn’t even have to finish the sentence, I knew. My whole body went numb, I felt paralized. My ears started ringing, and my vision completely blurred. I got dizzy, and in that moment, I could not move. My dad had died.

A few hours passed by. Family came to the house to check in on us, and bring us food. Monday came by, and I didn’t go to school. My friend Triniti stayed home from school to stay with me that day.

On Friday, my cousin Jordan and I went to the mall to buy clothes for the life celebration. We were there for a few hours and tried to enjoy ourselves as much as possible.

The next weekend, we had the life celebration. One thing my dad never wanted, was a funeral. He hated them, and he didn’t want a group of people crying in a room together, he wanted them to remember the times they had together and to be happy about the memories, rather than crying about them. The event was okay, around 500 people showed up I think. I stayed on the upper level of the building the whole time. So many people were trying to hug me and start up conversations. After the death, my anxiety had spiked so everyone around me was making me dizzy, and I felt like I was going to pass out.

The next week, I went back to school. It was rough, but the teachers had allowed me to walk out of the room if I ever needed it. But just my luck, guess what we were doing the day I came back? A family tree. Or something like that, it was family related because Jordyn said something about her dad and I cried.

Then, when I was in Mrs. Tapko’s room for social studies, I got into an argument with a kid Rafael, I don’t know what it was about. But, I remember him saying “at least I have two parents,” Imagine, going back to school about two weeks after your father had just died, to hear that shit. Just put that into your head. After hearing that, I walked out of class.

To this day, I still have my moments, my “breakdowns” ya know? Sometimes I forget it even happened and I’m waiting for him to come home from work. Then I remember that, “oh he won’t.” It still hurts just as much as it did when it happened. I hide the pain with jokes. I will make jokes about parents dying. Is that messed up? Probably. Is it a coping mechanism for me? Probably. I don’t make jokes because I’m insensitive, because I’m not. I make them to make the situation feel not as bad. As I said, I still have my moments. Every year on January 25th, I relive those moments and think about them all over again. But it has gotten slightly better. That’s all.”


Let’s talk real talk.

Anxiety. I rarely experienced the feeling of being anxious before, but each year, I feel like it builds and builds and the feeling that everyone is going to abandon me gets stronger and stronger.

I feel like, maybe, this pushes people away from me. I don’t do it intentionally, but I really feel like it’s something that I could make better.

I just returned back to work after having a week off. I deactivated facebook halfway through my vacation, so I could focus and be more productive on my vacation.

Only 4 people asked me about where I’ve gone.

Anxiety tells me it’s because no one cares.

Anxiety tells me people probably did’t follow my facebook page and don’t even notice I am gone.

Anxiety tells me…

Anxiety tells me…

Anxiety tells me…

Do you know what I tell anxiety?

I press it down and try to ignore it. I tell myself, every time that what Anxiety says is irrational. Just like when I climb to the top of the 12 foot walls at the races I do, “It’s okay! THAT’S not actually happening.”

When I don’t hear from a friend, or they don’t respond to a text message, anxiety tells me they don’t want me around. I know, though, that that isn’t what is being thought. It’s not the case. I know that friends have kids, and friends have careers and friends have lives outside of texting me.

I KNOW THESE THINGS. However, anxiety fucks with my head so deeply, sometimes that it’s hard to convince myself otherwise.

I’ve still only had one anxiety attack, to date, aside from racing anxiety attacks (surprisingly always at the 12 foot wall). But recently, it’s been building.

I caught myself, getting super deep into my feels, and borderline making things up in my mind. Not of my own accord, but anxiety. Maybe a touch of seasonal depression. Who knows? Probably a therapist. Probably someone licensed to understand the things that lay deep inside the brain.

When my friend texted me, that I didn’t hear from all weekend, I literally cried. Anxiety told me that he didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.

I have a fear of abandonment. I believe it stems from my childhood, and it’s rearing its ugly face now.

I was in foster care for a while during my childhood. I was moved around quite often. The reasoning they gave me for my constant moves; “We don’t want the foster parents to get too attached, so we have to keep you moving around.”

Do they have any idea what that did to my mind? I was a good child, being punished because my parents couldn’t be civil with each-other.

So, when I started to like the foster family, I was ripped from the home and dropped into a home of yet another family, who I had to be introduced to and get to know, and establish trust, only to have that all ripped away, to start over again.

I was 7.

I had NO IDEA.

A 7 year old cannot comprehend the severity of the situation. At 7, it didn’t make sense. Mom and dad didn’t like each other, so they couldn’t settle their disagreement without the state’s help.

Once I was back with my mother and the courts settled on visitation and custody, it was a never-ending cycle of bouncing from school to school, house to house, and mom’s boyfriends.

“Don’t get attached! They’re going to leave,” my brain tells me.

They’d leave even if I didn’t get attached. It just hurt more when you’d get attached.

I’ve noticed that now, since I lost my husband, I get attached to good people, pretty quick. I question my worth when it comes to them. I question how long they’ll stick around. I question everything.


Is that honestly me questioning, or is it the anxiety I have when it comes to people?

It could be a bit of both.

“They’re going to leave you,” Anxiety always taunts.

It’s an oddity when the people you expect to leave you, don’t. They stay close-ish. They text when you least expect it, but when you need it the most. It’s an oddity when that causes you so much relief that it draws tears from you. Like a lightening of the heart. Like a weight off the shoulders.

That’s not normal. At least, in my mind, I don’t that that’s normal feelings when it comes to having friends.

I can see how it may cause people to withdraw.

“Clingy.” Not necessarily the word I would use, but some might. It’s more the fear. I don’t want to let go of good people because I have had to do so, so often through my entire life.

“Just let them go.”

“Don’t get attached.”

“They’re going to leave.”

“You’ll be removed.”

“You overthink too much.”

I came across a piece of artwork that screamed at me, this morning. I feel this piece with every ounce of my being.

I’m just above.


I left the name there. I came across this on instagram. Sometimes, this is the exact depiction of how I’m feeling.

You’d never notice looking from the outside, because I am greatly experienced in keeping it from being a bother to others.