My own coming out party

I am stepping out of the darkness and admitting my current path. I do so with apprehension because I know that not all will agree and other may even chose to leave my side. But I, like so many before me, must to confess my secrets. We all have parts of ourselves we keep hidden in the darkness, we fear the rays of light, we hold our cards close to our chest, and remain mum when words are beating at the doors of our lips attempting to break through and be spoken. So here goes I am a “religious” person. I say this knowing that not all believe as I do. Most in my life are strict Christians or are atheists. I fall in neither of those categories. But now I stand before you naked admitting that I am neither, that I have a firm belief in God, the divine. It may not be your God, but I beg you to look beyond the book you’ve read and see that God has many names, many roles. All religions are right. I believe that the divine placed pieces of truth within every religion be it Christianity, Judaism. Islam or yes even pagan. I believe the divine gave all his children around the world a piece of the puzzle believing that it would bring us together in one unified race, culture, and society. But man, flawed as he is, chose to take his piece of the puzzle as the complete truth, and chose to hate those not like him. With the medieval blade he cast down his verdict, and the modern hypocrisy continues the war. So in that aspect all religions are wrong in that they think it is the only way. For the atheist I understand how it is hard to see the beauty beyond the actions of others. But, I simply can no longer deny that there is something greater then me when I have seen a miracle by proxy. So, yes I pray and I pray for you. I believe in the soul, and that one day even after we are on the other side of the veil, I will be reunited with you. And I believe God holds no grudges for those who do not believe, you do not have to be saved for your soul to move to the next plane. You just have to learn the lessons of this life no matter how painful or joyous you must learn from them and let your soul grow. I hope that all in my life understand. I am not sure why I had this burning urge to share this. Perhaps it was my pixie muse whispering in my ear for these words to be written, perhaps it was a confession that I need to release, or perhaps this is just another lesson my soul must learn.

Poetic thoughts of tampons

I was walking to my history final at an ungodly hour of the morning. It was raining. Not one of those sprinkle rains, it was one of those gushing rains. I was in a bad mood, I wasn’t prepared and I did not want to be there. It was still dark; the amber of morning dawn was not even on the horizon. I took one more step and stopped. I realized I was choosing my mood. What was wrong with m? I love the rain! I need the rain, we all need the rain. It washes away the dirt of yesterday. It gives us a chance to be reborn, a chance to create or recreate ourselves. And there I stood watching it as it gathered in a stream on the pavement and pushed with a dying force to the gutter. Then something white caught my eye. It was a tampon, unused, but a tampon unwrapped in the road. I just stared as it was bugling and refusing to give an inch to the waves of rain rushing it. I realized that often I am the tampon. I am unyielding to an unstoppable force. I expand, hold my ground, and force people to walk around me in wide circles. I was happy to see the tampon winning the war, but I was sad to see that by being unmovable it gave up it right to be a force. So, I decided that today I would not be a tampon, I would a rain girl. My own force to be reckoned with and sweeping away to the gutter all that is no longer needed. I walked on to class stepping in the puddles and grateful that my love had bought me new boots last month. The water rose on my jeans and I smiled at everyone I passed because I remember the greatest gift that the Divine has ever given me, and that is the knowledge that all that is done can be undone. We are all rain. We can change course, change the course of others, and above all remove the mistakes of yesterday.

Is this really me?

I just finished balling while cleaning the dirty dishes. No, the act of scrubbing meatloaf off of a pan didn't make me weep, it is the realization that I failed my son today. I never thought for a minute that I would be perfect, but I never thought that I would stand by and let the pains of my youth harm him. Here is the story:
I have a step daughter (SD), this relationship is rocky to say the least. I also have a mother in law (MIL), and that relationship isn't much better. I can say that I have tried to be peaceful. That I have tried to look past the looney toon ex, the lies from a child, and the foolishness of my MIL, but I think a time has come when I can't. My MIL has made it clear on many occasions that my SD is her favorite grand child. I am not over exaggerating. She has actually listed the order in which she likes her grand children with SD being number one and Baby Boy NOT EVEN BEING MENTIONED!!
I was not the favorite grandchild. My older brother was loved, my oldest brother the least liked, and that left apathy for me. This caused many problems. I resented my older brother, and I held anger toward all adults in the situation for not behaving better. This truly hurt me for many years, and to be honest still does. I always wondered why I wasn't good enough. What made me worse. No matter what I did it never made them happy. In some ways I was also jealous of my oldest brother, he may have been hated, but because I was a girl I was invincible.
I have spoken of this because it is now happening to my son. My MIL brought my SD on a shopping spree under the guise of bringing her along to help her shop for Christmas gifts. My MIL dropped at least $200 on my SD. She bought her a lot of clothes because me SD lives with a moon bat of a mother who can't be bothered to spend her child support on the child. She has to pay for the lives of the two people she is fucking. No that is not a type-o I really meant two. She is a whore, whose vagina has been seen by more people then Brittany Spears. Yes, I am including the no underwear getting out of the car photo viewed by millions. Yet I regress. So my MIL takes the SD on this grotesque shopping trip and what does she get baby boy?? Some dollar teething rings from the grocery store as an after thought because she FORGOT him until Crow mentioned him.
But that is not the worst part. The worst part is I saw this and said nothing. God help me I just sat there while my son, my only son, was treated like a second class citizen. I feel like such a bad mother, I said nothing. I became the person I actually despised. I sat there and let him be treated like he wasn't good enough. And for what some babysitting when I go to school.
So now you know why I cried. My silence will haunt me.

Waiving the White Flag

I know I have to finish the story of baby boys birth, but I need to write this blog first. I am officially surrendering to the war on exes. I quit. Crow's ex a.k.a Bad Dye Job wins. I am so tired of the constant fear. I desperately need a new car, but can't get one because I never know when she will get to drinking and thinking that this world owes her something, and then BAM more child support is owed. Which would mean that I can't make the payments and then my car is re-poed. I know it sounds insane to those who don't live in terror everyday, but there is no negotiating with terrorist because their demands are just to massive. You see Crow has a daughter that I have tried and tried to make my own, but she has been poisoned to long to straighten her out now. What bugs me is that after all the lies have been told I think Bad Dye Job actually is believing them now, and I don't know how to fight crazy. Which leads me to the real point I am tired of fighting. I just wanted to be left alone. Unfortunately I have a weekly spy in my home, but as long as I remain detached then I can't get hurt. You see in order to save my own sanity I have to walk away. I can no longer tread water while tied to a boulder that is threatening to drown me. I have been hurt in this situation more times then I can count, and it just doesn't seem worth it anymore. I have my own child to think about. I must do everything I can to protect him for this crazy bitch, even if it means hiding in my room eight days a month. All I ask is that you don't judge me. I have been in fear, true fear for over six years now, I need a break. Now excuse me I need a moment to myself, to reflect.

Baby Boys Birth Part 1

I have found that I truly enjoy motherhood. It takes a lot out of you, but it gives you so much more. Though Baby Boy is almost three weeks old I can't remember what my life was like without him. Maybe that is the exhaustion talking, or maybe it is my souls connection. It is truly weird that I feel this way because, lets be honest, I am not the maternal type. I don't like other peoples children, I find them to be little snot nosed cretins who I want no where near my precious little boy.
I know that I have awaken the beast in me. I don't mind changing diapers or never sleeping longer then a two hours at a time. As long as he smiles at me, it all seems worth it. This is the story of him coming into this world.
I want to take a moment to sing the praises of my awesome husband. Since the first contraction he has been by my side. He would rub my back, make endless ice chip runs, let me cry "I am stronger then this" when I felt like I could take no more. I would feel the pain coming and I would squeeze the hell out of my Mom's hands as she reminded me to breathe, and I would try to focus on my hubby's touch. When my slack ass nurse wouldn't come in a timely manner so that I could pee in a bed pan, Crow stepped up and brought me the little yellow piss bowl. He was amazing and I will always be grateful for his help. But, I feel that I have jumped ahead in this little story. So let us begin at 4:00 am on July 27.
I didn't sleep that night before. I felt like a child waiting for Christmas day. That is if Christmas consisted of Santa Clause clawing his way out of your stomach in order for you to receive presents. I was wondering what labor would be like, I wondered what Baby Boy would look like. My mind was in a whirl wind. So at 4:00 am I get up and my mouth was dry as hell. I had not been allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight. Kinda like a gremlin. The last time I ate or drank anything was a 9 o'clock the night before. I sit outside on the porch with my Mom as she drinks her coffee and smokes. I am jealous as hell that she gets to drink. I watch the cup go to her mouth and back down. All I had to drink was a small sip of water that I snuck while brushing me teeth. 4:30 comes and I can no longer take this torture, so I get in the shower with Crow and we leave soon after I get out.
It is 5:45 and I arrive at the hospital to fill out paperwork. It takes about 15 minutes and I have to be alone while doing it. Mom, Dad, and Crow are all standing outside the glass doors watching. I think I surprised the receptionist when by hospital policy she asked if I would like to fill out a living will. I said "Yes, I don't want to end up all vegetabled". I don't know why I felt this was the time to decide such matters, and apparently no one else ever request it cause the receptionist looks at me like I am some sort of freak. I smile shyly and quickly leave to get into my delivery room. (Come to think of it the receptionist never brought me that paperwork.)
Anyway, so we get into the delivery room. It reminds me of a best western hotel. Tacky decor and random furniture placed around the room. This old woman demands that I undress completely and get into bed. I do as I was told. The nurse comes in to ask me questions and informs me that she is getting off shift so I would have a different nurse. They put these belts around my stomach and we see that I am already having little contractions. I wonder why I can't feel them. My new nurse comes in and I have to use the restroom. All she had to do was take off those damn belts. The bathroom is about eight feet away. She wont let me go. She grabs the bed pan. I am mortified, but I have to go. I clear the room, she stands over me and watches as I try to empty my bladder. I finally do, but I feel uneasy about it. I can't help but wonder how many women actually gave birth to their babies in the toilet. Surely it is not common practice for women to drop their baby when they drop a load. But, all them damn teenage girls giving birth in bathroom stalls ruined it for us all.
So 8 o'clock comes around and my doctor comes in to break my water. He pokes my uterus and water gushes between my legs. It has begun. It doesn't hurt at this point, it just feels like I am doing crunches. The doctor puts two rods up my vagina. One is to monitor contractions, the other is placed on Baby Boy's head to monitor his heart beat. This does not feel good!
Well, this seems to be a good place to stop. Stay tuned folks cause in the next exciting episode we will discuss active labor.

Goodbye Modesty, Hello Vagina

There is truly a million things to write about my labor. And in time I will get to them all, but right now I want to talk to you seriously about covering my vagina.
I am EXTREMELY modest, some might say a prude. I do not go around revealing my down under special spot unless it is to my hubby, and only if he intends on treating it to fun time. But as I lay in the hospital bed last Friday my vagina was on display. Everyone and their mother was coming in to examine my clam. Sometimes the nurse would "check" me then leave the blanket down for no apparent reason. I don't know maybe my cootie needed to air dry in order to birth my baby. They never quite explained it to me. All I know is my lips were cold and I wanted desperately to be covered with Victoria's secret.
Also, it was not enough to just display my vagina, everyone had to touch it. Now I am talking about a gentle pat, like it is used to. NO, everyone had to man handle me, and make my cunt their bitch. They acted as if my vagina was some sort of handle to pick me up by and carry me around the room like Paris Hilton's dog. The abuse left me feeling dirty and fisted. No one deserves to feel this way.
So now that I am home, I have gone back to ignoring my vagina. I figure it the right thing to do, after all it needs a break. Maybe someday we (me and V) will sit down, V looking up, me bent between my legs and we will have a discussion about what occurred. But to be honest we probably wont because V has gone recluse and I, well like I said I'm a prude.

Changing Seasons

After tomorrow life will NEVER be the same. It is scary, exciting, and confusing. Sometimes I can't believe that they are going to let me have a human child. After all this is the girl who was so lazy once when my dog was a puppy and had to pee really bad I just open up the bedroom door threw down some newspaper and let him have at it. Granted I believe that I am more mature then I was at 21, but one still can't help but wonder what kind of mother will I be. Well, I do know that my hubby has faith in me, but his first wife did set the bar pretty low. Her idea of parenting is "don't let the kid die, or get in the way of sex" That simply will not be good enough for me or my child. I want him to have it all. Happiness from within and beauty all around. I guess I just have to keep doing what I know is right, and hope that it all sinks in. You know, come to think about it I am going to be just fine. Doubt will only help keep me in check, so that I at least think things through before acting. I think I am going make this the summer of my life.