On my way to work this afternoon, I kept thinking about Clayton. Laying cold as ice in his casket. Looking so fake yet so real. I remember standing at the side, staring at him. I would blink back tears trying to soak him in. I kept thinking what his final moments were like, what his last thoughts were.

I get to work and force it out of my thoughts, focus on learning the residents.

I have two and a half hours left when I’m told a resident has died. Instantly, I’m back to my own nightmare. I don’t want to see her but I do. I follow a co-worker into the room, around the curtain- and there she is. My heart stutters. I stare at her, furiously blinking away forming tears. I’m telling myself to get a grip.

I see Clayton. I reach out to touch her- she is cool to the touch but nothing like he was.

I almost ask to go home, I became such a emotional wreck. Now, with that said you would think I was crying my eyes out. Somehow I managed to remain in control, outwardly. Inside I was dying.

I cried on the drive home. Why did he die at 32 years old? He wasn’t an alcoholic for years and years- best I figure, since 2012. How did his liver get so bad it failed in such a short timespan?

I wish I knew if he was awake when he died. I wish I knew where he died. I want to request the autopsy report, but I doubt they’d release it to me. I requested a copy of the police report (figured it would say where they found his body) but I never heard back.

All it takes to be informed of such thing is a piece of paper stating you’re married. That paper didn’t exist for us, so I can’t find my answers. I should just ask his mom to request both but I feel bad…

Today was just a hard day. One of those days were I’m transported back to November 13th learning of his death, and again to November 16th when I first viewed his body.

Maybe it’s time for help

This isn’t something I have wanted to admit to anyone, let alone to my family. A little while ago I Googled Post Partum Depression and found this article. And I started crying as I read it. Do I have PPD? I suspect, maybe so. I’ve felt this way since she was maybe 6 weeks old.

After Clayton died- well, I was, am, obviously grieving. I don’t know, maybe it’s just grief. Maybe it’s postpartum depression. Maybe it’s both meshed together.

I just keep trying to go forward. Because eventually everything will turn around, right? Eventually I’ll finally be okay, right?

Everything I do- or am trying to do- is to support my baby girl, and give her a good, stable life. I do love her. But, I don’t, and never have, felt that bond with her everyone talks about. I keep waiting for it. And waiting for it.

You don’t feel bonded to your baby. You’re not having that mythical mommy bliss that you see on TV or read about in magazines. Not everyone with postpartum depression feels this way, but many do.

Am I just being selfish? I feel like I’m being selfish. That I need to toughen up.

You feel overwhelmed. Not like “hey, this new mom thing is hard.” More like “I can’t do this and I’m never going to be able to do this.” You feel like you just can’t handle being a mother. In fact, you may be wondering whether you should have become a mother in the first place.

You feel guilty because you believe you should be handling new motherhood better than this. You feel like your baby deserves better. You worry whether your baby can tell that you feel so bad, or that you are crying so much, or that you don’t feel the happiness or connection that you thought you would. You may wonder whether your baby would be better off without you.

Those in the quotes are from the article, and they’re so spot on to how I have felt the last 7 months. The first month, it was hard, and I figured I was adjusting to mommy life. I figured I’d be fine.

About  4-6 weeks in, and I wasn’t getting better. There was still no bond. I couldn’t admit I thought I might have PPD. That’s admitting weakness! I’m strong, I’ve always been strong. I never need help.

Then Clayton died. And left me all alone in parenting. Some days I get so angry at him (although I haven’t lately) for leaving me.

It’ll be five months (where has the time gone?! how have I made it this far?) on the 13th since he died. And outside of accepting he’s gone, I don’t feel any better.

You feel hopeless, like this situation will never ever get better. You feel weak and defective, like a failure.

That about sums it up. I keep thinking if I do this (go to school) or that (get my own place) things will turn around and I’ll finally be okay. But I don’t know if that’s really going to change anything.

I will be calling my doctor Monday and asking for any recommendations on what to do about this, or for a support group. Something. It’s time I set aside my pride and fear of judgment from my family and seek help.

Accepting submissions for a book tribute to mothers

Reading the prompts sent so many thoughts through my head… Whether or not I will submit anything is unknown at this point, but I definitely want to write on some of them.

Juni Desireé

I am in the thick of getting this book ready for publication.

So far there are about 30 people included. There are poems, letters, lists, stories, and pictures. There is humour, angst, joy, and lots of heart.

For the next week I am accepting the last submissions.

What you need to know:

  • This book is about honouring and celebrating mothers. It’s about taking a moment to say, ‘Hey, you’re doing okay. You’re allowed to struggle with fears and insecurities. You’re allowed to know you’re doing a good job.’ The aim is to encourage mothers, both our own mothers and you as a mother.
  • It’s about giving everyday mothers and daughters a voice, so only mothers and daughters can submit. I’m interested in words that are real, raw, honest, vulnerable. Say what you need to say.
  • Submit by answering the prompts in the comments or by emailing me: If you email…

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I hung out with Rich for almost two hours this afternoon. My mom watched the baby for me, and I went over. We sat on the couch and listened to Pandora and talked. It was pretty nice, actually.

And then he pulled me into his lap. And I knew where he wanted to take things. He kissed my forehead, then brought his face close to mine, and like a dork, I laughed. He shook his head at me.

He lays me down on the couch, bringing himself over me. He slowly lowers his head, and then stops, lips almost on mine. I wait. He kisses me tentatively. And I realize kissing isn’t too scary. Although that first kiss always makes me nervous.

We’re kissing, and he grabs my boob, runs his hand down and grabs my butt. Out of nowhere, I laugh- again. When I’m nervous, I laugh. Which is silly, and I felt really dumb, but I couldn’t help myself.

He carries me to the bedroom, and I say no, I can’t- I’m weird, remember? He laughs and says I am awkward and weird, but not in a bad way. Which for some reason made me laugh more. You can’t tell me I make things weird and expect me to be totally normal!

Needless to say, we didn’t have sex. I wanted to, and after I left, I wish I had. Heck, I even wore a regular bra! And it matched my underwear. I had to be home at a certain time because my mom needed to do something, and we really didn’t have time. Well, he would have, but not me. And I’m sorry, but I’d like to get off, too.

Another thing that stopped me was I had climbed on top of him, and kissed him. And suddenly, I was pulled back to Clayton. He loved me laying on his chest. He would stroke my hair, my back, squeeze my butt. And his eyes- he’d stare at me like I was the most gorgeous woman ever (he did tell me that sometimes).

In Rich’s eyes I saw desire, but it wasn’t the same loving look I had grown accustomed too, nor would it be, I know that.

Maybe I’m not ready for sex just yet. I don’t know. I just know I wasn’t ready today.

He had said I make things weird the other day, and I simply said sorry, and lost interest in texting for that day. So I told my sister I wasn’t sure how things were going with him anymore, so when I told her about this afternoon, she said she’s confused. I’m confused! I don’t know if I want friends with benefits, but I don’t know what I want. I know I don’t want anything serious.

How am I suppose to know what I want when I want is Clayton to not be dead? I’m trying to deal with this the best I know how, but I don’t know how. I don’t feel guilty at the thought of dating, so it’s okay to date again, right?

I know he’s never coming back, and I feel like I’ve accepted it.

I suck at dating. I suck at starting over. If not for my daughter…I honestly don’t know what I’d do. Probably get in my car and drive away.

I have to keep going forward, and dating is a step forward. Outside of that, no idea.


I met another guy- we’ll call him Lee. It started out nice enough; he sent me a message about living in the same town. I joked about loving it, but actually everyone who lives here, hates it.

He asked if it I went to the high school. I replied I was homeschooled. And suddenly he knew who I was. His older brother had screwed my older sister way back when- and my younger sister a few years ago.

Lee thought I was the other sister. I quickly set him straight. I am good on not having sexual relations with someone my sister had been with. He said well since I haven’t been with his brother, we should hang out. I agreed.

Mind you, I had met him at the time my younger sister slept with his older brother. We had gone to a pool party, and Lee was there. He had his daughter with him, and I remember thinking he was sexy AF, but he didn’t mind me any. So the fact he even mentioned meeting me at the pool party blew my mind. He even said he was disappointed I didn’t remember him. I remembered his sexy self alright- and the fact he didn’t seem to notice me!

I hung out with him the following day after he messaged me. I went on over to his house, and we watched a movie. After it ended, he tried to kiss me. I turned my head and said no. He jokingly said “No?” and bit my shoulder.

Omg. That was hot. I nearly turned into him, but I resisted.

Honestly, I have no desire to date someone in the same circle as the people my older sister ran with years ago. But what really is drawing me to him is the fact he’s into BDSM. He makes his “own shit” (his words) and has a dungeon in his basement, which I personally cannot wait to see.

He thought I’d find it creepy. I told him no, it doesn’t creep me out, and that I’ve always had an interest in that stuff. I have. I know next to nothing about it, but I know being tied down to a bed is part of it, and I found that hot as hell. It only ever happened once, but the idea turns me on.

We were texting earlier and he said something about me not being able to call him something yet, and I said good thing I haven’t then. He said but if I had, he’d hafta take me to the basement.

Shiiit. Yesss.

Okay actually, the idea is thrilling and scary. Sober sex? Sober first time sex? No thanks. I want a buzz at least. Like four beers and I’ll be good. Not even joking. I’m a light weight.

I’m suppose to see Rich early next week. I will reluctantly admit I am excited. I don’t know when I’ll see Lee again, but I’m excited to see him again, too.

Oh, he actually took me to dinner and a movie Friday. I felt awkward as all get out…A real date? Yikes. I tried to pay for the movie since he got dinner. He wouldn’t let me, and I felt guilty. And as the night came to a close, I was slightly worried he’d try to kiss me. I was relieved when he didn’t.

I don’t know what to do about these two. I’m drawn and attracted to both. As long as I’m careful, is it so wrong to screw them both? Ugh I feel like such a slut even thinking it…But damn it, I want to.

My best friend said “yolo” when I said it to her. But she also said that by screwing them both, it might help me not become super attached to one…which is what I don’t want. And even without sex, if I see just one guy, I will get attached. My sister said go for it, although it isn’t something she’d recommend.

But seriously, I just want to have sex.

Back to dating

So, I mentioned that I’m no longer in school. Back when I was, and working, I figured I could handle dating. The thought of dating no longer sent waves of guilt through me. I definitely do not want to date again- I miss Clayton so much, and I would rather he be here. I know we’d just fight and bicker and make up. But I would rather that than this void in my life.

But he’s not coming back. I can’t wait for a dead person (I know that sounds harsh but it’s how I handle it- he’s dead, not gone because that sounds too much like he’ll be back and he won’t be).

I felt ready to date again. So I created an online profile on Plenty of Fish. To date, I still haven’t had anything super creepy or disgusting. Very refreshing. I was also trying to respond to every message. Heck, I even sent out a few firsts! Some guys responded, some didn’t. I brushed it off. Eventually that got too difficult, so I’ve quit trying. Also, I wasn’t responding to any “Clayton’s” (that’s the name I’ve given him here).

And guess what? I got one of the best messages from one. He was also attractive and he used his full name, vs the common nickname, so I decided why not.

After just a couple days, we met up in the afternoon for a walk in the park. My mom kept my daughter for me, and off I went.

It was awkward, but I had a good time. He wore sunglasses the entire time, which was slightly off-putting, but I slipped mine back on, and tried to ignore it.

As we went to split ways a couple hours later, he wanted to kiss me. I said no, and that was that.

We resumed texting, and my date for Friday night canceled. I had canceled on him the Friday before, so I almost wonder if it was intentional, but we’re trying again for Saturday so maybe it wasn’t.

Anyway, with my Friday night cleared up, I met up with- let’s call him Rich. It was only for an hour and a half, but I had way too much fun. A really good time. The few beers I had may have helped that, though.

I told my sister I’d be back before midnight, so we left at about eleven thirty. We hugged, and he went in for a kiss, and I looked away. He assumed I didn’t have a good time, and I was forced to explain that I’m not really into kissing.

I love kissing during foreplay, but honestly, if sex isn’t followed, I don’t have much interest in kissing. Unless, like with Clayton, I’ve been with the guy for awhile, then I don’t mind it. But just a kiss goodbye? No thanks, not into that with a new guy.

We have hung out a few more times, and our texting has been pretty dirty. We’re going to have sex, I know it. It’s just a matter of time. I want to have sex so bad, it’s been forever. But the idea of being sober for first time sex, no…No. I have never had first time sex sober. My list of guys can be counted on one hand, but I was intoxicated every time.

Plus all the build-up. Ugh. I want alcohol in me before it happens. Not drunk, just a nice buzz. But I promised myself no more drunk first time sex. Urgh!

My daughter is eight months old, and I did bring her with me the last two times I saw him. If I hadn’t, pretty sure we would have been on all over each other. Now, I know some will judge me and say it’s way too early to bring her around him.

I disagree. One, she is less than a year old, and two, with her dad’s side of the family, she is always meeting new people. I won’t parade her around guys, or them around her, but for now, I think it’s okay. Judge me if you want- I’ve made peace with my decision.

Anyway. Another thing that bothers me is I’m still breastfeeding. The idea of him messing with my boobs- just no. But he doesn’t know, I never mentioned it (and why would I?). Pretty sure I won’t leak during sex. Getting myself off, I don’t leak. When she was younger, sometimes having an orgasm, my breast would leak a little, but they don’t anymore. Or they don’t. Watch them do it with him.

And that brings me to this- none of my bras fit but my nursing bras, and they’re unattractive. I want to wear something sexy. I want to feel sexy. I guess I could, and just hope there is no leaking that gets my bra all wet.

With Clayton none of this mattered. He found me desirable, leaky breast and all. I just wouldn’t let him touch because, sure they’re bigger than normal, they just aren’t sexual to me anymore, not while my baby feeds from them.

I am really enjoying Rich though, and this wasn’t suppose to happen. I wasn’t suppose to met someone and start looking forward to their texts, to seeing them. Like I told my friend, am I this comfortable with him for him or because of his name? am I trying to get my Clayton back?

The two have some similarities, that’s for sure. And some stark differences. Any time I catch myself comparing the two, I immediately stop. Comparison is not fair, and it doesn’t do any good.

He is going through a divorce, and yes it’s being filed. I’m probably just his rebound, and he’s probably just mine. But damn it. The same name??

I still haven’t met anyone else, all the dates get canceled, mostly due to the fact my babysitter falls through. Maybe tomorrow I will be meeting someone else. And like I said, possibly Saturday. I hope so. While another part of me doesn’t want to. I just want to enjoy Rich, but I know I need to keep my options open.

This ended up being way longer than I thought, so I’ll end here.

5 Year Journal| Day 89 & 90

What was in your post office box today?

Nothing for me. I thought I got enough new pen pals to keep me in a steady stream of letters, but it’s definitely died down. I miss it! Need more pen pals. So hard finding good pen pals, though.

Today was a complete__

Lazy day. I really didn’t do much. I exercised for about 40 minutes, the younger sister, my baby, and I went to WalMart, Michael’s, and PetSmart, and when we came back, we went around the block.

I would have loved to take the baby to the park and go around the lake, but we were expecting a storm- which as of now, has still yet to arrive. I should have just gone! But I really didn’t want to be caught in a storm with a baby.