List your pets.
I currently do not have any.
My family, whom I live with, do.
Cats:
Goober (she had been mine, I found her)
Brownie
Cookie
And the dogs:
Shorty, a weenie dog mix
Bella, a lab mix
Izzy & Lily, Shih Tzu mixes (more like rats, ha ha)
Oh, and my sister has a hermit crab, two gold fish, a betta, and a lizard.
What made today unusual?
Spending the day with my sister’s in-laws. Hasn’t been too bad though, they made enchiladas for dinner, and we will be having cake (yes, I’m still here).
Tomorrow will be better because__
I get to see my nieces and nephew! I stayed little less than a week with them in December, and it’s been a month already since I last saw them. They live a little over two hours away, and while that’s not a terribly long drive, it is long enough I don’t make it too often.
What are you most grateful for?
Wow, that’s a tough one. My daughter, my family, my wonderful (albeit long distance) friends, my health, ability to read and write- the list could go on. I’m also pretty grateful I can eat whatever I want and still be skinny!
Thanksgiving. My favorite holiday- or the 4th of July.
This Thanksgiving was really hard. Clayton and I had never actually spent the day together the past two Thanksgivings we were together. The first year I worked 1pm-10pm, and last year, he dipped out on dinner with my family.
But I was really, really excited. It was the first Thanksgiving with our daughter, and I was looking forward to actually being a family with him. We hadn’t yet discussed plans for the holiday, but I had assumed we’d spend part of the day with my parents and another portion with his family.
And then everything changed.
He is gone. Forever. And I’m having a really hard time grasping that.
We were by no means perfect. We fought all the time. I wanted to leave him so many times. I wanted to be done with him. I wanted to move on. But deep down? I truly wanted it to work. I did.
And I’m left here without him. Thinking, wondering, if I’d just been more something things would have been different, and he wouldn’t have died.
I spent Thanksgiving with my parents and siblings. I stayed distracted. Until night rolled around and it was time to put my baby to bed. And as I laid in bed nursing her to sleep, I cried.
Today was so hard. He literally never left my thoughts. I knew I wouldn’t be calling him and telling him about my day. I knew I didn’t have the option to drive to his apartment and lay in his arms.
Why didn’t we have more time with him?
That I foolishly believed.
Not exactly… I was a little kid. And by little, I mean 8 or younger. One is 6 years older than me, the other 4 years. So, obviously, I tended to believe the stuff they told me. And if I didn’t immediately believe, they went on and on and on about how they were right.
Like this one time…
I always wore socks. I literally only took my socks off to change them, and to bathe. It annoyed them, for some unknown reason. So one day, they confront me.
And their words, to the best of my memory, were: “If you wear socks all the time, your feet will get moldy.”
I didn’t immediately believe them. I responded back with I do give my feet fresh air when I change them or take a bath.
No, they told me, that wasn’t enough. They need fresh air over night or they will get moldy
After some time, they finally convinced me. I mean, a part of me always questioned it, but ya know, they were older and wiser.
I don’t remember when exactly, a couple years later maybe, I decided I no longer believed them.
To this day, I still always wear socks. In fact, I just got out of the shower, and immediately put a clean pair of penguin socks on.
I actually can’t sleep without socks. I tried one night- my socks had gotten wet right before bed (damn water on the floor), and just threw them in the laundry, and went to bed. I woke up constantly, my feet icy cold.
When I have sex, my socks stay on. Which is probably better for my partner because the few times I’d wear flip flops during the summer, and obviously, no socks, my feet would be cold. And I can’t imagine cold feet really help the mood. Plus, if my feet are cold, I don’t really enjoy sex.
My feet are always cold. Hence, the socks.
I typically only wear flip flops when I’m going swimming, or when I wear a summer dress, and they just look better with the dress than my tennis shoes.
Oh, and I think feet are gross. So I just prefer to cover my feet. Although, I do have perfect feet…For ya know, being grown up feet. Baby feet are cute. But that’s it.
Yes…
It definitely appears that way. I ran across the street to Walgreens and picked up a two pack of Clearblue pregnancy tests. I took one, and this is my result.
So then. I guess, just because I have it, I’ll take the second one in a few days. And hopefully in that time frame, I can figure out how to tell the father. I don’t even know how to tell him…
He doesn’t really want anymore kids- hell, he hasn’t been able to see his daughter since, what, January? He’s gotten his drinking under control, but his ex-wife still won’t let him see their daughter. He doesn’t want another baby in the mix.
I don’t want him to feel like he’s responsible. I mean, I know he is, but he has so much shit going on right now. I feel like by not telling him, it’d keep one less thing from his plate of stress.
Omg. I know a woman should always tell the father (unless he’s an abusive ass, in that case, just run. Run far.) but grr.
I’m really not freaked out. Just more shocked. Very shocked.
Well then.
I don’t know.
So I’m sitting here, thinking omg! WHAT THE FUCK.
I got off work, and my plans to go out got cancelled, my girl friend’s boyfriend was sick so they went home. Well, I was bored so I went out. I got an .88 cent pregnancy test. I’ve only wondered because two days before my average start day, I woke up, and had a little blood.
Okay, no big deal. Starting my period just a little early. But then, the blood went away. And never came back. I still haven’t started, although technically today is my average start day. I’ve been having some cramps off and on, like I do when I’m about to start, although usually it’s just one painful cramp, and I start in a few hours. I’ve had one cramp every day for the last two days, but still haven’t started.
So, I got the pregnancy test. I know, I took it at night, and it’s super fucking cheap. But my mom and three sisters all used the cheap ones, and every time they were accurate. And every time I’ve used one in the past, they were negative- and lo and behold, I was never pregnant then.
But this test tonight…It has a thin, faint line. Marking it positive. I don’t what to tell the boyfriend, or my friends. Not yet. I’ll take another test in the morning, with that first morning pee.
And if I’m honest here…I’m not scared of having a baby. Rather the idea is exciting. The only problem is: I can’t believe it would be happening now. Not when I’m about to get rid of my boyfriend now. Sigh. Such is life.
Tell me, does it look positive??
A poem.
I hate this feeling
of not belonging
And of jealousy
I lost in love
He has a baby with someone else
I lost to my sister
Who never wanted a husband and family
and has just that- my dream
And I have just myself to blame
Loving the wrong man,
even despite the sexy smile
Then there’s me wasting time
On a guy who isn’t sure he even wants another child
And every time I try to leave,
I feel guilted into staying
Even when it kills me to stay
and endure the unhappiness it gives me,
I don’t leave
I wrote it over the summer, and yeah I know it could be better, blah blah. But basically, it was me writing one night, letting out how I felt.
I also know I shouldn’t stay with him if I know it’s wrong. Sure, sometimes you’re not sure, but when once you are sure, I know you should end the relationship. I just find it really hard to hurt someone. And if I do, I want to fix it. But you can’t, not when you’re breaking their heart.
Why was I never enough?
All my life, I looked up to you, I wanted to be like you. But at every turn, you dismissed me. My opinions, my feelings- me as a person. It was as though I literally did not matter to you in the least.
When I was little, I knew our younger sister was your favorite, she was everyone’s favorite, all sweet and quiet. I was always loud and bratty, and even though it hurt a lot back then, I understand now why you didn’t want me around.
But when I got older, and the bratty behavior was controlled, you still didn’t want me around. And you still didn’t like me. I just wanted my older sister’s approval.
As I got even older, I was still nothing to you. You held me and our younger sister to a different standard. She could make mistakes and you still loved her. I said “hell” and it was a huge deal, and you made me feel like a terrible person. I confided in you, and in anger, you threw what I said back in my face. I bite back my own hurtful words because I try to leave the past in the past.
You made me cry for throwing my own insecurities or confessions back in my face. You made me hate myself for feeling weak, for trusting you.
I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over it, because as I write this letter you’ll never see, it brings tears to my eyes. Because even now, you don’t talk to me. You don’t have time for me.
You introduced our younger sister to a bunch of fucked up people, and it was all a-ok, and you still loved her and spent time with her. But I met one guy, I spent my time with one guy, and you spoke badly of me. You gave our sister alcohol, and it was fine. I drank alcohol, and suddenly it was the end of the world.
You put our sister in the midst of older guys, and gave her the same reputation as yourself, and it was a-ok. I hung out with one guy and gave away my virginity, and suddenly, I was the slut.
You told me “you’ll get a bad reputation” and when I said “it won’t be true because I’ve only been with one guy, and I know that, and he knows that, I don’t care what rumors people spread” you got mad. You told me something so fucked up I still laugh at it today. I’d rather have a bad reputation and have earned it, then have it be a lie.
Maybe for you, but for me, no. People gossip, people make up stories. I would rather be true to myself, then become something I’m not because someone said I was something else.
And to this day, you don’t give a damn about me. Even less than ever. Because I had sex.
Oh the double standard you hold yourself, our sister, to verses what you hold me to. You would tell me it’s because I’ve always been so strong, that when I “screw up” it’s a big deal.
No, holding me an impossible standard of perfection was wrong. Telling me to be perfect and strong alone was wrong. I understand wanting better for someone than what you yourself have…I really do understand that. But I don’t understand it when you drag another sister down with you, but then judging another for the exact same thing.
I want better for my younger sisters than what I had. But the difference is, I won’t take them down the same road as me. I want better for them, and that means encouraging them, not ignoring them, and then yelling at them for fucking up. It means I start bettering myself and giving them a better role model.
I love you, and I always will. But I hope you know I won’t take your opinions on my life into account. Your opinions won’t sway any decisions I make.
Love, me
Write a letter to someone, anyone.
raw honesty 