Just a few thoughts on my life...

Sadly, there are only a few people that have stood with me through it all, the good times and the bad. Those of you who have stood by me know exactly who you are. To all the others, this one's for you. 

Fuck you and the fucking horse you rode in on! I'm done trying to pacify you because all it does is make my life a total, living hell.

So, now that I have taken that moment to get my thoughts out on the perverbial table, I would like to explain why I feel this way. I have been through abuse in my childhood that hardly anyone knows about because it is still too fucking hard for me to relive. I have been through boyfriends that have tried, and succeeded, to beat me down in any way possible. I have been through a teen pregnancy, where most of my friends decided that I was no longer "acceptable" as a viable part of their "circle". I have been through my mother trying to make herself feel better by making me feel useless and unimportant. I have been through people ~ family, friends, and otherwise ~ telling me that I am a horrible mother because I didn't "do what they would have done".  I have been through boyfriends that cheated and lied and wanted more than I was willing to give. I have been through hell and back, and yet here I am, still surviving, still thriving, no matter what you people try to do to keep me down. I will rise above.

I am sick and fucking tired of people telling me that I "shouldn't feel the way" I do, because these people have no idea what the hell I've been through, what I've done and how long I have struggled to get where I am today, no thanks to you mother-fuckers that tried everything in your power to keep me down. I have done things that are not "mainstream" in today's culture, but I don't give a flying you-know-what. I am the furthest thing from "mainstream". Whoever decided on what is "normal", "mainstream", or "acceptable" sure didn't understand that no one is the same as everyone else. To put it in the words of Gretchen Wilson, I am politically un-correct. And I'm damn proud of that fact. I am so sick of people telling me that I can't make comments about black or mexican people, because it isn't "politically correct". Well, I don't care. Blacks can call white people "cracker", so why can't we call them "niggers"? Why can't I make comments about blacks and spics being on welfare because they can't keep their legs closed long enough to actually hold down a job (I know, it's never gonna happen) to pay for the kids they already have? Why do I have to cow-tow to what someone else deems as being "the correct way to refer to different races"? 

I'm not a racist person. Ask anyone that knows me well. I just call things how I see them, and that gets on people's nerves. I'm not going to sugar-coat things, just to make other people comfortable. Not after all that I have been through. I have always been a smartass, been someone that does not deal well with drama, bullshit, lies, fake people, and people who try to pacify others. Life is too damn short to spend it trying to make others happy, while leaving yourself for last. I have put too many people above me, and I'm done with it. From now on, I'm going to do what benefits me, what is good for me, what I want to do, regardless of what other people think about me. I'm done trying to make everyone else happy, while I lie in bed at night crying myself to sleep because my true self, my true personality has been kept locked up for so long. 

There was a time, a long time, when I kept my true self, my true personality to myself and didn't let anyone see me for who I really am. But I am done with that now. I can no longer let people push me around, walk all over me for their benefit, while I sit here, wondering why the hell I didn't speak up. 

So to all the people that have stood by me, helping me with whatever they can, even just a shoulder to cry on or an ear to talk off, thank you. You will never know how thankful I am that you were there.  Even the little things, the seemingly insignificant things, that you may not have even been aware that you were doing to help me, believe me, I would not be here if it were not for you. There have been so many times when I thought about taking my own life, but you have helped me through the hard times, the bad times when I felt like saying "fuck the world, I'm outta here!" I truly hope that you all believe me when I say that you have helped me in more ways than you will probably ever know and for that, I am forever grateful. I would not be who I am today without you.     

I wish I could snap my fingers and make it all go away....

I wish that there was some way to make things better. The closer the important date gets, the more and more anxious and jittery I feel. I can't seem to forget thinking about it, just like in the beginning. I almost feel like I'm pushing him away because I'm so terrified about what is going to happen in a few weeks, even though I try as hard as I can not to. I'm so scared of losing him, of having to re-live earlier dates when all the "information" was being recorded, of trying to keep my cool long enough to actually be able to help him through all this, because I know that he can't go through all this alone. It's just too much. 

I wish I had someone that could come here and stay with both of us, in case one of us isn't able to keep the other from losing our heads. I can't trust anyone in my family to be able to do it, because I know that all they will do is try to get me to leave, and I can't do that. And I don't think any of my close friends that know about what is going on are willing to drop their lives to come here for however many days this how thing will take.I don't know. I just feel so alone most of the time, knowing that I can't talk to him about it because he's thinking about it too much as it is, and I can't talk to my family about it because they just think whatever they want to think, regardless of what really happened or who he really is. 

I feel like I'm in a bad novel. Like I'm the main female character who is facing a huge event in her life with no one to talk to. I just want all of this to be over so we can go on making a life for ourselves and our family. I want my daughter back. I want his son back here with us where he belongs. I want people to stop making assumptions about someone they don't even know. But most of all, I want our life back. It has been almost a year since all of this started and I just want it to end. I'm tired of dealing with all of it. Especially since today I got a lovely subpoena from the other side, telling me that they need me in court on a certain day. There's no way in hell that I am going to be there for the other side. They can try to get me to do it, they can threaten me with jail time, fines, anything they want, but it's not going to happen. They are morons to even try. 

I feel myself drifting further and further away from him but I can't seem to stop it. As the day gets closer and closer, it's always on my mind. I can't sleep because I can't stop thinking about it. I can't get my work done because I get distracted by some small thing that reminds me of it. 

I just get the feeling like this is never going to end, that it will get postponed like it did however many times before. I have this feeling like the other side wants me there for them because they want to try to use my words against me. They just haven't taken into account how smart I really am, how well I am able to catch when someone asks me the same question using a different wording. I want to send them a letter, telling them that they are morons and that there is no way in hell that I'd ever do what they wanted, and if it wasn't for the fact that I know damn well nothing happened, I wouldn't even be here. I know a lot of females stay by their man when something happens, but I'm not that way. If you do something wrong, then I'm gone. I don't want to be associated with anything involved with it. But I know for a fact that nothing happened, and I'm going to be there when the decision comes down and makes the other two people involved look like the damn fools they are. 

I can't even begin to think of what would happen if (and this is a BIG if) things don't go the way we think/hope/wish/almost know with certainty. I can't. I want to....have to....stay positive, because if I start to think negative, I am afraid it will have an affect on the outcome and I know it would have an affect on him. And he doesn't need me making him any more nervous than he already is. We both just want all this crap over so we can move on. We want the truth to come out so everyone knows that the two other people were wrong, so that everything will be over, so we can move on. That's all we want...for the truth to come out so we can move on and start forgetting about all this that has happened over the last year.    

Just a few thoughts on love....

Like and unlike many, I have experienced what it is like to fall and stay in love. True, I have felt the sting of love scorned and affection derailed. However, to feel love....actual and whole-hearted love....is something that I can only wish everyone could feel at least once in their life. Not so much to give equilibrium to an emotional, out-of-control world, often blinded and fooled by belly-button rings, tribal band tattoos, and misinformed youth, but rather to educate the world on how valuable a treasure of someone's love really is. 

Love can be translated into thousands of different languages and likewise can be defined differently by almost everyone. From the gold diggers to the hopeless (or angry) romantics, we all have our own personal way of placing value on the words "I love you". Different ways to earn it and what it costs someone to gain it. Saying that, I can't speak on behalf of the entire world, but I can speak for myself and my sisters still waiting for that Knight in Shining Armor, Mr. Right, whatever we dream of when we think of that special someone.

When I say to someone "I love you", it is not limited to that single moment. What it really means is that I wake up in the morning and can't get you out of my mind. When I'm at the store, I'm looking at everything from the cookies you like, to the vegetables you hate. It means that I've taken the time to memorize your shirt and pant sizes, utilize your friends to pull off big surprises, and would drive or fly miles just to see you for a few moments. It means that I'll hold your hand on top of the dinner table, but play footsie with you underneath it. It means that I'll cry with you when you cry, laugh with you when you laugh, hug you and kiss you without fail....every single change I get. 

How I define love is based on personal experiences and observations on what exactly love is NOT. Love takes time, attention, loyalty, and cooperation. It means that I respect the one that I love and would do whatever it took to give them the best life one could have. To me....my love is my future. He is my soul mate, my best friend, and loyal confidant. Far too many times, women demand respect from their "loved" one when they are really demanding submission. They expect their boyfriend to be at certain places, call at certain times, talk to certain people and shun others. I take, for example, a young girl whom I used to work with. A young and beautiful thing, trapped in an immature relationship, that breeds nothing but more immaturity. Graduating from college soon, with aspirations of gaining a PhD someday, she is shackled to a boyfriend that refuses her the allowance of time, leisure, or friendship, outside of his pre-set social circle. Yet time and time again, she fore-goes spending time with her friends whenever her authoritarian boyfriend chimes in and demands her company. Now, before I deal with an onslaught of comments attempting to enlighten me to the fact that perhaps THAT type of relationship is what they are both looking for, I will fortify my case.

Love is a democracy....not a dictatorship. Love is the co-existence of two people that do everything in their power to work, eat, think, and live for each other. They attempt to devote a passion to one another that is unmatched by many, but noticed by everyone. When I am with the one I love, I want to walk into a mall and have walkers-by wonder what we have that they don't. I want my love to shine like the top of the Chrysler building on a clear Spring day. 

Ladies and gentlemen, love is an incredible thing. It has caused wars and prevented them. It has created life and ended it. It has helped people rise, as well as caused them to fall. It can be the single most precious thing we ever gain, and at the same time, cripple us at our weakest moments. It is NOT something we should just give away to someone we can "have a good time with". But should be saved for someone we can live and die with. 

That's what I mean when I say....I love you.

Why?

Why? Why do I put myself through this all the time? Why can't I seem to find someone that actually loves me for me and doesn't try to play with my emotions and change the things that I say around to make him look good and me look like the bitch? Why is it that every time I've ever loved someone, I've been hurt, my heart dragged through the mud repeatedly, only to find myself right back here with him? Do I really like the punishment? Do I deserve all of this stress and unhappiness and pain? Why do I always fall for the men that are so totally wrong for me? Why is it that everyone else can see that he is so wrong for me, yet I'm still here? 

Is there something wrong with me, that causes "normal" guys to become totally different after they start dating me? Am I really that much of a bitch to be around, that I make everyone miserable, like some are so ready to proclaim? Am I really destined to be alone, with only my thoughts and wishes and prayers to keep me company? Am I truly the reason that people can't stand to be around me any longer than they absolutely feel they have to be? Do I really have so much knowledge in my head, book knowledge, that I have forgotten my interpersonal skills and can't communicate with regular people? Or is the reason that I can't communicate the fact that I' too stupid to figure it out? 

Maybe that's why my mother hates me. Maybe that's why my daughter is being taken from me. Maybe that's why no man can "stand" to be with me. Maybe that's why so many people tell me that I'm stupid, that I make him miserable, that I need to change everything about me in order for people to like me. Maybe I really am destined to be alone, never marry, lead a solitary depressing life. 

I have heard so many people tell me that I'm beautiful, that I can have any guy that I want, that I will go far in life because I am so smart, yet I can't seem to get anywhere. People see me as being so smart, yet I can't even communicate with my fiancee without it starting a fight. Sure, I get A's in all my classes (so far) for my Bachelor's degree, yet I can't seem to find a job, be attracted, or be seen as attractive, to a man that doesn't want to use and abuse me, can't seem to feel like I'm actually doing something with my life, other than fucking up everything I try to do. 

I try as hard as I can to be a good mother, be the mother to my daughter that my mother never was to me, yet my daughter's father is trying to convince everyone and anyone who will listen that I'm a danger to her, that I'm a bad mother. No matter what I try to do in life, it comes back to bite me on the butt. Even if I try to do nothing in a situation, it still backfires in my face. Try as I might, nothing goes the way it is supposed to. Or maybe it does. Maybe the Gods and Goddesses have planned this for me, planned this lonely, depressing life for me to live. I can't see any other reason why I would be caused this much pain and stress and confusion if it was not planned for me. 

But if it is planned for me, what am I supposed to learn from this? How can I be a productive member of society when I can't even keep my personal life straight? How can I apply the knowledge that I have, in so many different subjects, when I can't apply it to my personal life and actually make the right choices?Why does it seem that, no matter what "type" of guy I date, they always end up telling me that they are miserable with me, that they don't want to be with me, that they can do so much better? Why can't I just find someone who truly loves me for me, not for the person that he wants me to be? 

Above all, why can't I just live a happy, fulfilled life with someone who loves me? Why does it always come down to me crying myself to sleep on the couch, while he sleeps in the bed downstairs, acting like the fight was all my fault, that I'm the one that pushed him away and made him miserable?  Why do I always end up crying myself to sleep, writing a blog that only two people ever see or read, knowing that tomorrow he will wake up and either start the fight back up again or act like everything is fine? How is he able to act like everything is fine when I'm hurting? If I act like something is bothering me, he says that I "need to learn to let go of the past and focus on your relationship now", yet how can I do that when the things that were said (screamed) the night before were so hurtful and cut me so deep? How can I focus on my relationship now, when he ended it tonight? He ended it, yet he says it was my decision to end it. I don't understand why I have all this pain in my life. All I want to do is be happy and have a happy and healthy relationship, yet there are so many barriers that I have no idea how to jump over or dig under to get past.

I guess this is what I get for whatever it is that the Gods and Goddesses believe that I have done wrong. Maybe I do deserve to be alone and lonely and in pain. Maybe I don't deserve to be happy, to have someone that loves me for me. Maybe I'm destined to be alone, to be smart and beautiful, yet no man will want me. Maybe that's what I'm destined for and I just have to accept it.....

I am Wiccan

I am Wiccan.

I do NOT worship satan, the devil, or lucifer...These are Judeo-Christian inventions, and they can keep them. 

A Wiccan believes that all of nature itself is divine. And all the tines in nature (including people) are part of the divine. 

We do not seek recruits or force out views on anyone. 

We do not cast evil spells, preform black magick, or eat babies. 

Our law is to HARM NONE!

We are healers and Shamans. 

Magick is not what you see on TV or in Harry Potter movies. It is a change in yourself that allows you to change the world around you. 

The Pentacle is a magickal symbol that we utilize. It is not evil. You can see Pentacles on a lot of Catholic cathedrals, as well as in many other religions. 

Pagan means any religion which is non-Abrahamistic. Calling a Wiccan a satanist is like calling a Baptist a Lutheran...It just shows your ignorance.

Thank you for your time and Blessed Be.....

Favorite Sayings....And Where They Came From, If I Can Remember

"The funniest thing here is in your pants!" ~ My Best Friend's Girl

"The best thing to come out of you is me!" ~ My Best Friend's Girl

"You've got to stand for something, or you'll fall for anything" ~ Aaron Tipon, I think

 MENtal Anxiety, MENtal Breakdown, MENstrual Cramps, MENopause....did you ever notice that all of our problems begin with MEN?

Never say sorry for what you feel....cause it's like apologizing for being real.

Broom Riders Take Note: Spit With the Wind, Not Against It!

When Religion ruled the world, they called it the Dark Ages.

I am STRONG because I am weak

I am BEAUTIFUL because I know my flaws

I am a LOVER because I'm a fighter

I am FEARLESS because I have been afraid

I am WISE because I have been foolish

and I can LAUGH because I've known sadness

Judge me, and I'll prove you wrong.

Tel me what to do, and I'll tell you off.

Say I'm not worth it, & watch where I end up.

Call me a bitch & I'll show you one.

Fuck me over, and I'll do it to you twice as bad.

Call me crazy, but you really have no idea! =)

The worst thing about being lied to, is knowing that you weren't worth the truth.

 Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting "Holy Shit...What a Ride!"

Love me without fear

Trust me without wondering

Love me without restrictions

Want me without demand

Accept me for how I am

and if you give US a chance,

I'm going to live the rest of my life

Proving to you

you make the right decision.

God have mercy on them, WE WILL NOT! 

Remember September 11, 2001

There are moments in your life

that make you and sets the course

of who you're going to be.

Sometimes they're little, subtle moments.

Sometimes, they're big moments you never saw coming.

No one asks for their life to change, but it does.

It's what you do afterwards that counts.

That's when you find out who you are.

Being a Mother means knowing that regardless of whatever else you did or didn't do, you gave the world something beautiful.

I can't promise to solve all your problems, but what I can promise, is that I'll never let you face them alone.....

Never be afraid to Dream...Live...Love...and Laugh.....Be Afraid Not To!

Yes, you have the right to your opinion. And I have the right to think you're stupid.

Keep your head up high gorgeous. People would kill to see you fail.

There's a point where you just get tired of chasing everyone and trying to fix everything.

It's not giving up; it's realizing that you don't need certain people, the bullshit, and the drama they bring.

"Well, that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word." ~ Boondock Saints I

Stand up for what YOU believe in, no matter is it's right or wrong to SOMEONE ELSE!

Be strong now

Because things will get better.

It might be stormy now

But it can't rain forever.

STRESS: the confusion created when ones mind over-rides the body's desire to choke the living shit out of some asshole who desperately needs it!

The tattoo is the Mark of the Soul.

It can act as a window, through which we can see inside.

It can be a shield, to protect us from those who cannot see past the surface!

If you don't stand behind our troops, please feel free to stand in from of them!

One Day, someone will walk into your life, and make you see why is never worked out with anyone else.

When I shut my mouth and turn to walk away, that doesn't mean that you've won. It simply means your stupid ass isn't worth any more of my time.

If you see me walked beside someone else, it's because you weren't brave enough to walk beside me. And...if I fall in love with someone else, it's because you weren't strong enough to catch me.

I've made mistakes in my life. I've let people take advantage of me and I've accepted way less than what I deserve. But, I've learned from my bad choices and even though there are some things that I can never get back and people who will never be sorry, I know better next time, and won't settle for anything less than what I deserve.

Beauty is not in the face. Beauty is a light in the heart.

Not all scars show. Not all wounds heal.

Sometimes you can't always see the pain someone feels.

Imperfection is beauty. Madness is genius. And it's better to be absolutely ridiculous rather than absolutely boring.

Can't be good enough, Can't seem to win

There are so many times when I have just wanted to say "screw it" and leave, but there have also been the good times, when I felt more love for him than I ever thought possible. But what happened last night was inexcusable. He got physical, broke the screen for my laptop that I use for school, and I was honestly scared out of my mind for the first time since Jake. I can't get past the feeling that I'm going to end up in the same position as before, being with someone that I can't get away from because I have no where else to go. I love him, but I can't be with him if he is going to continue to act like that. He knows he has anger issues, yet he doesn't even try to do anything to try to keep his anger under control.

No matter what I do or say, I can't seem to be good enough for what he wants. I can't be good enough to win. He wants everyone to be exactly how HE wants them, not accepting them for who they are. He tries to change everyone around him, trying to mold them to his "vision" of what they should be and how they should act. Every time we argue, no matter who starts the fight, he spends the entire time telling me everything that I do that's wrong, everything that I do that causes us to fight. He doesn't want to see that he is part of the problem, not part of the solution, especially because he can't see what he does that causes problems. 

I've tried to tell him that I want to be with him, but I can't if he is going to act the way he does, and it's like he doesn't even hear me, like it's in one ear and out the other. When I tell him that he needs to change or I'm gone, he doesn't even try to fight to keep me, which makes me wonder if he actually wants to be with me. But, of course, I can't ASK HIM if he wants to be with me, because (according to him) I'm trying to push him away by making him "second-guess" our relationship. I'm not trying to do anything like that. I just want to know what he's thinking, because he never wants to open up to me, when we are fighting or otherwise. I can't win. 

No matter what happens, I can't win. I can't be good enough for him. No matter how hard I try, it is always one step forward, five steps back.

Sometimes I just don't know what to do....

I love most of the members of my family, I truly do, but sometimes I just don't know what to do about them. My mother and I have never gotten along. Although I'm not sure why, I have my suspicions. She treated me like I was less than dirt while I was growing up, and to this day she does not want to talk about my childhood, or even admit that she could possibly have had something to do with the way I am now and all the animosity that I have towards her. She has told me more than once, and not in anger or spite, that she wishes she had never had me. She has said nothing of the kind to my two brothers mind you. Just me. How can a parent say that to their child? The human being that you gave life to, you have no problem telling her that you never should have had her. And she doesn't even want to begin to believe, or even contemplate, that she has something to do with the fact that my self-esteem is in the toilet, has been for years, and I feel like I'm a failure at everything I do. I've tried therapy, counseling, medications, everything that you can think of to try to change the way I feel about her and about life and things in general, but all of that can only do so much. If my mother cannot believe or contemplate that she is as least a participant in this whole messy situation, then how in the world can things get better, and who else in the world can help me?

That being said, I feel a little history is in order. My mother, from my very first memory, always treated me like I was lower than my two brothers, like she was ashamed to have given birth to a girl. Every time that it came to getting new school supplies and new clothes for school, my older and my younger brother both received completely new school supplies and a completely new wardrobe. Me? I was stuck using the leftover school supplies from last year, and wearing clothes that were too small for me, or threadbare, or stained, because she refused to by me anything new unless I absolutely had to have it. And even then, it became a huge fight between my mother and my dad, as to the importance of getting me new clothes. Now I started developing at a very early age. I got my first period the night before 1st grade started. (I know it seems like it's not possible, but I swear it is. I should know, because I was there.) Now my mother had never explained anything to me about developing and periods because she thought that I was going to be a "late bloomer" like she was, seeing as she didn't get her first period until she was almost out of high school. When I went to the bathroom before going to bed, I saw blood on my panties and freaked out. So I called my mom to come upstairs and help me. What does she do? She sends MY DAD up to talk to me, because my mother was "too tired" to deal with a scared child. Gee, thanks mom. I get to talk to my dad about feminine issues at 8 YEARS OLD. What the hell was wrong with you? What the hell is still wrong with you? If I wouldn't have lived with my mother for 15 years of my life, and witnessed all the things that she did wrong, and all the things she didn't do, that a mother is supposed to do for her children, I wouldn't believe it. But I was there, and unfortunately she still does shit to me, even though I'm an adult now, with a daughter of my own.

This is going to be one long blog post, considering I have tried and tried to skip over events in an effort to just hit the big parts and focus in on the big events, but I can't. Everything my mother did, no matter how small, is tied into everything else. So, on from first grade and my first period. These memories may not be in the correct order, because I have repressed a lot of things that happened while I was growing up, so if this jumps around, deal with it or don't read it. Simple as that. I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but this is my blog, not yours.

My next memory is of my older brother taking me out into the yard between the two big bushes that were at the corner of the driveway in New Berlin, that was on the right side of the two parking spots that were between the garage and the yard. My older brother took me out there and forced me to have sex with him. Now at the time, I was so damn scared of my older brother and what he would do to me if I told anyone, so I didn't do or say anything. My mother caught him doing it to me one time, he was in his bedroom, and yet my mother blamed everything on me. She said it was MY fault that my older brother did what he did, that it was MY fault that he did it more than once. She never sat him down and told him that was he was doing to me was wrong, that he could have gotten me pregnant. She never told my dad about what happened and Dad didn't know until much later that anything was going on. My mother never let my dad be a "parent", because my mother was raised to believe that the mother took care of the kids and the home, and the father worked and that was all he did. A few times, my older brother decided to bring my younger brother into it, and it was both of them against me. I still didn't say anything, because my mother babied my younger brother; to her, he could do no wrong. So I knew from a young age that I didn't mean anything to her, and that if I had a problem, she wasn't the one to go to for help. It finally stopped when I was about 10, when my dad was home from work one day and saw my older brother taking me out to the bushes. My dad felt so bad about it, I could tell, because he hadn't been told about it previously and even worse, my mother knew about it and didn't do anything about it beforehand. But all that was done was my dad and my mother talked (yelled) to my brother and told him not to do it again. That's all. No report was ever made, no charges were ever filed, because my mother did not want "her good family name" to be drug through the mud with the investigation and statements and everything. So once again, my older brother does something wrong, and nothing is done. But I was the one that was the victim.

After that incident, my brothers and I never got along. They teased me, saying that when I walked into the room, I made the radio skip, because I was fat. I was a size 10 until I got pregnant. But to my brothers, I was "fat". Because my brothers teased me a lot, about anything that they could think of, and nothing was done about it, my self-esteem went down the drain and my mother and I started fighting. A lot. We got into fights about everything from the way I dressed to the way I "complained" about my brothers teasing. I would go to her when I couldn't take the teasing anymore, and tell her what they had said. She told me to "grow up" and "grow a thick skin" and "stop being a baby, people will tease you all your life". She never once told them to stop teasing me, or told my dad about what they were doing, or told me to ignore what they were saying, that what they were saying was untrue. No, she never once did anything to make me feel like I was wanted, like I had a mother instead of just a woman that I lived with. And my brothers made sure that they didn't do anything while my dad was home, because they knew that my dad would raise hell. My mother didn't do anything because she "didn't have time for (my) whining". So my mother and I started fighting. I told her she was a bitch, that she didn't care about me, and that as soon as I was old enough, I was going to run away from her and my miserable life there to go somewhere else and finally be happy. We got into knock down, drag out fights. And of course, my brothers always made it seem like it was my fault that my mother hated me, that we fought all the time and got into fist fights. There were many times when I knocked her to the ground and just had so much rage, not anger, actual rage, that I wanted to kill her. That's how much my mother affected me, and I was only 10. So in 10 years, my mother proved to me that I was there only because she had a legal obligation to take care of me. She did the bare minimum of what was required of her, and even then, she got that only marginally right.

From age 10 to age 15, that time of my childhood was mostly just me and my mother fighting and my brothers teasing me. My mother did not allow my dad to have anything to do with me and my brothers, other than taking us out on the boat and cutting the grass and taking care of the pool. Those are pretty much the only things that I remember my dad being able to do while my parents were married. So all the fighting and hitting and yelling was pretty much the only thing that I can remember from age 10 to 15. When I was 15, my mother started leaving me alone, pretty much ignoring me, unless there was something that needed to be done that my brothers refused to do, like cleaning the bathroom. Then, on Valentine's Day, 2001, I came home from school to my mother sitting at the kitchen table, which she never did, even if we were eating dinner. I said hi and went to go upstairs to do homework, which I always did after school. My mother told me not to do my homework, that I should instead start "packing (my) shit, because you're moving in with your father". My mother was in the kitchen to make sure that she didn't miss the phone call from my dad, because he was at work and she had left him a message to call her. My parents separated when I was 11 and the divorce was final shortly before I turned 13. So anyway, I went upstairs and started packing, not even arguing with her, because I had been begging her since my parents separated if I could go live with my dad. I hated my mother so much at this point that I honestly would not have cared if she died. So, after about two hours of packing and not hearing the phone ring, I went downstairs to see if he had called and I just didn't hear the phone, and if he hadn't called, if I could call him. Yes, I had to ask to use the phone. I was in a hurry to leave. I couldn't stand it there anymore. Well, my mother was on the phone with my dad, and I clearly heard her say "You take the fucking bitch, I don't want her anymore!" Then she hung up the phone. My mother turned around and saw me standing there and without apologizing for what she said or anything, she told me that I wouldn't be going with my dad that night, because he was with "his little slut", which was what my mother called his girlfriend, for Valentine's Day, and couldn't drive from Jefferson to New Berlin, because he had been drinking. So it would be the next day that he would be there. So I went upstairs for the night, because my mother told me that she wasn't going to feed me anymore, because I was "no longer her responsibility". I stayed home from school the next day, waiting for my dad to come get me. When he got there, there were no words spoken between him and my mother, other than "I'm here and we are going to take as much of her things as we can". My mother responded with "Make sure you don't take anything that doesn't belong to her, or was ordered to be yours in the divorce". That was it. She didn't say good-bye or anything. She went and hid in her home office at the back of the house and that was it. My dad and I loaded up his pick-up truck with as much as the two of us could get downstairs and into the truck. I had to leave my piano, which my mother later burned in the fire pit in the yard, and the majority of my clothes. I didn't care about the clothes, because I needed new clothes that actually fit, so I left them there. Dad said we would go shopping that weekend and get me clothes that fit. So we loaded up and left. We went to my old high school, New Berlin West, so I could say good bye to my cheer-leading squad and my friends and clear out my locker. Then it was on to Waukesha and getting registered at my new high school, Waukesha South, and get all my things into my dad's apartment. I was nervous about starting a new school in the middle of my freshman year, but I was happy to finally be away from my mother.

So then my "new life" started, being free to be me and not having to worry about being told I was stupid or fat or anything else of that variety. I started a new school, made new friends, was able to actually have them over to the apartment, something that I was never allowed to do while living with my mother, and I was actually able to have my first boyfriend. I came out of the protective shell that I had built up while living at my mother's. Sure, there were transitional issues, going from a home that had no rules whatsoever, to my dad's that had rules and consequences if you broke those rules. Because of all the issues I had developed from what happened with my mother, I was very rebellious. I had a lot of negative energy that I used to take out on my mother, but now my dad was the only person around to take things out on. That led to my dad calling the cops on my one night because I ran away to a friend's house and refused to come home. Then when the cops took me home, I wouldn't calm down and stop yelling and cussing and trying to leave. So I spent one night in Juvenile Detention. That taught me that I never wanted to be in jail or detention or anything like it ever again. After that, my dad started me in counseling.

The counseling seemed to work a lot. I stopped trying to take things that my mother did to me out on my dad, I stopped the lying and sneaking around, and I started doing better in school. Then, the March after I turned 16, I found out I was pregnant. That brought a whole new shit-storm to my life. My the fact that I was pregnant, no that wasn't the bad part. The bad part was the fact that my guidance counselor at school found out I was pregnant and called my mother to "confer with her about how to handle this". Now, when my father enrolled me in Waukesha South, my dad made sure that the office personnel and everyone involved knew not to contact my mother regarding anything to do with me, because there was something in the divorce papers that stated that if my mother kicked any of the three kids out of the house or they moved out on their own, before the age of 19, my mother gave up all legal rights as to their schooling, health care, etc. So when my mother kicked me out, which to this day she denies that she ever kicked me out. She says I left of my own accord. Whatever. Anyway, after my school counselor decided to go against that and call my mother, I had to spend three hours at school with my mother, talking to her and "trying to figure out what we are going to do". My mother wanted me to get an abortion, telling me "if you don't get an abortion, I want nothing to do with you or that bastard child". Needless to say, I was not going to get an abortion. The really bad part of all this was that my counselor decided to call my mother the same day that my parents had court to change the child support order, because from the time my mother kicked me out until they went to court, my dad was still paying my mother for three children living in my mother's home, when there were only two. So then, when my mother left to go to the court date, I quickly called my dad and gave him the heads-up on what my mother knew and what was probably going to be brought up in court that day.

During court, my mother stood up and wanted the judge to order a paternity test for my dad, because my mother believed that my dad was the father of the child that I was pregnant with. That's how sick my mother is. She has been diagnosed as bi-polar, for which she does not take any medication, because she says she's not sick, and "only sick people take medication". I believe that she is schizophrenic as well, because of how she acts and what she says. Anyway, the judge did not grant the order for the paternity test, and my mother was ordered to pay back all the child support that my dad had paid her for me living with her, while I was actually living with my dad. After that, I was thankfully separated from my mother. I did not have to have anything to do with her, unless it was my choice. The judge was not going to force me to spend time with my mother, when we so obviously did not get along. So I was finally free of my mother's grasp. Or so I thought.

My pregnancy was pretty uneventful, although I did have a bout of stomach flu where I couldn't keep anything down for a day. I called my doctor and he told me that as long as I could eat something the following morning, I should be fine. I was about four or five months pregnant at the time. Anyway, I was able to eat some soup the next day, and keep it down, along with some white soda, so I thought I was fine. My dad and I decided to go to the mall, because there was a Saturday sale and he needed something, I forget what. But I was standing at the counter with whatever it was that my dad wanted to get, waiting for the salesperson, while my dad went to look at some speakers for his truck that were on the clearance rack. In the whole 30 seconds that it would take my dad to turn to look at the rack and the box of speakers, realize that the speakers would work for his truck, and turn back around to come over by the counter, I passed out. Right at the counter, I passed out. No one was close-by, although there was an off-duty Brookfield paramedic that had just walked in the store. He saw me go down, and according to my dad, he called the store security and the ambulance and supported my head while we waited for them to get there. The paramedic did not see if I had hit my head when I went down, so he wouldn't let me get up for fear that I had a concussion. And the fact that I was pregnant. I was considered "high risk" because I was 16 while I was pregnant, so they wanted to make sure I was going to be ok. They loaded me up and took me to the emergency room at St. Joesph's Hospital, which was where I gave birth to my daughter in November 2002. After that, there wasn't anything physical that happened while I was pregnant. But my mother came back into the picture.

A few months before I gave birth, my mother decided that she was "sorry" for "what she had done", but had never fully explained to me what it was that she had done, that she was now apologizing for. Whether I truly believed that my mother had changed, or if it was just the hormones from being pregnant, I don't know, but I allowed my mother call and come to see me a few times. At the time, I don't know if it was an act, or if she was serious. I know now that at the time, she was back on her medication and wanted to make things right between us. She said she "didn't mean" what she had said about the abortion, and that she wanted to be the grandma to my daughter. Well, it turns out that my mother hadn't changed at all. It was all an act. Everything was fine, until I gave birth and my mother was there and she told me, when there was no one in the room, that she was going to set up an adoption for the baby, because she "didn't think that I could handle it", being a mother at 17. Well, I tried to tell my dad and my daughter's father and anyone else that would listen that I didn't want my mother around me, didn't want her around my baby. My daughter's father, Mike, didn't believe me. But then again, he's always been a "momma's boy", always doing what his mom wants him to do, not what's right for our daughter. But that's a whole other story.

Anyway, after my daughter was born, my mother decided, off and on, that she didn't want to be around my daughter, and then a few weeks or months later, she would decide that she did want to be around her. There were many times, as my daughter got older and could talk, that she would ask about "Grandma Rita" and when she (my daughter) was going to see her again. My mother would call and set up a time and a place to meet, because my mother was coming from Saukville, over an hour away from my dad's house in Waukesha. Then, when the day came to meet, my mother would call like 15 minutes before we were supposed to be there, and tell me that she had to cancel, but wouldn't give me a reason. So then I was stuck having to tell my little sweet daughter, who wears her emotions on her face, that we weren't going to be seeing Grandma Rita that day, that she (Grandma Rita) had to cancel, but that we would see her another day. I can't count all the times that I had to tell my daughter that, and then try to calm her down and wipe her tears. I know that that's what mother's are supposed to do for their child, but aren't they also supposed to try to keep them from harm? That's what I've tried to do, yet people are trying to paint me as a bad mother. But that's for another post as well.

Now I haven't actually talked to my mother in almost a year. I have exchanged a few e-mails, mostly because she had to stick her nose where it didn't belong and make up lies, but again, that's for another post. But since I have stopped talking to her, I have been happier. I have realized that there is nothing that I can do to change her. I can only change myself, which I have started, slowly, ever so slowly, to do. But now, for those that read this that know me, you will probably understand a lot more about me. And please don't ask about these things unless you are a very good friend of mine, because I don't talk about these things easily. But there you go. That's the miserable childhood that contributed to me being so screwed up. In case any of you were wondering.