Hi everyone,

So, I’ve been working more on my book. Not nearly as much as I should be, to be honest. But I think I know why I have struggled with it so much. I really feel that the topic of the book is such a taboo subject, it may not be received well in certain groups. That frightens me! Majorly frightens me. But I have to get out of my comfort zone. I have to write the story that I have in my head (and heart) and get it out there. Who cares if it’s not for everyone? Who cares if I am judged for the topic of choice? Many authors before me have been judged for what they choose to write. Whether it’s fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, or otherwise.

I have to realize I am not writing for everyone. I am writing for me. I am writing because I have a story I want to tell. It is a healing process for me. A way to get the story inside of me out. And just because certain groups may not approve of the character or her motives, there will be some groups that will. This story may be what a lonely, broken soul needs to read in order to realize she is not alone in this world. Perhaps that is my purpose here on this Earth-to help others realize they are not their mistakes.

Back to writing…..have a great day!


Who I Want to Be

It’s no secret that I have made some terrible choices in life. But I’m trying to make the most of my time here on Earth. I have loved the wrong people, mistreated the good ones, and I have learned lessons from everyone.

I want to be the woman my parents brag about to their friends. I want to be the mom that my children are proud of. The mom that my children know will always be there for them no matter what. I want to be the friend that everyone says was always dependable, compassionate, and kind. I want to be the employee that gives her all at her job. I want to make a difference in the lives of everyone I meet.

I have been told recently, by more than one person, that I have inspired them to do more. To go back to college. To take that leap into the unknown. To write. To create. Whatever the case may be, I love that I inspire people. I love knowing that my words and my advice have lifted those people to the next level in their lives.

It make take me a while to become the woman I want to be. But I am well on my way toward that goal. Thank you all for always reading my work and giving feedback. I greatly appreciate those friends I’ve made along this journey.

From the bottom of my heart, Thank you.


What I Want

I want to hear a song on the radio and not cry.

I want to be able to drive down the road and not wonder if I’m going to see your truck.

I want to not be broken anymore.

I want to taste my favorite wine and not imagine your kiss.

I want to go to my favorite spot and not hear your voice whispering through the trees.

I want to not be broken anymore.

I want to watch the leaves change in Autumn and not be reminded of the day you said goodbye.

I want to feel the crisp, fall air and not remember how it had to dry my tears that day.

I want to not be so broken anymore.

I want to be able to walk with confidence again.

I want to be able to grocery shop without anxiety.

I want to not be broken anymore.

I want to know that you’re happy.

I want to know that someday I will be too.



I Saw You Too

I was shocked. I hadn’t seen you for years. And then there you were; in the dairy section at Walmart. I kept staring because I couldn’t believe it was you. Your hair was pulled back; I like it better down. Like that night I showed up at your house. You were fresh out of the shower and smelled like heaven. She didn’t see you. She didn’t notice that I was staring at you while she was talking to me. She doesn’t notice anything I do. Why do you think I’m so unhappy?

Yes, it was hard seeing you again. I didn’t know I still felt these things for you. I didn’t know that I would be so captivated by your eyes. Damn that look of yours. It’s so intense. That look of longing. That look that says, “Take me right here, right now”. Why do you look at me that way? Why would you still want me after what I did to you?

I miss your kisses. They were so incredible. I would have given anything to kiss you right then and there. And those jeans, damn you must paint them on. I love the way they show your curves. I noticed your walk is still the same. Drawing attention with every step. Do you realize what that does to me? I bet you do.

The whole way home I thought of you. I didn’t know why you left the store in such a hurry. Why didn’t you stay longer so I could see you a few more times? Why did the last thing I saw have to be that ass walking away from me? Your tan back showing in that tank top you were wearing. God, all I’ve done is think about you. I guess that’s all I will ever have; memories of you. And wondering when I will see you again.


**Note: this post was written as a “response” to a previous post. It was suggested by a follower. Please refer to the post “I Saw You Again” to read my perspective. Thanks!

I Saw You Again

You never loved me. You loved the idea of me. You loved the idea of someone that was willing to fight for you. Someone that was willing to give you attention. The attention you weren’t getting. And I fell for it. I bought the lies. I believed every word. And in the end, I got burned.

And I wonder how you feel now, seeing me after all this time. After what you did. Did the knot form in your chest like it did in mine? Did your heart begin to beat faster and faster at the sight of me? Did you wish you could talk to me like I did you?

I saw the look in your eyes. That same look you always had. The look that says “rescue me from this hell”; “save me from my misery”. I know that look very well. I also know the look in your eyes when you know I’m hurting. It’s pitiful. And I saw that look too. I saw that you were too busy staring at me to pay attention to her. Did she notice? Did she see?

Did you try to put yourself in my path when you raced down the next aisle? Is that what that was? Were you trying to make eye contact, yet again? Well, it worked. You caught my eyes one last time before I hauled ass out of the store and away from you. I had to get out of there. The walls were closing in on me.

Seeing you again was not what I expected it to be. I didn’t know I would still feel these feelings. I didn’t know they would still be so strong. I didn’t know that my chest would tighten and my heart would race. I didn’t know I would forget how to speak. I didn’t know that walking would be such a difficult thing to do. I didn’t know that I still couldn’t bear the sight of you. I didn’t know that when I got home afterwards, the only thing that would calm me was a strong mixed drink. That damn Bacardi that always saved my ass when you crushed my soul. Did you know these things? Well you do now.

Slut Shaming

So I just went through a break up. And let me tell ya, it wasn’t pretty. Just like many of us women (and some men) deal with regularly, he called me several vulgar names. They were slightly painful coming from someone who claimed to love me, but I have a pretty thick skin after years of being slut shamed. But it made me think. Why is it when a man is hurt or angry with a woman he resorts to insulting her genitals or sexual escapades? 

Y’all do realize your grandmas had sex right? I mean science, and common sense, let us know many generations ago that sex was pretty necessary for the survival of the species. I mean, we have to have sex. 

Sure, we could only have sex for procreation. But don’t these men want sex often? I mean that’s why the adult film industry does so well, is it not? I’ve heard that men will cheat if their women won’t give it up. So we, as a species, have sex. And if Billy Bob wants to go get laid, well that’s his prerogative. But unless he’s banging Jimbo, he’s going to need a vagina to complete his sex act. Am I right? 

So if Kelly wants to have consensual sex with Billy Bob, it’s all great. Except he will most likely call her a slut later on. Especially if she has sex with Jimbo even a year later. And now in that time, Billy Bob has had sex with many women. But he’s just a guy. And that’s OK, right? But Kelly, well she’s just a horrible specimen of a human being because she chose to share a sexual experience with more than one person. 

Let’s say Kelly didn’t have sex with Billy Bob and he’s all butt hurt over it. You know he will probably go and tell his buddies she’s a whore anyway. And they will believe him. Because we all know that a man’s word is always trusted more than a woman’s. 

At 13, I was slut shamed. I was called a lesbian whore. Well I was a virgin. Complete virgin. No men, no women. No partners period. But all because one person opened their mouth and spewed lies, I was called names. I don’t recall now who or why, I just know it happened and it led to years of self esteem issues. And 21 years later, the man I thought I was going to marry called me names all because I let him know how I felt about issues in our relationship. 

So what starts in childhood from the mean boys continues into adulthood from weak men. Face the facts that all people are entitled to the consensual sex of their choosing. Sex acts don’t determine a person’s worth. But your choice of words can make a woman’s self worth plummet.


Story Time: Grab a Seat 

Hi everyone. I would like to share my story with you. Some may call it bragging. But some may be inspired. Here goes nothing. 

At 17, I found out I was pregnant. Wow! I never expected to be a statistic. I never intended to let down my parents, embarrass my siblings, or shame my family. But there I was, barely attending school as it is was due to rebellious teenage ways, and pregnant. When I went to the guidance counselor in April of my senior year, he informed me that I could not come back and finish out the year. I would have to go back in September and complete another year. Due to give birth September 14th, I knew that wouldn’t work. So I took my fate and focused on getting ready to have a baby. 

September came, and my world changed. On the day when the world mourned the lives lost in the terror attacks in NY, DC, and PA, I became a mom to a beautiful little girl. Boy did I have to grow up fast! A year after her birth, I took my father up on the offer to pay for the GED test. I passed with no problems. I wasn’t stupid, not by any stretch of the imagination. I was a teen who rebelled against tough times and tough authority and made poor choices in the process. But stupid, I was not. 

A few months after getting my diploma, I started community college. I did amazingly well! But a few semesters in, I was raising my little girl alone and work became priority. I had to stop attending college. 

And then, 4 and a half years after my first child, I gave birth to a chunky little boy! But a few months after his birth, I found that I still had not learned my lesson about men and bad choices. His donor was a drug addict who abused me and threatened to kill him. But I was strong enough to know that I needed to get far, far away. I did. I also enrolled in college again and continued working on my degree. 

17 months after chunky monkey was born, I gave birth to another son. His dad and I did all we could to raise all 3 kids in a happy, healthy environment. But we were young and it didn’t last. We currently co-parent. And it works for us. As has the co-parenting with my daughter’s father (mostly). Don’t worry, chunky monkey knows his background, and he loves the dad that has been and continues to raise him. 

5 years ago, when the boy’s dad and I split, I lived in my sister’s attic. 3 kids, me, and what personal belongings we could fit, spent a year living in my sister’s loft style, finished attic. Though it was cramped, we had love. I had the support of my sister and her strength to learn from. 

All was going fine. I was able to get my own place about a year later and began building a life for my kids. I decided that finishing my degree would be the only way to do that. Considering I was raising 3 kids and working full time, online college would be the best option. 

So I researched different schools, applied to a few, and determined which university would best fit my life and my long term goals. I chose my university and got started. Many people said I would never finish. That I would drop out just like I have in the past. 

Well I didn’t. I pushed myself through days without sleep, nights of research and discussion posts, and weekends of fine tuning academic papers. I was determined by the pride I saw in my children’s eyes. I was motivated by their wishes for a bigger house with a private yard. I worked my brain to the point of exhaustion. My body ran on coffee and dreams! 
This past weekend, our dreams became a solidified reality. The first step towards the life we want was recognized. With my family there, I walked the stage at my commencement ceremony. Not only did I finally earn my bachelor’s degree, I earned it with honors. Out of 271 bachelor’s candidates, only 12 earned honors recognition. I was one of those 12. I earned my BS in Psychology with a 3.97 GPA. 

I know my family was proud to see that up on the big screen. But I had no idea that the emotions my children felt were so strong until after the ceremony. When I exited the building and searched for their faces through the crowd, I became discouraged when I didn’t see them exit. I began to walk to find them when my Dad found me in the crowd. He informed me that everyone was waiting out back for me and to hurry!  

As I turned the corner, my children ran to me with open arms and tears streaming down their beautiful faces. My Dad was able to snap a few candid moments. Here is my favorite. 

Nothing was more powerful than those moments when my children held me tight, crying, and offering up their congratulations. They stated how proud they were and how happy they were to see me on that stage. I still cannot look at the pictures without crying. I told everyone I would finish this time. And I did it! With honors.