Legacy

 Round 75 of me saying "I'll write more now" or "I'm back!"

Except this time I'm back with news...and a whole lot of entertainment. 

I have removed a lot of posts, refocusing on why this blog was started. 

Paul's "legacy" (for lack of a better term) is in the works. I have spent the last few months requesting police records, reading through thousands of pages of court documents...and starting to write the stories of my paternal nightmare. 

Life update- because I feel like it matters for anyone that has followed this from the beginning of my rantings 15 years ago (what?!). 

Next month is 10 years married. 6 kids. (Yes we got surprised by twins since our last post). We've lived in Ohio, Virginia, Texas, and soon to be Hawaii. We've been through some stuff. 

But other than the million kids...this book has been my focus for a few months now. I have found stories that I forgot about, I have read through documents that made me want to throw things. I have lost the tiny bit of faith I used to have in the court system. 

So now I'm unloading it for all of you. 

I named this blog the recovering skeptic for a reason. I'm always working on recovery...I'm always trying to deal with the hell that was my earlier life. I will never not be. 

I write for me. And I write for other people going through these things...whether it be kids/teens currently in it, or adults that are trying to process their own trauma. I also want to hold the world, and all of the people that chose to throw me to the wolf over and over again...accountable. 

So everything in those public records...is about to be painfully public. 

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

If I lost you over the years...tune back in. Please. This is gonna be good. 

Boo!

 I'm backkkkkk!

I have 32 notes in my phone about things I wanted to write about and didn't. Because life, and kids, and...the world we live in.

But it's been way too long and it's time to fix it. 

A mom's fight

 What a crazy feeling. It's been over a decade since this blog was started...and over a year since I last posted.

Maybe that says something. I write when I feel that I need to. When I am bursting with some kind of emotion that I'm not handling well in my own head. For the last decade...that need to write/get it out has lessened exponentially. I feel ok. Well...better than ok. I feel good.

Tonight however...I am not dealing with my emotions well. I am angry. 

My daughter has encountered a bully at school. One that not only is physically aggressive...but today broke something that meant a lot to my child. Intentionally. Stomped on it...after taking my child's backpack away from her. 

My husband is at training...has been for about a month, and will be gone for awhile still. He sent our 6 year old a keychain to keep with her. It helps her think of him, and she immediately attached it to her bookbag so that she could "think of daddy every day and be happy." 

This child decided to stomp and smash it today. Broke it into pieces.

When we talked about it, she then told me that this same child has physically hurt her multiple times. Kicks her chair during class, has slammed her arms into their desks...

So earlier today I was angry. I messaged the teacher to make her aware...and I was going to leave it at that. Mostly because I "didn't want to cause a fuss." 

But tonight it occurred to me that me not making a fuss...is just allowing this to continue. It is making this behavior acceptable. WHY the hell don't I want to make a fuss when it comes to protecting my child?!

This is EXACTLY when you are supposed to make a fuss. As a mom this is exactly the moment I should be making a big deal and standing up for my child. Not because I want to make anyone's life/job harder...but because my kid is worth it. And because it is my job to teach her that these things matter...and someone will fight for her. That SHE should fight for herself.

Here is what stood out to me and what got me to writing. I am groomed to "be quiet." To stop disrupting things. I was taught in two separate ways to "let things go" and to walk away first. Don't cause an issue...it will bother someone. We need peace...right?

In one way I was taught that peace meant a happy drug addict. Don't create conflict, there might not be conflict.

On another side I was taught to not give power to a mentally ill person. A narcissist wants attention. A psychopath needs your reaction. They absorb power from your reactions. Take away the reaction...you take away their power.

But this is different. This is my child...and this is a situation in which I am done being quiet. It is time for a reaction. I have spent a year NOT reacting to the things they have dropped the ball on.

They LOST my 5 year old after school. Let her wander off campus...and had no idea where she was. I found her...and when I spoke to the principal...I APOLOGIZED for being upset. 

Read that again.

The school lost my 5 year old. A child who can't even pick out her own matching clothes...or determine the appropriate coat for the day...and she disappeared at the end of the school day because they let her walk away at dismissal. When I found her...I marched back into the school ready to raise hell...and ended up apologizing. I made myself small in a moment that I should have been larger than life. The moment that every mom is ready for...the moment where a momma bear comes out...

Mine didn't.

Today I spent time intentionally calming myself down when my child was upset. While that concept has its merits...why am I trying so hard to calm down before addressing an issue? Why am I prefacing my reactions with "I'm sorry."

Here's the reality.

I am not sorry.

I am not letting these "little" things go.

My daughter is worth more. She needs to learn to advocate for herself, and she won't learn that if mom spends too much time making herself *small* to make others more comfortable.

The gift of fear.

The idea that we don't make ourselves smaller or quieter to make others comfortable. 

It isn't our job to make you...or anyone else comfortable. 

But it is absolutely my job to protect my kid.

Stop pretending

 It's funny...it's only been 6ish weeks since I posted about turning this year into a thankful year.

And to be clear, I don't in any way take that back.

Let's pause and just adore that tiny face before we keep going. 

I need a little "happy" tonight. And this is it.

But I will say that I feel this strange urge to write on the nights that I am struggling. I don't think to write when I'm thankful and happy and in pure bliss. But I NEED to write when I am hurting or need to unload some of the thoughts that are exploding in my head.

Which is what brings me to write tonight. I am having a night that has both of those things. Tonight I was hiking with my kids and my husband...and I was so thankful as we walked. I took all these pictures of my beautiful family walking along a beautiful path with the moon coming up...and I was just so happy with my life.

Multiple times I fell into this bliss and just thought to myself "this is how it is supposed to be."

Then we got home...and they all went to bed.

And my thoughts started again. 

The overwhelming anxiety, the tears for no reason...the definition of this beautiful mental illness that has been in my life for nearly as long as I can remember. 

I can laugh one minute...I can joke around and truly be happy...just to have this crazy dread shock me out of it 5 minutes later. It makes no sense. The attacks have been coming more frequently lately...even when driving around for happy things. With my beautiful kids, my amazing husband...and suddenly I can't quite breathe right. 

None of this is easy. 

Not having a dad really fucking sucks sometimes. 

And that is something that I can't really put into words efficiently. 

My mother is truly perfect. My family is everything to me. But not having an actual father to be there when I could use it...takes more out of me than I can admit sometimes. I like to pretend I function fine without him. But while I can function...it truly wrecks me. 

I deserved more. My mom deserved more. My kids deserve more. 

We have AMAZING months coming. A partial family vacation, a honeymoon, a move for all of us...

But some nights it is just plain hard.

And really sad. 

I know it's gonna get better. 

And tomorrow will be easier.

But it's okay to say...it's hard right now.

I can be nice or I can be honest when I write. 

And when I was struggling even more than I am now...I read a lot of blogs and a lot of posts. Of people pretending to be okay. Pretending to be honest. It did me zero favors to read how "great" they were doing.

Sometimes you're not okay. 

And being honest about that is the only way to make it better someday. 

I'm good. I'm happy. 

But I am struggling. 

And it's okay to not be okay.

Moving on 2021

 If you pay any attention to this page...you know I have desperately struggled to write the last few years. 

I spent a very long time being sad. Struggling with emotions, and not knowing how to deal with the feelings that were wrecking my mental health. Nearly 20 years of my life were spent trying to process the things that were happening around me. 

Today...I don't have to try and process nearly as much. I have my bad days. These last few weeks actually have been chock full of my father in my memories and in my dreams. It has been exhausting, my anxiety has been in overdrive...and I have struggled.

But as I looked at social media memories today compared to my current life...I was so thankful. I realized that when I take a step back and look at where my life has gone...it has changed more than I ever thought possible.

So I am going to try and take this blog in a new direction so that I can start writing more. 

I will never sugar coat things. I will never pretend that hard things aren't hard.

The first 15 years of my life were painful...physically and mentally.
Marriage at 19, divorced by 21...in an ugly situation.

Excessive trauma from a drug addict parent...and then his death.

The last 2 years...nearly impossible. Deployment on crack, a house sale. Moving. Parenting alone.

The last 2 months...reintegration, a cancer scare, and a miscarriage.

Yet here we stand. And when I look at my life on a day to day basis...I am so thankful. When I see my husband and kids together...I tear up. I am relieved. My life isn't anything that I thought it would be...it is better. It is real. The daily REAL...is exactly what I needed. 

The new direction is simply "thankful."

It's not just surviving trauma. 
It's thriving from trauma.

It's living the life that you didn't want...and creating the life that you dreamed of.

Yes.

Dreamed of. 

Life will never be perfect. But if you do it right...it is sooo damn good.

This year has rocked worlds.

But this world is so much better.

Stay tuned for finding positivity in "hard." Because in fact...in can be done.

War on drugs

 I hear the term "war on drugs" a lot. Very very frequently actually. Especially given the degree I am pursuing. People have a lot of opinions on this war this country is fighting. Well, that the world is fighting. 

I want to be sure to preface this entire post with the fact that I completely understand the thought process behind "ending" the war on drugs. I truly do. There are a lot of things that aren't working, and things are being criminalized that shouldn't be. There are lives being ruined because of criminal charges that may not be justified. 

I get it.

But. There is another side to that. 

My side.

Drugs ruined my family. 

A few stupid white and brown substances tore my family apart piece by piece. 

They killed my father.
They destroyed every chance at healthy relationships.
They took away a grandfather.
They caused mental illnesses. 
They shattered any sense of normalcy.

They TRULY ruined lives. So many lives. 

I wish the person that provided my father with his drugs could be charged. I wish they could at least see the extent of the damage caused by their choices.

I don't blame them. My father had a choice and he could have gone elsewhere. But he didn't.

On that same note...I also wish my father had been charged earlier. It makes me physically ill to think of the amount of people he supplied drugs to. To think of the ways he behaved around me and other people's children. The dangerous choices he made that could have killed me or anyone else around him. 

If he had been charged, or formally held in a facility...he might have stood a chance.

Maybe not. 

But he might have. 

It might have been the one thing that got his attention. No "suspended" jail sentences. No mercy. Just straight into lockdown and then to rehab. Forced psychological treatment. 

SOMETHING.

If back then this "war on drugs" had been anything like it is now...I might still have a father. 

Maybe not.

But I might.

It's something I choose not to think about frequently because we have to deal with life as it is given to us. We have to "accept the things we can not change." We can not dwell on the things that "could be."

But for just a second when you think about how bad this war on drugs is in your opinion...

Think about those "might" circumstances. 

Because those MIGHTS would have changed so many lives.                                                                     

Lives like mine.

Just stop.

It's been a rough week.

One where I felt about 10 times my actual age.

It's hard to be the "mean" one. The one that says things that people don't want to hear.

But it comes with the territory.

You come from this past where you are so painfully aware of everything you do and the decisions you make. You have over-analyzed every part of you (and so have a lot of professionals). And suddenly you start to see your qualities in other people.

I went to school for psychology. I spent a lot of time in trauma and the aftershock.

And it's nice to be self aware. It's nice to be a good source of advice for a lot of people. But it's also incredibly exhausting. Because no one wants to hear the hard stuff.

So be nice. Listen to those that love you. Chances are they are really just trying to make sure you're ok.