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Random Thoughts…

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So I’m sitting here this morning with things swirling inside my brain as usual. I pick up my phone and see a Snapchat message from my daughter. I open it up to read it and see that she’s sent me a pic of the outfit she’s decided to wear to school today. It just happens to compliment the fact she’s pregnant and show off her baby bump very well. Even though she’s only started showing. I look at her and think to myself where has the time gone? I berate myself all over again when I see the beautiful young woman she’s grown up to be. However, the past is right where it should be. In the past. I guess it’s still something I have yet to forgive myself for. Even though she and my son have already. I just feel like the words, “I’m sorry”, aren’t good enough to say when it comes to asking for forgiveness for being absent for the most important times of their lives.

I remember the beginning of me getting to know her all over again when I came home in October 2018. I was home in time for her 16th birthday. Man was she ever surprised. It was one birthday wish she had that finally came true. So needless to say when she decided she wanted to move in with me it was of course a “Hell Yes”. Then when Mother’s Day rolled around I was in pure heaven being with my kids and my husband again. However when Father’s Day rolled around and I seen the social media posts from her to her father, I became somewhat jealous. Here I was trying to tell her about things from her childhood and how close we actually used to be, when I started seeing pictures she posted of her father holding her as a little baby. It caused a fire to start burning within me to make it a point to ask her if she had ever been told anything about me while she growing up. Other than the fact that I was an addict and had been locked up most of her childhood. Her response was that she doesn’t remember really. She knows she was, she just can’t say how recent of how often.

As you can imagine I was highly upset. I took it kind of personal. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t kept up his end of the promise we made. Especially knowing how much I loved him and wanted nothing more than to have his child (I’ve never wanted nothing as much as I wanted that in my life. I don’t think). When I first met her father it truly was love mat first sight. (A lot of lust at first sight too). My son was almost 1 year old and his sperm donor father had abandoned us right when I found out I was pregnant, so I had been raising him on my own already. So when I met B (that’s what I’ll call him instead of putting his name out there) and I saw how good he was with kids in general, I knew he’d be the perfect man to be a father to my boy.

How young women dream the dreams of a knight in shining armor coming to rescue them. Pity it hardly comes true. However when it does, it’s so amazingly beautiful that you have to pinch yourself to make sure your not dreaming. Yeah. It was like that for me when I met him and we locked eyes. I found out he was currently separated from his baby momma so I made my move. It went back and forth between her and I for almost 2 years. A lot of upset moments I went through to make him mine. I got him though. Plus all his toxicity. He appeared to make himself an open book with me. The first night we hung out together we stayed up all night talking. I didn’t know that I was the only sober one though.

Anyways…as time goes on and the years go by we were well known together. Where someone saw him I was usually right behind. Or vice versa.

It all came to a bitter end and I had many things going on in my head and several mental disorders that lead up to me being alone again. I could never get my head right for many years after that. I had to make the ultimate sacrifice on my part. I needed his help. Instead of me raising my children, they were raising me. I hated to admit that. However I didn’t have my shit together as he did. Rather as he appeared to have.

I called and checked on her and my son both all the time. Even when I went to prison I wrote letters and drew pictures and mailed it to them. My son came back home to stay with me when he was 10 years old. He continued staying with my husband during my incarceration. Greg (my husband) raised him into the man he is today. When Nick chose to stay with me instead of going back to Georgia was the last time B was involved in his life. Even though he’s all he’s known as a father figure growing up, raised together with his daughter, and had done been calling him dad since he was like 3 years old. He never picked up the phone to call and speak to him or check on him since. Hence the daddy issues he now has.

When I would ask my daughter questions about certain things we did together all the time she’d tell me she doesn’t remember unless she see’s a picture of us being together. That triggers her memory. I was left speechless when she finally opened up and told me the things she’d been through that she wouldn’t have had I of been there for her. She also told me she wasn’t calling no one else mom or dad. It only turned to shit when her dad and whatever female he was with would get into it and end up breaking up. There was always alcohol and drugs involved. Never in front of her though (thank God for small miracles).

I finally told her, after he freaked out one night, that he’s always been that way just not around her. He was violent when he was high. I called him out that night to. Right in front of our daughter. She had the right to know why he had just got done telling my husband “I’ll always be his business”. That he was just putting that out there. I couldn’t believe it. Was he making a last ditch attempt at trying to get me back? If so he went about it the most insane way. I looked him dead in the eyes and said to him, “Your high and trying to start shit where there ain’t no shit”. He couldn’t say nothing after that. He took the defensive stance and started denying it of course. Saying that he wasn’t. I went to go walk out. Back to the truck where Greg was waiting. He had enough and walked out on him also. I put my hand on the door knob and had only just cracked the door, when out of no where he swooped in and slammed it shut. Keeping me inside with him and our daughter. He started screaming at me. Pointing back and forth between him and our daughter. Saying, “It’s always been ride or die. Ride or die”. If he was seeking a pat on the back or looking for a compliment, I quickly gave it to him. I said “Thank you. Thank you for raising our daughter when I couldn’t be there for her. You have done a great job”.

I finally got away from him and out of the apartment. Back in the truck to my safety. My husband. This happened in June.

I don’t have to wonder if she knows anymore. She can now tell on her own when he’s high. We have created so many knew and wonderful memories together. I asked her if she wanted to know why there weren’t many pictures of her and I when she was a baby. I told her it was because I was the one who was always behind the camera. Taking in every moment I could when he was home with us. Once he was introduced to making money the fast way. It was over with at that moment. I made him choose between the drugs and his family. At the time he was too far gone to do the right thing. So I packed up all my belongings. Took the kids ,and we moved to a new area and tried to start making new memories. In a new home where we didn’t know anyone and no one knew us.

Fast forward to this year in 2021.

My son will be 21 in December and she’ll be 18 next month in October. She’s also expecting. Due in February 2022. She’s having a little boy and his name is going to be Adrian Neal. She chose to give her son, her fathers middle name. I know she’s going to be a wonderful mother. I have no doubts or worries about her ability to care for her child. She’ll instill in him all the right and proper things she wants for him. I already have chosen the name “GG”. That’s what I want my grandkids to call me. Has a ring to it for me.

I have been through so many up’s and downs throughout my life. As I’m sure everyone has at some time or another. However…if I could choose to go back and do things over again. Knowing what I know now. I wouldn’t change a thing. Because if I did I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Being a responsible adult finally. Knowing how to manage money and pay bills. I’m the way I am now because of serving those 4 years in prison. I’ve retained a lot of wisdom and knowledge over the years that has made me a better person. A better mother. A better spouse whose loving and understanding. One that walks away from arguments instead of starting them. To be able to live without drama in my life instead of being in the middle of it.

Showing my kids that momma is doing the damn thing now. Being able to provide for them when they need things. Hell, even if they just want it. I now can do those things and I owe it all to my higher power and my loving and supportive family. Especially my husband. He has been put through hell since he’s been with me. He’s earned every grey hair he’s sporting on his head. I have obtained the knowledge he’s passed down to me teaching me the responsibilities of managing money and paying bills. Man…life is so much better these days. I have no worries and I want for absolutely nothing, and either does my family.

It started out as being one thing I wanted to talk about, and has turned into a whole bunch of rambling bullshit, but it’s off my chest and out of my head finally. Maybe now I’ll stop repeating myself so much.

Random Thoughts…

About Post Author


I'd rather read a good book, VS watching the movie made from it on TV. Most thoughts on that are 'why'. Well, my answer for that is that there aren't any limitations to your imagination. Therefore, when I'm reading an action packed thriller that I can't put down or stop turning the pages of is because the details are written by the author describing the scene/situation with such clarity, that I think it's far better than what anyone can visibly see on TV. That being my opinion only, I'm sure millions and billions of avid readers out there agree with me 100% on that reason alone. I've always had an active imagination growing up. I'd use the almost empty cans of shaving cream my dad would give me, as the whipped cream on top of the mud pies I made.Of course dad got the first one. After all, he did give me the topping. I was very versatile also. I was the biggest tom boy of a little girl you'd ever see one day. To dividing Barbie clothes between me and my older sister (when I was lucky enough to get her to play with me). I had to play by her rules though. Perks of being the older sibling I guess. I loved playing with the Hot Wheel's cars in the dirt. Making race tracks and underground tunnels I'd dig out for them. Sometimes my dad would be outside with me showing me all kinds of different things I could pretend to do when playing cars. I have one day in particular that stands out among the rest. It was when I learned to do the underground tunnels for the cars to go through. He showed me by taking a simple stick off the ground and using it like a tool to push the dirt out from one side to the other. It wasn't a tunnel without keeping the top part intact. I acted like there was a cave-in, and then accidents, crashing the cars together. No one ever got hurt in my imagination though, just the cars got hurt. Growing up with a sister 6-years older than me taught me lots of things, both good and bad. If I kept her secrets, she kept mine. And the only reason I even had any secrets was because she allowed me to. I got to sneak and smoke in her bedroom at night after our parents went to bed. I had to be very quiet because I got caught most of the time. But I was always caught by our momma. And then all she made me do was get back in bed. I came from a poor family so anything name brand wasn't known to me for a long time. I was bullied and made fun of all throughout my school years. It doesn't matter which year you pick. From the 1st grade, all the way through high school. I know that's terrible to have to admit, but I think it'd be even worse having to admit to being the bully. I swore to myself I'd never treat anyone the way those kids treated me and made me feel. It bothered me so bad I'd dream about standing up for, and actually fighting over other kids getting bullied. I woke up all of a sudden one morning after punching the lights out of a bully in my dream. When I really punched the headboard and made my knuckles bleed. Come on! When a child is taking on the burden of other bullied kids, you know that's a heavy burden to bear. It was also very hard on me. I never talked about it to my parents though. Yeah, they knew. But back then no one really knew what to do about that problem like they do now. Or, well, think they do. I've been in counseling since starting school. I can't remember a day going by without me seeing the school guidance counselor. Shout out to Mrs. Reeves though, at Lone Oak High School. She made the biggest impression on me as far as wanting to help other kids like me. The bullies were actually the kids who came from well-to-do families. Kids who never knew what it was like to experience the disappointment of being told 'No'. Or that there wasn't enough money to buy what they wanted. Kids that figured there wasn't anything better to do except make fun of the less fortunate to get them through their day or to have a conversation piece. The anger and hatred that built up inside of me was, and still is undescribable. The thoughts they caused me to have. Picturing the tables being turned and the bad things said back to them, bad things being done back to them. It only made me feel better on the inside. I've been asked by numerous doctors in my life if I'm suicidal. I've answered no, being completely honest each time. But never have they asked if I've felt homicidal! I know, scary right? The outcome of such thoughts is what triggered the start of mass school shootings. Coming into adulthood was strange territory for me as well, and actually caused me a lot of uncomfortable times, knowing things I knew I could now do but never felt comfortable ever talking about. Even with my sister, the person I was closest to, I couldn't open up and freely talk about anything of the sexual nature. I guess because bad things have happened to me on more than one occasion when I was still very much an innocent child. With me hiding such horrid things from my parents, along with everyone else, I felt I couldn't talk about the good kind of sex either. Man did that ever set me back, keeping me immature of certain things I should've known already but didn't. Because in my mind I was still that child who was hurt in a bad way. They were called 'Red Touches' back then. What we were taught to call them in school anyways. Then just when I was becoming independent and living on my own, learning to stand up for myself in a way that would make my sister proud of me, I lost her. That caused me to go into a deep depression I didn't come out of for many years afterwards. March 29, 2003 changed my life forever. I lost my 2-year old nephew that night to a raging house fire. My sister passed 17 days later in the burn unit in Vanderbilt, Tennessee. However, if you've read 'My Story', a post on my blog. Then you'll know that in order for me to know what I now know, and to be the person that I now am, all of the bad shit had to happen first or else I wouldn't have caught and held onto the message so vital for me to have acquired in my life. Helping the less fortunate. Being someone's somebody they can depend on being there when they need them the most. After receiving confirmation that my nephew didn't suffer, not for one second in that house fire... Was I able to let that burden go, only to let in that oxygen, that life support I desperately needed to save myself from a lifetime of misery. Even though I know my sister, Jennifer, isn't physically here to cheer and root me on. I know without a shadow of a doubt, her and Lil Jesse (my nephew) are both doing so from Heaven today, and everyday that follows. If you're suffering from addiction of any kind and you want or need someone to talk to I'm a damn good listener! My contact information is listed on my contact page. Please call, reach out for support. You're not alone no matter what negative thoughts are telling you that you are. God is always there for you as well. If you'd like to learn more about Jesus and how He died to save us, don't hesitate to ask. I'll share what I know is all good, and positive about God. Whom I choose to call my higher power. If you don't believe in God, then the subject will not be pushed. EVER! If you're battling mental health issues and feel alone like no one knows what you feel like. Then I'm here to tell you there's billions of people out there that will share with you that they too, feel just like you do. Hit me up on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. All of my accounts should be connected to my website. If you're waiting on me to respond and it's been a while since you tried getting in touch with me, then by all means be more persistent and bug the shit out of me. Make me see your messages. I will eventually and I'll always reply when I can. This is the best I think I've written in this 'about me' section. It's the most I've opened up publicly I know that. I'm open minded, I keep it 100 all of the time, even if it's something I don't like myself, or for others, I still have to keep it 100 with myself in order for me to keep it that way with everyone else. I hope this told everyone a little bit about me, maybe more than I originally intended. But it's all accurate and up to date with where I'm at in my life right now. Thank you all and God Bless
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