I’m chillin in my room, relaxing and listening to the audio of one of my favorite writers/bloggers I came across not long after joining the site. She’s absolutely amazing. Even if her reading words seemed panicked, her voice is always as smooth as butter against the blade of a heated knife.
“Living is hard”
Amen to that. That’s what she said in the audio. She’s so strong, blunt, real, honest, raw, and uncut, and I fucking love reading/listening to her posts.
Kinda fucked up on my part though. Here I am hearing someone speak of their sobriety, having over 200 days!!!! And my ass just took a shot from a lil bottle of FireBall. I don’t drink to get drunk. I have now, don’t call me a liar. I was a wino back in 2003-2007-2009. Right after the fire happened & I lost my nephew and my sister 17 days later. And if that isn’t enough? I lived two houses down on the same exact street.
Instant PTSD!!! Oh, and right after finding out I was pregnant with baby #2. A lil girl I named after her Aunt Jenny.
Unfortunately my daughter never got the chance to meet her because she passed 3 wks. later, plus I was just 2 months along.
Some time that night before this popped off I was on the phone with one of my friends, Ashley P. She was a first time mom and was having a huge anxiety attack because her baby wouldn’t stop crying and nothing was wrong with her. I told her very calmly, if there’s nothing wrong, she’s got a clean diaper, full belly, not gassy with a belly ache. Then she needed to put her in her crib with a bottle and a blankie and walk out of the bedroom and close the door behind her. I told her to grab the camera baby monitor so she could keep an eye on her, and to just let her cry herself to sleep. She kept saying she was a bad mother, and I kept telling her that No, she wasn’t.
But that all ended just fine. Even though that wasn’t just the night my world ended. It was also the last night I spoke to her. 19-years ago. When we reunited, it was a revelation we discovered together.
All of what happened on that specific night, led me through every trial and tribulation afterwards where I had to learn how to live. But being me, I chose to learn the hard way. I was in and out of jail, until I went in and didn’t get out again. I was sat down and instructed and expected to learn how to make the better choices in life whether I wanted to or not.
Nothing Changes! Nothing Changes!
It took almost 4 years of straight incarceration for me to catch on. DUH! Damn Tina! You ain’t dumb or stupid, so why you act so reckless?
I realized that’s not the life I ever wanted to live in. I was just a visitor passing through on her way to a better outcome.
I was surrounded by other women/inmates for 3 1/2 years. Even sharing a 2 man room in the SAP program. . .
But, I was still all alone inside my head. . .
When the revelation of how I’m supposed to be living and acting finally hit me. . .
A couple months later, and in a better suited SAP program, I was released!!! I promise you guys!! It was damn near a year early. I was sentenced to 5 & 2 = 7-years. I served exactly half.
However, I completed 2 MRT classes that were 3 months long (each class). I received 2 certificates of completion, each giving me 90 days off my sentence. Upon arriving at the prison they only credited me for one class. When I got the revelation about how I’m supposed to really live, was when I was credited those other 90 days which was what put me out so unexpectedly. It’s called, Mandatory Re-entry.
I was home baby!! It felt so good walking through that prison yard in my greys. It was a public service announcement of me getting out, beyond the fence.
I was deemed a model inmate, and granted permission to move outside the prison gates to another building that housed other model inmates. It was still very much prison property so if anyone stepped foot on the road running right in front of the building, they’d catch an escape charge (an automatic 5-year sentence). We had to wait to gain access through the gates every time we needed to go take our meds, or to go to the dining hall to eat. But I woke up to a lot of wild deer outside the window next to my bed every morning. It was a wanted privilege by every inmate in that prison to want to live outside the fence.
Since my release from prison I’ve not fallen too far off the ladder. Yes, I’ve fucked up and relapsed, but I’m back on the right track now. I started a group on Facebook, which led me to creating my own page. And that led me here to create my own website.
I’m still very much a work in progress.
Yes! Life is hard!!
By choosing to keep trying to improve myself and finish my goals is what matters now.
Life sometimes is so hard on me that it makes me think back to when I was still incarcerated, and how I didn’t have these problems on the inside. But these are the problems I needed to learn and face to get through and succeed in my life.
Here I am! Bold, Beautiful, and Doing The Damn Thing In Life. Keep trying no matter how many times you fall. Continue to pick yourself up off the ground, and brush your shoulders off!!
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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