Your Loss


Are you happy mom?

Are you happy you left us?

The last words you said to Kylie were, “I will see you very soon.”

That was 4 years ago. You still haven’t seen her.

Last time you saw her, you were falling all over the place, drunk.

We were just at a fair, you couldn’t contain yourself for an hour?

You abandoned me when I was a little younger, that’s one thing.

On top of that, you abandoned my beautiful babygirl.

Your granddaughter.

You know she still asks about you?

“Mom, what about your mom?”

I still till this day have no idea what to tell her. I’ve been trying to come up with an answer for quite sometime now.

At one point I didn’t think I deserved you in my life.

Fuck that, you just didn’t deserve me in yours. Now my points are valid.

You missed out on my beautiful daughters.

You don’t even know their voices, their goofy attitudes, the laughs that would make your heart melt. The dreams they have…yeah your not in them.

Your a stranger. You made it this way.

My youngest never even met you.

Penelope is too young to understand.

Is this what you wanted? Because you accomplished that, didn’t you?

There’s no laughs, no pushing on the swings, no giving your grandkids sugar just to hype them up for their parents, no hugs, and no loves. Those grandma kisses you don’t get to experience, but then again neither do they.

Was it worth it?

Was it worth the loss?

Was it worth the beer?

You already hit rock bottom.

What’s next?


Be Your Voice


I honestly thought that my dad and his ex girlfriend were going to work out.

They were a toxic relationship. Always pissed off and yelling.

Dad asked her to marry him a few times.

She said no. Red flag. Things probably won’t work, right?

Unless he changes his ways, but why would dad change for the better? No, that’s too time consuming.

One day I hear her scream.

She comes to my room and says do you know anything about this!?

She’s holding a condom wrapper that she found on the side of her bed. Clearly it wasn’t her’s.

(Wonder why that’s there, some things never change)

Yes, I took the fall. I covered for my dad.

I told his girlfriend that I was at my friends house blowing condoms up like balloons, and accidentally brought one back with me.

That never happened.

She’s still pissed, but somewhat believes me.

She has to question my dad when he gets home.

I hear him saying: “Yeah that was not me, I work all the time, I don’t have time to cheat on you,” blah blah blah.

Then I started hearing my name and realize he’s going along with my story.

Why did I cover for him?

He was always mean and aggressive towards me, but yet I lie and cover for him?

He came out of the hallway and we just shot each other a look.

Never talked about it again.

Until a few years ago. I asked how many girls he cheated on her with.

He says seven.

Seven women. Seriously?

No wonder why she wanted better.

I was so mad at her for leaving and taking my brother and sister along.

Never letting the family see them again.

It sucks, but how can I blame her?

From woman to woman, we need to do what we have to do for our own sanity.

For our own happiness.

Looking back, I probably should have taken her side.

I know there was a lot more going on then just cheating.

You just don’t know what happens behind closed doors.

Until you hear stories from the other women he’s been with.

Hence why my dad and I don’t talk much.

I will be my voice and never let any man talk down on me, including my own father.

I refused to be belittled because I’m just a woman.

We are not weak. Women are powerful.

Be your voice.


I Am Me


I’m a painter.

I’m an artist.

A writer in the making.

I’m a mother.

I’m a wife.

I’m a lover.

A fighter.

I’m a very strong person…now.

I went through a lot of heart break and pain to get to where I am today.

I was cheated on by Kylie’s biological father.

I had not one clue until after we broke up.

I went to get tested and found out the most devastating news.

He gave me herpes.

Herpes, what an ugly fucking name.

I didn’t ask for this. Why me?

I bawled for days trying to figure out how I’m going to ever be loved.

I would take long showers just crying, trying to wash everything off.

All the filth. Maybe if I wash hard enough it will disappear.

I’m ugly. I’m marked. I’m disgusting. I couldn’t even look at myself.

I’ve gone through lots of shit, but that day I found out was the biggest heartbreak.

Until it wasn’t.

Jon came along.

Walked right into my life.

He seen me. He seen right through me. He wanted to know me. He showed me that it wasn’t going to define me. He loves me for my heart. There was no pity. I didn’t want it. Just love and laughs until our faces hurt.

All I wanted was to feel better.

My prayers were answered. I found a man that loves me.

For all of me.


To Him


As you all know, I struggle.

I struggle loving myself.

I struggle some days with just being happy.

I struggle thinking I’m not the greatest mother.

I struggle even in my own relationship.

See, Jon and I are perfect for each other, but we have our flaws.

I’m super hard-headed, he’s super hard-headed.

When I’m irritated I just shut down. Or say things I shouldn’t.

Believe it or not, we have come along way.

Screaming at each other, slamming doors.

So furious and hard-headed, we would refuse to let up for god knows why.

I’ve said many things to him that I feel bad about still to this day.

No one should ever say the things that I said to my own husband.

Somethings I don’t remember saying, but it still plays in his head.

I’m truly blessed by this man who stood by my side no matter what.

We all know why I was like this. I never dealt with my inner self at the time. I was just a ball full of hate with little love to give. Actually I blamed Jon for the longest time, but seriously what the hell did he do to me? Besides shut down when I was so mean to him. Makes sense right?

Yes I made it through all the bullshit my parents put me through, but never emotionally.

You get set in your ways no matter how fucked up the situation you were, or are currently in.

You see your mom go through relationship, after relationship, after relationship, after booty-call, and so on. You see men talk down on her and abuse her. She tries to fight back, hell you even stand up for her and scream at the assholes too. But it never worked. They always won.

That’s just it, when I feel unwanted or upset about the littlest problem, I get in fight mode.

Not literally fight. Just I go from 0-100, fast.

I recognized my wrongs and know that I’m not living in that life anymore. I don’t need to be in fight mode especially, with my husband.

I’m learning, we all are.

Our marriage isn’t perfect because a perfect marriage is next to impossible.

We work on us everyday. We are pretty great I would say.

My ways have changed a lot. We have grown this crazy, amazing, mutual, loving respect for each other. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

To my husband: I’m truly sorry for the mean things I have said to you over they years.

You are my world.




I remember I was playing with my siblings when my mom called me into her room, after she’s already been drinking at the kitchen table for hours. Her usual.

She has this wire in her hand and asks me for help to strip it, because she needs the copper for her pipe.

Heartbroken that it came down to this. Daughter helping her mom to get high.

I kept telling her no, it’s not right.

It’s hard enough knowing she gets high. I can smell it through the apartment. But it’s a whole other thing to help my mom get her “treat.”

Knowing it was wrong, I helped her anyways. She begged me like she was so helpless.

Nights going into the city because she had an extra 20 dollars.

Being in the rough side of Milwaukee while she ran inside to get her score.

Leaving the kids and I to just sit there waiting.

My siblings didn’t know what was going on, but I did.

Her van had already gotten stolen once before when her boyfriend Jason went to the city to feed his addiction.

Stolen from drug dealers.

Jason was gone for 3 days.

Nobody knew why. He was a pathological liar, or just an addict.

His stories never added up.

In the end, no matter how much he went on his binges, mom was never pissed that he was gone. She was only pissed that he wouldn’t bring some back for her.

It pains me to say this, but my mom loved me most when she was high.

Her loving me. Finally.

It was better then her screaming at me.

Or calling me names.

Threatening me.

Even though every night I had to drag her to bed because she passed out half on the chair and half on the floor.

I can honestly say she was the number one cause of making me feel worthless.

Hiding my sadness with a smile.


Fairy Tales


Forgive me if I’m wrong, but my expectations of growing up with a father were different then it turned out to be.

They push you on the swings. They take you fishing and teach you how to put a worm on the hook, or even show you how to take the fish off the hook. They teach you how to ride a bike and just be silly together.

They show you how this world is a magical place, filled with optimism and happiness.

As you grow, they want you to realize that any man that comes along needs to have many characteristics to even be worth a second to your time.

Maybe it’s a fairy tale, but that’s what I thought. That’s what I wanted.

Instead, I had to drive with a drunk.

A drunk that would put my life on the line when he was going through his own shit.

Nights upon nights where he would be driving an hour away to get home after he’s been drinking.

Where I would sit there and stare at him even though I’m tired.

Yelling at him.

“Dad, open your eyes.”

“Dad, open your eyes!!”

“Daddddddd, your falling asleep!”

“No I’m not.” He would shout.

He was. His eyelids were folding over.

Till this day I get anxiety about driving, because of him.

I would like to stop being a baby about it, but that’s what he put me through.

The amounts of times we almost crashed. Yet I’m still standing.

Dad, I wish you would’ve taught me how to fish while you had your beers.

Or how you could’ve pushed me on the swings with no excuses.

Spent more time with me than you did your beer.

I was me. I’ve been me. You shrugged me off because your life became to heavy.

You can’t even look at my husband without recognizing he’s a person.

He taught me a lot. More then what you could.

It’s okay though.

As you sit in jail,

I sit here living.

Trying to forgive.




There are days where I’ve wanted to run.

Some days I can’t even breathe.

There’s so much on my plate. Kids, bills, work, cleaning at home, then ALL those little things.

The kids exhaust me. At times I feel like they do it on purpose.

Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom.

Does it end? Truth is I don’t want it too. They are growing up too fucking quick. But at the same time, will it stop?

Then I get to my point where I say something and walk away.

As I walk, I instantly think: ” Fuck I’m a bad mother, I didn’t mean it I just need time to breathe.”

Omg what if I damaged them because they have a damaged mommy.

Sometimes when I can’t breathe I think of the “what could’ve been.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a damn good mom, but I am only human.

And I know you parents out there think like this sometimes. I can’t be the only one.

But when I come home from work, I say the I love you’s and the I missed you’s, but I just need to take one second.

One second for myself.

It’s not wrong to ask for that sometimes. If that’s what I need to do for MYSELF to be a good mom then I shall.

Like I’ve said, I feel like I need to run, but that wouldn’t benefit anyone. My family is my world…my life.

So instead we are all going to run.

Destin, Florida, we are coming soon.