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 the 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.


Better Now


Being broke. We all know it’s one thing to be broke, but it’s another to be broke with a drug addicted, alcoholic mother.

I told you that my mom kept popping out kids. Which meant more mouths to feed.

The worst part was when we were living in this cheap, rundown apartment.

She would get 900 dollars a month in food stamps and sell the food stamps for money.

For crack and alcohol.

I can never say we were malnourished. There was food in the fridge, sometimes.

What I can say is we were hungry.

Go into the fridge there was milk.

Go into the freezer there was ice, for her liquor drinks.

Go into the pantry, couple canned foods and a loaf of bread.

There was never enough food to eat.

Always having to fend for ourselves. Me always having to whip up something so my siblings could eat. I wouldn’t eat until they were done.

I don’t want to paint a picture of us having the worst life with her because you could see her love hiding through her drunk, so you held on and dealt.

Most nights when I would close my eyes, I would picture my mom, siblings, and I swinging at the park, repeatedly telling myself I love her and she loves me. Just so I could peacefully get a good night of sleep.

I realized first hand that it wasn’t just the 900 dollars my mom used from the food stamps. She also used people.

I can’t say that my mom was involved in prostitution (because I don’t know), but there was always a lot of guys coming through.

She would go after the men and their families for the money they had.

Like when she met Jason. She became pregnant with Angelina. Jason’s mom would meet us at Walmart, and my mom would rack up a bill with all the non necessities that Jason’s mom would pay for. All the most random, non-needed shit put in her shopping cart.


I had to go with it because really, where else would I go? She would kick me out in a heartbeat.

It was the most ugly, in-human situation I could’ve been around.

I don’t surround myself with negativity.

Now I’m at the point where you couldn’t pay me to be around my mom.

I had hope.

Now all I hope for is to be the mom my mom couldn’t handle being.




How easy is it to manipulate or be manipulated?

About two months ago my mom and I would check on each other, just to see how we are doing.

One night mom calls me, she’s upset. Just crying telling me she wants to kill herself. I’m like what about your kids that you never see? She proceeds to tell me that she was diagnosed with schizophrenia and that she hears voices all the time. At this point I feel bad, but I do know alcoholism can bring on the mental issues the longer you continue to drink from sun up to sun down. It was just a phone call where once again I’m the little girl bagging her to stop drinking but she won’t listen. I give up and go to bed.

The next day my mom tells me that her current boyfriend threw her through a window and kicked her out of her own apartment. Just to have this other girl move in.

She even told me this women’s name and I looked her up, and yes this was a legit story. He was seeing this girl.

Mom keeps texting me talking shit about him but does nothing.

I’m telling her she needs to call the cops and she won’t.

Her friends eventually made her call the police, but I was getting freaked out because she wasn’t responding to me. I started calling and calling until her friend answered.

She says, “She’s okay and I will have her call you back when she’s done writing a police statement.”

“Okay great!” She never called back, but she messaged saying she was fine and back at her apartment. She told me she is pressing charges, I’m like, awesome! She did the right thing for herself.

Fast forward a week or so.

I notice she’s back with her boyfriend. I ask her about it, just to double check. She says she is.

Right away I’m like: “Why? Do you not remember last week?”

She says: “No, what happened?”

“Mom, he threw you through a window! You called the cops and wrote a statement.

“That never happened,” she says.

At this point I’m freaking out. Am I going crazy!? Is this really happening right now?

I turn to my husband and I’m like: “That happened right?”

He said: “Yes, that definitely happened.”

I look back to my messages from past times, they aren’t there!

When I can’t handle certain conversations I delete them. Out of site, out of mind. I believe that’s what i did.

Then the story changes. She says it’s the meth addict neighbors, that they are psycho and made the story up.


Still freaking out I start questioning her about everything she has told me.


She then told me that her boyfriend treats her like a queen.

At this point I’m done with the bullshit, so done!

So I messaged her. I said: “You know what, you sit on your throne and I will sit on mine. You will not be hearing from me anymore.”

To this day, I KNOW it happened. I know all the things she said to me.

What scared me the most was she really made me believe it didn’t happen for a second. But I know what I heard. Thank god my husband was there to hear it as well.

That’s how easy it is to mess with a human brain.

I can honestly say I was mind-fucked.