Clearing My Mind


Heroin was his drug.

I had no idea. He seemed fine, normal if anything.

I know he did many other drugs, but after we broke up that’s when I realized.

I couldn’t see what was in front of me.

Clearly never opened my eyes.

There were many stories that people told me that made complete sense, and filled the hole in the stories of when he disappeared, or was just at a friends house.

I remember being in the hospital, giving birth to Kylie and he said he was running to the store.

3 hours later…

I believe that day he cheated on me and got high.

Again when he came back he was normal.

But maybe his high was his normal.

He was a very damaged person. Stole from his parents all the time.

His mom was severely sick and needed a lot of medication.

He would steal her medication from her all the time.

His demons completely took over and he lost himself in drugs.

He cared about nothing.

He’s been in and out of prison. Last time he got out he messed up again, within a week, and he got high.

Stole a company truck from a gas station that had $100,000 dollars worth of tools in it, then proceeded to go on a high speed chase. Still managed to jump out of the car, run, and got away.

But they seen his face and picked him up later.

Now he sits.


I’m just honestly happy that he hasn’t tried to make contact with Kylie in any way over the past 6 years.

She has an amazing father who would do anything for her.

She deserves the world, nothing less.


Wishful Thinking


Did you ever look at yourself in the mirror?

You tell yourself your pretty.

You do your hair, your makeup.

You lift your shirt up and think, are you feeling skinny, bloated, or fat?

Can anyone relate, like a few days before you get your period, you are the skinniest, because I get that.

Thats your best day. The next day “rolls” around your like shit. (Pun intended)

It was the spaghetti that I had two plates of.

This isn’t cool.

But I will keep telling myself I’m fat and do nothing about it, like work out.

I could just do that right?

But who the fuck has that motivation anymore?

Then you scroll Facebook and see that beautiful girl with those nice abs she worked for.

That will be me someday.

I just know it. This girl is my inspiration.

Then as you think of that, your like nahhh photoshop. It’s not true.

Plus your a mom of two. Do people really have those nice abs after two kids? Yes.

No. Lol it’s unrealistic. No it’s not.

I try and talk myself out of every scenario of what it could be. Then I sit here and bitch about it.

I’m just going to take it or leave it.

Fuck no I’m not. I have my beer in one hand, which I enjoy, and my insecurities in another.

I will leave it, but I’m going to still bitch about it till I randomly loose a pound.

Or gain.

Who knows.


Last Words?


This weekend I was at a bonfire. Just having fun with friends. I then found out my dad was in jail.

He’s been in for a month.

I didn’t know my own father was in jail.

His last message to me was one of those random goodbyes.

I’m like, where are you going?

No reply.

I just don’t understand why people live this way.

When I get into an argument with anyone I get mad, like any normal human being, but then I think, oh no, what if those are my last words, or their last words.

I get fearful of arguing with my husband. I don’t want my last words to him to be something I regret.

The relationships/ friendships I have mean so much to me.

Abuse, suicide, murder, accidents, not waking up, etc.


I try to love and care for everyone around me.

My dad just doesn’t.

I didn’t even know he was in jail. He didn’t care enough to tell me.

Honestly, if something bad ever happened to my parents, I probably wouldn’t even know about it. My mom was in a mental institution after her attempted suicide for a few weeks before I even found out.

That’s just it though, it shows that they don’t feel worthy of life.

They act like living sucked the life out of them. But in reality they did that to there own selves.

I refuse.

I will always make sure that my loved ones know I love them. I have tried over and over again to fix my relationship with my parents. But because I’m not fucked up enough, they refused.

I can’t have wrongful words be the last thing a loved one hears.

We only live once.

I’m going to live it all…are you?


Don’t Sugarcoat It


I told him to stop.

And by who, I mean Kylie’s biological father.

I was only 4 weeks postpartum of having my first child that completely ripped me and I had to get stitches.

I wasn’t completely healed.

I told him to stop.

I said no.

He said “your fine”, ” it will be okay.”

I forced my legs closed. I only had so much force.

I’m pushing him, yelling at him. Saying no. Screaming STOP!

As he pushed himself into me. I went to a different world.

I was silent.

He kept going, no worries for him as my own vagina ripped.

I had a tear or two. But then I sucked it up.

Just deal a little bit longer, Felicia.

You can do this.

Maybe that’s why I float.

Because in a 5 minute span, MY BODY was taken from me.

It was permanently marked.

Your not pretty. Your fucking ugly. You think your beautiful? Your not, stupid bitch.

His words of wisdom, that I heard and felt everyday.

When your left to feeling nothing, you think you amount to nothing.

I’m useless.


My story does not amount to what he tried to make me.

I’m fucking fearless.

Sorry your such a bitch to ever understand what you TRIED to put me through.

I’m brave enough to stand here and tell everyone viewing this that I didn’t realize I was raped right away. I knew what happened was wrong. But rape? No, not me. That was me trying to belittle what happened.

In the society we live in you think it’s not a big deal. You deal with it. You make it seem small. Your his girlfriend so having sex is an expectant thing. That wasn’t sex. I said stop. What he did wasn’t right.

It is and will always be never okay for any person to go through.

We can feel powerless. But the truth of the matter is we are powerful. We have to stay strong.





This blog was very hard to write. I stressed about it. I let my story out for the whole world to see. That’s scary. This subject is hard to talk about. If anyone out there relates or just needs a friend to talk to. I’m here.


Staying Afloat


I found god along time ago, but that story is for another time.

I don’t right these blogs just to talk or get sympathy. I write them to inspire. I’ve been through a lot in my life time.

I don’t make excuses for why I am the way I am.

It’s not just because of my mom and dad.

Or the shitty things I went through.

In the back of my mind I always knew who I was, even when I was lost.

I still get lost.

I belittle myself. I’ve let people talk down on me. The truth is I need to be more significant.

For awhile I was feeling like I didn’t have a body. This is hard to explain, but I will try.

I would wake up in the morning to get my daughter ready for school and I literally just felt like I was a head on a body.

Like I didn’t recognize that I had hands. Arms. Feet. Legs. Stomach. Etc.

I was numb. I still have my days but not as current as before.

Like I said it sounds weird, but it felt like I was just floating through life.

But why float when I can be known.


Gives Hope


I’ve had a miscarriage.

That miscarriage was heart breaking. We were so excited to have a baby. We kept taking a whole bunch of pregnancy tests, for a few weeks, and they all kept saying negative. Until we finally got our results for positive!

Except a lot of those older tests weren’t negative they were all positive, but we just didn’t wait long enough for the results. We laughed at that.

So we hit the 8 week appointment. Everything seemed okay, but the heartbeat wasn’t very strong. We needed to get an ultrasound to make sure. We finally got to the ultrasound appointment, after 3 days of stressing.

They told us there was no heartbeat.

I was crushed. Jon was crushed.

I remember sitting in our bathroom. Jon and I were just holding each other bawling our eyes out.

The doctor told us that the miscarriage would pass soon and to just be prepared.

I wasn’t.

Jon was at work at the time and I had just gotten out of the shower.

Wrap my towel around my body.

Walked into the living room to check my phone and sit down for a second.

Then my body told me something was off.

I started walking towards the bathroom. One foot touching the tile floor.

Bloody mess. My baby is passing, this can’t be real.

I didn’t truly believe what was happening until it actually fully happened.

“What if the doctors were wrong,” was all I was thinking up until I walked into my bathroom.

I tried calling Jon, and when I finally got a hold of him he was just as sad as I was. How I couldn’t go through this with him, it sucked. I understood why, but this whole situation was just heartbreaking and I just wanted his arms wrapped around me, telling me everything was going to be okay.

I was in the bathroom for 2 hours until the bleeding slowed down.

I sobbed sitting on the toilet. I sobbed trying to take another shower.

What did I do wrong? Why me?

I stopped blaming myself very quickly, I knew this wasn’t my fault.

I may have only been pregnant for 8 weeks, but this was our baby. Our beautiful Angel baby. Rest In Peace my love. My peanut. We love you.

This sad experience led to our rainbow baby.





After my dad paid my mom off, I moved in with her, and all was great. It was perfect.

She was sober.

She loved me like she used to again. I believed the future was bright for us, finally.

Just after a few months things went south.

She started hiding her beer in big cups, old friends started coming around.

Random men were in and out of the house.

Life changed so fast.

Then my mom met James. Fuck you James.

When they met, James was with this women named Darcy at the time.

She had bruises all over her body and never said it was James that did this to her. But it was a serious red flag.

One night my mom was there and apparently Darcy jumped out of a window, she was fine. But we never seen her come around again.

Again, red flag.

So James moves in pretty quickly. There was constant fighting and weird things he would do. I remember him trying to claim what was his, which was my mom. He took ownership of her. He would mess with her life. Completely messed with her van so she couldn’t leave him and eventually, mom caught on and finally wanted to leave him.

Thank god, right.

No. It was early October 2010 where James decided to climb through a window in the apartment hallway jumping on to our balcony and walking right inside our apartment.

Where he then grabbed a big seashell and decided to aggressively hit my mom over the face with it, as many times as he could.

My mom thought she was going to die.

This time I wasn’t there, I was at a friends house right upstairs. My brothers and sisters come banging on the door. When I walked into our apartment, my mom was sitting at a chair, waiting for the police.

My mom’s face looked like something you can’t even imagine. It wasn’t her. She was covered in blood. Could barely see out of her eyes. Lots of swelling all around her face. It was devastating.

The justice system decided to only give him a month jail time because my mom had no broken bones.

That night she went to the hospital, and I stayed with my siblings.

That night was the night I had to clean up my own mothers blood out of her carpet so my siblings and her wouldn’t see that anymore.

As I sit there scrubbing and bawling my eyes out I’m thinking:


My mom, because her way of living never changed.