A caretaker no more…

My basement flooded the last weekend of May.  Anytime this happened, I would use the shop vac and carry it up the basement stairs and dump it.  This time was no different, except I didn’t have help the first 7 trips I made up the stairs.  I never ask for help, the husband and kids were still asleep, so I let them sleep and I did it myself.  In order for me to carry the shop vac full of water up the stairs, I had to first dump half the water into a bucket and make 2 trips.  In order to get the water from the shop vac to the bucket, I had to contort myself like a performer from cirque de soile.  I didn’t feel it right away, but I knew I would feel the burn in my abdominal muscles the next day.  Boy, was I wrong in every way.  It didn’t hit all at once.  It took two weeks for the full effect to fully impact me.  At first I thought I gave myself a hernia because of the way I contorted myself.  I had a swollen abdomen, with pain across my diaphragm.  When I say I had a swollen abdomen, I don’t mean there was a lump.  No, my entire abdomen looked like I was carrying quintuplets.  I couldn’t breathe the pain and pressure was so bad.   After living like this for 2 weeks, I finally had enough and went to the emergency room on June 4th, 2017 after an unsuccessful doctors appointment the week before. As soon as I got into the room, the dr came in, looked at me, ordered pain medicine and a cat scan.  He was worried, I was not.  I wasn’t worried until I was laying on the cat scan table and the tech started asking me questions.  She asked me if I had ever had something wrong with my liver and if I had ever had to have fluid removed from my  abdomen before.  I got back to my room and before I even sat down, the doctor came in and said it was cancer and he was transferring me  to the best cancer hospital in our area.





March 1, 2015,  my son fell and severed an artery in his arm.  That day we took 2 ambulance rides, one to the closest ER, then a second to a Children’s hospital.  We spent a total of 12 hours in emergency rooms that day.  The doctor gave him 12 stitches and sent us home.  We were exhausted and starving.  My husband stopped at a fast food restaurant and bought us some food.  I should have checked the food before we pulled out, but I didn’t.  By the time we got home, I was so hungry…  I looked in the bag and mine wasn’t in there.  By that time I was so emotional I wanted to cry over stupid fast food not being in the bag.  It wasn’t because I was that hungry, it was just another blow to the long ass day.  I survived and ate an apple. It wasn’t what I had my heart set on, but it worked and then I went to bed.   I finally drifted to sleep, then the phone rang.  It was my grandpa, he said he had fallen head first into a brick wall, had a gash on his head and a headache, and his neck hurt.  HOLY SHIT, NOT AGAIN.  I knew right away that when I got there I would have to call 911 and take yet another ambulance ride.  I was right, I cleaned up his head, called 911 and waited.  I opted to drive myself to the hospital, because I knew no one would come to the hospital if I told them my grandpa was there.  I was right, no one showed up.  We sat in the ER waiting for the Dr. to come in and access him.  It took FOREVER for them to xray him, clean his head and super glue the wound.  The Dr. came back and asked if my gpa had ever had a neck injury before, he said yes.  He had fallen out of a two story window and broke his neck 30 years before.  The Dr. decided that it was an old fracture and wanted to send home. My grandfather said no, he wanted to stay, he didn’t feel comfortable being at home after a head injury.  They reluctantly kept him.  I waited until he got a room, he got settled, they brought him food and I left so I could go get some sleep.  By this time I was sleep deprived and STARVING.  I stopped at yet another fast food restaurant, they were out of my favorite item, so I opted to just go home and eat dinner that my husband had made.  I got home, food was GONE.  Lol, I know this sounds babyish, but damn it, I was HUNGRY and the last 2 days SUCKED.  No one was there for me to complain to and no one wanted to go get me food.

Over the next 2 months, my grandpa and I spent 2-3 days a week in and out of the ER and doctors offices trying to find out the source of his constant headache/neck pain.  In between his dr appointments and ER visits, I was trying to squeeze in doctor appointments and physical therapy appointments for my son.  He required so many dr. appointments and physical therapy appointments that I didn’t know if I was coming or going.  No where in those months did ANY of my other family members volunteer to help.    FINALLY, I think his general practice doctor was tired of seeing him almost everyday, that he sent him to a neck specialist.  We saw the specialist and he took a special xray and determined that in fact, the neck was newly broken and needed to be taken care of ASAP.  He had been walking around with a C2 fracture of his neck.  WTF… had that bone moved, he could have died, been paralyzed…UGH. It was a shit storm that hasn’t quit.



I couldn’t have said it better…

Addiction is NOT a Brain Disease, It is a Choice

No memories


As I continue to raise my children, who by all accounts are deemed “adults” by the government; I feel like I have failed them and continue to fail them.

I failed them because I never kept a baby book for them.  I never kept a record of any of their accomplishments. I have kept some art work over the years, and have plenty of photographs, but nothing saying when they walked, when they talked, what their first food was, nothing.  It didn’t hit me as to how big of a failure I was until I started thinking back on my childhood.  I have no record of my firsts, and a sparse collection of photographs.  My parents are/were addicts all of my life.  My mother was never a constant in our lives.  She was considered hit and miss.  My mother was unreliable when it came to seeing her children.  We would go months without a word from her, then she would pop back in our lives like nothing happened.  After a while, I gave up on having any kind of relationship with her.  I stopped going to her house, or doing anything with her when she would pick my siblings up.  At one point, I referred to her as dead.  Living with my father all of our lives, no one questioned her “death”.    My father, we lived with him but he used us as meal tickets to get more money from the army and my grandparents.  If my grandparents wouldn’t help him out financially, he would keep us from them.

I am still failing my children because I hate holidays.  I am pretty sure if you ask my kids what their favorite family holiday is/was, it would be none.  I never go all out decorating for any holiday.  I have never really made a big to do about any holiday; with the exception of Halloween.  There were times where I didn’t even put up a tree, this most recent Christmas was one of those times.  Holidays were never really celebrated while I was a child.  Christmas was considered a burden to my father.  The last time I can remember getting a real Christmas gift from my father was when I was 8.  After the age of 8, I only received IOU’s.  This continued into adulthood.  I made sure when raising my children that they always had something to open on Christmas morning.  They will never get an IOU.  I will do everything in my power to make sure they got gifts, even if they came from the dollar store.

I hope that my children do better than I have when they have children of their own.  I don’t want them filled with regrets and what could have been’s because I was a slacker parent.   I hope that my presence in their lives everyday is better than any holiday or baby books.



Dear Scott…Again

Dear Scott…again…

I don’t know why I care so much, you are someone that I have never nor will ever meet.  But I feel this urge to keep reaching out to you.  I see that you are now in treatment AGAIN.  The recent events with Lamar have brought about some kind of feelings in you, probably “I don’t want to end up like Lamar.”  Which is good, like I said in my earlier letter to you, you don’t want to be in the news like Lamar, you don’t want your lasting memory to be of you lying helpless on the floor with vomit overflowing from your mouth.  Is that how you want your children to remember you? Do you want your legacy to be “He died in a brothel after choking on his own vomit”, or do you want it to be for turning your life around and showing your children that in the face of adversity, you turned your life around, for you.  Do it for you, so that you can give your children the best possible life they can have.  Trust me, I am the daughter of addicts and the stigma attached to that is the hardest thing to distance yourself from.


I am guilty of watching an occasional episode of KUWTK’s.  I have become intrigued with you, and your actions.  I watch as you constantly put your life, and the lives of others in danger by your adolescent behavior.  There comes a time in everyone’s lives, that they must stop acting like a child, and grow up.  The time for you to do so is NOW.  Scott, you have children, and a significant other to consider.  They say the first step in becoming sober it to admit you have a problem.  Have you ever truly looked yourself in the eyes and told yourself that you have a problem?  If not, do so.  Find a mirror, stand in front of it and tell yourself you have a problem.  Admit to yourself, that you need help, that you can not and will not do this alone.  Scott, you are not alone!  It may seem that you are alone, but you are not alone.

I don’t know much about your life prior to being swept up into the Kardashian world, nor do I pretend to.  All I know is what I see of you from TV, news, and magazines.  I watched an episode where someone in the Kardashian family chalked your excessive drinking and drug usage to your parents dying.  Though the untimely deaths of your parents may have exacerbated your usage, it is not the cause of your initial addiction.  I believe you will never be able to get fully clean and sober unless the people around you stop enabling you and you stop making personal appearances at clubs.  I am not saying that you need to end all public appearances forever.  I am suggesting that take a break from the limelight and self reflect. How old were you when you first took a drink or popped a pill?  Where were you when this happened?  Was there something going on in your life at the time?   You need to get healthy, not just for you, but for your kids.  Don’t do it for Kourtney, do it for YOU first.  You are number 1.  Your children are number 2, Kourtney should be the least of your worries.  Do you even want to get clean?  Take the time to self reflect, get healthy mind, body and soul.  Find out what your triggers are, and when you are able to control those impulses, then go back to public appearances.  You need to take someone with you that will keep you accountable for your actions.

You can check yourself into all of the rehab facilities in the world, but they will not help you if you don’t want it.  You NEED it!!  When I watch you destroy not only your life, but lives of others around you by your addiciton, it breaks my heart.  When I see you on TV, you appear to be someone who over compensates for the lack of self worth that you feel by your constant antics.  You are constantly seeking attention, good and bad.  You are ultimately getting positive reinforcement from those around you from bad behavior.  I also see that you think you don’t deserve to get help, that your aren’t worth someone’s trouble.  Well, you are WORTH IT.  You are worth it to your children, and your are worth it to your family in heaven.

You are now the father to 3 beautiful children.  Imagine yourself in their shoes, growing up with a father who is always in the news.  Do you want them to grow up being the children of someone that is always in the news for something they are ashamed of, or do you want them to be the children of a father that is in the news for something STELLAR? Make your children proud to call you their dad. Don’t make them grow up wishing they were someone else.

Get the help you deserve and need.  You can do this, I know you can.

With warmest of well wishes,

~ Me ~

Nearly homeless

I was finally allowed to attend a slumber party at a friends house.  I was so excited. Slumber parties weren’t something I was able to do.  It was nice to be able to get away from my brother and sister, and most of all my dad.  I was able to attend on one condition; that I was to let my dad pick me up early so I could come home and do my “household chores”.  I agreed to the terms, and had a blast that night.  The next morning, I stood outside waiting for my dad to pick me up.  I knew something was wrong when he pulled in the driveway.  The look on his face read that I was in trouble. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I had done now.  It didn’t matter if I didn’t do anything wrong, he would conjure up something in his head and punish me for it.  I walked slowly to the car, I was scared.  He was not afraid to just back hand me on a whim, so I braced myself.  As I reached the car handle, I noticed that every piece of clothing, all my shoes, my radio, everything I owned was in the back seat of the car.  My dad said “get your shit and get out”  I was dumbfounded.  WHAT DID I DO?  I grabbed my stuff, sat it on the ground and began to cry.  My mind was reeling and I couldn’t figure out what I did wrong.  I asked my dad and he said “She doesn’t want an ungrateful bitch living with her” and he backed away.  I had never been so humiliated in my life…who was she, he wasn’t dating anyone that I knew of.  I sat crying on my clothes, my friends gathered around asking me what was wrong, who that man was, and why all my clothes were laying on the ground.  I can’t remember the lie I told them, but I went inside and called my grandma and grandpa.  No one was home….I was embarrassed, homeless, and in shock.  My dad finally came back after a while and told me that I could come back home only if I behaved and didn’t make him yell anymore.  I later found out that the “she” he was talking about was some chick he had been pen pals with and was planning to marry.  I can’t imagine the lies he told her to make me sound like an ungrateful bitch.  This wasn’t the only time I was kicked out….  I stopped hanging out with those girls because I was so ashamed and deeply embarrassed.  Soon after, we moved.

Want vs. Need Envy vs. Jealousy

When you hear the word Mom, what feelings does it evoke?  Do memories of her wiping back the hair out of your eyes, while lying in bed sick flood you?  Perhaps it is of her sneaking into your room late at night to kiss you goodnight for the second time? Hugging you tight when your crush of the month wants nothing to do with, she makes the world seem less likely to implode…What memories do you have of your mom?

I have many memories, just none that evoke the feeling of love.  Many drunken, drug induced coma like states come to mind when someone utters the word mom.  Driving my mom home from my 5th grade softball game because she was too blasted to drive herself. Yes, I said I drove. I did this many times for her. Watching as my mom climbed our two story house and stood on the roof, begging for more coke or she would jump. The word mom means watching her scramble to clean up her mirror and coke residue off of my desk as my aunt and uncle drive up our drive way. Mom means never having someone to tuck me in at night, never having that someone to care for you when you are sick, never having someone to whine to when you have boy troubles. Never having someone in your corner… Is it envy or jealousy that I feel when I look at my friends relationships with their mothers? Do I want a mother like relationship, or do I need one? Am I past the prime for needing the relationship? Do I just desire what it feels like to have someone to turn to when life gets tough?

As I get older, these questions and feelings seem to become harder to suppress. I have always prided myself on being completely 100% independent. I have never relied on anyone to help me, I have never had anyone to rely on. I had my grandparents… the only true parental figures in my life; but I never asked them for anything. I have never felt right asking them or anyone for help. If I can’t do something myself, I push until I get it done myself. I am self reliant and proud of it. What would it have been like to have a mom, a dad that was there for you? Would my life be different? What does it feel like to have your mom wrap her arms around you and you feel overwhelming, unconditional love? What is it like to have a mom that calls you for no other reason to say hi and see how you are doing? Is it that I want to know what unconditional love feels like, or do I NEED unconditional love? Has the lack of love given to me effected my adult life? Will I ever be able to accept and feel real love?