All posts for the month January, 2017

When they Try to Come Back

Published January 29, 2017 by dividinguplife

Being that I have a fascination with reading blogs that deal in infidelity, and general heartbreak, I see a lot of repeating patterns in these people that are devastated. They’ve lost the love of their life and they blame themselves. They feel like they have done something wrong, aren’t good enough, don’t look a certain way, they put on ten pounds during their relationship, etc…. 

I felt the same way during all of the lost relationships throughout my years of dating. I’ve been cheated on numerous times by different men, and each time it was a blow to my self-esteem and to my self-worth. Let me tell you though; when you’re the best kind of partner, eventually these assholes that replaced you with the shiny new thing – they eventually realize it. What do they do? They try to come back. 

Case in point #1 

I dated a guy when I was 15 (he was 20), and we lied about his age to my parents (not that my mom gave a shit). It was exciting. He had a car, he could pick me up and we could go wherever we wanted. He was a decent guy with a small dick. I lost my virginity to him and was sorely disappointed in this thing called sex. Eventually he moved on from me. Our breakup broke my heart. Though he wasn’t my first devastating heartbreak, he was my first real relationship. This was back in 2000. Fast forward to 2013 I get a message on Facebook from him. He’s married with three kids now.


I left it at that. He told me he always believed we would eventually find our way back to each other. A few months later he sent me a text that said he and his wife had split up. He got all lovey-dovey through messaging, and then I get a text late in the night from his wife who informed me that they weren’t split up, they had no marital problems that she was aware of, and that I needed to stop talking to her husband. Of course I replied that I had said or done nothing wrong and that she needed to get ahold of her husband, because this wasn’t my battle. This was after my husbad (pre-marriage) had moved away and I was single. I had no interest in ever being with him again (small pecker and all – just, no.) and because I just didn’t feel that way about him anymore. He dumped me, we all moved on. I never looked back. 

Case #2 The Abuser

This has been my most interesting one to date, I believe. He cheated on me multiple times, threw me and my daughter out on the street with nowhere to go so he could move his childhood friend in with him, because he had figured out that she was the love of his life. And she was skinny. I wasn’t. That was a big thing for him since he had a six pack of abs and all. 

Fast forward five years. We had been friends off and on since our split-up. I had forgiven him his abuse. I had even gone to his house to babysit their kids while he and his wife (the one he cheated on me with) went fishing for the day. It took a long time for me to stop loving him. Every time I saw him, my heart ripped in two. (Yes, even after his mental, verbal, and physical abuse.) The day he got married, I wouldn’t get out of bed the entire day. I just laid there and cried, and cried, and cried. 

He was my friend on Facebook when my husband moved back to his home state. So when he found out about my ending relationship, he sent me a Facebook message. (This was back when I had another blog that he would read.) 


Of course his wife saw his messages immediately (she had some kind of app on her phone that sent her messages whenever he did anything on his phone – that’s how secure their relationship was,) and she gave him hell for talking to me in such a way. 

Two years later he and his wife are having issues again, and his brother sends me messages on Facebook. 



I really tried to be there for him. I did. I tried without hurting his feelings. But he didn’t want to understand that I was getting married in a few months. My husband had moved back down, we were starting our lives together again …. and there will never be anyone else that I will ever want. The Abuser sent me a text when he and his wife split up (again), and just assumed that I’d leave me husband and be with him again. 


It wasn’t long after that, that he and his wife worked things out. I talked to him on the phone one more time, trying to explain how to get his own insurance on his truck and health insurance. I tried to call his kids school to get afterschool care set up for his two kids. He ended up going back to his wife. He stopped talking to me again, and I haven’t heard from him in over a year. He blocked me on Facebook, but it’s just as well. 

Case #3: My brother-in-law 

If you don’t know the past of me and my brother-in-law, click the above link and get caught up. 

After he and his wife split up a few years ago, and my husband had left to go back to his home state, I went into a downward spiral and needed to be around someone with whom I was familiar. Every other weekend, I’d go over there and smoke weed, drink, and crash at his place. He was familiar, he was my oldest friend. 

After a few months of that, his roommate sent me a text message. 



I never went back over there after that. I didn’t realize that my BIL was developing these feelings for me. He has always been a complicated individual that has a drinking problem that is only getting worse. He’s still single. On the weekends, he starts drinking before noon, and stays that way until he passes out after midnight. He’s a functional drunk, which is scary. But he’s mouthy as hell. He didn’t go with us when we got married, even though both my husband and I were apart of his wedding. That made me sad, but he told me he didn’t support marriage and he wished us the best. 

What is my point to all of this? It’s simple, really. 

If you truly give your relationship everything that you have, and it goes south by no fault of your own – they will always try to come back. These assholes jump the fence to presumptive greener grass, only to find out it’s AstroTurf. No substance. If you’re the type of woman that I am, you enjoy doing things for your partner/spouse. You cook their food, fix their plate, make sure to do everything in your power to make their life as easy as possible. When they don’t reciprocate that affection, and then end up leaving you – most of the time they end up with someone that can’t hold a candle to you. 

So if you’re just waiting for the light bulb to go off in their head … well, you may have to wait awhile. If you’re waiting for karma to come around …. you still may have to wait awhile, but it will happen. It always does. 

Nostalgia’s Creek

Published January 22, 2017 by dividinguplife

I haven’t watched Dawnson’s Creek since its premiere when I was barely a teenager. I saw it flash up as a suggestion on my Fullscreen app, and thought, ‘why not?’ … and so when I’m getting ready in the morning, I place my phone on the bathroom counter and watch it while I’m putting on my makeup. When I’m clipping coupons and my husband is watching some ridiculous boy movie, I will put on my headphones and watch it on the computer. It has such a nostalgic effect on me. It throws me back to my teenage years. Not just because I was 13 when it came it, but because I had such a similar love triangle as that of Dawson, Pacey, and Joey. Unbeknownst to me, I didn’t link the similarities until I started watching the show again. 

The summer of ’98 I would climb out of my window and haul ass across the back yards of neighbors to make it to my (now) husbands house, and crawl through his brothers window and throw myself onto his bed and watch him while he played Doom. Sometimes we’d climb out of his window and run with wild abandon through our large neighborhood. One night he brought a blanket and we lay out under the stars on an empty lot, and made out for what seemed like hours. My brother-in-law was my first love, my first kiss, and my first life experience with heartbreak. That boy shattered my heart into a thousand pieces. I cried over him for six years, and just when I thought I was getting over him, he reappeared in my life when I was nineteen, at which point I finally slept with him (we were both very, very drunk), and then he and his family were gone again. No goodbye (much like the first time), and I was left picking up my heart all over again. 


Me and the Brother-in-law – 1998


Me on the right, brother-in-law in the middle, neighborhood friend on the left


Me and My Aunt, 1999 


Me – 1999 as the brooding teenager

When we were teenagers, and we had life by the balls, it was some of the best times of my life. There was another boy in our neighborhood named Anthony, that chased after me while I was chasing after my brother-in-law (yes, it’s very weird to refer to him as that, but that’s what he is to me now.) I could never get my head out of my BIL’s ass long enough to really see Anthony as anything other than an annoyance. There were moments when I was pissed at my BIL for giving his attention and affection to other girls, and so I’d run over to Anthony’s and eventually that lead to us making out in his room and quasi dating (whatever the hell that meant at 13 years old), and then we all moved out of that neighborhood one at a time, and that was the end of that. When I was 23 or so, I reconnected with Anthony, ended up sleeping with him, and then he wouldn’t talk to me anymore except to say “I’m sorry, I’m not a good person.” That was the end of that. I haven’t heard from him since. 

Tonight I was talking to my husband and it dawned on me that this September it will be twenty years that I’ve known his family. Twenty damn years. Looking back, it seems as recent as last week that we were all children with our entire lives stretched out before us. Twenty years went by so quickly. This year, my daughter will be the same age that I was when I started climbing out of my window. Thank god she’s on the second story. 

Watching this show in my 30’s makes me ache so badly for my childhood again. No matter how shitty it was with my mother, there were so many good aspects of it that I’d love to relive over again. I miss that feeling of young love, and the excitement, and the butterflies. Granted, I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the life that I have right now, with the husband that I have (that asshole older brother that hardly paid any attention to me). But it was such an amazing freedom to have. To crawl back through my window and four in the morning and lie down with a smile on my face and daydreams of what my future might be like. 

I mean, I always knew I would take this families last name, but God sure did throw me a curve ball on that one. Twenty years ago, if someone would have told me I was going to marry the older brother, I would have laughed and then ran into my husbands room and junk punched him and ran away back to my house. 

Drugs Don’t Discriminate

Published January 21, 2017 by dividinguplife

I took a break from Facebook, because everyone on there has lost their fucking minds. While people are bitching about being scared for their safety, worried about Trump becoming Hitler, the Liberals setting shit on fire in the streets as a form of protest- while all of that has been going on, my friend from high school overdosed on Heroin and died. That’s real world shit. Not how concerned you are for your safety over President Trump. Give me a fucking break. 

This beautiful, charismatic, quriky, woman slipped away into the night after a lethal injection, which would be her last. She died. She left us all here to wonder what the fuck we could have done differently for her. 

She had just gotten out of an extended stay in rehab a few months ago. I thought she was doing better and getting her life on track. I saw her last year at a restaurant that she was training to be a manager at. We kept in touch through Facebook. And then she was gone. Just like that. Boom. No more. 31 years old and all I have left of her are memories of sitting at the lunch table my Sophomore and Junior year, swapping stories back and forth (hers always more interesting because she partied a lot.) I think she was one of the first people I told that I lost my virginity when I was 15. She wasn’t married, she had no children, and no boyfriend. She died and left behind memories. There is no one to carry on her legacy. That’s fucking sad. 

That marks number 5 in people I went to school with that have died since we graduated. Three were murdered over drugs, one died when her PTSD boyfriend took a shot gun and blew her face off after coming home from Iraq, and now this girl. 

Drugs are such horseshit. They aren’t worth it. They aren’t worth it destroying yourself, and dismantling your entire family. Because let me tell you, my friends family is destroyed. That was their only daughter, and they tried so hard to make sure she had the help she needed. They had no idea that she had fallen off the train again. None of us knew. 

I grew up around drugs. I can’t count how many times I had to step over my mothers body on my way to the kitchen, because the line of blow she had done was so powerful that it knocked her ass out right where she had been sitting. Cocaine made her giddy. Crack made her an asshole. When she drank, she was a bitch. My mother is probably the number one reason that I’ve never done drugs (minus that six month time period I smoked weed when I was 28 years old) … but the thought of doing anything harder? No thank you. It has been presented to me on many occasions. I hung out with a lot of party-goes in high school. I’ve seen it all circulate around me. Every time I saw shrooms or acid, crack, cocaine, and god only knows what else – the thought of my mother flashed across my mind and that was all it took. That woman destroyed my childhood. Her selfishness caused myself and my brother to be put through unspeakable things. 

But damn. Losing someone like this? It always gives you a reality check on how short this life is. How it can be taken from you at any moment. 

So, while the butthurt of America carries on marching and showing their ass because they feel betrayed and scared and triggered and whatever else …. we had to bury my friend today. We had to put her in the cold ground. That’s reality. That’s something to get upset about. Not about this temporary shit. 

Stop Defining Me, By Who I Voted For

Published January 17, 2017 by dividinguplife

I try to keep my mouth shut when I see opposing views in politics in Facebook. But, sometimes I like to insert how I feel about a position, while at the same time not cutting down how any one else feels about the current state of affairs. 

I just lost my longest friend of 30 years (by my own doing), because of something like this. 

Something was put up that shed Trump in a negative spotlight. 

I’m not Trump-Trainin’ by any stretch of the imagination, but I did vote for him because I refused to vote for Hillary. He won, and like it or not, this is going to be our President starting on Friday. I’m okay with it. 

In order to clear up the misconstrued comment that was put on Facebook, I just simply said “Yes, this was said – but what wasn’t put on here was what followed that statement. This is what he meant by it ….” and I explained what he said. I then followed up with “I never did and do not take offense to the things that he has said that offend other people.” And I don’t, because that’s now how I roll. There are way more important things to be worried and concerned about. 

My buddy responds back with “Of course white people don’t care.” (She’s white, also) and then there was this whole diatribe of comparing Trump with her verbally abusive ex-husband. Okay, I get it. But keep in mind I was verbally, mentally, and physically abused for three years. I understand. But it never even crossed my mind to compare Trump to my abuser. That is just asinine to me, but I kept quiet about it. 

What I didn’t keep quiet about was the “white people” comment. You want to get me fired up? Pull some racist crap out on me and see how well that goes. I went into an entire paragraph about how much white privilege I had growing up in a trailer park with a drug addict mother and absent father. Or having to wear clothes with holes in them, or having all of my crap pawned by my mom’s drug addict boyfriend. Nobody had anything to say about that shit, other than some flimsy “it’s not about income or how one grows up, but rather how they’re treated and have always been treated.” 

Look, I didn’t care for Obama when he won eight years ago. I didn’t care for the other candidate, either. But he was our President and it was what it was. But the shit I took from people of other races?? “You cracker bitches are gonna know what slavery is like now!!” that was shouted to me at a mall one day. People driving through the street screaming “Black Panthers” and shooting their guns in the air. It was total chaos down here in the south. But I didn’t retreat to some fucking safe space and cry about how I was being discriminated against because I’m white. A) That shit would have been laughed about in my face. Because we all know discrimination against whites doesn’t exist and B) I pulled my big girl pants up and continued working my job and taking care of my family. That’s what you do. Life goes on. 

Then one of her friends (a black woman) posted some long ass comment, starting with her credentials on how she’s a journalist for some peon magazine focused on racism against blacks and the white privilege, and she told me “Don’t you dare speak on behalf of the black community as if you know.” Bitch. I didn’t. I loosely quoted (and it was plainly obvious and stated) Trump in a clarification tweet. I don’t know what the black community thinks about things. I’m not black. I don’t pretend to be a damn expert. But, I also don’t give a shit about your race. I have patients that come through my office all day, of every race, sex, religion, and sexual preference. I don’t care. I treat them all the same exact way, because really, all I see are eyeballs. That’s what I specialize in. Eyeballs are eyeballs all day long. 

What hurt me the most though? This friend of mine for thirty years, never once intervened and said “Hey, you know what? I know this girl. She has her opinions. It’s cool. Take a chill pill and let her say what she feels without tearing her down.” Thirty years. THIRTY years. What did she do? She “liked” the comment from that bitch that went off on me about not speaking for the black community. Had the situation been reversed, I would have not allowed someone to speak to her in that way. But she didn’t. And so, I let her go. Just like that. Gone. Done. Hands wiped clean. And it hurts, but I’m still so damn mad I don’t think I’ve fully grasped how much, yet.

I don’t fall in a particular political category. I hate Hillary, I support Muslims (I’m actually reading the Qur’an right now), I grew up Christian but consider myself more of a Theist because I respect all religions and non-religious people. I fucking hate feminism (and I’m talking these third wave feminists that are fucking triggered when the wind blows.) When I was young, I thought Bill Clinton was a cool cat. He got a blowjob from Monica. That sucks (and she did too) but that didn’t stop him from having a decent presidency. Didn’t really care for Bush, and didn’t care at all for Obama. You see what I mean? 

But I’m fucking racist. I’m a right wing conservative with a silver-spoon flying out of my ass. Because I’m not mad that Trump will take office on Friday. Please, for the love of God, destroy the ACA (because this year my insurance is a damn joke) … Keep your plan keep your doctor, my fucking ass. 

So, build your damn wall, kick out people that are here not paying taxes, put stricter laws to prevent people from milking the welfare system. Because seriously, if I see one more woman with three shopping carts full of T-Bones and Cheeto’s pay for her groceries with EBT, and then go jump into her fucking 2016 Escalade sitting on spinners with a TV buildt into the goddamn steering wheel, while driving away smoking her cigarette – I may lose my shit. Meanwhile I’m standing there with 20 dollars worth of groceries and trying to figure out how I can get three meals out of what is in my cart – after having worked a ten hour day. I can’t take my white privilege card out and pay for it. Seriously, my friend found a receipt in the parking lot one day from someone that bought lobster and Ribeye’s and cases of mountain dew with their EBT card. Get the fuck out of here with that. 

Muslims need to come over here? Cool with me. They need to go through the proper filters to become citizens like everyone else needs to, but hey .. come on over. Diversity is what makes us great.  And while we’re at it, Trump needs to make it easier to become a citizen. It’s expensive and it’s tedious. I can bet that a lot of citizens that are natural born citizens, couldn’t even pass that test. 

Leave the homosexuals alone. Transgender, Bi-sexual, Lesbian, Gay. They love who they love. If they don’t feel comfortable in their own skin, what fucking business is it of yours if they change their gender?? “But you’re born the way God intended” …. says who???  If it says that somewhere in religious text – good for that particular book. I will tell you something else, though. If you’re going to go by what certain things in your religious text say, your ass needs to go by them all. And I can promise that you don’t, and you won’t. So stop using that shit as an excuse for your hatred. 

But for the love of God, stop telling me I’m racist because I voted for Trump. Because I didn’t vote for Hillary. Take your shit elsewhere. 

If my uncle taught me one thing before he died (and he taught me many things) it was “Cut the assholes out of your life and move on. You will be better off for it.) He cut out many people from his life that ended up being a thorn in his damn side. He moved along. People thought him heartless, uncaring, and an asshole – but he wasn’t any of those. He just didn’t put up with any bullshit. 

And I’m not either. No matter who I have to lose in my life. 

The Rotten Tree

Published January 10, 2017 by dividinguplife

My mother was in one of her moods last night. I can usually tell within the first thirty seconds of any phone conversation that we have. I have to mentally brace myself for the bullshit that’s about to commence. 

Mom: I don’t understand why your brother won’t talk to me. I mean, did you tell him what I said??

Me: Yes, mom. He’s a grown ass man, though. I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do. 

Mom: I just don’t get it. What have I done?? What did YOU say to him to get him mad at me?

Me: I’m sorry, what?? Where in the hell did that come from? How does this shit automatically jump to what I did?? 

Mom: Oh my god, calm down. It was JUST a question. I can’t figure out any other reason as to why he won’t talk to me, unless you said something to him to piss him off at me. 

*sighs* … I know what’s going on. I know why my brother won’t talk to her. Not long after my brother got married, she decided to tell some people that he was screwing around on his brand new wife with a girl he met in his EMT class. She said he put the girl on the phone with her to talk to her, was lying about where he was when he went out at night to EMT class, etc etc … Once my brother found out, he decided that was it. No more. Our mother has done more than enough in our life to warrant being cut out of it. My brothers fathers side of the family is hardcore Baptist. They don’t put up with that infidelity shit. If word go around that he was cheating on his wife, the gossip mill would travel a hundred times faster than normal Sunday gossip.

When my ex-husband and I were having problems, she told him that I had an orgy in her bed with six men. He told her he’d burn her house down, with her in it. It made me giggle. It still does. 

Or that one time she told a guy-friend of hers that had moved to another state, that I had cancer and she couldn’t pay for my treatments. He sent her hundreds of thousands of dollars for my treatment, until I found a letter in her drawer and called him and blew the top off of the whole thing. I was 15 then, I think. 

Christmas of 2008 she told me and my brother she had breast cancer while we were upwrapping presents. She didn’t. She never has. I mean, she’s told us she’s had all kinds of cancer, but when asked for proof, she won’t provide any. I’ve talked about all of this shit before, but I swear it still blows my mind. 

As a teenager, I was “too fat” and she wouldn’t buy me jeans. I was 5’9″ and a size 10/12. She slept with anything that had money and could pay her way to what she wanted. She cheated on my step-dad with a drug addict that we had to live with for the next seven years. That man pawned all of my jewelry, my bed, my clothes, for his nasty fucking habits. She stayed with him. He beat her, verbally abused her, destroyed our homes (we moved eight times in three years), wrecked our vehicles, stalked us, and made life hell. When I told my mom it was him or it was me, she chose him and I moved in with my aunt until she made me come home. 

I tried to kill myself and got thrown in a mental institution. She visited me once to put on her “loving mother” act, and when I was released she told me to stop acting like a whiny bitch searching for attention. I never wanted attention, I just wanted the shit to stop. Cutting myself gave me feeling in a numb world that I existed in. Downing the pills with the liquor took away everything that was wrong. She wouldn’t let me die. She made me come back and live with her bullshit until I was old enough to get out of there without her being able to stop me. 

Currently, my mother is 48 years old. She has no teeth in her head. She lives in a trailer built in the 80’s with a man that smokes pot and doesn’t work. She sleeps on a sofa bed and claims there are rats running through the trailer. She doesn’t drive, she hasn’t worked in over ten years. I’m the only one in our family that talks to her. Before my uncle died, he had written her off years prior and said he never wanted to speak to her again. My aunt hardly ever talks to her because she can’t stand to hear the bullshit. My grandmother no longer talks to her because of her lying and her shit attitude. My other grandmother (her mother) died six years ago, but didn’t have a fond opinion of her. She has nobody. She did it to herself. I have no sympathy for her. I’ve reached my limit of being used and shit on. I don’t do drama and she knows it. Our last conversation was short once she realized I wasn’t going to get in on her whining about my brother. I’m doing being a welcome mat for her to stomp her feet on. 

Cabin Fever

Published January 8, 2017 by dividinguplife

The weatherman predicted for the past week that we would get six to eight inches of snow in my location. Everyone got in a tizzy (it’s the South, we don’t do snow,) and bought out the grocery stores and then shut themselves in their house for the snow storm. My husband and I upped the time on our date night for dinner and a movie and made it home just before 8:00 Friday night. 

The system arrived, started off as rain (which they said it would not do) and by the time my husband went to bed at three in the morning, snow had still not fallen. 

We woke up to about an inch of snow and a lot of ice. Ice sucks here. People talk about Southerners and their inability to drive properly in the snow. What these assholes that don’t live here, don’t realize is that we can drive on snow. What we (and anyone else in the world) can’t drive on, is ice. The sad thing is that we don’t salt our roads – we use brine (a salt-water mixture spray) and it hardly does a damn thing.Plows handle the highways as best as they can (a lot of counties have tractor plows) and the secondary roads are left for the sun to melt the ice. 

My husband and I got out yesterday just to break the cabin fever. We did a slip and slide down one of the main roads, watched a truck in front of us fish-tale and correct themselves before they flipped over. We went to Wal-Mart and walked around for a little while and then came back home. Our driveway is steep and it took my husband three tries to get up and in the garage. 

I hate the snow. I hate the cold. I hate the winter. Even as a child, I hated playing in the snow. We didn’t have sleds and snow boots when I was growing up. We tied plastic grocery bags around our ankles and wore them outside. We slid on baking pans down little hills in our trailer park. I never particularly cared for it. I would rather have the sun, the heat, and the beach at my disposal. Winter depresses me, cold weather makes me downright miserable. I hope that one day, after our kids our grown, my husband and I will move to the southern tip of Florida and stay there until we die.  

I’ve done nothing but eat for the past two days. Being a shut-in isn’t good for my bordem, and therefore isn’t good for my habit or bored eating. But hopefully once I return to work tomorrow (on a delayed opening), I will get myself back on track. 

New Year, More Love

Published January 3, 2017 by dividinguplife

When I’m driving to work in the morning, it’s usually my best time for self-reflection. I’m alone in the car with my thoughts and my music – which is usually some sad Indie stuff full of soul-wrenching lyrics and melodic instruments. 

This morning, I marveled at how seamlessly we have transitioned into another year. I told my husband last night that it was amazing how our One Year Anniversary was approaching in March, already. He said that it didn’t seem like it at all. He said that being with me and married to me made every day flow so smoothly that it all just flew by. We have no drama, no fighting, no disagreements. Everything that we do, we do together. We don’t party, do drugs, drink, or have the desire to hang out with other people. We spend our weekends window shopping, hitting thrift stores, going to see a movie, having a dinner date, or sometimes we just sit at home and watch television. We have both expressed interest in maybe visiting a strip club in the near future just to buy a few lap dances and have a bit of fun together. I don’t do jealous. My husband and I check out women together. When he comments on another woman being hot, or having big boobs, or whatever – I check them out as well and either agree or disagree. When I comment on a man being hot, he laughs and says “bless your heart, dear … is he just cake?” We both know there are good-looking people out there, and we acknowledge that. The biggest thing is that we trust each other, and we aren’t eaten up with jealousy at the fact that there are other good-looking people in the world, and it’s okay to see them and to comment to each other about it. Both of us have been cheated on, so I don’t think there’s concern about that on either of our parts. 

Of course, my insecurities creep in from time to time, and I wonder if the sound his phone makes is a woman texting him. There’s absolutely no reason to think that, but every now and then The Abusers voice pops into my head and tells me that I’ll never be good enough. That I’m nothing. That without him, I’ll always be nothing. My head tells me that it’s just a matter of time before he does to me what they’ve all done to me. My heart tells me that I’m safe, I’m secure in our marriage, we are going to make it. The two battle each other constantly. Eventually, my heart wins the battle. 

In other news, I’m officially an Aunt. My brother and his wife had their baby on December 31st at 3:30 in the morning. She’s so sweet and cuddly. It’s hard to imagine that my baby brother is old enough to have children. But, he’s 24 and I think that’s a pretty decent time to start having kids. To me, he’ll always be this little boy that needs me to cut the crust off of his cheese-toast, though. Now, he has a little girl of his own that is going to look up to him for guidance. I hope that he’s a great dad, and that he doesn’t abandon her like his father abandoned me, because that is a kind of pain that you don’t want to know about. 

Here’s to 2017. For some, last year was a nightmare. For others, it was wonderful. I’m blessed and thankful to wake up each day with my soulmate by my side.