The Thread of a Pigskin

A Football.

Four identical hide pieces of leather.

Ironically, a football is made out of cowhide; of the shoulders and spine.
Moo.
Sewn together with lace-of course.
One of the toughest compounds of lace there is.
Polyvinyl Chloride - Leather Lace
Which is clearly better if not just as good as a Fleet wood Mac love song.


It's a weapon and objective tool in a sport that requires the ultimate test of a human being.
Physical Endurance
Geometrical Creativity
Attitude of Defeat in the most positive sense of the word
All while living in the brotherhood that is part of the backbone of America.

This is a game that is specifically focused on Sunday as it's Game-day.

Myself, having knowledge of religion and history, find it to be no co-incidence that Sunday is the Lords Day.
And being able to have a family football game or watch one with your loved ones is a blessing.
Giving us reason to be lazy and relax, cook, crack open a cold one, and overall enjoy each other.
It's so simple yet so extravagant.

Unfortunately, the simple things in life are what get taken for granted.




Something masterfully crafted and used on a daily basis.
It's not often a football get's thrown out.
If anything, it's one of the cheapest and most valuable family heirlooms there ever was.
Making memories with one, holding onto the essence of a loved one by keeping it, or even remembering lessons taught, all with the surrounding thought that it is just, a football.




America, these days, is becoming lofty, she's not protecting herself from bad decisions.
Or allowing herself to make good ones.

In a world where people would rather watch those who look pretty and buy fancy things, than do something in their own life to make this world a better place.
We aren't thinking anymore about ourselves.
for our future's.
We aren't looking at a game plan.
We're looking at a million separate selfish wants.
And No Game get's won this way.
None.





I feel like we as a country are in an intermission.
We're sucking so bad....but you know we have the strength to pull back up.
We just need to take a look and absorb our foundation.
Look at the tools we were given, and stop ignoring them.
Listen to the calls that were made by players before us.
When they held victories and losses.



But when is enough enough?
When does a coach do his job well?
Is he focusing on strategy? Talent? Motivation?
Does he or she believe in the team and work with them the way a parent would?
Wouldn't that be the way the country would run well?




Essentially our president is the coach.
The people in the cabinets are in-fact the players.
Coach makes a call- Players get their ass on a bench.
So when a linebacker starts doing the quarterbacks job -- isn't it time for that linebacker to be spoken to?



That's why the coach needs to be a person who can identify someone's strengths and weaknesses while knowing wrong from right. Someone who has heart, and faith.
Who understands that underneath a superhuman ego.
People are just that. People.


The reason for me spouting all this today, is for the soul fact that I've had enough.
I know I'm not the only one.
Last week we almost got our freedom of speech, press, creativity and contact taken from us through an organization created by our government to basically Ground the social public.


America - You have been benched.


Don't you get it?
We don't have morals anymore.
You might say that you do....you might get irritated with people who look at things from a deeper perspective.
But you can look at things from a deeper perspective without being obnoxious.
It's possible.
Just recognize the beauty in things around you, stop verbally justifying crap.
Shut up.
Do something.




Instead of watching Jersey Shore.
I said it.

But if there is anyone out there who understands and appreciates something as simple as a football, a music note, or knowledge and the ability to be creative, Or the majesty of science.

With love and respect for it.



Than seriously
Seriously
SERIOUSLY
SERIOUSLY
Re-consider the way you do things.
Insanity is repeating the same thing over and over.
If we keep going down the same road we're on.
This country will be a few hand-basket's short of a pick nick even more than it already is.


So this year when it comes down to it.
Remember the core values and nothing else that this country was founded on.
Remember that there were people willing to take risks.


Abraham Lincoln once stated: "
America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves."

They didn't call him Honest Abe for nothing, asshole.


 
Have faith in the fact that there are people out there who don't want bad things to happen to us from within.


And if we can recognize that, then obviously there is a CHANCE for us to take the next step as a people and find out what we have to do, working together as communities.





It's time for us to pick the right coach.
Who knows how to hold us and shape us as a country the right way.

Because America is tough, she is weathered.
Eventually, even a thread that strong can break if mistreated enough.

Jingle Bells

When I was four years old I had a severe tradgedy strike my family upon my fathers death.

In front of the Christmas tree, on December 21,before he came to pick me up;
my father passed away from a heart attack.
I decided upon reason that there was no Santa.
This is what I told my mother- anyway.....
Inadvertantly screwing myself out of the wonder of Christmas for a child.

That was the first of very many sorrow-filled Christmas's for me.


In life there are different modes of transportation.
Ways we choose to get from one place to another.
Metaphorically and realistically speaking.
Providing us with a choice of convenience; cost, and time limits.

Some will fly.
They willingly soar above the grounds and take a risk for a faster paced, exilirating chance.
We either crash and burn. Or land at a destination of fulfillment.

Over the pond, into the great blue.
A rogue wave could knock you over any second. But it's beauty is deafening within itself.
And a boat or a ship can be a very comfortable place.
Depending on the way you might enjoy a view, and navigation.

There are also uncontrollable circumstances in life.
Such as a steam-roller or a locomotive disturbingly crashing into another or a bridge fumbling at the least wanted second.

But when these things happen it's necessary for us to use one tool to fix it if we want to.

An open mind.

Our survival depends on it.

It's the imagination, and the humor of every-day life.
Human nature calls for some kind of cynicism, sarcasm or playfulness once there is hurt.
Helping replace the tears with laughter.
It truly is our fortitude in coping.

If reality was a cartoon, it'd be a whole lot more fun to watch.
Especially the injuries and the food.

So we think about holidays like it's our job to get away from the bustle.
Because the holidays is about as cartoon-ish as it get's.

Wrap those presents .....Wrap em' good.

Then give them to someone.
Simply because it's what they want.

Gift-mas

We decorate houses in lights, and bake treats, follow traditions because tradition is what keeps a family together.



But what about those who don't have anyone to give presents to?
Or the ones who have no presents to receive?

No where to go.
And no traditions to follow?
Nothing to share.

Just existing.


Christmas is deafening with silence.


So Santa was created.
Jolly dude covered in red felt.
J-Lo must be proud.

Above all with his rosy cheeks.
His sack of presents.
Candy-Cane, and pet rain-deer.

He owns a flying sleigh.

I want a flying sleigh, screw my honda.
Pfft.

He travels the globe solo to deliver all things wanted, fun, happy and needed to people.
Only to return to the north pole the very next morning to spend a year stocking up for the next run.


So many children send letters to the North Pole.
But what if he isn't there?

What if one of the stars in the sky is him.
What if, in the universe there's a special cluster formed of magic.
And it's home to all of our wonder-filled hearts.

What if Santa does really exist?
But not the way we perceive him to.

As adults we lose the charms of childhood.
It's common. Not necessary.

Take a step away from the Christmas tree.
Take a look at your loved ones no matter how far they may be.

Then look out your window.
And think about a gliding star and the miracles that happen through-out the year.

If you listen for the bells.
You just might hear them.

Abracadabra

It's only natural for someone to feel some kind of happy when they are given something.
Wether it's allotted, presented, upon a superficial holiday, birthday,...anniversary, or just any old
from me to you exchange.

The act of being given something in any positive light makes people feel good about themselves.
They realize in some way they are worth other people's time, money, emotion, ect.

They realize that they are in fact worth more than the flesh and bone we carry ourselves around in.
Causing us to believe that materialistic things are measurable.
Placing our moral mentality on the egotistical high.

Confidence.


When there is too much confidence, people become cocky...
Snarling children make fun of the less fortunate.
Adults will either not realize how incredibly selfish, ignorant, arrogant, or rude they are.
Or they will take it a step beyond that and ACT very much like children with adult aspects.
Protecting what they have around them like someone is going to steal it; for many,
many, different reasons.

Unfortunately in this world things are given too much; too easily to the wrong people.
Or they are not given at all to the ones deserved.

This is where Merit comes in.
Where life has to be earned.




For years when I was a child I was screamed at every day.
For things I didn't understand, things I didn't do wrong, and mistakes I was made.

Constantly forced to apologize, I did.
But then I was told to apologize like I mean it.
So I did.
I did anything to get them to stop screaming at me.
Anything to get them to stop treating me like I was bad.
I begged.

For the past eight years I've extensively worked on the deeper issues.

Instead of getting to the bottom of a well, I dove in.
I found all the leaks, and the cracks..discovering what my life was built on...
I found out what the poison was in the water.
I've filtered it out.


Now I'm dealing with my defects!

For years.
YEARS I TELL YOU!

I have apologized for nothing.
Almost like it was mandatory for me to say it every time I spoke.

If something dropped and I picked it up;
I would apologize to the person I picked it up for.

If I apologized and I got told not to worry about it....
I apologized again.

Saying I'm sorry was ingrained into me.

The mentality of "I was not worth something"
Was in my blood.

One of my patients, that I took care of was a sweet little Texas lady.
Marie.

She was the most profoundly giving, loving kind woman I have ever met in my life.
Someday, when she passes away, I know she will be an angel for many.
Myself included.
I don't care that she's 84 she's one of my besties.

When I apologized to her, for anything...
her simple response:

"What all you apologizin for?"

It really started then to click in my head about 3 years ago on how bad it was.
But my focus was on more important things I needed to fix.

Funny whenever people have apologized to me for similar reasons.
I've always responded with simply: "It's ok, you're human..you're allowed"


I'm not sorry anymore.
This month a couple of things have happened in a social manner where I was treated wrong out of instance by people.
Normally I would have backed down while fussing about it.

I spoke up.
I spoke up, I have been protected, people in an authority are starting to understand me in a different light, and I realized that I haven't said I'm sorry when I need to in a while....

I'm not sure how long.
But the words haven't come out of my mouth lately.

To the whole world this could be a minescule thing...
But for me, this is a sign that a life goal was completed this year.

I'm healed, and moving forward into my dreams.
Nothing is going to stop me.

tin man, lion, scarecrow

I got attrociously drunk tonight.
Don't know how, it wasn't that much.
I had a bottle of wine, and two beers.

But.


But.

I came home after a long day of work and hung out with my room-mates.

They are amazing, and prayers were answered when I moved in with them.
Both of them just as original and different as I am.
They are comfortable and fitted in their own skin.

It's great.

It makes me truly proud to live with the kind of people that I know myself to be.

Tonight, another groundbreaker surfaced as I spent quality time with girls.
Girl I lived with, and bonded with.
Completely void of fear of any sort.

Along with such, we decidedly got drunk and went to a bar.
Running into boys, one of which was throwing options and complements at me like a verbal frisbee.

I dfended myself after turning him down gently so many times that he made a point to be a GENTLEMEN and carried me out of a bar.

I feel like I'm in the middle of a fairy tale.

With men, it's virtually impossible for me to not be a bitch by initial instinct.
I don't want that.
I'm sweet, I like being sweet.
Women frighten the crap out of me.
They are mean, vindictive, hurtful scowling crazy bitches.
Men are good people most of the time.
MOST of the time.

The rare ones are the best.
Nerdy white, intellectual, jokingly sarcastic hippies with a sweet side and sexy arms who might be taller than me.

I wish I could find one that was strong enough to grab me. Kiss me.
And tell me that he wants me for good.

I wish a man in my life who knew me for what I was before...who saw the difference could look at me and appreciate the breakdown of a chemical that my soul is.

I'm a different breed.
I want a life with fulfillment of a woman, and the legacy of a man.

I wish I could let love in.

Instead I have to be a fiesty bitch.
Like some sort of protective shell because I was forced to ask for a hug while I was growing up.
To heal myself.
Instead I've sufficed with a bandaid of egotistical verbatim in form.

I want a man to go past that.
Beat me down with emotional gentility.
Move me.

Tonight, like any other night...not to sound condescending....but...let''s face it; my ass is candy.
I get hit on a lot.
I'm learning how to be honest. Without feeling bad.
And tonight, I tried to let a guy down easy.
Tried.
Didn't happen.

It was almost like he wanted to fight....
really?

I mean I get turned on with banter....but really?
A turn down?

Please don't make me do this.
I have fought so hard to learn NOT to do this.
I don't want to have to work for approval.
I want to be accepted for my personality, I want to be loved and appreciated for it.
Not my defense mechanism.
I want to be a girl.
For one Fucking day.

I want to be completely sweet, not have to defend myself once.
Be pretty, and easy going and happy.
I want a man who makes me comfy.
Like the kind of sofa, that is brand new, but already somehow broken in to the point where it's so comfortable.....you fit.

I had to make a point to describe about the fact that
No. I'm not an asshole.
No. I don't think you are ugly.
No. I'm not the girl who is going to sleep with you to prove you wrong.

No.


I'm just not the type of girl to throw my legs up and scream for any guy.
I want love.
Real, honest, best friend, food fight, dancing drunk, board game, silly speak, true love.
Is it so wrong that I have had to fight for air in my own lungs so much as to be human....
That the one thing I truly want ....
the only thing I ever want to be given in this life is the one thing I've earned by birth.


I'm so cliche it's gross.

Part of me is sticking my metaphorical finger down my own asophagus.

But really.

I want gushy. Mushy. Squishy love.

Lobs of love.
Hugs and kisses, and dark chocolate and lilies on valentines day.
I want cheezy movies, beer, wine, nerdy t-shirts.
Late night cooking and snuggling while watching a documentary.
Banter and music jamming.
Even matching halloween costumes.


Just because I'm different doesn't mean I don't deserve it.

It mean's I'm better than half the bitches out there.

In more ways than one.



No no, Not just any guy. But any particular guy who isn't close to the one.


I'm picky?....WTF do you want I'm a woman in New England...

Where's my fairy tale.
Who's the fairy?
And where is my prince charming.

Also. I started a writing project today.
Last night I went to visit my friends, and an idea for serious effort came into mind.
I did what I knew I had to do.
I ran with it.
With confidence.
I'm about to make waves with my imagination.

What I'm about to say should have, would have, could have and did come sooner.


I love my roommates is the speculation.

As far as my writing goes- along with my life

I know what I want. And I'm going for it.

Grab your napkins...
I'm collecting date logs.
......................This is about to get juicy.

The Many Colored Horse.

When I moved.
Quit my job.
Seeing this as completely reasonable in my jaunt to better myself as a step forward.

The non-negotiable action of unpacking;
leaving what is unwanted behind on my path
unpacking- which is mandatory considering that's exactly what -it- is.

A move.

Unpacking is one thing.
Breaking down boxes is another.

There is a storage room in this new apartment, where I put the extra boxes and not much that I held close to memoir.

Unpacking, sorting through, disposing of anything unworthy or unnecessary in my life for what it has come to be.
Then; of course;
Breaking down the boxes.

Breaking down the boxes was not nearly my preparation for maybe having to move one more time.

Supplying the comfort to my irrational fear based on things that have happened.
But that's just it.
They HAVE happened.

Past tense.
I'm trying so hard to let all of what's behind me stay there.
I tore up the boxes.
Breaking them down, I broke down.
Tears might have gone down my cheeks a little with the known sense that I was going to be at risk emotionally if I thought about it.

So I didn't. I didn't let the fear seep into the well of my imagination.
Boxes be no more.

I am left to bewilder day by day.
The definition of home.

I've been job hunting online.
Hunting. Seeking.
Not applying.

Being seriously hesitant for the first time in my life.
Wading as a waitress is the lingering position at state in this rediculous chess game.
I've not decided what it is I want to do.
Not a clue.

I feel like a little kid in a sand box with tonka trucks, jenga pieces, puzzles, linkin-logs and legos around me. I yearn to build life.

The salamanders outside the sand-box on the ground taunt me.
Living life, it's time for me to join them.

There are so many opportunities around me.
I see them, and this time I know that I have luck and positivity on my side.

The irony of having openness of opportunity around me,
is that I've come so far;
I'm afraid that if there's a mistep at the biggest choice I make and failing happens.
This time, It's an open portal into the abyss of life.

The most stubborn person I have ever met, is in my mirror.
Even I know when to back down against life, other people, and situations.

But not myself.
I'm at war here, and there's a catapult of "I told you so's"
hurdling their way from the pessimistic neurons in my brain if my optimism and work is broken down by life's ammo; named shit.

I'm so scared.
I've always been alone in this.
But the wall of nonsense stone was my little protection.

It wasn't just protection for me.....
I theoretically feel bad for anyone who pisses me off.
They might need a box of tissues and mental neosporin for Wonder Woman's lasso of Truth.

The page of self defense has been turned.
Truly, I'm not holding back with the fuck off's anymore.

Now along with starting applications for jobs I really want, writing more...and enjoying freedom.
I plan on learning how to balance out my mean by being sweet,
when I really honest to god, want to be.

For me. That's a toughie.

Floaties and Training wheels.

I feel like I just learned to swim and I'm 10 feet into the ocean for the first time.

Even though, my bills have been paid by me, and there has been a roof over my head for the past seven years; this is the first time in my life that not one thought of anxiety, worry, or fear has consumed me by the plaguing of bad luck, depression, and plain old bad.

The reality of me leaving health-care is setting in.
Caring for myself, my dreams, is very very real.
It's like a cancer of my mind has been put into remission.
I feel clean.
Really clean.
I feel really clean;... all of the time.

The only thing I want is that I had people that knew me, people that hurt from the anger I had around me...I want them here now.
Just so they could see what I'm like without my pain and the reasons for it are all but one wiped away.
They could see me physically, they knew I was there.
But they didn't get to see my soul.
It hurts, more than anything I know how to describe,

While embracing new people; doing things I always wanted to do, living my dreams and cultivating really positive relationships with people I meet on almost a daily basis,.....
I can't have the ones I love the most, friends OR family around me.

This past weekend, two people that I met during the time I burrowed the deepest in my past visited.
My sister, and her mother.

The very fact that I got to hug them alone is a sanctuary.

I wish people knew that just having their siblings, or cousins around to talk to is one of the greatest things in this life. Far too often the way we treat people is a serious reason lives go haywire. It's also a reason lives turn towards greatness.

When My uncle and mother started bringing me to doctors I resisted.
I told the doctors how I was being treated at home, and then I was brought to a different doctor.
I told family members, and then I was no longer allowed to see that family member.
I fought, and was taken down by every lighting strike possible.

The house I lived in would shake when I was a child
It would tremor on the ground in which it stood.
Simply from screaming.
For hours at night, several nights a week, I could hear my uncle telling my mother that I needed to be put on medications for depression, or that I needed to be kept away from these kids at school for whatever reason he could come up with.
Manipulating to get out of doing anything parental....He got everything he wanted.
When he was home, I cleaned.
That's all I did.
That's all I was allowed to do.
And then I had to start taking pills, because If I didn't, well,
He would make sure that I would want to be sedated.
My mother always took care of my uncle, she coddled him.
Whatever he said went, even in her house.

For reasons I'm not going to enclose, because while I might have been the focal point of hurt in my mothers life, I still love her, and I love her too much to embarrass her stating the real reasons she even allowed all of this to happen.

I wish that I could someday protect her from all the hurt in the world.

She eventually put me on enough medication after being convinced that it was the right thing to do.
After being trapped in a bathroom for hours, while fighting two extremely angry and pushy adults from forcing pharmaceuticals down my throat
- like rocks down a soft drink straw -,
it was only residual for me to be left to vices of a man screaming in my face that I was puke.
I was scum. I was a filthy piggy mess.
He never failed to remind me of that daily.

How dare I want to be treated like a human.
Especially at the age of 12.

Every time someone tells me that I have a gift when I write, or that there's talent,
or suggests an idea....the gratitude is automatic.
But I feel like a narcissist. Getting this off my chest.
Right now....My story is the only one I can tell with passion. With truth.

I'm not a martyr, a saint, a goody two shoes,....there is no part of me that believes I'm perfect or better than anyone.
But I know the depth of what I've accomplished here....and I'm determined to take it to the next level.

To come to terms with the fact that my own mother decides to blame me for treating her like crap because I'm living my life for the first time after being consumed by a childhood and upbringing of complete abuse......what do I do with that?
How do I fight myself and my own moral compass?

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
Support is one of the greatest things in the world.

It's the fallback. The hug after a long day, and a friendly face of someone who doesn't judge you.
Phone calls are the best.

When I was trapped in that house, in a corner, crying my eyes out so much that they burnt.
I wanted to be alone.
Because I never believed that anyone wanted me simply to spend time with me. Not unless they would get anything out of it.
I was kept, like a dog.

And Now,...........
Now that I'm free from the evil, manipulation, and hate that bound me between both my families.....

I'm happy, but I wish every day that I could share it with the ones who didn't know.
The ones who I love, and miss.

I'm alone.
Not one person that I persistently reach out to gets it.

I know that in life it only gets harder, that's what makes you strong.
I want someone else to be strong.
I want a man, or a friend who will tell me that it's ok.
And that they love me.



I want someone else to reach out.



Still, I'll continue on. Because If I die, lets' face it. That's giving up.

In light of quitting my job, I have found a waitressing gig at a place I like.

What's so great about waitressing?

The people, the restaurant, the beer, the food...
I've been writing like crazy lately with inspiration.
Good things right?

It isn't enough for me.
It has to be great, the best, true love. In every sense of life.
All or nothing.

Last week I got coffee at the shop downstairs from my apartment,....and I took a stroll around town, down to the cemetery to a plot I found a few weeks ago when I moved here.

The last name was Story.
The plot has a pillar, and on that pillar, it said in etched words Mother Father

A Mother Father Story.

Then I remembered the Eagles nest that is about 20 feet from there on the river behind my house.

Recognizing that my dreams are in fact coming true,...the reality of what I already knew pushed it's way into my imagination.

It's not enough. I fought for my life.

I need to live it.

That's like buying Jimmy Choo shoes....or a Glock 17 and using either at the most opportune moment.

I'm pulling the triggor.

One thing I've always wanted to do is a road trip accross America.
But it has to be a staple. Better than the rest, memorable, original....like me. :D

Now I've been on road trips by myself before.
Short ones, road trips nonetheless....

So I thought

What If I biked!?!?!?!?! I could document daily or every other day....

And then I got an email, from my Meetup, from another girl who wants to do the same thing.

In the spring.
One way or another it's going to happen.
I've already begun training.

25 Years.

A Bike ride won't kill me.

2011 was my turning point and my healing year.
The Darkness is gone from my life. Damned better stay out.

2012, I fore-see a lot of writing, traveling and schooling.

The worlds not gonna end people......
The world is just beginning.

Game point.

I had to quit my job.

It wasn't a
"Woe is me...."
Or a
"This isn't working for me so much"
Or even a
"I'm so gonna get fired"

They knew I would do what needed to be done.
I cooked, I cleaned, I did errands.
I was the one who parented the twelve year old.
Because she needed it, and because she deserved it.

This family I worked for would sit there and talk about me whenever I wasn't around. Saying whatever insults they could come up with from picking on my tattoo
to having their daughters say
and I quote
"I want to put deana in a room and have my friends come over so I can show them her"
What am I a farm animal?
I can't wait until this stupid Cunt is hit by a truck called life.
I feel bad for her children, they're stupid. She's raising them that way.

My Bosses sister was harassing me on almost a daily basis. She claims I "asked" her for help...and I'm pretty damn sure anyone else who knows me on this planet will vouch that I'm incapable of "asking" for anything.

Wanna know what's wrong with your economy America?
Faggot men who marry unintelligent bimbos who breed children on money.
Parenting like that.
Because they grow up to be money hungry; morally incompetent assholes.


I started pulling out my hair. Because the pain of it released the endorphins that I would have gotten if I acted on beating the crap out of this woman.
She's a blonde, power hungry, piece of shit. And her eyebrows have that scary look.
Crazy Eye.

I've been through enough to know when it's mean.
And no, talking about people isn't right.
But seriously, she threatened me, put me down, created situations with manipulative behavior, and gossips about me.
The funny thing is.......
After doing all that, and lying to my face about it when I caught her in action....
The bitch wanted me to shake her hand!?!?!?!

Are you fucking kidding me?

No.
I said blatantly.
She asked "why not?"
I'm surprised that she needed a reason.

I had been looking for a new job to start for the past 4 months.
I landed 6 jobs. And I took two.
The stress she was causing me in this time caused me to crash and burn.

After all the work I've done on myself I felt so disappointed in my strength.
I was capable of turning negatives into positives. And I never expected to change anyone.
Nor did I believe it was possible or want to.

That wasn't the part of it that caused me to get so upset.
It was the fact that this woman was in her fifties, and went to such great lengths to emotionally vandalize a person who cared about her family.
It was my job, but more than that I treated it gently...

Human Nature never ceases to amaze me.

I don't think that I'm blind sided, or jaded. Because I still look at it from outside the box.


So my patient started hitting me one morning when I tried to get her to take a shower.
It was a monday, and her hair was greasy from not being taken care of on the weekends
(which was normally how I would find her)

With her daughter and niece upstairs playing music; I let it go.
I walked away muttering go fuck yourself under my breath.

I went upstairs to clean the much needed pile of run through clothes from the weekend.

She climbed out the window.
To go across the street to her evil sister in laws house.

Okay :)

I let it happen.
I had enough.

My Boss asked me later that week why It happenned?
With a gruff face
"Why did his 58 year old mentally ill wife manage to get out"

"I'm exhausted.
I do everything in my power to take care of your sorry lazy ass, to raise your daughter and to manage a crazy person and you do everything in your power to work against me to douche.
That's why."

I quit.

The next week I moved out and he tried to withhold my paycheck from me.
I stress the word "tried"

Considering the circumstances, and the fact that I didn't develop a drinking problem and held this job for almost two years. Methinks I did well.

I might have quit something for the first time in my life.

But that little girl I was taking care of knows she has a big sister out there who will tell her the truth about life but give hugs no matter what.


Home. Because I clicked my heels three times.
In a weeks time I found myself the most amazing apartment,
sitting behind a river, in an old country town, next to a brewery, above an organic coffee shop.
My bedroom window has a fancy boutique sign outside.
And my roommates are good people.

Good people.

I got a job at a Buffalo Wild Wings.

Beer. Sports. Wings.
As I spout their anthem proudly ....the crew I work with is really decent.
Everyone works together, and we all do our fair share.
The management doesn't play on Team Suck. BONUS!

And As of now.....I'm happily enjoying the beginning of my life.

My turnaround point.
This was it.

I started running.
Honestly , twice a week.
Now I'm bumping it up....and I'm going to try for every day.

My hair has started growing back.
I'm losing weight again.
And I'm thoroughly happy.

----------->INSERT TOOTHY GRIN HERE<-------------

My main objective now is to find a writing job.
A writing job about survival.
Something that will push my limits physically, in a company that will give me assignments to do so.
I want to find a company where my boss sees my potential and shows me the directions I can go in to flourish with it.

I've been through beyond hell and fire mentally and emotionally.
I'm sound. I'm here. I'm alive. I'm well.

This is my next goal....
Within it. I'm writing a small excerpt about getting physically fit.
So if you're interested in reading my cynical spouts and
no so how to- more how I did
Check out my other blog. Pass it around.

If there is ever one thing I need. It's support. And my gratitude would be never ending.

I got to this point with very few people in my life who actually care about me.
Round about 2.

It's not easy. And if you have parents that love you. I suggest you give them a hug.
If you have people in your life that care for you. Give them a hug.
A smile.
Hang out with them.

Support is the greatest tool you can give someone.
It allows them to succeed in the greatest and worst of ventures because it is the knowledge that someone is not going to judge them if they should fail.

I never really had much of that.
But I'm still standing, and now stronger than before.
I'm still in the Game.
The only difference is................................................

Now I know how to play and I have my objective.