A Rant....

When I go "trolling", not necessarily to be a douche bag but no better word for it, to check out other pages, it is usually late or early morning and I am tired and get pissy.
Most times, they are decent pages, looking for numbers and some sort of pat on the back....
Not all pages are like that. We are NOT all self serving narcissistic fuckers looking to brand some shit on the stupidity of others...nor are most of us riding the coat tails of others. Some of us worked hard for our numbers and we are liked because we are fucking funny, witty and sincere.
SO....I cannot stand when I come across some fucking jack hammers page and he is a fucking tool, slippery dicked motherfucker and I read his/her posts and A. they make NO SENSE and B...MY FUCKING friends, likes on my page, folks I know, swoon like they are in heat.
How on EARTH...How can you not spot a fucking douche?!?!?

Here are some hints:

1. ALWAYS telling you how great they are and how they saved the day.
B) Make sure YOU know how humble and amazing they are.
next....
They always have "fans" that have kids so their "kid" posts seem realistic...but what fucking 8 yr old knows and tells her dad she wants a thong and belly ring?

WAKE FUCKING UP.

End Rant..........................

Questions...

Writing this blog today comes with a myriad of emotion....ANGER being number one. What I have learned through AA is that under that ANGER, that I cling to like a rabid dog, is FEAR.

I am a good mother. I have regrets, of course, after all, I am a mother. We live for these kids, don't we? We laugh and cry...our hearts break for them and our hearts live for them. They are 50% of everything we are. When my daughters laugh, there is NO better feeling on this earth, no greater sound I have heard.
 I am a strict mother. There are rules and you WILL follow them. Your best friend doesn't have to take the trash out? too bad for her. Too bad she will never learn the importance of that task in her life....you WILL. I am a firm believer that kids live up to our expectations of them and if we are calling them names and treating them like assholes, they will give us what we expected. <I say that KNOWING kids will be assholes regardless. They are kids and human and have bad days....I am hoping you are following me here.>
I am NOT friends with my kids. Friendship comes after lessons. Years of learning and lessons. We have fun...pj day, movie night, board games, cake for dinner, running, sprinklers, waking up at midnight to play in the snow.....
I have bathed them, held them, cried with them, screamed with them, read with them, fed them, rushed them to the ER, kissed boo boos, laughed and laughed with these girls of mine. We have come back from bad, made it through stresses and I pray they are learning good from me. I say all of this because I know you are the same kind of parent. I write this because this CAN happen to ANYONE.

So I will begin with a question....If you were to pick up your child's iPod, cell phone/smart phone, computer, notebook, iPad...lifted up their mattress and go through their drawers, What would you find? Do you know? Do you know where to look, the nooks and crannies of a kids mind?

Do you know that they can skype, facetime, eamil, tumblr, Text+, KIK, facebook, message, instagram, all without your permission? They can hide that shit....they can create profiles and send out pics and have it all to be seen by the public. BY ANYONE.

They can do it all without you knowing. All for free.

Do you know the passwords to all of your kids shit? From iPods to smart phones to facebook? Do you know all of their usernames? DO YOU CHECK?  Do you SURPRISE check? Do you go through drawers and under mattresses?
Are you laughing and running around with your innocent child/teen just to discover, hours later, everything she/he has said is a fucking lie? That when you checked shit out, you were not going deep enough, far enough to find the hidden truths?
Did you know that in Illinois, sending out underaged nude pics is child porn? The sender and receiver can spend the rest of their lives registered as a sexual predator. Let that soak in a sec. 12,13,16,18,24,38,45....a life sentence, really.
Did you know if your kid downloads that shit onto YOUR computer and you do not know, for some reason your computer is searched and it is found, YOU are now the one with kiddie porn?

Have you Googled your kids name? Have you surprised searched every single place possible? Is your answer NO because they are honor students? Never been in trouble, Polite, kind, funny, good citizen/sibling/person?  They have never given you a reason to check?.........

CHECK. Go NOW. Go search through their shit. Go get those passwords, usernames....they play moshi monsters? Oh, they "know" johnny? Guess again....
I recently had to call my daughter's bestie's mother to inform her that her daughter, who "does not have access to those sorts of things like facebook" was talking to "someone" she met via Moshi Monsters. On the phone. For some strange reason, he did not want to facetime or skype with her, just to talk. How FUCKING terrifying.
She is a good kid. An honor student. Polite. Her mom is a teacher. Good family.
I will avoid the horrors of what may have been, what could have been, and the fact that the "boy" vanished after a call from her mom.
These girls can be blackmailed if sending out photos. Racy photos. Blackmailed by peers. Blackmailed into doing things so nobody tells their parents, manipulated and FEARED into doing things they would NOT normally do. Oh, your kid would come to you if being threatened or manipulated or was scared...Your kid knows what a bad guy is and what to do, what to look for. Your kid isn't "stupid" or "knows better"? Your kid has been "raised right" and can be trusted. Your daughter has high self esteem and feels too good about herself for that nonsense? You keep your kids so busy they have to stay out of trouble. We monitor everything and have parental controls.....

So. Did. I.

Why I don't talk about it....

I have been questioned quite a bit lately as to why I do not blog more or talk more about my drinking days and how and what happened to get me here to sobriety.
I understand curiosity. I ask a zillion questions, and not because I am rude, it's because I am teachable. I need to see how others have done A,B,C....no matter what abc are. make sense? I understand the need and desire to hear other people's stories.
The thing is, it's all too raw yet. Too real. Too painful to share. Every time I sit back and think "ok, I can do this today, I can write about what happened when I passed out on the kitchen floor in front of my 2 and 3 yr olds" but the breakdown that happens...I cannot let the thoughts continue. I end up in a very very bad place.
So, slowly, if you stick with me on this journey, I will be writing more, as it gets easier and easier to feel the pain involved with sobriety. The incredible damage I did to my precious girls.....

Do you laugh at funerals?

I know, I know, it's rather cliche to say I laugh at funerals....but I do. I also say the WORST things EVER. I mean, I laugh until my belly shakes, tears are pouring down my face and I LOOK like I am fucking freaking out from grief. If you ever question my honesty on this one....ask my sister. We have to talk ourselves into NOT laughing. FYI...that makes it worse. 

At my Uncle Jim's funeral when I was 9, I laughed first when I was told this young man had died. He was 38, an alcoholic, and believed not only that he was Jesus but that Barry Manilow was his brother. True story. The bowling alley where he hung in the city STILL talks about him 30 yrs later. My uncle was nuts and I cherished him. He was a bad ass as well. He won awards in body building in Chicago....He was good to me.
I remember what I wore to that service and I remember laughing so damn hard that I was removed from the service. My fucked up family thought I was as nuts as he was..........

My "cousin" Cody committed suicide. He had a fucked up life, became an addict, blew his brains out. I was at the service talking to his girlfriend when I blurted out "I just wanted to blow my brains out" which made me LAUGH so fucking hard......I know, I know.

When my grandmother passed away, I was heartbroken. I knew nothing in this family would ever be the same. I missed her before the words came out of my ex's mouth that she had passed. She was the best kind of crazy and funny and gorgeous. She was not the hugs n kisses kind of lady, rather bad ass really but you knew you were loved. On the drive to her funeral I had my mom and sister with me. Driving with my mother is about as much fun as driving blindfold in the rain, but as soon as we got to Michigan, mom buzzed, it was game ON. From the priest to my mother to my sister.....I laughed hard. The one second I cried here was when my brother who was raised by her, broke down in choking sobs. I never, ever wanted to end someones pain as badly as I did that minute. 

My grandfather passed shortly after....He had Alzheimer's. My granfather was a drunk for years, quit and stayed sober for a long fucking time. He was mean and kind and once convinced us kids he was going to murder santa....he even had the gun. Funny ass fucker, right? (seriously, I think so)
When he died, it was the end of the end. My family had officially split apart. I knew my grandpa was NOT happy about a catholic burial but what made this HYSTERICAL was the fucking priest didn't know his name. He kept referring to Emanuel, his name is Samuel. I laughed so hard i had to get up and leave....some thought I was weeping and fucked up. truth is, I was glad he didn't suffer anymore and I knew he was pissed as shit this guy could not get his name right.

My BIL's dad was murdered in Chicago. He was a security guard and got detailed to a white castle. He was murdered by a schizophrenic man. NOT FUNNY. this is awful....My sister talked me through not opening my mouth for any reason....but I did. I said to T's mom "It's SOOOOOOO nice to FINALLY meet you!!!!!" K just looked at me, shaking her head. 

My father in law passed away in 2010. I even cared for him in the hospital for a couple weeks. I was sad and loved him. At his funeral, he was a fireman, when they started with the bagpipes and speeches....I almost threw up from laughter. The speeches, drunk fireman, crazy family, it was INSANE.....My sister, sitting next to me had tears streaming down her face. Now, I know that was because she was laughing with me, most people thought we were hysterical. How can one NOT laugh when one speech entails how John left his first wife and "snuck off with poopsie".....I am telling you guys, That's in my top 5 best funerals. EVER.

It could be my discomfort with death, awkward situations, not knowing what to say and feeling the need to say ANYTHING...but if there is a funeral, guaranteed I'll be the one laughing and saying stupid shit.

It's not a lack of love or compassion....it's a sense of relief to get any emotion out.

Disclaimer* No, Alzheimer's, suicide, death is not funny. If you think that's what I am saying, move along. 

My top 10.

Via our girl over at: You Know It Happens At Your House Too, who has written a blog about gratitude and thankfulness, she asked as a challenge that we follow suit. 


So here are my 10:(not in any order)


1. My new jobby job!


2. I was able to get up and go running this morning.


3. That run felt DAMN good.


4. My beautiful and sometimes frustrating, yet healthy daughters.


5. Wonderful friends who "get" me and let me be myself. 


6. Healthy kitties, whom I love and adore.


7. My car, my lovely car. It's the 3rd car I have owned outright and paid for all by myself.


8. Sobriety of course. too many reasons to list here....


9. My ex. 


10. My family...they crack my shit up constantly. All of them.


Your turn...you know, if you want.

When saying thank you just isn't enough, I try and live it.

So, Here we are folks. I am on day "it doesn't even matter, it's been so fucking long" 145 of finding a job with ZERO luck. 
It's sad. It's hopeless most days. It's a feeling of utter despair and huge fucking fear. It's knowing that very, very little separates you and your children from being homeless. 
Yet, there are these people. these people whom you have NEVER met face to face. These people who feel your struggle, KNOW your pain right down to it's core...people for which I can never say thank you enough. Thank you isn't even a real statement at these times. You know who you are...countless people have prayed, chanted, given suggestions, run with me, send msgs of hope and laughter, shaken chickens, and various other good juju things my way. Some of you have sent me things. Paid for things. Helped me in ways I am not deserving of but incredibly grateful for. You, this page of people have rallied around me, loving me, hoping for me, carrying me when I cannot go on another minute.  
In all of this all I can do to repay and say thank you is to live it. What does that mean? That means to honor all of you. To practice what I preach. To be kind to strangers. To go to meetings and stay sober. To pull my head out of my ass and find solutions...even painful ones. 
I am grateful....I am honored to know all of you. 
Love you guys...

The courage to change...By Betsy Why, guest blogger and Tripper.

Thank you again for letting me have this space on your blog - it really is so sweet of you!  Now, on to the post:

If you're reading this, you should know that I'm fat.  Not one of those size 4s who think they're fat, not even the "I sure would like to drop about 50 pounds" kind of fat - more like "does your circus sideshow know that you're missing?"  (and yes - you can laugh at that.  I did!)  I'm also 35 years old, and I've been overweight since I was 7.  Anyone who has ever been this big can tell you that it is about far more than putting down your fork and going for a jog.  There is a lot of self-hate and low self-esteem and emotional "stuff" involved.  Up until very recently, I was someone who hated herself.  Not just hated - loathed.  I was ashamed of myself.  I saw no value in me at all - all I could see was my fat body.  And I have finally learned that what I look like and who I am are not the same thing.  (That is SUCH an important lesson!)  I had to get *there* before I could feel like I was worth doing something about my weight - but I still lacked the motivation.  (So if I can do this - you can too!!)

Life, the universe, whomever you believe is in charge of this kind of stuff, has a funny way of giving us what we need, right when we need it.  I randomly happened upon the Tripping While Standing Still facebook page, and found the page owner to be charming and funny and most of all - inspiring.  One day she posted pics of herself before and after running - and I thought the after pic was even more beautiful than the before.  I wanted that glowy, "just worked out" look, that "I DID IT" look, for myself!  Then I read a quote she posted that says "dead last finish is greater than did not finish, which trumps did not start" and I decided enough was enough and I needed to get up off the couch.  For lots of reasons (health-wise and just personal preference) swimming is my exercise of choice.  So now I was faced with the knowledge that I was going to pour MY self into a bathing suit and go to a PUBLIC pool and let myself be seen by OTHER PEOPLE.  lol  I knew it was going to be tough - after all, I'm not exactly a supermodel.  The first day was a bitch, not gonna lie.  I was nervous, and self-conscious, and I hit the pool when it opened (5:30 am!) in hopes that I'd be the only one there.

As it turns out - there are only two other people silly enough to hit that pool at that time, and they are serious-pants lap swimmers who are training for a competition.  So there I am in my granny swimsuit, doing water walking at my slow poke pace, and these graceful fishes are over there looking like Michael Phelps!  For the first week, I showed up every day, slipped unnoticed into the water (or so I thought) and went about my business.  But then one day, as I was doing warm-ups, I was watching these two guys swim...just watching their form and speed and ok yes one of them is super hot lol but I guess he saw me watching because when he finished his last lap, he came over to my side of the pool and introduced himself (we'll call him D) and asked my name, and we had a really nice chat.  I told him that I was just starting out, and was envious of his speed and agility and perfect form - and he said that he was impressed by ME (!!!) and was very encouraging and sweet about me hanging in there and that one day soon I'd be joining them over on the lap swimmers' side.  It just felt like...validation.  Like I really AM doing something good, and important, and that I will make progress.

I've been going daily now for about 3 weeks, and I've added swimming a few laps to my walking routine.  And I'd love to say that it's gotten to be habit, that I just leap out of bed and think "Oh goodie!  Time for the pool!" lol and some days are like that -- but some days are like "Ummm...NO."  Tuesday was one of those days.  I woke up in a horrible mood, spent a lot of time crying, and finally forced myself to the pool, still trying to suck up the tears.  As I was walking out of the locker room to the pool, D was coming out of the mens' side.  His face lit up and he said "I have something for you!" and turned around to go back into the locker area.  It turns out that he had been so...impressed, I guess, by me that he had gone home and told his wife about me - and she made me a lap counter!  It's the cutest thing -- a little suction cup on each end, and sealife-themed plastic beads strung between them.  It sticks on the end of the pool and you slide a bead over each time you complete a lap.  It's a little thing, but it was a HUGE gift, and I managed to thank him without becoming a puddle of snot and tears.

So it's funny to me how the inspiration I needed got dropped into my lap at just the exact moment I was ready for it - and in the form of a facebook page that I started reading for its humorous content.  In turn, I have somehow inspired D and his wife, and their gift to me could not have come at a better time.  It's still hard - today I needed someone to shove me out the door because I was feeling so sorry for myself about how pitiful my little workouts are and how far I have to go to reach my goal weight, and because I tend to give up on myself very easily.  But it doesn't matter how long it takes. I am *doing* this!  

I asked Betsy to write because she inspires me every single day. I know she is embarrassed, like me..I know her struggle and yet, she pushes herself to get out there and move. It's the first step to any problem that creates a solution. Thank you So much Betsy! Much love....

29 hours to go...

So, most of you know that my kids have been gone for almost a week now on Spring break. They are at Disney World. I wanted to give you a list today of what I miss about them...which has a striking resemblance to what I bitch about.

1. Waking on pins and needles to see just what will be walking out of youngest's room. Mary Poppins or Reagan.

2. My 14yr old's CONSTANT texting. 

3. All 3 of us having our cycles 1 week apart. That means, 3 weeks of PMS.

4. Dirty dishes....actually, no, I do not miss this.

5. Tripping over book bags, shoes, instruments, left right. in. front. of. stairs.

6. My water cup constantly and mysteriously being empty despite my constant filling.  

7. Eating dinner and 2 hours later having cereal.

8. How the laundry piles are filled with pj bottoms even though nobody plays in the mud while sleeping. 

9. Talking to eldest, her looking directly at me and then asking me what I just said.

10. Telling me that something is "due" TODAY, that very morning.

11. Only speaking to me when I am on the phone or watching the last 5 minutes of a 2 hour program. 

12. Leaving things on the stairs to be taken up and said stuff remaining there for a month.

Mostly, I miss the hugs, the smiles, the laughing, the joy of having these 2 lovely ladies in my everyday. 

The person next door.

Here is the thing folks, I can handle a great many thing...passive aggressive and aggressive behavior are not them. Especially from a grown ass adult toward my kid. I will FUCK you up. PERIOD. Was I just aggressive? Hear me out and you decide....

In 2001 we built this house and moved to a neighborhood with sidewalks and schools about a block away. Little did we know the freak show that was about to ensue. On our block all of us within 5 houses of each other goes as this: ALL blue collar dad's, one military mom, 3 stay at home mom's, one full time working mother of one and a lesbian couple.

I was the youngest of the mom's which was a reason for people to bitch, I had an awesome body...and the husband's all loved me. WHY? Because I am not one of those bitchy, do it now kinda wives. I do not care if you nap, or hang with friends. Steve worked 2 jobs at that time. He was a hard worker. I cooked and cleaned and rarely complained....I was hated and did not realize it. I played with my 1 and 3 yr olds in the snow, in the rain, at the park, we went for walks and caught frogs. We had a swing set and kids liked playing here....it's true, I was fun mom. We had such a good time.

Laura, the FTWM, lives next door. She is queen bitch. and I do mean Queen. She had single me out and for whatever reason she was going to take me down. She found her chance, when, the neighbor's across the street started having an affair. I was friend's with one lady, she with the other. My friend was having the affair with other's husband. Do I think it's right? NO. But, I had no idea what had transpired until the day I was told I was trailer trash for having a whore for a friend and nobody could believe I had taken my friend's side.

It became a war zone after that....the block was awful. I still did the same things but I became a shrunken woman because it was 5 bitchy bossy women, lesbians included, against me and friend.

Over the years she would make snide remarks about me, I would move past it...blah, blah, blah. Then when my daughter and her daughter who are the same age were going into middle school, my kid was enrolled into all of the ET or honor classes, hers, um, was not. Her comment to me on the front lawn was this "how'd ALEX get into those classes?" My reply? "because she's not slow"....GLOVES OFF. I had had ENOUGH of being bullied but most of all..my kids were NOT going to be fucked with. (no, I do not think being in ANY kinda descriptive class makes a kid slow. I was in the slow readers class and it turns out I just suck at testing)
When Alex got her period, as kids talk, she told people...kid next door put ketchup covered pads on our front door. WTF?????? I politely peeled them off before my kid could see them and I dumped them on her doorstep.
My kid was accepted to IMSA. cracks made....I confronted her. Alex was just asked to spring formal and got a dress...my daughter by the way is a stunning beauty. I'm not just saying that. Anyway, all of a sudden, they refuse to be drivers of MY kid only in the early band carpool. JUST MY KID.
Perhaps I am the immature one, the passive aggressive one....perhaps. But I am fucking done with this bullshit. DONE. I would NEVER exclude a kid because I hate the parents. NEVER. I feel sorry for this kid and how she will grow up with such a mother. a bossy cunty bullying mother.

Thanks for letting me rant. I know I have missed more to this story about her behavior toward my kid and if it comes, I'll let you know.

I'm Fat, let's talk....

Ok, here is the deal. I need to lose about 65lbs. YEP. 65lbs. It's the truth. Not so I can be a skinny bitch again either. This is just to be normal sized again.

I can go over and over how I got here because I was always on the thin side. truth be told I drank at least 2,000 calories per day. Ate at least 4,000. Being hungover all of the time doesn't allow for much exercise, either.

I did start running about 2 yrs ago. Slimmed down quite a bit. Fast forward to 3 broken ribs and my ability to not move for 2 months and EAT everything...I of course put it right back on.

I weigh more right now than I have... EVER. I have quit drinking. As of recent, I've DRAMATICALLY cut down on ALL dairy, on breads and I hate it.

I LOVE food. Pasta. Pizza. Cheese. Fried anything. Pepsi. YUMMY!

So, I've been half-heartedly "running" again...ya know, like a toddler dragging themselves behind you, you yanking their arm, them screaming and whining... I'm starting back to couch to 5 k(c25k) tomorrow with my new running partner Katie and I'm excited and grateful. And let me tell you why....Last night, I got on the floor(rolled and fell onto) to do crunches. I was fucking OUT OF BREATH...getting on the fucking floor. OUT. OF. BREATH. Then, as I lay there, I felt like my fat was literally strangling me. It had starting trying to EAT ME...That got me scared. I mean, my fucking fat is trying to murder me. After my 100 crunches in 30 minutes I decided I'd had enough of this and SOMETHING drastic MUST be done. So, here is my plan:
Katie and I(or just me if she cannot) are going to go running 4 days a week.
I'm gonna go walking the other 3 days.
I'm doing 100 crunches a day.
RAIN OR SHINE.
 I'm going to fully expect to be called out by you guys and asked if I did my shit, OK?
I'm NOT going to be murdered in my sleep by my fat.

So, Let's do this...let's battle this bulge. Next time you see me, I'll be the Biggest Loser;)

faking it....

No, I'm not talking about an orgasm. I'm talking about my life.

You see, I'm newly sober, newly unemployed, very broke ass, 1/4 tank of gas, blah, blah, blah....I'm tired of hearing me say it. It feels like I'm just making excuses. I know I'm not, I know that when I cannot sleep, I am filling out apps at 4am. I am cleaning and doing laundry, faking my every anxiety ridden, prozac missing, movement through each day.

Okay, so, I live with my ex-husband. The deal when I moved in with the kids was I'd pay rent and cable and buy groceries. I'm NOT blaming him for my financial state. Although that would be easy. I am taking responsibility for my actions here. I fucked up MY shit. So, moving on. I cannot help but get pissed off when me and the kids are getting a box of food from a stranger and he is happily purchasing a new pool table and pool lamp. With MY rent money. I know...I get it. I agreed to the terms.

The looks I get when he sees me "just" sitting at 9am. He just woke up. I've been awake and had an entire day by that time. He shakes his head at me in disappointment, about my bills. About my lack of job. It's SO frustrating. I can feel the disgust he feels with me.

You see, I never learned how to do my finances. I know that sounds weak and excuse-y, but it's true. I am so ashamed by this I cannot ask for help. I do not know who to go to for help and it seems pointless knowing I'm near financial ruin. What's the point anymore?

You guys, I just feel broken. Broken and scared.

So, I keep faking a smile while I sob.....and just pray.

I am grateful. Or faking it when I need to.

That moment you are crying, sneeze and pee yourself....

Yes, ladies, you know what I speak of here. If you've had kids, sometimes, no matter how many kegels you can do, the region has been blown.

 I myself was once 120lb, tiny framed woman. I married a 6'6" monstrosity and consequently gave birth to one 8lb 11oz 21 inch baby and then, 21 months later, I had a 10lb, 2 oz, 24 inch baby.

  I should've taken my Irish grandmother's advice and smoke and drank while pregnant....she swore it would help;) But that's neither here nor there....I didn't smoke or drink and I'm pretty sure I just would've had fucked up giant babies instead of just giant babies. (if you cannot see the humor in that, please unlike me now)
Yes, they were vaginal...NOW you are getting it.

My poor sister recently had her first baby, I'm not going into details of her situation but let's suffice it to say that she has sworn off all sex and reproduction. I know my sister. She means it.

The woman who just had a 14 pounder, vaginally, no drugs...Nothing is ever going to be the same there. EVER.

When I run, sneeze, cough, bounce, walk, laugh, cry, get up too fast, fall, etc...I leak. It's not attractive, it's humiliating sometimes. I'm 37. THIRTY SEVEN...I'd like to NOT have to wear a pad every damn day for fear I'll piss myself. I'd like to NOT have to stop, cross legs, and stand still for 5 minutes in the "sneeze stance" for fear I'll overflow out of the pad....
When I've  got my period....well, can you imagine the fucking nightmare that I face?

Yet, we as mother's face this every day, grateful for the little bastards. When my daughter's laugh because I pee myself, or my hair is fucked up, or my underwear has holes, or because I have target bras instead of Victoria's secret....I think to myself  'kid, give it a few years...when your vag is swelled up and nipples are cracked and bloody, when you are unsure of the last day you showered or got a haircut, when you can literally not recall buying a razor or NOT wearing pj bottoms as real pants....I'll be in Hawaii, on the beach, in a swimsuit, fresh, clean, shaven, and getting laid in my Victoria's secret lingerie'

BIG HUG kiddies!

This is how I feel most days. 

I run an awesome race and seconds before I can take a deep breath, I trip and slam my face into a hard surface. Face, brain...all the same.

I like to think I am God's personal joke. He's up there in the big wherever pointing at me, talking to Bill  and Jessica, saying something like "hey, watch this...wait for it....wait. for. it. HAHAHA!! Got her again!" 

I mention those names, people you wouldn't know, because they were significant members of a very dear group I am a part of, or was a part of. You see, I got sober at the age of 15. Most of you do not know this about me. I got sober, escaped an incredibly abusive father, barely with my life intact, ran away to my grandmother's (who, truthfully didn't really want me. Loved me, but she had enough in her own fucked up life aside from caring for me) Back in the city, I enrolled in school, went to meetings, hung out with my friend Jenny, my BF Wayne and tried to go on as normal....but nothing about my life in those 15 years had been normal. Nothing at all.

Fast forwarding a bit....at 16.5 yrs old, I left my grandmother's, moved back to the burbs and in with a lady from AA. Jessica. She loved me. She brought me into her family, no money, no clothes, no job, uneducated. She loved me. She helped me find an amazing sponsor, hooked me up with amazing women in AA who gathered around and protected me like a grizzly protects their cub.

The following December, my baby sister was hit by a truck on Friday the 13th and Monday, the 16th Jessica was diagnosed with stage 4 nonhodgkins lymphoma.

My sister lived, sans her short term memory...sometimes her long term as well. Jessica died 19 months later.

From that moment forward, I think my loss factor had just quadrupled. I stayed sober for some time. I finally drank on my 21st birthday, 17 days before my 6 yr anniversary of sobriety. 

I never looked back. 

I have drank nearly every day since with the exception of my time in rehab about 7 years ago and the last 30 days. If I make it, I'll have been sober 30 solid days on Feb. 8th.

I'm not going to go into all the amazing ways I have fucked up to get to these 30 days...some of you know, some know half truths, some full truths, maybe one of you, Kelly, knows it all.

I have wanted to thank a couple of people for my being here today. For, without you, your love and understanding, charming ways, wit and unknowingly supporting me have altered my life. I cannot include my kids in this list, although they have suffered the most, and supported me the most on this journey...it's just too painful and needs to be another time, in another story.

Kelly, my sister...my biggest supporter, friend, angel and kindred spirit. Your non-judgemental, unconditional ways are how I hope to be when I grow up.

Sue W. you have loved me, seen me through, and despite my difficulties, you haven't walked away. 

David A. this morning you said, I was worth your time....I needed that and I believed you.

Bonnie K. I just know I can say anything...and you'll get it.

Lois...see above, this applies to you as well.

Heather. 20 years....thank you.

Katy....It's because reading your blog, wanting what you have so badly, and knowing I could get it if I just followed your ways, in a non stalker way, that's how you unknowingly saved me.

So, folks....I am raw, terrified, and cannot find meetings I like. I keep going but have yet to feel that click, that connection...if your a member, you know what I'm talking about.

thanks for taking your time and getting to know the "real" me.....

PS...Bill C is my old sponsor's husband.  Bill also passed away. He is mentioned because losing him changed the course of many ppl's lives....thats also for another day.

My Ex....

Despite the title, this is not a 'bag on the ex' session. This is the story, the quickie version of where we are at today.


We met as kids, got married, had kids, built a home far from family, made bad choices, ignored each other, slept apart, stopped having sex, went to therapy, left therapy, hated each other, I had an affair, he had his affair with everything but another woman....I drank, he drank, we struggled, we hated, we were awful.


17months ago, I moved out. I took my kids, packed up in front of him, and walked out. Got an attorney and filed for divorce. Being the stubborn ass that I am, I was hell bent on making it on my own.


We fought more, I stopped dating, he started. We screamed, hated, cried, made our kids miserable....and one day, last january, my landlord died.
 Landlord was deep in debt. His wife took over as did the bank on the property I was living in. I searched and searched with ZERO luck in finding a place to live without breaking our custody agreement and losing my kids to the ex.


With 3 days until I had to be out, no place to live, almost no money, EX called me. He said..."Sam, you and the girls are going to move back in here. We will agree on rent, and we will make it work."


I can sit here and question Ex's motives until the day I die. I like to think he did it for the rent, cuz, well, I'm a spiteful bitch. But I believe he did it because deep inside, he loves us. We TALK now. We listen now. We laugh. We smile. We are kind. We are co-parenting. Our girls are happy. His one selfless act brought together what never should work....


I'm not saying everyone can do this....but it's working for us. Both of us are clear we are not good as a couple. I'm just so grateful we can be friends.

Sooooo.....I'd like to begin this random idea for a blog by thanking a couple people. First off, Bonnie, You're fucking awesome.
Second, Katy, you are one CLASSY fucking act.

I wasn't sure where to begin, I'd thought about my kids, my ex, my jobless life, my family....ultimately decided to begin with random fucking idiots.

 Yes, we all know who they are, where they reside/hide...it's a growing motherfucking epidemic to be an idiot. It's a black plague with no outwardly unusual symptoms, so it's shocking when one slams a door in your face or some jack fuck is staring at your 13yr old daughter like the next piece of beef he'd like to maul. For example, the shit brick who found it necessary to let me know today is a school day and my kid should be in school. FUCK YOU dork. Or, the bank teller who, and I almost punched the bitch, actually asked me if "it's cold out there today?" Bitch, it's fucking snowing in the WINDY city!  My personal fave on this day, so far, is my ex waking up at 11am and asking me if I shoveled yet today. (btw, I've got 3 fractured ribs from an accident in October) These folks come out at all times of day or night....unafraid, unaware and blinded by their need to be the center of all existence.


The next asswipe who acts like a fucking retard in my presence I'm gonna get all Drita on their ass and fuck a dude up.....