My Spazzy Elf

Robbie came into my life unexpectedly. Last summer, my friend Shawna and I were out and about when she said, “Hey, we’re going to pick up my friend Robbie real fast and give him a ride. He’s cool, you’ll like him. Him and my brother went to school together.” 

“Okay”, I said. I was just along for the ride, grateful for the break from putting my apartment together. 

I’ll give a little back story for those who don’t know my life.

My boyfriend, Jason, shot himself in front of me, in our apartment January 22, 2020. I was forced to move out, but then covid came and there was no place to live. I stayed with friends until July when an apartment became available, finally. 

Now you’re caught up. 

As I was saying, I was grateful for a break from the daunting task of going through all of Jason and my belongings. 

Ugh, torture. 

I’m a pretty laid back chic, so when Shawna told me we were picking up this dude, I was cool with it. I thought to myself, “Hopefully he’s cute because I look amazing today.” I was having a high self-confidence day. I was wearing a super cute dress and my hair was in a cute up-do. I was just, rockin’ it. 

We pulled up to the “meet spot” and waited…Walking toward us was this short guy with shaggy, wavy hair, wearing a hoodie in the summer. “Uh, nothing extraordinary, oh well”, I thought to myself. 

He hopped into the car and Shawna introduced us, “Robbie, this is my bestest friend, Sarah. Sarah, Robbie.” 

We exchanged the normal, “Hi, nice to meet you”, and went to Shawna’s place to smoke a bowl before dropping him off. I caught him looking at me a few times as we passed the pipe around, but I didn’t pay it much mind. Like I said before, I looked amazing that day. After we were high as birds, we dropped him off downtown near some apartments and went about our day. 

A couple weeks later I got a message on Facebook messenger from Robbie. He said he was at my complex visiting friends and wanted to know if I wanted to hang out. 

Sure. Why not? 

Robbie came over and we smoked, laughed, and had a great time. He seemed to get cuter and cuter as he talked.

As it normally happens with me, he just never really left. He would leave for a couple days and then show up and stay for another couple days. 

I could tell Robbie was special, and before long, we became best friends. We talked about everything and anything and found we have a lot of the same beliefs and opinions on various things. Soon after he started staying with me, the cuddling began. We both craved it so much that we decided cuddling together was an obvious solution. 

I began looking forward to bedtime when he would hold me close, and we would fall asleep in each other’s arms. I didn’t even mind when he snored in my ear. 

We remained “just friends” for about 6 months. I told him that I was in love with him, and he told me he loved me too and that I meant the world to him. 

We have been together ever since. 

Back in November, my mother moved in with me. She has stage 4 COPD and is on oxygen full time. She is also incredibly needy. We gave her the bedroom and we started sleeping in the living room. Robbie stepped up and started helping me take care of my mom, without being asked… He just did it. 

It’s also very hard for my mom and me to go up and down the stairs. Her, for obvious reasons, and me, because I need new knees. 

Robbie goes up and down the stairs about 100 times a day. He never complains, he just does it. He is so helpful at home, that mom and I won’t let him work. We take care of his needs because he is such a valuable asset to our family. In fact, Robbie has become family. 

Robbie and I have our moments, trust me. We are both stubborn as hell, and bull-headed. He takes up the whole bed when he sleeps, he burps loudly, has major anxiety issues and gets mad easily, but… for every flaw there are 10 wonderful things about him. 

No one else would go get me a slushie at midnight because I’m craving it, or rub my back when it hurts, wake me up with breakfast, or treat me like a princess, even when I’m grumpy. He is so concerned with my well-being, that every time I’m not feeling well he asks if I need to go to the hospital lol. He waits on my mama constantly, runs errands for us, but most importantly, he shows that he loves me every day. 

He’s amazing, and I feel like the luckiest woman on Earth to have him. 

I prayed to the universe to bring me someone, and the universe brought me Robbie. 

My spazzy elf…

Packing My Life

I came back to me and Jason’s apartment yesterday about noon. I had good intentions of packing since I have the moving truck on Monday, but I didn’t do much of anything. Yesterday marked exactly one month since the fatal accident that took my honey’s life, and every time I looked around I just saw the two of us here.

I thought about him unpacking the place so I wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed and come out of my room. Now the fact that some boxes overwhelmed me is a fucking joke. Everywhere I look there is a thought, or a memory of me and Jason. The painting he bought me of Mother Earth, the ugly ceramic wall hanging of a renaissance couple he got for me at a yard sale, and the empty CD cases I griped at him about. Every corner and every surface has a memory attached to it.

My favorite night was a couple months ago. We were hanging out together listening to music and talking when he told me he had a confession. Oh shit, I thought. I figured he had done something that I was going to be super upset about. He told me he was full of shit. I laughed and told him of course I knew that. He said, no, you don’t understand the extent of my storytelling. He went on to tell me story after story, and what was complete fabrication, what was somewhat true, and then, what was totally true.

That was when I figured out that Jason had a different persona for everyone in his life. After a couple hours of confessing to me, he looked down and said, so you’re probably going to leave me… I said, hell no. At least you told me! He smiled a rare full out smile, and said he would never leave me. That was in November.

I heard Jason tell his fabricated life stories to so many people, even after he had confessed the real deal to me. I just let him have it. I figured there was a reason he felt like he had to do that. Then, I figured it out.

Most of his stories circled around a common theme. Family, and a sense of belonging. Jason never quite felt like he belonged in his family. He was adopted by great parents, but he longed to find out where he came from. He fashioned a life for himself that explained why he was so different from the people that raised him. The reality is that he felt like a black sheep and not knowing his origin exacerbated his loneliness. He dove headfirst into a life of addiction as a teenager and discovered he could numb his feelings and control his thoughts through substance abuse.

It’s all so very sad.

I chose to love Jason unconditionally and without precedent. I saw his struggle and watched his heart break when no one else was around. The disappointment he felt he caused everyone who loved him, was at times unbearable to him, and he would inevitably feel like a failure. So, Jason chose to focus on what he could control. His story he told everyone, maintaining his separate personas, and hiding who he was from the majority of people who knew him.

The people who really took the time and energy to see Jason, ended up seeing through the fascade and became aware of his warm, gooey center. He would say and do the sweetest things and when I pointed out how sweet he was, he always said , shhhh! Don’t tell anyone!

I’m proud of who Jason was when he was his authentic self. Those who never got to know the real Jason, truly missed out. He was very intelligent, although he hid it pretty well sometimes. We would talk for hours about the many different mysteries of the universe and how humans are beginning to exist on a higher frequency. At least, our energy is. We discussed subjects he refused to talk about with most people because we learned from each other. We discussed religion, same-sex marriage, abortion, and politics. Most people have heard him refer to those subjects as “The 5 things he will NOT talk about”. His views would probably surprise a lot of people.

I miss him… So incredibly much. This is all so painful. I’m going to continue boxing up me and Jason’s life together. I’ll put it in storage tomorrow and hold on to something he said to me a long time ago when I was missing my husband. He said, “you will always have your memories. No one can ever take those away from you.” How right you were baby. How right you were…

My Emotional Freedom


A short time before Keith and I got married, I had a severe depressive episode and attempted to kill myself. Keith saved my life and I was transported to the hospital where I stayed a week, then to the nuthouse for a week.

Not many people know about that incident. It’s a time of my life I wish I could forget. However, I can’t escape it because it’s still a very real part of my every day existence. I struggle with suicidal ideation more than I like to admit.

My husband’s death changed my outlook on suicide for a short time, although I had hoped it would be permanent. Understanding what it’s like for the love of your life to simply, “check out”, made me despise suicide, and eventually led to me feeling very angry with my dead husband. I felt abandoned and was utterly shattered. My husband was gone almost a year when I met my boyfriend and I thought I was doing ok. I had no clue what was coming.

For some reason, the beginning of year two without Keith triggered something in me and I have been practically bedridden ever since. That was in November.

It’s been 8 months and I have rarely left the confines of my bedroom. I feel like I am a slave to my emotions and cannot control them. I cry at the drop of a hat, then I can turn around and be as mean as a striped snake. That’s not me… I’m not mean, I’ve never been mean.

Today I was laying in bed feeling particularly sorry for myself when I had a thought. I am going to take back my emotional freedom. It’s mine to do with what I wish and I want freedom. I feel so silly because I have known all along that I have the power to create emotional harmony within myself but the epiphany had to bitch slap me because that’s how I like it. I like the rough stuff. I’m taking the power back damn it. I’m fucking this duck!

My poor, poor boyfriend. Why he loves me or even likes me is a mystery to me. He gets incredibly frustrated with me and I don’t blame him. If I’m alone with me for more than five minutes I’m wanting to pull the escape hatch myself but I can’t escape me.

He doesn’t really understand mental illness and although I’m trying to help him, I’m having a breakdown at the same time. So imagine me reading a well written article explaining how to train your Manic depressive, in a shirt, no pants, wild hair, possibly a hint of mustard on my lip and stopping every couple of minutes to ugly cry. It’s not pretty. He doesn’t run for the hills either. He really listens to me blabber on and tries to understand. He loves me and assures me all the time he is not going anywhere.

I need to get my emotional freedom back and realize my man is not leaving. He’s definitely not leaving the planet until the universe calls for him. I deserve happiness. I have to tell myself that over and over. I deserve happiness…

What The Hell Am I Doing?


I know it’s been awhile since I have posted any craziness, and the simplest explanation is… Bitches be crazy.

Bitches.be.crazy.

I completely understand I am the one ultimately responsible for the outcome of various circumstances in my life. Every choice we make directly affects every single outcome. We have more power over our lives than most realize. I’m not saying it’s our fault when all bad things happen to us. I am saying however, we simply have more control than we either realize or are about to admit. It’s hard sometimes to know (and really know) we are in a shitty place in life directly influenced or caused by a decision or series of decisions WE MADE. I have no problem taking responsibility for my choices. Like others, I also struggle with the shitty occurrences I honestly do not believe I deserve or ever deserved.

My grandmother always said our family was cursed. I’m not so sure there is an actual curse, but I can definitely see how anyone could form that opinion. All families experience tragedy. Unfortunately, some experience a shit ton of it, while others sail through life relatively unscathed. It seems unfair. I hold on to the idea that I am only equipped with the limited knowledge a human being can grasp in our current form. Metaphysically, anything is possible. Perhaps the tragedies happen to us because we are here on this planet to learn certain things. Perhaps even, we are all here to learn different things relative to each individual soul.

My patience and tolerance of others is tested on a daily basis. Is this because I am mentally ill and anti-social or could it be my soul came to this planet wanting or needing to learn the virtues of patience and tolerance? I firmly believe everything happens for a reason. Maybe for me it’s dual reasons. Mental illness as well as my souls purpose.

The confusion within this mindfuck, is in the actual learning process. Sometimes stuff jumps out at me, flailing it’s arms and barking like a seal. Most of the time, I don’t have any fucking clue what the hell is happening and why the hell it’s happening to me, until so far into the shit storm it has become hindsight. It is never too late to change the course of your life though.

At this point in my crazy life, the only thing I know for certain is that something has to change because my life as it is right now, is not working for me at all. I am very unhappy. I have all the answers, I know I do. The solutions are all horribly difficult for me and of course they are. I have learned in life the things we need the most are the most challenging to attain. My solutions might seem like a cakewalk to some people, but for me the solutions seem impossible most of the time. If all of this was easy I wouldn’t value the positive results I get nearly as much. Anything acquired through hard work and sacrifice we naturally have a deeper appreciation for. I hate the process. I hate it, hate it, hate it.

I am not sure exactly how anything is going to turn out. I do know I will do what’s right by myself eventually and I will come to the conclusion I am meant to come to. I have faith in that. Right now I am going to relax and make note of what I know I have immediate control over. As my mother always says, ” You can eat an entire elephant, you just can’t eat it all at once.” I am starting on the ass of the elephant, I am sure of this. After I get this heaping helping of elephant ass, I’m praying the next piece of elephant is little easier to eat. I can only hope.