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…

The Blame Game

I have been having a problem since my boyfriend Jason died. My problem is that I have been unfairly blamed for his death. 

Being blamed has taken a toll on me because a part of me blames myself. During these moments, I luckily have some people I can confide in to set me straight. 

The morning Jason died he confided in me some very personal things that I will carry with me forever. The fact is, I knew him better than anyone. He could never truly be himself with anyone except me. The closest second would be his ex-wife Shawna and they were still good friends and she is now one of my best friends. 

One of the first conversations Jason and I ever had was an argument. I had said that I believe people come into our lives for a purpose. He agreed, but then added that the people in his life were there for him to use whatever they had to give. I was not impressed, and said I believe we are all supposed to give more than we take. 

He did however make a good point. He said that just because that is what we are supposed to do, people rarely do that. He said most people are selfish and are always looking out for number one. His outlook, was if he gave more than he took, he would always lose. 

He taught me something about boundaries but I didn’t really get it until he was gone. Now here I am, having been stuck in this weird twilight zone with people who thought they knew him, and knew nothing. 

When thinking about this today, I realized something even better. Although his words were different for everyone, one truth remained constant. He stayed with me. He chose me in ways that hurts some people and infuriates others, but he continued to choose me/us. 

I’m writing this because I want to say why I blame myself sometimes and also what sets me free. 

I blame myself because the morning he died he told me he was getting clean and going to rehab. He had planted a seed a couple weeks prior which he used to his advantage to get treatment quickly and in a town he hated. No one would suspect him to be there. He said he wanted to marry me on his birthday and then he would be safe in rehab. We were to get married on his birthday, February 8, 2020. 

At first I was just elated that he was serious about getting clean. After several minutes I revealed my doubts. I couldn’t simply forget about everything that had happened between us. He said, “You never have to worry again. I’m better when I’m married, ask Shawna.” She later affirmed that what he said was true. However, I was pissed and had a right to be. Jason pointed out that so many of our issues stemmed from drug abuse. I agreed. Unfortunately, I lost a lot because of the issues. 

At that point, Jason was all I had…

My mom, sister, mother-in-law, and kids wouldn’t have anything to do with me as long as I stayed with Jason. When I expressed my concerns he told me he would do whatever I wanted, then he fell asleep. 

This is where the blame comes in…

I made some biscuits and sat on the edge of the bed, eating and thinking about everything. I knew one thing. I was pissed. 

I sacrificed a lot for Jason, and he showed up that morning without my car. I got more and more mad. Finally, I woke him up demanding to know what had happened to my car. His behavior was erratic and he grabbed his gun and pointed it toward the living room threatening to kill my friend sleeping in there if I tried to leave him. 

Instead of seeing the actions of a desperate man, I told him I wouldn’t marry him. He pulled the trigger and was gone. Immediately, I blamed myself. 

What set me free is this… 

Couples fight and argue all the time. Couples struggle with substance abuse and mental illness. Most of the time, they don’t kill themselves over it. Especially if everything is okay within them. When he chose to put that gun to his head, he made a choice. No one can make us act or do anything. We all have free will. 

Since his death, I have been blamed. It has been a problem for me, but now I am at peace. Jason had taught me boundaries, which I was finally exercising, and Jason, made a split second decision. 

I wish I could bring him back for 10 minutes. Just to tell him how much I love him and appreciate him for the things he taught me. The most important things, I didn’t learn until he was gone. 

I am finally coming to a place where I don’t worry about him as much. I feel him all the time. Especially now that my stuff is in my new place. It’s like a bit of his energy is forever ingrained into my belongings. Sometimes I hear noises that cannot be explained, but I don’t need them to be. I know he’s here with me. I know he’s watching and protecting. I know that the horror show our relationship could be sometimes was because we had a drug problem and he is now free from that. 

When Jason comes to me in my dreams, sometimes it’s like he is alive again. We are usually going about a normal day. Inevitably, he walks into the room I’m in, and instead of saying, “Baby, do you want a shot of dope?”, he says, “My kids make me so proud. You make me so proud. Look at you, you’re so strong. Call your kids and tell them you love them.”  

Jason and Keith are proud of me, I can feel it. It feels good. I hate that so much tragedy has happened, but the best gift I have been given are the lessons I learned from these experiences. No one can know what it felt like to witness Jason take his own life. I thought the heartache would kill me in those first moments as he laid lifeless on top of me. 

I can’t erase it. I can only move forward from where I am now. 

I am holding onto truths that are absolute. I know what the truths are and Jason knows them. That is enough for me. People always want someone to blame for deaths like Jason’s. I can’t change how some people feel and don’t want to. If they need to blame me to feel free, so be it. I’m going to close my eyes, let the love from Jason and Keith envelop me, and for the first time in my life, enjoy total and absolute…

Freedom.

Cheaters and Liars

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If I am to be honest, I have been a cheater and a liar before. In fact, I had an affair during my first marriage which ultimately ended the relationship. Once trust is broken, it’s incredibly difficult to get it back.

Of course, no one cares about how the cheater feels, they cheated. They deserve pain, guilt and whatever else happens as a result of their bad karma. Until I was the cheater, I assumed they didn’t feel guilty about their actions anyway.

I can’t speak for all cheaters or former cheaters, but not only did it not feel good to cheat, the remorse I felt once I was found out and seeing the pain I caused was truly awful.

Karma working the way it does, it would make sense for me to pay for my decision to cheat. The mere feelings I had were not sufficient. Well, I paid in spades.

Everyone knows the saying, ” once a cheater, always a cheater”. That rule doesn’t apply to everyone.

I became an anti-cheater, or as someone affectionately called me, the “Monogamy Nazi”.

Honesty, fidelity, and trust became the most important things in the world to me. There is no room in my world for infidelity.

Lying and cheating tend to go hand in hand. Lies become necessary to carry out the cheating and to keep the affair going. Once the habit of lying has begun, it’s like a contagious illness, it spreads. It spreads into all areas of your daily life, and after a while you may even begin to believe the lies yourself.

With my monogamy comes honesty. I am honest to a fault at this time in my life. I have never liked to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I will if I have to.

*If anyone would like me to tell you about yourself, just ask. I will begrudgingly oblige.*                          

Keith’s death also has contributed to my lack of filter. My mother-in-law refers to a condition very similar as “grief-stripping”.

Seems appropriate.

The whole point of this rant is to let it be known that I understand what it feels like from both sides, and they both suck.

Being the one cheated on feels horrible because of the betrayal. Your body and soul should belong to your partner, and that is sacred. When betrayal occurs, it’s a violation of this sacred bond and ultimately, a violation of trust.

Being the one cheating sucks on a different level. You know you’re screwing up, and you know you could lose everything you have that truly means everything to you, but the lure of infidelity can be exciting and intoxicating.

Once the cheating has happened, there’s no going back. You can’t take it away, no matter how much you may want to. If your partner finds out or you tell them, their pain becomes your pain, and it should. I had to keep in mind that the pain I felt merely witnessing my partner’s pain, was nothing compared to how felt.

My pain was well deserved.

The cheater and the partner (or former partner), now have to deal with the consequences of infidelity.

If you stay together, be prepared for a lot of work. Relationships are hard work without betrayal, so throwing the wrench of deceit into the mess makes it extra tough, but It can be done.

My best advice is this; cheaters, accept responsibility. Do not blame your partner for your bad choices. It’s your fault and yours alone. If there is a problem at home, go home and fix it. All of that energy used to lie and sneak around can be transferred to your relationship and fixing what’s broken.

No excuses.

Ok, now the victims, because that’s what you are. The betrayal feels awful when it’s done to you. If your partner comes clean and wants to work things out with you, you have a decision to make.

Do you stay with this person, or go?

If you stay, be prepared for a tough road. If you leave, then do your best to move on in a healthy way. In both cases, forgiveness is in order.

Always remember, forgiving isn’t for the person who wronged you, it’s for you.

Respect yourself, love yourself. Make your stance on what your needs are and stick to your guns. If your partner loves you and truly wants to make it work, they will work to keep you and they should.

If they won’t fight to keep you and work really hard, LET THEM GO.

GOOD RIDDANCE.

Love In A Time Of Pure Craziness

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There is a lot I can’t say on this platform for various reasons. The most important reason is that my children have access to my blog and I want their innocence to remain intact as long as possible.

I can say though, that I have had a very full and interesting life with so many stages, twists, turns, heartbreak and a lot of love thrown in the mix.

Everyone has been asked at one time or another, if they could live their life over again if they would change anything. I have heard about fifty percent say yes and fifty percent say no.

I am on the fence about that particular question and have gone back and forth on my opinion of it many times over the years.

I have had the same generic answer everyone usually gives when referring to a life of no regrets. It usually goes something like this… “I have no regrets because my mistakes have helped mold me into the person I am today.”

I’m calling bullshit on that whole thing. Okay, it’s not complete bullshit, but come on. Of course we have regret. Of course we wish our lives had been a little easier or we had taken that vacation last summer. Everyone has regret.

Before you argue or dismiss what I’m saying, think about the last time you said, “I wish I had (fill in blank).” Five minutes after I began writing this piece I said, “Man, I wish I had made coffee before I started this.” Regret.

We all regret something, and if we can regret something as small as the route we took to the mall, it’s safe to say we regret some of our past mistakes.

Where I think the “no regrets” speech sort of applies, is within the lessons we learn. I believe we can regret our choices or how some things have played out while still appreciating what we took away from the experience.

I’ve talked about learning and the evolution of the soul in past posts and this regret thing applies. Why can’t we be all of it? Regretful, yet grateful? It’s ok to have regret. It doesn’t make you a bad person or a weak person. What makes you strong is the presence of gratitude.

You might want to smack the hell out of me right now. I get it. However, in times when we reflect on our lives and feel regret, it’s so important to look at where the choices led you and be grateful you made it through without killing everyone.

It’s ok to regret and wish things had gone differently, just don’t beat yourself up about it. Forgive yourself or others involved, be grateful for what you took away from the experience and move forward. Hopefully not making the same mistake multiple times. Even if you do make the same mistakes again, just know you simply haven’t learned what you’re supposed to yet, so look closer at it. Try something different because the old way doesn’t work, you already know that because of regret.

I choose to be grateful for regret. It reminds me that I’m human and imperfect. It also reminds me that I have a conscience telling me, “Girl, that shit ain’t right.” Embrace your regret and then bury it in the backyard next to your ex-husband. (Just kidding).

I’m going to share my favorite quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson I believe fits well here.

Write it on your heart
that every day is the best day in the year.
He or she is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day
who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.

Finish each day and be done with it.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt crept in.
Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day;
begin it well and serenely, with too high a spirit
to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

This new day is too dear,
with its hopes and invitations,
to waste a moment on the yesterdays.

My Momma, The Fighter

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I haven’t written anything recently because my momma got sick. I mean, really sick.

We have known she has COPD from years of smoking cigarettes. She was smoking two packs a day since she was fourteen, with a couple of breaks thrown in there.

One such break lasted six years. She quit when pregnant with Little Sister, and then five years after having her, she was also smoke-free. She was addicted to nicotine gum, however.

It has become increasingly difficult for her to breathe and lately she has been very lethargic and winded more than usual.

My sister took Momma to an urgent care center where she was diagnosed as having stage four COPD. Her oxygen level was low but they were able to get it up to eighty. It’s supposed to be at one hundred, or at least close to it.

The doctor reluctantly allowed Momma to go home. After being home a short while she was beginning to not make sense when speaking and feeling extremely sleepy.

Little Sister checked her oxygen level and she was at a thirty-five. Momma said she only wanted to sleep but Little Sister said, “No, we are going to the hospital, deal with it.”

Poor Little Sister watched as nurses and technicians scurried around Momma, starting I.V.’s and oxygen. ” You saved her life, ” one nurse had said.

The hospital ran test after test and when the doctor entered Momma’s room in the E.R., he gravely told Little Sister that Momma probably wouldn’t make it past a week, she was dying.

She called me hysterical and as luck would have it, my car was broke down, still is. I got to the hospital the following day and my momma was incomprehensible. She made zero sense. She also thought it was nineteen-ninety-one. I wish.

It was scary and I was very upset. Little Sister left and I stayed with Momma. I went home late that night and broke down. I was devastated.

The following day, I returned to stay with Momma all night. The previous day, I had left a sickly, frail-looking, dying woman. The feisty woman sitting up and griping about nurses was way more recognizable.

I was relieved until I found out there was very little improvement. She was simply making more sense due to her body receiving the oxygen it so badly needed.

I’m going to back up a little and tell you something about Momma.

Momma is somewhat of a drama queen. She is also an attention seeker and prefers the spotlight. She is “on stage” most of the time. Take those attributes and combine them with a little hypochondria, and you have my momma. Except this was real.

A day and a half later I arrived to Momma’s room and found her as I did before, sitting up in bed and griping about nurses. They didn’t hop around her and worship her properly, you see. So I thought I had better do it, and fast, or there was no hope for humanity. The world would surely suffer, but I digress. (I’m not a drama queen at all you know)

I was then informed she had improved. They no longer felt she was dying, at least not within a week as originally thought.

I told her, “You know, the mean one’s live forever.” She didn’t laugh. I thought it was quite funny. Sometimes I think I am the only one finding me funny. Oh well.

My aunt came up from Florida to see Momma because she was dying. With her no longer dying, (well at least not dying as soon) my aunt feels she has wasted a trip. She’s the aunt who only comes to Oklahoma when someone dies. She’s hysterical. I spent some time with her today and we have a lot in common it turns out. She may be more of a bitch though. I have much to learn.

So, there you have it. I am stressed, tired, and now dealing with an incredibly difficult patient. If Momma had her way she would fire all of the nurses and only have me and Little Sister nurse her.

I don’t mind helping or taking care of her. She is just a horrible patient. At three in the morning, right as I am drifting off to sleep, she begins to poke me. She also demands ice chips, she is allowed a couple of teaspoons a day. She is very thirsty and I understand that. She can’t have anything by mouth because she is aspirating everything she ingests. So no, Momma, I’m not going to be responsible for killing you, at least not today.

In all seriousness, although she drives me insane, I love her so hard and we are very close. I know someday I will have to live without her, but I’m not ready. I still need her. I suppose I will always feel that way.

We are always our mother’s babies, and they are always our mommies no matter how old we are. I am thirty-seven and when I’m sick I would give anything to feel my mamas cool hand checking my forehead for a temperature, or have the best potato soup ever that she always spent hours making for me when I had strep throat. It would be hard to pick a favorite memory, there are many.

Now I’m going to go fluff her pillows for the millionth time, figure out how to put subtitles on the blaring television, and empty her urine bucket because according to her, that work is too gross for the nurses. I will do all of this with a big smile on my face because one day I will wish she were here to cause me all of this stress. Oh ya, also because I freaking love her so much. She’s nuts, but she’s mine.

Perception Is Reality

I used to at least always attempt to be optimistic about everything, even when the universe seemed against me. This is a feat I struggle with immensely now, especially after everything I have been through in my life.

Years of mental health issues, tragedy, or just being a grumpy asshole can turn the optimist into the pessimist; ultimately changing not only one’s perceptions but the course of one’s life.

The butterfly effect based on chaos theory was originally centered around the weather. Since the 1980s, people have also come to think the butterfly effect is a metaphor for how a small, seemingly insignificant event or action can affect or even completely change the outcome.

Perception is kind of like that. What we perceive in any area of life is our reality. You can think, speak or believe things into existence including happiness.

For us mental patients, this is such a good idea in theory but damn near impossible.

I believe to my very core, that the meaning of life is so simple, just hard to attain.

Gratitude and Love

Simple, right? Easy? No. It seems easy but it’s not. Life makes us bitter and angry.

Even the nicest person can have tons of pent up anger and aggression while appearing to be happy and healthy. A person can even be unaware of these toxic feelings until one day they just, snap.

Anger and aggression aren’t even what makes gratitude and love the most difficult.

It gets the hardest when tragedy enters your life. It’s very hard to love and be grateful when your spouse or child just died.

It’s unfair and makes no sense to us when tragedy happens. The only explanation I can come up with is that we are supposed to learn something, and we either get it or we don’t. If we don’t get it in this lifetime, maybe we will in the next one.

Learning to live a life of gratitude and love is very difficult. I know from personal experience that when we at least attempt to attain a life of gratitude and love, the results are magical.

Suddenly doors open that were previously closed, relationships improve and you start living a life you always wanted.

Try it. Make a serious conscious effort to live your life with gratitude and love for two weeks. Hell, try it for one week. You will find something you have been looking for…

Happiness.

My Love

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So my man is not perfect by any means. In fact, we have had our share of issues since the beginning of us. One thing I am absolutely certain of however, is that he and I are meant to be together. There have been many crazy coincidences since we met that cannot be ignored. I met a woman recently that has known my man since he was very little and this woman also knows my family including my mom and favorite uncle. This is just one of many things that is a little creepy.

I have a “pod” theory. I believe we all have a “pod”. It includes people we know or have yet to know and that we are meant to know. I believe we have more than likely lived many lifetimes with these same souls with their involvement in our lives varying from lifetime to lifetime. I think we keep finding each other over and over again because we each fill a purpose for someone or more than likely, multiple people. Meeting Jason in this lifetime has taught me innumerable lessons and also given me a love I never thought I would ever have again.

When I lost my husband Keith in October 2017, I was convinced he had been my greatest love and I would never find that again. I was ok with ending up an old spinster with 100 cats. I thought I saw my future so clearly. I was so, so wrong. Jason came into my life unexpectedly and the love that followed being even more unexpected. I was in the throws of grief and he helped me in ways no one else could have. We have had problems though and it’s been a tough road at times but it was bound to be. He was newly divorced and I was newly widowed. We weren’t ready for what was happening yet there it was. With these life changing events right under us, there have naturally been challenges. The awesome thing is that we continue to thrive and grow together as a couple, as friends and as a family that we are creating together. He is my family.

I have been struggling lately with trust. It’s made me clingy and weird and I have hated myself for acting this way. I have come to a realization that I trust him 100 percent with my life, my heart and my soul, and this fear I have is based on actions of his, which were based on his own fears. The most important thing is that not only is he still here with me, but he chooses me every day and I choose him. I have every confidence that our upcoming marriage will be strong and last because we have already survived the impossible together and survived the even further impossible before we ever met. We are simply survivors. I can’t think of anyone I would rather do the rest of life with other than him and thank God I don’t have to think about that. My man is here with me and here is where he will always be. It feels good to know that and really know.