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An Open Letter to my Parents-- of an addict.

I watched you. I watched you everyday. I wondered how you you were able to do all of the amazing things I saw you do. I was 5, wishing I could cook like you-- although, it was just macaroni and cheese. I was 7, wishing I could drive with one hand like you do. I was 10, wanting so bad to be just like you.

You watched me grow. You knew I was watching you, learning. You did so well teaching me right from wrong. You taught me everything I know whether it's the correct way to season chicken or an easier way to multiply. Everything. Everything came from you. I was 15, when I was blessed with a real mom, thanks to you.

I watched again. I watched as you put on your makeup, wishing so bad that I could get my eyeshadow the perfect shade and shape. I watched you use a napkin and a silly band to wrap up your cut and I wished I was as quick thinking as you were. I have learned so much from you both.

I started smoking cigarettes when I was 16. I watched you smoke, but I always told myself I wouldn't. But I did. I got drunk for the first time at 16 as well. I watched you drink, but I knew I didn't want to drink. But I did. I felt guilty. I wanted to be like you, but this didn't feel like something you would do. However, I told you the truth and I felt much better.

I had my first child at 21. I was afraid, so afraid. I wanted to be the best mother I could be but how could I ever do as well as you did with me? You both held my hand every step of the way, and now that I'm 24 with two children, you still do.

At the age of 22 I was pregnant with Jase. I was starting to go down a bad road. I had a migraine for months, MONTHS. I cried so much. I cried even harder knowing that me crying was putting everyone off. I couldn't help it, but I didn't want anyone to be annoyed with me, so I started taking something stronger than Tylenol. Back and forth between hydrocodone and tramadol, I felt normal again.

You know the story, I'm not going into any more details because it's still a fresh wound. I was addicted to pain medicine for over a year. You tried to tell me. You tried to help me by going to my sources. I didn't listen, I truly believed I needed them but I could quit at anytime. But I could not. I would get the shakes. I would start to hyperventilate occasionally. I was scared, so scared.

The thing I was most afraid of was you. I wanted so bad, my entire life, to be like you. But, would you let yourself get where I was? No, you wouldn't. I was scared of disappointing you, even though I knew I already had. Nevertheless, you were there. The entire time, you were there. If you hadn't mentioned to me that I may have. a problem, I might've never reached out for help.

Now that I'm almost 18 months clean, I need to make sure you understand a few things. One, like I stated before, I watched you. My entire life, in awe. Two, I just wanted to fill your shoes. I wanted to be a good parent the way you were for me. And three, none of this--not even a smidge-- was your fault. Nothing you did triggered me to turn to pills. Nothing you said made me continue using them.

Without you, I would not have known what to do when Jase choked on a cheerio, when Jaxson broke out in hives after taking his antibiotics. Without you, my boys might not have a mother today.

Thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me because I absolutely almost gave up on myself. Thank you for always supporting me, no matter the circumstance. Thank you for loving me even at my lowest. I needed you. I needed you more than I've ever needed anyone and you came through.

I love you.

--your daughter, the addict.

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And yet my heart is not broken. Do you think me wicked? Sleepy Hollow (1999), dir. Tim Burton

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This Halloween cat is puuuurrrfection. 😻

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Handwriting, am I alone??

My handwriting differs depending on several factors.

Utensil- this is the biggest factor. I write better with certain types of pens than I do others. For instance, my handwriting with a ballpoint pen vs. a gel pen, well the difference is astounding.

Surface- another large factor. With a ballpoint pen, I write very well on a padded surface (stack of paper, notebook, etc.)

Mood- if I'm angry or in a hurry, my handwriting is gonna be shit. But if I'm in a good mood or even sad, it's fantastic

Basically anyone I've told this said I was crazy because their handwriting stays the same. Bullshit.

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I really think June should've just got in the truck with Emily. She would be safe right now, with Moira and Luke. I know she wants to change things, but she won't change very much if she's hanging from the wall. 🤷🏼‍♀️ of course, this is gonna make this season very interesting, but still. in Canada, she would have more resources and more help. Luke and Moira would absolutely, I think, fight to get Hannah back. My opinion, though.

Also, I truly think Lawrence will be a huge asset to the resistance and I bet Serena Joy will come in clutch, too. 💪🏼

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View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Ashley Nicole ONeill (@octobermoooon)

in case you haven't seen any dancing babies on your new feed today, you're welcome. #GETIT #babydance #werkit https://www.instagram.com/p/BxGuICxhubjZDTO6fyLiZ7usX7Iz9lpRrtQpII0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=vqz6x2yd6l3j

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Tumblr

I'm still getting used to using tumblr, it's a little difficult to learn. But I like it because I can talk about my real feelings and vent and whatever I need to do, and feel so much better. I don't know anyone personally on here so I'm not worried about being judged for it. I finally feel free and it's fucking amazing.

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SAHM

I'm a stay at home mom of two boys and I love it. But something has been bothering me, not personally, but I've seen it in other relationships. The mom stays home all day cooking, cleaning, wiping asses, etc. while her husband works a 10 hour day. She works 24/7 literally, no days off, no nothing. He gets days off, he gets to come home and shower, eat and sleep. Why does he not help his wife with the children? I'm not saying this is all men, because my husband helps me when he can. My husband just gets home after the kids are asleep, but he can't help that. My point is, if she weren't a SAHM and she worked, when she got off work she would still be expected to cook dinner, bathe the kids, help with homework, dishes, laundry and basically everything else that needs to be done. Why is everything always put on the mother? The husband comes home, sits down in front of the TV and starts snoring 5 minutes later, while the SAHM busts her ass ALL day. If she worked, he would still be sitting on his ass while she continues to bust hers. It just isn't fair, and I truly hate to see that. Mothers do not get enough appreciation for what we do. Sure, taking care of our kids is our job, but we didn't make them alone. We also don't just do for the kids, we also do our husbands laundry, cook his dinner, wash his dishes, etc. We make our husbands lives much easier, is it wrong of us to expect a little bit of help once he gets home? Whether it's reading the kids their bedtime story, loading the dishwasher, anything little helps us more than you know. My husband will get home and sweep if I haven't gotten to it yet, or he'll do dishes or pick up the toys off the floor. I hardly ever have to ask him for help and if I do it's because I'm overwhelmed. Idk, it just lingers in the back of my mind that a lot of mothers are just maids and cooks. We need to stick together.

I'd also like to add that he knows how much I appreciate how hard he works, and I do not mind doing his laundry, cooking or really anything. We are a team and that's how it should be.

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Popstar is so underrated

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anyway,

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is that... Dozerman??

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fucking beautiful

Think Pastel Pink

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hi I'm Ashley and I'm ridiculously obsessed with Brooklyn Nine Nine, keep it going

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You sick son of a bitch.