#THE DEEPEST. DARKEST. PITS OF MY SOUL. OF MY VERY BEING. OF MY CONSCIOUS. MY SUB-CONSCIOUS. AND MY ESSENCE. IT DESTROYS ME. IT IS UNBECOMIN

[kilkreath418]

yk… ykkk… yk what would like… be like.. cool… yk like… oh yk…

******SLY COOPER FUCKING FIVE….*******

[the-mamas-project]

The MAMAS Project: Kelly 

When we started TMP in 2015, we envisioned reaching out to local mamas and sharing their stories, we did just that. Now, we are very excited to share the first feature of a mother many miles away on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. A place some of us have been to and recall fondly as a vacation spot, where we go to get away from regular life.

Raised in an amazing corner on the North Shore of Maui, Kelly raises two sons within the same quarter acre of her youth. However, living in an island paradise does not make you immune to the growing pains of motherhood. For all those mamas who sometimes want to escape their reality, know that even in paradise, struggle and growth is necessary and real.

Unaware at the time, Kelly met her future husband and father to her children when she was in grade school, whom she knew as, “her sister’s boyfriend’s handsome older brother.” They reunited in adulthood, and quickly developed a relationship. It was on a whim they became parents, conceiving much quicker than she expected. But motherhood came to Kelly quietly, and she was mostly alone, with her partner working on another Island to support the family.

“The first three months of Elias’ life was spent one-on-one, a crash course in parenting, as it is for everyone, but without the frequent presence of other adults. Although I had a support system, I was very much a do-it-yourselfer.  This is perhaps why my bond with Elias was always so very strong.”

Life changes in the grandest ways with the birth of your first, and dealing with the physical, as well as emotional, internal changes, is overwhelming at best.

“I’ve always been a woman who was comfortable in my own body. In expressing myself. With my first pregnancy I had a vision of the soccer mom in denim pants and plain shirts and a diaper bag with too much shit. Oh yes, and the mom cut. A woman who blended into the background. When I began the nesting stage in pregnancy, I gave away all of my favourite clothing. Anything too tight or too short. I went to Old Navy, found the most boring cotton shirt I could find, and got one in every colour. Dresses were loose and unflattering. Comfortable, yes, but nothing that inspired me personally. There is nothing wrong with the mom hair cut, let’s start there. But I realized over the years that this toned down fashion sense represented how I was treating myself as a woman. It just wasn’t me. I took the sense of sacrifice that is being a mother and watered myself down. This wasn't just about appearance, but my general disposition. I put myself second. I neglected my needs and in neglecting my femininity, I lost more of my individual self as I nurtured my family. Which in retrospect is perhaps what they needed at the time.”

Single parenting in the early days was tough, but unknowingly at the time, Kelly wasn’t just struggling with motherhood. But beginning to struggle with her body image, and the problem wasn’t going to just go away. The seed of self-criticism was planted and began to grow when she suffered a miscarriage.

“My most suffering came in the form of pregnancy loss.  This was the darkest period for me. The deepest pit of nothing. The hardest cry.  After multiple losses in a row, I found myself in the tightest ball of sorrow; one that I could not unravel for quite some time. Even after finally having a pregnancy that stuck, I had developed distrust in my physical body that had failed me so many times. My body image had plummeted. In addition to failing to take care of myself, I believe the emotional turmoil of the miscarriage process, subsequent infertility and the fear of loss itself took a significant toll on my body and it manifested itself in migraines, shingles, menstruation issues and chronic pain.”

Kelly’s words allude to something we can strongly relate to. Motherhood makes women vulnerable in a way men will never understand. It begins with the very wish to become pregnant. Maybe you won’t be able to conceive. I think every woman fears this at some point. Just trying to get pregnant, exposes us to the risk of being let down, and it’s terrifying. For many, pregnancy is not possible, or not easy, and that corrodes ones self-image and feeling of wholeness indescribably.

After pregnancy loss and subsequent infertility, Kelly and her family were blessed with their rainbow baby, Mathis. A strong willed, spirited soul. But motherhood alone couldn’t cure the self-criticism Kelly had plagued herself with. It wasn’t until Kelly began to make conscious choices to create her own happiness and take charge of her life that the small victories built up, and gave Kelly a new confidence.

“Early in my motherhood I found myself isolated, spending a day dusting at home or box-store shopping. There came a day I realized I couldn’t just sit around waiting for someone to take me to the beach, I was the mama and I needed to take myself to the beach. Now I am the mama who loads the truck, gets the kids ready and out the door and together we seek adventure. It’s a habit now, this effort of excitement. Chasing a high, so to speak. I know that this precious privilege in life is fleeting. Thus, when I find myself sitting upon the beach and my children happy engaging in their favourite environment, I freely feel a sense of personal pride and immense joy.”  

Her kids flourished. And taking control of her destiny, as the type of mother she wanted to be, started to bolster her confidence. She began recognize that she stopped taking pride in how amazing she truly was, and began to work on loving herself again.

“Having rediscovered my personal beauty (internal and external), I’ve allowed myself to be the mother who feels pretty when she shows up to things, or to dress comfortable and shabby when I feel like it, who lets her sons see her feeling beautiful. It’s a treat to buy myself a nice shirt every now and then. A fresh coat of nail polish after the kids have gone to bed on Sunday night does wonders for those crazy Monday mornings. These things are where I have found my self-care, and have boosted my confidence as a woman, a wife and a mother. I’ve given myself permission.”

Kelly’s muse is within herself. The outlet? She is motivated by self-love and through a personal blog, she promotes a message to others of self love, body love and spiritual enrichment. The best part, the disclaimer on her blog reads: 

“There are many bikini pictures. And I have stretch marks. You need to know this.”

Yes. You go Kinimama. 

All women need the reminder, love yourself. Thank you Kelly for sharing how you got there. It’s not an overnight thing. Yes, it takes a conscious choice and is always a work in progress. But for Kelly, choosing self love was the best decision she could have made, for her and her family. 

“And yes the chores get done, dinner gets cooked. The house is still in decent shape. I am a work in progress, I have weight to lose and life lessons to learn. Only now I am happy. Hubby is happy. Kids are happy. Because I’m not just mama, I’m KiniMama.”

Written by: Sarah and Jena

Photographs: Submitted by Kelly Estrella

[ruddiestbubbles]

Demons and Knights

He fell. He fell hard. It wasn’t a proud moment, like a fallen warrior protecting his king. No, this was a fall from a weakness too strong to overcome. He didn’t know how to handle it, not sure what was too much-- too far, too hard. He had big shoes to fill, and dragons to slay. But his demons were far too many to battle alone, yet he was too scared to ask for help.

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10152110

  Kent Parson was a demon and a knight in shining armor. He knew all of Jack’s darkest secrets, and he helped, and shoved him farther under the drowning waters of anxiety. Back when Jack met Kent in the Q, it was a simple friendship. They both didn’t have any friends, and both demons that clung to their souls and clawed at their necks. Some point along the way, definitely after some sort of party with alcohol-- not long after their first real game-- they found themselves behind a locked door. Quick, sloppy jerks and hot open mouthed kisses; dirty, alcohol driven, messy first time. It was so much from the build up of everything as it was the alcohol.

Jack’s anxiety was rearing in full force, especially with his father’s shadow constantly looming over him. All eyes were on him, forever on him. HIs every single step was criticized, from the way he let his hair grow all shaggy, to the way he still had so much of his baby fat and he wasn’t a perfect specimen of of human much like his mother and father. But Kent, well, he was truly Jack’s knight in shining armor. He made all of that pain go, through hot touches and dirty kisses. Kent made Jack feel wanted, like maybe his imperfect body was actually something that someone wanted, even if it was only ever behind a locked door, stowed away from the prying eyes of the world and their judgmental daggers of words.

Out of those rooms, away from the secureness of a locked door, Jack was so, so alone. Kent was there, but not in the way Jack needed. Kent couldn’t give Jack what he needed, not when all eyes were on the best duo the hockey world had ever seen. Not when they lived in a world where being anything but straight was a downright sin. The medicine helped. If only for a while. It calmed the world, let him breath air that didn’t feel like cotton. But maybe that was the problem, it was too calm. That got under his skin, ate away at his sanity. He was anxious, and the medicine makes him calm, but that only results in a clear mind to run itself in circles.

Living away from his parents was rough. Even though he visited often-- every chance he got really-- he felt like their already opaque relationship was growing thinner and more fraut. Especially when Kent went home with him one break-- his mom was in one of her worst slumps yet. They hadn’t meant to do it, not really, not when Jack’s parents were home. It was an overwhelming amount of stress and a whirlwind of anxiety that brought them both panting and writhing away because of one simple touch from each other. Jack could feel the worried glares directed at the back of his head. His maman couldn’t look either of the boys in the eyes for an entire day. His papa bit his lip and clapped Jack on the back before disappearing out the front door in his tigh running clothes and bright yellow trainers.

After Kent flew back home, Maman and Papa had sat Jack down at the kitchen table, worried blue and brown eyes boring holes through his opaque screen of resilience. His droopy sad blue eyes just couldn’t look at either of his parents, so he stared at the table, his shaking hands in fists to keep from roughly pulling at his hair.

“Jack, honey.” Maman started, and that’s all it took for Jack’s wall to tumble down, a crumbled pile of lies on the ground.

“I’m sorry!” He sobbed, his eyes glassy and sad. “I don’t know what I’m doing…. I-I don’t know….” It was loud at first, but his voice trailed off until it dropped of the edge of audible and into a sub-conscious string of I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. His hands flew to his hair and he gripped at the long shaggy hair.

“Oh Jacques, my baby.” Maman said quietly, gently taking Jack’s wrists, rubbing slow circles into the taught muscles. “We’re not upset. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing.”

“We just want to make sure you’re safe, bud.” Papa spoke softly, his usually booming voice now like a feather floating through a gentle breeze. “We just want what’s best for you. And if Kent is what's best, then we’ll support you.”

Jack did look up then, eyes red and brimmed with unshed tears. “R-really?”

“Of course sweetheart.” Maman ruffles his hair. “Now I wouldn’t go shouting it out, but you know, what you have could be good. Just be safe honey, okay?”

He actually managed a wet laugh at that. “As long as I don’t have to sit through ‘the talk’.”

“Considering yesterday, I don’t think you need it.”

“Papa…” He groaned, head falling with a thud to the table.

Jack’s relationship with his parents was still rough and communication wasn’t the best, but it was getting better. Well, it was till Kent and Jack got into a huge fight. They were each other's own demons, a presence forever looming and clawing at each other's throats. They knew each other's deepest darkest secrets which was truly they’re strongest front and greatest downfall. They knew exactly what venomous words to spew to drive a blade through each other's hearts.

That’ll sure make your dad proud, huh?

At least I have the full support of my parents!

Real funny Zimms, at least I don’t have to constantly take meds to keep me sane.

The words were poison and drove them apart. Jack grew distant quickly. He didn’t accept calls from his parents. He didn’t say anything at his last meeting with his team, just kept his head low and refused to give a speech when requested. Then in his room the day of the draft, he had just woken up and he was starting to get around when his phone buzzed. The dim screen showed several messages from his parents, thirty missed calls, and a single message from Kent.

Hopefully everything goes well today, maybe we’ll end up great rivals on the ice. Good luck with your life, Zimms.

It was the finality of the message that sent Jack reeling. He was drowning in the swell of anxiety that crashed into him, like the ocean upon a shore during a raging storm. He gripped the counter, knuckles white. One glance in the mirror showed him the sunken in pale skin and sad, droopy blue eyes. He wasn’t taking care of himself. It was starting to show. But he was drowning and gasping for air in rugged gulps. His whole body was shaking and his knees were weak.

What if… what if…. What if…. What if……

His mind was running in circles, digging a rut in his opaque sanity. So he grabbed his pill bottle, popped the cap and took one, two, three. It wasn’t enough. His hands shook and shook and he couldn’t breath, not with a sixty pound weight on his chest. His heart was beating so fast. So he took another, one, two, three, four. His heart was beating fast, till it wasn’t and tiny blue pills scattered on the floor and he fell. He fell hard.

Recovery was a long process. The media lurked in every dark corner, tracking his every move. But his parents built a protective wall. That didn’t stop them though, not when everyone wanted to know where Jack Zimmerman went and what happened before the draft. Eventually the story got out and everyone at it up and spit it out with some new version of an originally untrue story. It didn’t help Jack’s recovery, not one bit. But he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and held his head high.

Samwell was a big step in his recovery. He was a nervous ball of anxiety when he got there, and that continued for many weeks, until a mustachioed man approached him.

“Hey Zimmerman you fuckin’ beaut!”

That startled Jack. “Um hi, hello…. Euh?”

“You haven't socialized with the team yet bro! I know we’re both tadpoles, but come on brah!”

“I just… euh… um….”

“Deep breath man. I know the ‘Jack Zimmerman Story’ already. It took the hockey world by storm, but you know what? Fuck that shit! That was before, not now.”

Jack looked like a deer in headlights, sad droopy eyes wide.

The guy clapped him on the back with a booming laugh. “The name’s Shitty B Knight, and no that’s not my real name. Now come on, I heard there’s a Mario Kart tourney going on at the Haus. And yes, Jacques Laurent Zimmerman, you are required to go.”

“How…?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Let’s go kick some hockey bro’s asses!”

“Oh… haha?”

They did kick ass, but only after Shitty ‘accidentally’ knocked Johnson's controller out his hand. And later that night, after Jack had awkwardly waved off any offer for beer, Shitty and himself headed back to the dorm, and they sat in Jack’s single dorm and talked. Or rather, Shitty rambled drunkenly and Jack listened, but it was great. That became a pattern quickly, except every long night talking started including far less clothing on Shitty’s side of things. And oddly, Jack was okay  with that too.

Shitty became Jack’s rock, he grounded him and brought him down from the ever imposing well of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. And eventually they had the ‘Jack Zimmerman Story’ talk.

“Do you… euh, really wanna know what happened….?” Jack had asked nervously, his hands shaking slightly.

“Brah, of course.” Shitty replied with a gentle smile and a hand on his arm.

“Oh… okay… haha?”

And after that, well, Shitty very quickly shut down anyone who even dared calling Jack an addict. It was the beginning of a ‘fucking beautiful’ friendship, and Shitty B. Knight became Jack’s knight in shining armor.