mybodmyblog

[mybodmyblog]

[mybodmyblog]

[mybodmyblog]

[mybodmyblog]

•

September of 2016 is a month I will remember for the rest of my life. I wish I could tell you that I would remember it fondly. Maybe like waking up and smelling the scent of summer come to and end or waking up to hear the birds chirping. Unfortunately my life isn’t a fairytale or anything even fucking close, so I woke up in my car.

When everything you own gets stuffed in trash bags and gets thrown in the back of your 2000 Pontiac Sunfire, you’re usually being moved to college or your first place of your own. For me, things were a little different. They had always been. Let’s go back to my junior year of high school. This is supposed to be an exciting time. You’ve got two years left in the crap hole they call high school and you can’t wait to get out. College applications are being sent in. People are making decisions about their futures. Talk of graduating is becoming more common and everything is exciting because it’s the last few times it’ll happen.

I went into junior year with about 1,000 pounds of anxiety and nervousness on my shoulders. It was my second year at North Mahaska. The year before had gone so well. I couldn’t believe it had taken a simple open enrollment packet to completely change how I felt about going to school. I had been bullied so terribly at Oskaloosa High School that I barely made it out of freshman year alive. I was knee deep in an eating disorder and in and out of therapy groups. It just wasn’t the right environment for me. Sophomore year gave me hope and brought me back to life again. If I could go back in time to the first day of 11th grade and prepare myself for how the next 5 years were gonna go, maybe this ride wouldn’t have seemed so bumpy. Let’s go back a little for some reference.

On November 3rd, 1996 I was born in Oskaloosa, IA. Things with my parents were very rushed due to me coming along so quickly. They got married very young and moved in together and started raising me. From information I have gathered, I was a little oopsie from a not very established relationship. But none the less, my dad always did the right thing. What he needed to do to support us. My mom stayed home with me for awhile until she found a part time job at Pizza Hut and with my dad working nights at the factory to help make ends meet, she had a ton of free time. While working there, she met K.

By the time I was two years old she had left my father, we moved in with K and I was seeing my dad every other weekend. That was my life for a very long time. Living with K and seeing him every single day became a part of my routine. He helped me with my homework, he took me to the pet store to adopt my first puppy, he went to dance recitals and plays and vocal concerts. From the outside we looked like your typical suburban family. Hell, most people thought K was my biological father. If they didn’t know of my father, they assumed he was it. It all seemed so perfect. When I was about 13 my mother told me about K. She had told me that when she met him he had 2 black trash bags to his name and that he was hooked on meth so bad that he couldn’t function. She said that them finding each other saved him. I still remember thinking at that age “how could my mother bring this meth head into our home?” But I also remember looking at my mother in almost admiration. She had saved this man. With her love, he was changing who he was. She had done that.

Back to 11th grade. K had always worked at car dealerships. If you’re familiar with the car sales life, you know that you meet a TON of people. Sales teams come from all over the US and they run the super sales for the week. K always wanted to be friends with the sales crew so we’d usually go out to dinner with them while they were visiting. During this time, K met men who moonlighted on their wives and did drugs. K fell right back into his old ways and before we knew it, information in the form of picture messages were seen and sent to my mother causing a huge uproar. He had been having an affair on my mother for over a year with a married woman with two kids from his office. I remember every single detail of the day this all went down like it was yesterday. I had been spending the day in Des Moines with my boyfriend at the time and he had just dropped me back off at home. I remember walking into the house and it just felt.. different. I noticed quickly that my mother was not there. I walked from the kitchen out to our back patio to find K sitting at the outside table. This man who had been a part of our lives for 14 years looked at me and said one thing.

“Your mother is at a motel. I can tell you which one if you’d like to go be with her. She has left me and I’m so sorry.”

I left immediately and went to the motel where my mother told me everything. We slept in the same bed that night, me holding my broken mother while she cried.

So, FFWD back to 11th grade. I’ve got a newly single mom. We are living in a cute little rental house in the country that my mom found. We are putting shit back together, TOGETHER.

Then, the drinking starts.

My mom used to be the type of person where if she went out to dinner for the night and had a couple glasses of wine she’d come home tipsy and goofy and go to bed. After everything with K, no matter how hard I tried to help her, my mother couldn’t move past it. And the only way she could numb it was with alcohol. She was going out 3 nights a week and coming home at godly hours of the morning. Countless times I was awoke at 2am to the sounds of her trying to get into the house or throwing up off the front steps and breaking her ribs (yup, happened) Things got so bad for awhile there and I still remember the few times it got physical from her end. I remember sitting in my bedroom with my back pushed up against the door using all my body weight to keep her out, not knowing what she was going to do to me if she got inside. This woman was not acting like my mother.. but I knew deep deep down that she was in there.. and I wanted to badly to find her again. This way of life continued for me until September 2016, which is where the beginning of this story started.

“I want to move out.”

I said this to my mom one morning while we were sitting outside having a cigarette. I had just taken a year off after graduating and I was ready to take the leap and rent my own place. I was tired of the stress at home. My mom had a new boyfriend and things at her job we’re keeping her busy.. and all the drinking. It was taking a toll on my mother and I’s relationship. I was starting to hate her and hate being around her. She was always either drunk or yelling at me for something I didn’t do or pushing me around and I was over it. I needed space to keep the relationship. But my mother had only ever known goodbyes to be bad and not bittersweet.. she wasn’t expecting this and immediately jumped at me saying that I was abandoning her. I remember her saying over and over “wasn’t I a good enough mother to you?” “Don’t you love me?” I stood my ground and tried to calmly explain why I needed to do this for me. And I will never forget my mother telling me that she hated me. I will never forget her throwing my stuff outside. I will NEVER forget her calling me while I was 1,000 miles away and telling me she was going to have my dogs put down. It’s all carved into my brain and plays on a loop every single fucking day. When my mother had no one, she had me. And that was never enough the way it was.

I feel like so many people don’t know our story. The truth of what happened. So I felt it necessary to speak out. I also wanted to say thank you to anyone who helped me out during those dark times. I’m sure I wasn’t the easiest to be around and I’m appreciative of all the love I received. For all the people who loved on me, gave me a place to stay, prayed for me and helped me learn that blood is not always thicker than water. Thanks for helping me grow.

And to my mother,

I’m sorry life happened to you. You didn’t deserve it, any of it. You were kind.. and soft.. and the world and the people in it made you mean and unforgiving. You are who you are and I am who I am, and maybe that’s too different. But know I love you and think of you every day. I’m angry at you still, but thankful you did what you did because it made me who I am. A strong, loving, independent woman who can do whatever the fuck she sets her mind to.

[mybodmyblog]

Shia LaBeouf photographed by Craig McDean for Interview Magazine.

[mybodmyblog]

[mybodmyblog]

Zendaya Coleman in EUPHORIA (2019—)

[mybodmyblog]

[mybodmyblog]

└  the younger and older versions of euphoria leading ladies .*ೃ✧

[mybodmyblog]

clementine - halsey

like/reblog if you save

[mybodmyblog]

[mybodmyblog]

Poisonous abuser.

[mybodmyblog]

[mybodmyblog]

[mybodmyblog]

“I love her smile. I love her hair. I love her knees. I love how she licks her lips before she talks. I love her heart-shaped birthmark on her neck. I love it when she sleeps.”

500 days of summer (2009)

[mybodmyblog]

500 days of summer (2009)

[mybodmyblog]