outta-my-way

[outta-my-way]

Excuse me, sir, may I sit on your lap?

I met a man a while back.  6 feet 5 inches of bearded, tattooed, handsomeness with a smile like sunshine and bright green eyes.  I remember the first moment I saw him.  We had been texting for about a week after meeting online. I immediately loved his humour.  He was smart, engaging, and fucking hilarious.  He wasn’t immediately trying to get into my panties, or trying out for the fuckboy olympics so we decided to meet for coffee.

I arrived 15 minutes early so I could find a spot and scope out the door.  I ordered some tea.  Then I waited.  

I looked up from my phone to see him walking towards me...and he was fucking magnificent.  We exchanged pleasantries, chatted, and laughed.  The conversation was flowing without any effort.  He looked in my eyes as I talked and would smile, not a slight turn of the lips, but a huge full smile that would light up the entire room. I noticed his laugh, full and deep.  I loved the way it sounded. 

After about an hour, I realized that even though the coffee shop was packed, I hadn’t noticed another soul.  We were surrounded by people, loud, buzzing with conversation and it felt like we were the only two people in the entire place. I was smitten.  As soon as I realized this, I fucking panicked.  What the actual fuck was happening?  Didn’t I know better?  Didn’t I just have my husband cheat on me?  Didn’t I just have some narcissistic ass-hat treat me like an afterthought for a couple of months??  Bitch, what the fuck are you thinking?? 

I quickly excused myself and almost had a panic attack in the ladies restroom. I berated myself while I washed my hands.  How can you do this again? HOW? Are you sure you want to put yourself through this?  But he’s SO TALL.  He’s fucking adorable.  So what if I get my heart broken again?  It was literally the angel and devil situation, each one arguing their side, perched on either shoulder.  

I emerged from the restroom, walked up to the table and instead of sitting in my original seat across the table from him...I sat right beside him. The initial look on his face was one of terror. It soon eased into a slightly nervous, beaming smile.  I have no idea why I sat beside him instead of my original seat...other than I needed to be closer to him. Needed to touch him. If I could have crawled onto his lap and nuzzled his cheek while stroking his beard, trust me, I would have.  It was this need to be near him. The feeling was almost tangible.  I didn’t know why, but I had to get closer to him.

So as his initial shock turned into ‘whoa, this chick is into me’ we talked some more...and this bitch brought her ‘A’ game.  As we talked I touched his arm, his knee, his hand, all while giving flirty little smirks.  And this guy did nothing.  NOTHING.  I mean, he was receptive, but by the look of shock and delight on his face, it was clear this guy had no game. 

So the date is over, he walks me to my car.  I make it my mission to see if the sparks we had sitting in the coffee shop actually translate into the physical. I try to get him to kiss me.  I literally cannot get this guy to make a move.  Until I basically throw myself into his arms claiming that I’m ‘cold’.  Then as he wraps me in his big arms and pulls me against him, I look up and he kisses me. 

I can’t begin to describe what I felt when that happened. I know that he had the softest lips I’d ever had the privilege to kiss. He ran his hands down my back and then gently grabbed my waist. He kissed me slow and soft.  Then he ran his hands down a little further, and grabbed my ass.  And that’s when I knew he was the one for me.  

He was a total gentleman...until he didn’t have to be.  Until I gave him the okay to be a little bit savage.  And hot damn, it was worth it.  

We parted ways after making out for a while. Both of us lingering a while for just one more hug. He texted me about 5 minutes after our date. He said he couldn’t wait to see me again and that he enjoyed our time together.  

He’s been with my crazy ass ever since.  

[outta-my-way]

I’m still here

When I started this blog back in 2014, it was never supposed to last this long. I only started it to help me cope with my divorce.  I’ve always used writing to help me understand my feelings and to sort through the chaos in my mind. It helps me to clarify the many jumbled emotions and thoughts that can tend to blur my vision.  I used it to become clear.  To purify. To heal.  

Well, I’m still here fuckers, three years later.  

The blog has changed and will keep evolving as I do.  It will still be full of grammatical errors, terrible punctuation, and swear words...because that’s just how I roll.  

I’m not the same woman I was in 2014.  Shit, I’m not the same woman I was two minutes ago when I started writing this post.  But one thing hasn’t changed...my love for writing.  I may not be the best, or use a semicolon when needed, but damn it, I fucking love it. 

So, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick around for a while.  I’m going to keep writing about my skewed view of this lovely life of mine.  

Oh, and sex.  I’m gonna write about sex.

[outta-my-way]

Time flies when you’re getting divorced

I really missed blogging!  And I missed all you wonderful motherfuckers who take a minute to read the insanity I have spewed all over this website! I haven’t written in...two years? Jesus. That long, eh?  Time sure flies when you’re getting divorced!

Let’s just let that sink in, shall we?  D.I.V.O.R.C.E.D.  

I am officially divorced.

Can I get a ‘’fuck yaaassss’’

I’d love to give you something scandalous or a teeny bit of drama but alas, my sweet little sluts, there isn’t any.  It all went smoothly.  I didn’t expect much of a fight, and it went pretty quickly!  

Here is how it went down:

1. Do fuck-tons of paperwork (fuck-tons is the actual unit of measurement)

2. Go to courthouse and file fuck-ton of paperwork

3. Realize you didn’t need to do the full fuck-ton of paperwork

4. Vow revenge on the motherfucker that advised you to do the fuck-ton of paperwork in the fucking first place.

5. Wait 6-8 weeks for a judge to stamp the piece of paper ‘’allowing’’ you to get divorced.

6. Curse the government, judicial system, and any other dip-shits that get to TELL me what I can and cannot do.  Bitch, I will divorce any motherfucker I want. The fact that I have to ask your PERMISSION??...Bitch, please.  

7. Go to courthouse after waiting period and sign form that says ‘’Yes, I would like to quit this bitch’’

8. Put your hand on a bible and swear to sweet little, 8 pound 6 ounce baby Jesus that you would like to be free from the fuckery that is your marriage.

9. Boom. 30 days later, you are divorced.

I didn’t have any emotional breakdowns where I screamed to the heavens ‘’WHY???” all dramatic like. I didn’t have a montage in my head about all the sweet and romantic things that had happened between us in our 15 year relationship. However, I had moments where I felt like I failed my daughter.  Moments where I thought she would hate me for not trying harder.  I worried that she would resent coming from a broken home.  

Then I gave my tits a shake, cleared my head, and thought...nah.  

I did the right thing. Not allowing the misery we were in to continue.  Parting ways and letting it all go.  It was right.

So forgive me for cutting this short my dears, but I have 3 bottles of champagne chilling that have been waiting for this celebration for a long time.

CHEERS BITCHES! xoxo

[outta-my-way]

Self love is the new black.

I stopped a stranger on the street to tell her that she was beautiful.

I saw her and her girlfriend walking hand in hand towards me.  We were in London, we had just went to a concert and were waiting outside the venue for our group to assemble.  We were on the hunt for late night french fries. 

That's when I saw her strut down the street.  Wearing a crop top and black leggings.  Her soft stomach curving and protruding under the tight material.  I watched her as she came closer.  She had dark hair and an unapologetic smile.  Like she was saying ''Here I am bitches, like it or fuck off''.  I stopped her as she went by and simply said ''You are gorgeous''.  She was sweet, said thank you, posed for a picture with me, and we exchanged some pleasantries.  She owned it.  OWNED IT.  She didn't care that some dickhead somewhere would say that crop tops and exposed midriffs are only for thin girls and gay guys with 6 pack abs.  She didn't give a fuck that she wasn't 'supposed' to wear it.  She just put it on and fucking rocked it. 

I'm glad that I stopped a stranger on the street to tell her that she was beautiful.  Now I do it all the time. 

Women should lift other women up.  We face enough criticism and competition outside of our gender.  I love a woman that is confident and sure of herself.  To me that is the best accessory.  And you can be damn sure that I am going to walk up to you and tell you that you are fucking fierce.  Because I want you to know that I appreciate the confidence it took to decide to love yourself and be unapologetic for who you are.  I know the internal dialogue that can sometimes convince you that you aren't all that.  I know the courage it takes to love yourself in a society that is constantly telling you that you aren't enough.  That you need to conform to their ideals or hate yourself.  That whatever you are doing isn't enough and that you have to constantly struggle with your self worth. 

Nope.  Fuck that. 

It took me a long time to be confident enough to wear colour.  COLOUR!!  I think back to my all black closet and think ''Bitch, really? you weren't goth''.  All my clothes were black.  I would accessorize with a colourful scarf, bulky sweaters, jackets...whatever I could to hide my curves.  I am sad for that girl.  The one that tried to hide behind oversized clothes.  The girl that desperately wanted to shine but just couldn't find it in herself.  All the time wasted worrying about what other people thought of her. 

Then one day I checked my fuck bucket...and I realized it was empty.  Alas, I had no more fucks to give. 

I remember the feeling.  I was simply exhausted.  I just couldn't give a fuck anymore.  I was tired of putting so much effort into hating myself.  It's a lot of work picking apart every facet of your existence.  It is so liberating to love yourself.  To love all the things that you are pre-programmed to hate and despise.  The cellulite.  The stretch marks.  The fat.  The hair.  The face.  EVERYTHING. 

Fuck it.  I love myself.  I'm done apologizing.  I love the curve of my hips.  My big ol' booty.  My soft tummy complete with stretch marks.  I love it all.  Because I deserve to look in the mirror and not cringe and cry about an extra 30 pounds.  I deserve to smile when I look at myself.  I'm a fucking delight.  :)

So ladies, please, please, pretty fucking please, next time you see a woman rocking an outfit, feeling themselves, strutting like a motherfucking BOSS,  don't try and take them down with disapproving looks and catty remarks.  It isn't going to make you any more fierce...but it will show how insecure and sad you are with your own self.  Take a fucking seat and let that fabulous bitch love herself.  She's fucking earned it.  

Self love.  It's the new black.

~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

Annihilation Anniversary

The one year anniversary of Annihilation Day is fast approaching.  One week to be exact. 

When I look back at the last year I feel amazed...astounded...shocked.  I've evolved.  I can't say that the girl I used to be is gone...she's still in there...but I'd say she's quite different than before.  I got an opportunity that many people never get.  I got the chance to rebuild myself.  To be broken open then reassembled. 

I got the chance to find out what I'm made of.

People usually give me the ''oh, I'm soooo sorry" when I tell them I'm separated from my husband.  I always laugh and say ''Don't be sorry, it's a good thing!".  Because...well...it IS a good thing.  I could have spent the next 20 years of my life being unhappy in a terrible marriage while he cheated on me.  I could have shown my daughter a mentally and emotionally unstable mother who doesn't have any self worth, moral values, strength, or pride.  I could have retreated further and further into myself until there was nothing left of me...no sparkle, no shine. 

But nah...that's not how I roll motherfuckers. 

A year later and I feel...better.  It's such a lackluster word for how I feel but I can't seem to describe it any other way.  I feel more complete, healthier, rational, mindful, happier, settled...I feel better. 

I think about how far I've come.  The fears I've faced.  The adventures I've had.  The new friends I've made.  The life I've created.  I think about the person I've become...and I smile. 

I found myself.  I found myself in a sobbing heap at my ex-husbands feet.  I found myself in my daughters blue eyes that are the exact same shade as mine.  I found myself in the strength and love of my family and friends.  I found myself in all of the tears I cried, all the names he called me, all of the sadness, fear, anger, and hatred.  I found myself.  Amongst all of the debris of my old life, I climbed my way out of the rubble and finally felt the sunshine on my face. 

And I smiled.

~Sweet Blue xo 

[outta-my-way]

Down the rabbit hole

I came undone.  I came undone with the ferocity of a caged beast with nothing to lose. 

It happened quickly. 

I remember pressing my foot gently on the gas and backing out of the driveway.  I remember the light turning red.  I remember the way my head bounced off the headrest when I hit the first curb.  I remember my vision blurring.  I remember a horn and two headlights.  Then hearing my sister’s voice.  I didn’t recognize mine.  It didn’t sound like me.  I was crying.  I didn’t know where I was.  Then I watched the wipers drag the raindrops across the windshield.  I listened to the tapping of the rain on the roof.  Then a car door.  Then a soft voice.  “Let’s get you home" 

She saved me.

My brain wouldn’t signal my body to move.  My arms feel heavy and disconnected from my body.  I can hear them whispering in the kitchen.  I can't make my mouth move to protest.  I can’t say something self deprecating to make them laugh.  I can’t ease the embarrassment of drawing their concern.  My pride hurts more than my aching head.  There are sad eyes and pursed lips.  I hate that my mind and body betrayed me. 

When the fog in my brain clears it leaves my head tingling.  It continues for hours afterwards.  It feels like pins and needles, like when you are attempting to get circulation back into an extremity.  Pins and needles all over my head. 

And all I can think is...something isn't right.

~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

After all that we've been through...I know we're cool.

It's done.

We're cool.  Just like that. 

I've even started remembering some of the good times we had.  Slowly they seep into my conscious and now I let them stay. 

I remember how he would kiss me on the cheek before he left for work every Saturday morning.  I would be laying in bed, dozing, and would feel his warm lips on my cheek and then the clomp of his work boots as he left. 

I remember watching Marley & Me and him and I openly weeping and holding each other like lunatics.  Then we vowed to NEVER watch it again.

I remember him making me a mothers day photo montage DVD complete with a Taylor Swift song for my first Mothers Day. 

He bought me a back scratcher as part of my birthday gift one year.  Best. Present. Ever.

He wasn't a terrible person.  He made terrible choices.  He broke my trust and my heart.  But, once upon a time I loved him.  I chose to speak vows to cherish and love him for eternity.  And I will.  I will cherish the memories and the person I used to know as my husband.  Now, he is just a shadow in the corner of my heart. 

We used to be best friends...

Strange how things can change.

~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

Fuck you science.

Alright, alright, I admit it...I love these tiny fucking pills.  Straight up, love these little fuckers.  After only a week I already feel clearer, more rational, level headed, and fan-fucking-tastic.  But alas, nothing worth having comes without a fight.  I'm still having my strange little episodes of anxiety complete with heart palpitations and shaking hands.  I still have the random, fucked up thoughts pop into my head...wait...I've always had those so scratch that. 

What I'm trying to say is that I feel better.  Although these side effects have this bitch sorta worried.  Let's just say that the list of possible, horrible, terrible afflictions that could be caused by these itty bitty little fuckers is long.  Really long.  They include scary stuff like black stool, temporary blindness, inability to orgasm...which, lets be honest...that last one is the scariest of them all.  And it just happens to be one of the side effects I'm experiencing. 

This joyful little discovery was made recently while in the company of a special someone.  He knows that I'm taking this medication and is supportive.  He also happens to be very good at...*ahem*...well, you know.  So when it just wasn't happening, I told him that it's one of the side effects and that it was cool.  Well, he's no quitter.  God love him, he kept at it.  And to no avail.  While I admire his dedication to the cause, sadly, I had to assure him that it was time to give up.   

I asked a friend who is also taking medication and she said she is also experiencing the same thing.  And yes, I do ask my friends about their orgasms, if you know me in real life then you understand this.  If you know me in real life then we have definitely talked about your sexual conquests in detail.  It's dirty and I like that. 

Anyways, I'm also experiencing a myriad of other side effects which should slowly disappear as I go. 

In conclusion...You take this medication as to not be a miserable fucking bitch anymore...BUT...you can't cum hence are an even BIGGER miserable bitch that is fueled by sexual tension instead of crazy rage.  Awesome.  Way to go science, you fucking dick. 

~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

Welcome to Wonderland Bitch

Have you ever felt...strange?  Just off.  Not right, but not wrong?  I feel like Alice and I've fallen down the rabbit hole.  Nothing feels right...yet none of it is wrong. 

Welcome to Wonderland bitch.  Here's a prescription for antidepressants and a shot of tequila. 

I've been feeling this way for a few months now.  It started sort of gradually.  A sad day here and there.  I'd just feel the sads and then let the sads go move on.  I'm normally a pretty sunshiny, smiley, happy chick.  But hey, even bad bitches like moi have their emotionally unstable days where all they want to do is eat a tub of Ben and Jerry's and fucking cry like a banshee.  I've embraced it and recognize it for what it is.  A bad fucking day.  I have my little emotional breakdown in the Metro parking lot, eat a donut, fix my fucking make up and move on. 

So what if those bad days turn into a few?  What if you can't shake the sads?  What if even having the best day can't make you turn that motherfucking frown upside down?  Then bitch...get some help.  For those who know me and know me well (lucky motherfuckers) they know that I don't like to ask for help, or admit that I need help.  Well bitches, here's the moment you've been waiting for!  HELP!!!  I need fucking HELP!  I'm sending out the bat signal (my 'bat' signal is in the shape of a dick, fyi)  I'm admitting that I need the support of prescription drugs to help me deal with these emotions.  I'm not admitting failure or defeat!  Fuck that shit!  This bitch NEVER gives up!  I'm just asking for some help. 

Something was different about these feelings.  They came up at the strangest times.  I couldn't shake them, no matter how I tried.  Friends and family started telling me that I didn't seem like myself.  When you spend the majority of your time being a fierce, unstoppable, fabulous bitch and then suddenly your resting bitch face is just actually your normal facial expression...there's a problem.

I know there are some purist bitches out there that have their panties in a wad saying that taking medication just masks the problem.  You aren't really solving anything.  You aren't DEALING with the issues.  I know what they are saying because I used to be one of these people.  I wasn't anti-medication by any means...I just simply didn't understand how they actually helped anyone.  I plan on taking the medication to help me deal...not deal for me.  If I planned on being lazy about my mental health I can fucking guarantee that I wouldn't invest so much of my time in counseling.  Crying to Colin the counselor isn't exactly my fucking idea of a fun afternoon.  Although he is a pretty funny guy.

I'm conflicted in admitting that I need some help in the emotions department.  I'm using the mantra that it takes a strong person to ask for help.  I'm not weak.  In fact, I've never been stronger.  Showing vulnerability can actually feel pretty liberating.  Like I don't have to pretend to be superwoman all the time.  That it's perfectly acceptable to be completely useless sometimes and just cope.  A very wise, sweet friend gave me some wonderful advice that I plan on taking to heart.  She said 'be gentle with yourself'.  I'm so hard on myself sometimes that I forget that we are all just put on this planet to fumble around and try and figure it all out.  Try and do our best to love, be loved, survive, thrive, and just...BE.  In whatever meaning that word takes on for you.  Do your best.  Be kind.  Be gentle.  We are all just students in this life. 

So to all you beautiful bitches reading this...I'm back.  The blog is back.  You can rest assured my self induced hiatus is fucking OVER.  It's back to terrible grammar and lots of motherfucking swear words! 

~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

Truth.

♥

[outta-my-way]

Black

I met her. 

My ex-husbands girlfriend. 

I walked up to her, looked her in the eye and said ''Hi!  It's nice to finally meet you''

And I was met with a look of distain and utter hatred.  She looked me up and down, made a face, and said ''Hi'' then turned her attention back to her phone.

I'm not a hateful person.  I don't hate her or my ex.  I don't have any feelings of resentment.  I don't have any feelings about them at all really.  I looked at both of them and felt...nothing.  I have more feels looking at a stunning pair of shoes than I did looking at them together.  Is this what 'being over it' feels like? 

I don't expect to be her bff.  I don't even expect her to be super pumped to meet me.  She doesn't know what to expect.  BUT, I did expect her to behave like an adult.  She is a mother for fuck sakes, set an example.  She wouldn't stay in the same room as me.  She went and sat in the lobby (we were at my daughters swim lesson)  Wouldn't look at me or talk to me.  Ok, I get it, you don't like me for whatever reason.  I bet he's filled your head with all sorts of lies about me too.  I understand. 

But I'm not here for you. 

See, there is a sweet little blonde haired, blue eyed girl that is my world.  I would really like it if we could all get along for her sake.  In the grand scheme of things you mean absolutely nothing to me.  Nothing.  But her, my baby girl, she means EVERYTHING to me.  I'd like her to see us behaving like adults, not like bitchy 14 year olds. 

And, can I just say, if anyone should be acting like a fucking bitch it should have been me!  You fucked my husband!  And here I am being civil and polite to you while you treat me with disgust.  Grow up.  This is not a fucking game.  I've got no ulterior motives.  If only I could make you understand that ''I DON'T FUCKING CARE ABOUT EITHER OF YOU".  Truly.  You go live your lives and I'll be over here not giving a fuck.   You must spend a whole lot of time thinking about me...I don't think about you at all. 

I walked up to her at the end of swimming and said ''it was really nice to meet you, maybe next time we can talk a little bit more''.  She looked at me and said ''ya, maybe'' and turned away. 

I tried. 

~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

WTF?

Soooo...what if one day your ex-husband comes out of nowhere and says ''I wake up every morning expecting you to be beside me, and when I realize you aren't, I miss you". 

I'll just let that one sink in folks. 

That happened the other day.  Almost a year after I found out he was cheating on me and I effectively ended our marriage. 

So what the fuck, dude?  Really? 

I figure maybe because he senses that I've let it all go and there are no fucks given about him anymore?  Maybe because I've moved on and there is 6 foot 5 inches of man in my life that makes me weak at the knees but strong in my heart? 

I'll never fucking know what goes on in that fucked up head of yours.  I do know that you are a compulsive liar so nothing you say is ever taken seriously.  You have certainly lost your credibility with me.  How did you expect me to react to that statement?  Did you expect something different than the blank stare and shrug I gave you?  Did you expect me to be overjoyed and profess my undying love for you?  ....Pack a lunch bitch, you'll be waiting a while for that one. 

Hey, I have a great idea!  Go tell your girlfriend that you think about me while you're lying next to her.  I'm sure she'll love that. 

Get a fucking grip on yourself and get over it. 

~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

Get over it already

Hey, I have a question for all of you beautiful bitches...why, after a marriage is over, and adequate time has passed, all parties involved have moved on, why does he still feel the need to lie to me? 

An example.  I emailed him to make arrangements for Fathers Day.  He had his girlfriend email me back (pretending to be him) saying that he would be unable to see our daughter that day *blah blah, insert more bullshit here*.  Wanna know how I knew it was his girlfriend with the reply?  A) My ex-husband is functionally illiterate.  His spelling is so bad that there are times I need to ask for clarification.  This reply was spelled correctly.  B) The reply was trying to sound professional, like how you would reply to your financial advisor or lawyer, not your ex-wife.  C) I'm not fucking stupid.  When I get a reply that sounds like a robot wrote it, correctly spelled, and grammatically correct (for the most part) then obviously I'm on to you.  I've been conversing with this person for the last 15 years, I know what's up.  That's totally cool, I knew you could barely tie your shoes by yourself and if you need to ask her to reply to me then so be it.  But, don't for one hot fucking second, think that I don't see through it.  I choose not to engage it because, really, who the fuck cares.  See, I don't lie to you about anything because I have nothing to hide or feel guilty about.  If I lied to you it would mean your opinion still meant something to me...and it doesn't.  I don't let it get to me anymore because I've realized how pathetic it really is.  They are trying to create drama out of nothing.  If I act like the crazy bitch they want me to be then they have reason to say ''see, she's a fucking lunatic!"  Are you seriously that bored with your life?  Do you have nothing else going on?  Perhaps you could find a hobby?  I hear knitting is fun :) 

I'm not interested in drama, or your life, or trying to make things difficult for you, or whatever...grow up.  Don't you think if I wanted to do any of that shit then I would have by now...it's been almost a fucking year without me slashing your tires or spray painting ''tiny dick'' on your truck.  I think we're good.

I've moved beyond this shit...don't you think it's time the both of you did too?

~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

Epic Douchery

I talk a lot about choices.  Every morning we open our eyes we start the day by making a choice.  Perhaps it's the choice to hit snooze 16 times, or the choice to jump out of bed all bright eyed and bushy tailed and start the day. 

We all make choices.

My ex-husband won't see his daughter on Fathers Day.  Instead, he will be at a concert. 

I'm not going to play martyr here, or judge him based on his choice.  Although, I will say how utterly disappointed...wait, devastated I am for my daughter.  She is turning 4 in a few short months, she knows what Fathers Day is.  She asked me the other day if we were going to make a bracelet for daddy just like the one she made me for Mothers Day.  She isn't a baby anymore.  Thoughts click and synapses fire in that brain of hers.  She connects the dots and connects feelings to the people who give them to her. 

Why wouldn't you want to see your baby on Fathers Day? 

And then it hit me ladies and gents...like a big old fucking dump truck...

Who the fuck cares?  Seriously, I don't give a flying fuck about your choices as a human being.  You certainly aren't the person you claimed to be for the 15 years I knew you.  If you want to make piss poor choices and have your priorities all fucked up then be my motherfucking guest.  In the end, it's your life and I'm pretty fucking stoked that I'm not a part of it anymore.  I will gladly spend Fathers Day with my daughter and my Dad.  We will play, and laugh, and goof around like it is any other day because that's MY CHOICE. 

So, in closing, I'm not saying he's an epic douchebag...wait...yes I am. 

Play on playa.

~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

Electric

We are all just bones. Masked with flesh that we despise and only sometimes adore. Perhaps there is some spark inside these bodies that we mistake for a soul? Or is it something deeper? Is it the electricity that runs through our veins? Or the flicker of our thoughts? Is it the way our heart beats when someone is near? Or if they are far? Is it the pit that is deep inside my gut? The emptiness that is left in my core when you are lead away from me? Then you, my love, you must be my soul. Because whenever you aren't beside me I am simply a shell that goes through the motions of keeping this body alive. Only until you are back in my arms do I feel that I am truly here on this earth. You my sweet, must be my soul for you are what I crave to keep me electric in this world. ~Sweet Blue xo

[outta-my-way]

For my little babe. Me and you always. xoxo

[outta-my-way]

A letter to my daughter

Sometimes things change. Life has a funny way of evolving.  Sometimes the changes don’t seem fair or right. But, I can assure you little one, they always happen for a reason. We can choose to handle them with grace and understanding or we can be bitter and angry.  Always choose beauty.  Handle each situation by honoring yourself.  If you are true to your soul then you will always be on the right path.  Forgive when it seems unthinkable…not for them, but for you.  Living with a heart full of hate will only ensure that your spirit will dim and nobody will see your true beauty.  Laugh when things seem impossible because you can move mountains.  Cry when things are unbearable because through those tears will come clarity and peace.  Scream…SCREAM when you feel like your world is crashing down around you and the only tangible feeling is pain.  With those screams you will find release and serenity.  But most importantly little babe, feel.  FEEL everything that this life can give.  Don’t be afraid of this beautiful chaos.  Dive in and soak up every ounce that is offered.  BE.  Just BE.  Play and be lovely.  Dance and be silly.  BE. 

If I can offer anything to you, my love, it is my lessons learned.  I can offer you my clarity, my mistakes, my triumphs.  I can tell you about every scar on my heart, every wound on my soul, every war I won.  I can show you what I made of this journey.  It’s up to you to create your own path.  To blaze through life with a fierceness that will make the earth shake. 

I offer you unwavering shelter from any storm that may arise.  Be it created by you or someone else.  I will always be your safe harbour. 

I have many hopes and dreams for you sweet girl.  I hope that you love with abandon without fear of hurt.  I hope you are strong enough to cry when your heart is broken and you never hurt in silence.  I want you to be fierce and know that no matter what obstacle is placed in front of you, you will crash through leaving a wake of destruction.  I dream that you are happy.  Blissfully happy.  I hope that you are unapologetic for who you are.  I hope you stand on the tallest mountain and scream your name.  I hope you are soft and gentle but roar when pushed.  I hope you find a passion that lights up your eyes.  I dream that you are peaceful and feisty, never complacent. 

I look into your eyes and I see the entire world.  When you smile there is a light that shines from deep within you.  There will be times when you are unsure of your place in this world.  When other people will try and steal your sparkle.  There will be trials and triumphs.  All I can tell you is that it will make you who you are.  Life isn’t easy…but it is beautiful.

I hope one day you read this and understand that you are my world.  My heart beats for only you.  Everything in my being is for you.  When you came screaming into this world I finally knew my purpose in life…to be your mom.  To love you until my last breath, and even after. 

I love you madly.

~Sweet Blue xo