Friday, December 31, 2010


November of 2009 I told my husband of almost 11 years that I couldn't be married anymore. I was unhappy. Not the I'm so unhappy I need to change my haircolor kind of unhappy. But instead it was the I'm so unhappy I'm having suicidal thoughts and I'm starting to be mean to and excessively short with my children.To the point that I could see myself becoming my mother (perhaps another post 1 day).

I had reconnected with a friend from highschool in September of 2009, who lived in Alaska. I told my husband that I'm going to go to Alaska for a month or so because I need to get away and get my head straight. I felt selfish, scared, was very difficult. I loved my husband very much, didn't want to hurt him. But it wasn't a passionate love. I never felt that for him. We were really good friends. It wasn't enough for me honestly, I just couldn't be married to him anymore. I realize I sound selfish. But I'm being straight here.

My children at the time were 4, 3, and 1. It was so painful leaving them. I didn't know what would happen after Alaska. I'll be honest and tell you that I had plans to stay if the opportunity presented itself. I didn't have it in my head to leave my kids because I didn't love them. But instead it was that I felt so incapable of loving them and where my head was at I felt hopeless.

Perhaps it doesn't make sense. I see now in retrospect that my reaction of hopelessness was because I didn't see myself having any options or freedom and being that my husband made 5 times more than I would make at any job I knew I could get, I felt stuck. I knew I couldn't carry our house mortgage or the credit cards exclusively in my name. I felt horrible guilt.

Leaving my babies...I needed to go. I at the time knew in order to be able to give them more of me and be a good and loving mom...I needed to get away and get my head on straight.

Randomness of statements that will fall into place over time as I get it out. Be patient with me. Thank you.

Thursday, December 30, 2010


In the last year I have moved 4 times and been in 3 car accidents (could've died in one of those as I rolled my Jeep Liberty 3x's). I received 3 traffic violations (managed to escape 2 others) and had my home burglarized. Upon moving the second time, the cops had to be called. My landlord refused to let me into my townhome to retrieve my items, phone and car keys mainly, so I busted through the door to retrieve my items just before he pushed his over six feet tall leggy self against the door. The scenario ended with two cops escorting me into my home so I could retrieve "all" of my things...asshole.

It was a rough year. I'm tired. How did all of this begin? It shall be revealed in time as I begin to write it all down...err type it all down.

I'm not a writer and I'm horrible at punctuation, grammer, editing, etc. But I have passion and determination so here I go!