Do You Drink Your Coffee with a Straw?

I was a barista in another life (like fourteen years ago). I remember the group of people who drank their coffee with a straw and the group that did not. I ordered a complicated drink, one thing a barista can do is customize the fuck out their drink, ok?! Life was different then, I was married to another person. It was hardly a marriage, but at that age I didn’t know much about marriage or life. I did the old Facebook stalking, rather peering lol. I looked at my ex-husband and his wife. I am refraining from calling her fat this time, because fat shaming is bad. Though that insecure woman ended all communication with my ex-husband and I, and any sense of closure. Bitch move. We’d shared a decade, my teens through most of my twenties. I saw some pictures of him and most of them had her. He is putting on weight, which isn’t surprising. He is also graying, and wearing the same hairstyle as he was when we parted lol. I also unblocked my son’s DNA donor’s wife? Question mark because, that bitch could spin a fairytale out of nothing. I saw a picture of my son’s half-brother. He looked so healthy, it makes me feel better about having to leave him. I wasn’t his mother, and to keep my baby safe I had to leave. I would have taken him with me, if the villain wouldn’t have used the child as a means to control me. Also crossing four state lines with a child that wasn’t biologically mine, is quite illegal. So I guess I was feeling quite nostalgic. Though not in a good way. None of that shit was healthy.

Today is a day to think, ponder, question. It’s raining, but I am dry. I have started to communicate with the person I ripped apart in a previous blog. I am unsure about the propriety of it/him. He is very guarded and in the end I am afraid this won’t end in everyone being happy and ok. Why can’t I have friends? I’m feeling asexual again. But I think it’s a bit more extreme than that. I cringe when anyone touches me that isn’t my son or mother. I don’t want to be that way. I am not to go back to therapy with Catherine. She’s pissed me off and hurt me, and that is not how things should be in therapy. I left her a voice mail and the bitch never called me back. Fuck her.

Happier side not, I got my nipples pierced and they are doing quite fine. I am going to do a video about them. I also am, going to do a video about my musical instruments and information. Links to come.



I got up today, late. I thought I deserved a week off, plus I’d not received any notice that my services were needed. I did just have a needle in my spine a few days ago. I’m depressed though, nothing feels good. My period is late, it’s been 32 days since the last one. So my hormones are out of whack. I went to therapy. My therapist was of a mindset of, “What are you doing to get better?” I almost started crying in the session. I have to battle physical illness, mental illness, having a child, and a husband- and I’m still not doing enough? Dealing with my son’s issues, dealing with my husband’s issues. I’m fucking tired. I am fucked up from the shit has been through. How am I supposed to remember to use my fucking skills all the time when I barely feel like eating, bathing? How am I not doing the best I can? I took a fucking shower. I started getting my son’s clothes organized, so mornings and evenings would be easier. Now I’m pretty sure my husband’s lost the clothes I put aside for my son. I hardly see why life is worth it, so much fucking energy.

Last Night

Last night was the most! I felt all the feels. I felt the pain of having shots in my joint, I felt the pain of my people specifically dying in Houston, I felt the pain of how my looks have changed (everything is bigger girl). I was limited in mobility from having just had shots in my spine, tail bone area. But I wanted nothing more than to hammer out difficult pieces of music. I had to watch others do it on YouTube. It was a good substitute. I air fingered the notes of. I felt manic last night. My husband is going through something. He broke down into tears. Said he did again today. Not sure what’s going on with him. I need to call and make some regular appointments for my son and his therapist. I better go do that. 

Ok that’s done. Now back to me. I’m a week late for my period. Tomorrow, I see my obgyn, hoping to figure out if it’s a PCOS things, a my body is going through the most thing, or what. The main reason I made the appointment was breast pain, like all the time. So all of that was running through my mind last night and so. 

I am playing my flute everyday. I need to lean in to my first love more. It gives me so much. But I also remembered things I want to master on the clarinet. I’m so fucking boss at that bitch. Anyway, thank you for reading lovelies. 

Last Night

Last night was the most! I felt all the feels. I felt the pain of having shots in my joint, I felt the pain of my people specifically dying in Houston, I felt the pain of how my looks have changed (everything is bigger girl). I was limited in mobility from having just had shots in my spine, tail bone area. But I wanted nothing more than to hammer out difficult pieces of music. I had to watch others do it on YouTube. It was a good substitute. I air fingered the notes of. I felt manic last night. My husband is going through something. He broke down into tears. Said he did again today. Not sure what’s going on with him. I need to call and make some regular appointments for my son and his therapist. I better go do that. 

Wild Thoughts

So I found my dream flute! It’s an Amadeus 780. The notes may come out, beautifully! Going to get it Sept 5th, or earlier if I can sell my other flute. I saw a flutist shop spent 29k on hers. This is a nice flute, I can’t imagine how hers must play. I’ve been meaning to stop by and play some flutes. I have my dream clarinet. 

I’m moody and waiting for my period to come. I didn’t take a pregnancy test today, there’s no reason to. I’m so sore, having a mini flare from theses fucking hormones. I really did expect to get pregnant this month. Though I feel the universe’s wisdom telling me it isn’t going to happen. But part of me that wants a baby so much, ignored that. 

The upcoming period is sucking me dry. I’m beyond tired. I just watched some TV on my tablet (Black Ink Crew) just to stay awake while I wake for my son to get out of school. I got almost everywhere. I saw the doctor (pain specialist) who had me waiting almost two hours for some injections that I was leary af about. I obviously left and rescheduled. But today it was in Anna or within an hour. He tweaked my meds, in going out all help. Days longer these past few are hard on the body. For my cloth pads ready thanks to my husband. 

I haven’t showered in a while. I did finger untangle my hair put it in ugly twists. I’ve been wearing my silk lined beanies to hide it. I wanna be pretty, I hate wearing wigs. I have so many though. Makes me feel fake. I know I don’t have the energy needed for a shower or dealing with my own hair. 

I’m gonna fall asleep, hurry up and get my child to me, school! 

Stumbling Around Like A Wasted Zombie

I’ve been playing my flute, watching videos trying to get my apparture better, trying to get better. I want to be a good teacher, I want to teach these kids things that will help them. I am not getting as good at the flute or the violin as I would like. I really wish I had a sound proof area to practice. I’m sore af. I’m pretty sure I’m not pregnant, everything is feeling like my period is coming.

My fucking Check Engine light came back on. At least I know what it’s for. I feel like crying. My husband and I, all the work we did, the closeness we had seems to have vanished. You know what the issues is? His computer. While we were in Kalamazoo, he didn’t have it so he would be near me. I do enjoy gaming with him, but it’s cold. I tried reaching out to some friends, and I’m just fucking isolated.

If I sit here and keep thinking about all the pain I’m in, it’s just going to get worse. Just popped a Geodon, my mood isn’t helping anything. I ought to do something else. I’m legit going to get an old lady supportive ass bra after this. Big breasts are not for the faint at heart.

My father passed four years ago, that hasn’t been helping anything. Maybe this waiting for my son will be good. He will come out and be the light of this darkness. Or maybe he’ll be an asshole. Sigh, fml.

1:10 am

I’m wide awake, and restless. My body is weak. I might be pregnant, and I might be having a flare. I hate myself atm, I really wanna disappear. I want to scratch, cut, dig out this past of my chest that keeps in the hurt. It’s almost like a demon, feeding me hatred about myself. Right now he resides with my chest and fills the back of my throat, choking me up.

I reached out to a few people on Need a Friend, the sub reddit. We’ll see how long they last. I also reached out to Panda, in not sure if that was a mistake. Likely he’ll ignore it. If he’s anything like me, he won’t be able to. But most people have stronger will power than I. I don’t know what I’m trying to accomplish. I feel alone. My family he’s really seemed to give no shits about me recently, my husband has been very absent. And the fucking nightmares, the fucking nightmares.

Hoping work tomorrow will change this mood. First day of school. I am going to try the sleep thing.

DBT Nightmare Handout 20A

I just woke up from a nightmare. I’m trying to rewrite the ending. I was supposed to get cats to specific phone numbers, I’m not sure if that was part of my job. I’m not sure if that’s why I was mistreated and assaulted by my last boss. But it isn’t realistic for her to have stalked me, so she didn’t. No one scratched me with some kind of disease. I didn’t have to escape by bike, there were no barriers magically stopping me. No one verbally abused me. I didn’t work in a grocery store.

I get so afraid of going back to sleep after nightmares, because they often continue. I haven’t gotten enough sleep yet, I think I’ll nap later. I think I’ll try some pleasant imagery now. 😕

Nehanda? Where’s Moxie?

Nehanda is a name I have chosen for myself, much as I did Moxie. It is a name that comes from my ancestral home of Ghana, if I recall correctly. It means, “Beauty has come.” I don’t mean my outer beauty by any means, I can hardly look in a mirror. Though after recent occurences, I do wonder about any beauty coming to me. 

I trusted the wrong person, he fancies himself Panda. Ha, don’t have to be very careful referring to him since he calls himself Panda! He seemed so full of life, so full of kindness, acceptance, and understanding. It was all a farce. He was just another mind-fuck to tally with the rest of my so-called friends. In his defense, he seems to be suffering from a few undiagnosed mental disorders. No judgement, I am the queen of fucking being diagnosed. But when I became apprehensive of the closeness he and I had come to, he got weird af. I get that he was afraid of loss, and I understand that more than most people. But he became quite disrespectful, demanding, manipulative, and rude. I couldn’t comprehend why he’d turned so quickly. I couldn’t understand why he would demand my undying, unearned, complete trust with such brute, force, and venom. And to think, I’m such a goddamn loser that he was the one to end our communication. Though afterwards, I had a feeling he might want to continue this fucked up carnival ride of a friendship so I blocked him in every avenue I could. How does one go from wanting me to tell him my every thought, to wanting me to fall in love with him (he is polyamorous- no judgement), to acting as though I was being some rotten bitch, for wanting to slow things down. I am not polyamorous. I cannot handle the closeness he required or requested, nor did I find it appropriate given that I am married. At one point after I told the bastard that I didn’t deserve his behavior, he admitted that I didn’t. Then a day and a half later, he had convinced friends of his that I was bad for him and that he shouldn’t speak to me. He must’ve lied like hell, have a skewed version of reality to think that I was in the wrong in any way. But whatever, fuck him- like I said in my last post.

I am still reeling from this. Perhaps it is what is tearing my stomach up. It would only make sense, eventually this life of sordid, gruesome, fucked up, hardly believable shit had to catch up with me. Who gets raped more than a couple of times? Who moves across the country to be with a con-artist, gets pregnant by said con-artist within 9 days? The fuck is wrong with me? 

My husband hasn’t been taking his antidepressants. Guess who has been falling into a depressions… yup my husband. He thought that since he was feeling better for a few weeks or days, he hasn’t dedicated himself to taking the fucking pills ever, that he didn’t need them. This is what I was afraid of. Luckily, there was only minimal tension between he and my son. I don’t need that shit. I’m working mother fucking hard on my recovery, I am taking my medicine everytime I am supposed to. I see my therapist when I’m supposed to and my psychiatrist too. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t take their health seriously. Everyone in my immediate family growing up has had to take medicine to live, so maybe that is it? His family is Christian and believe in holistic only shit. And I’m fine with that, but he won’t take that shit either. I don’t know if we’re going to make it. I don’t wanna try with anyone else. 

Thank you/Fuck you

Thank you for pretending not to be afflicted with untreated mental health issues long enough to trick me. 

Thank you for wasting my mother fucking time. 

Thank you for letting me open up to you just so you can ghost me. 

Thank you for letting me reach back out after you treat me like shit, just long enough to do it again. 

Fuck you for pretending to care. 

Fuck you & may you feel this sting many times over so you stop fucking with people. 

Fuck you and whichever friends you spoke to that would make me the bad guy, when all I wanted to do was the right thing. 

Thank you for being another person to lie about me to people I could give a shit about. 

Thank you for reminding me that I need to keep myself closed off. 

Fuck you, you’re in terrible shape. You’re not as smart as me, you don’t look as good as I do, you have murderous eyes. 

You can fool your dumb friends, but I see you. You’re afraid of getting close to someone, being hurt, and you’re not better from your PTSD. It’s worse you’re like talking to two different people. 

With this I block you in every way I can. Don’t say shit else to me, my kindness for you is dead you asshole, fuck yourself, change your ways or you’ll die alone.