Compromised

The roses are dead

Just like you

When you killed my heart

It shattered everywhere

The pieces left

Forever are lost

Just wish I had known

Before I took my clothes off

Your love is compromised

Fuck you

For using my heart

Go die now

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Baby fat

Okay, so I just weighed myself. I am 5’8, and according to BMI I should weigh 160. I was surprised to see 185. This is the fattest I have ever been in my entire life. My arms and legs, and butt, are mostly in shape. But, having three kids, my body is not as forgiving as it used to be. I think my problem area is my stomach and hips. I have this flabby, stretched out skin, and sometimes I still look pregnant. I have this weird layer of fat on my lower back.  My youngest is 2. How is this possible???? After my first, I weighed 170. After my second, I weighed 175. Now my third, I weigh 185. What is this??? I know the main problem is I just eat quickly and conveniently. No, I don’t eat fast food very often. I drink mostly water too. I believe it is the lack of the ability to go out and do whatever I want, if I want to exercise, I have to have a babysitter. And no, I’m not packing my kids with me in a stroller to be stressed out and hear a bunch of complaining and whining from them. It is not going to happen. I’m not going to go work out when my day has been stressful, and all I want to do is lay on my bed, and pity myself for having 3 children that control my life. I do have a gym membership, but my small availability is challenging. The want to lose my baby weight is there, but I think my frustrations and helplessness get the best of me. I want to change this. I want to be more motivated, instead of being in a cloud of depression. I am sick of thinking, “what is the fucking point”. I am constantly surrounded by my children fighting, crying and whining. No, that is not all they are not doing that, they are wanting attention and entertainment, or want to eat. Whatever it is, I am always so fucking busy trying to take care of them, I say, “hell with myself”. There is not enough time in my day to take care of myself. Dishes, laundry, cooking, picking up/dropping kids off, cleaning, shopping, stopping fights, and ignoring my problems pretty much sums up what a usual day looks like for me. I signed up for this when I had  kids. Like any parent, I love my kids, want the best for them blah blah blah. They come first in my life. That is why I am here, feeling helpless that I can’t seem to lose 15 pounds, because I am a skinny girl, living inside a mom body that I can’t fix. DSC03043 Now, I know many women reading this post may get upset, saying, I am not overweight. But I am, for me. My mom tummy is pissing me off. I just want to get rid of it.

Days

The days seem

warmer

brighter

My thoughts are withering

less obsessive

fading away

Once different

Completely separated

The storm

Is beginning

to let upimages84NBX948

::NOVEMBER DAYS::

I love this

TheHeartsStories

November days
Followed by December nights
Holding you in my arms
January was right
By February forever was a strong might
But March didn’t give us tonight.

(Chorus)
In crossing patterns
Consequences in Saturn
Loving this love never really mattered

Two worlds apart by nature
That’s the nature of the beast
Till it breaks her
When the wind blows leaves in the summer
Snow storms in fall believe in winters wonders
The spring spell we were both under.

(Chorus)
In crossing patterns
Consequences in Saturn
Loving this love never really mattered

We graced along the city skyline
Hand and hand on the highline
Never knowing our time line
It’s getting out of hand
Trying to get you out of my mind.

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The Dharma burns.

I had a good weekend, which is usually not the case. I spent a majority of time with other people. It feels good to be social. On Friday, I went to m friends 28th birthday party. It was so nice seeing my friends faces. I had gotten a hair cut a month ago, and got a few compliments on it. As much as I was trying to steer clear of alcohol, I was offered a bitch drink. 0 calorie sparkling soda with vodka. The last time I had drank before that was Feb 6th, so it was 3 weeks and 1 day since my last alcohol assumption. I am proud of myself because I only had two drinks. I heard a friend say, “careful!” when I was going in for a third, so I decided to call it quits. I guess my friend had been concerned about the safety of myself. I was talking to some guy, who reminded me of Paul McCartney, not physically, but the way he talked. Apparently he broke up with his girlfriend, and was living in a tent in his Mom’s basement, listening to nature soundtracks along with a flat screen T.V. He told me I should read “The Dharma Burns” by Jack Kerouac. If I ever find a way to get my hands on that book, I might read it. The next day I had a mother/daughter date with my oldest. I took her to runway practice, and then she tagged along for a maternity photo-shoot that I was invited to from a photographer who asked me to be her assistant. It went good, and I learned a lot just from one shoot. I would say it had been one of my best photos yet….DSC04162new

Despite how depressed I have been feeling lately, this weekend went pretty well.

A little background…

polls_loner_4623_322516_answer_1_xlargeThis was me in high school. No, not me in the actual picture, but if you were to time travel, this is what it would look like generally. I had friends, but they were the outcasts, druggies, abused, freaks etc. I wore dark clothing, and was drawn to the youth that have been through broken relationships and families. I felt like I did nit fit into a rich prep school, and I was not the only one. My high school was surrounded by jocks, preps, and “always positive type” people. School spirit was a big thing there. I, was a loner. I had friends I would see once in a while, but rarely has the same classes as I. I didn’t attend high school full time, and went to skills center for half my day in school. I liked skills center, because many of the kids were like me. The outcasts, the weirdo’s, the strange. My small group of friends helped me keep going in high school. Sometimes we would skip class, smoke cigarettes/pot and be the “bad kids”. I even bought prescription pills in school. But, I felt good knowing I wasn’t the only one who hated mostly everybody. The ones who hated everybody, seemed to get along better, if that makes sense. When I look back in high school, I remember feeling constantly judged by others. I hated attention, and talking to other people. Middle school was basically the same. I remember being in class, wondering why my other peers kept interrupting the teacher and being extremely rude and loud. I remember not wanting to go to school because of the other kids there. I remember being called a freak at gym, because I didn’t wear make-up, and didn’t wear name brand clothing. I remember being called a lesbian because I had gay friends. I remember all the negativity of many asshole kids. I made friends with the same kind that had been bullied. I was not bullied a lot, and I think everybody at one point of time has been bullied. What is somewhat strange, is that the two kids that made it to their grave before graduation, I had been friends with. One was Jessica, she was bullied very badly, and died of cancer at 16. The other was Charles, who was quiet but sweet, and ended up killing himself his junior year. I remember thinking, “why God?” At that time, I did believe in God. I prayed to an invisible sky Daddy because my mother forced Catholicism on me. Baptized, confirmed, alter server and all, the whole package deal.

So I feel like I should not complain about my childhood, since Io know many others have had it worse. I come from a broken family, like man others. My mom divorced my Dad, and married his best friend. Very weird and awkward for me. I hated everything that happened. I hated the fact that I saw my Mom kiss my Dad’s best friend. I hated not telling my Dad because I was scared. I hated my Dad’s best friend because he had been my hero. I hated my Mom for betraying my Dad. I hated my Dad for later abandoning me. I hated my Dad for choosing his girlfriends over me and my sister. I hated being alone at my Dad’s house all the time. I hated waiting for him to come back home from his date. I hated going back and forth every week. I hated sharing holidays. I hated not having proper care. I still hate the way my Mom does not open up to me, I still hate the way my Dad seldom involves in my life. This childhood, this past, has made me who I am today. I repress my feelings. I feel hopeless and angry towards the world. I know my sister is the same way. She ran and moved to Europe, to get the hell out of what was given to us.

I love my Mom and Dad of course. They did what they could. I am not expecting them to be perfect. I truly appreciate everything they have done for me, and have been there for me. My mom continues to be there for me, and my kids. I do not know what I would do without her. She has been my backbone, even though we are not very close. She really is a wonderful mother to have, despite our differences. She tells me she loves me. My Dad, on the other hand, I can’t even remember but once he told me he loves me. I remember asking him why he never says it to me once, and he replied “you know I love you, I don’t have to tell you” That was good enough for my Dad, because I can not blame him for being the way he is based on how he grew up, with an alcoholic mother. By the way, I am not condemning my family for being who they are. I love my family so much, even though we are broken. I am not angry anymore. I have children to raise of my own now. Let the past be the past, accept what had happened, and learn from it.

After high school, I was desperate to move out of the control my Mom had on me. I was miserable living there. I moved out with the first boyfriend, and let loose. Finally, I was able to live my life without somebody constantly invading my privacy. I remember when alcohol had been introduced to me at 16, it was the best thing ever. It became a lifestyle at 18. And would  be for another 10 years of my life. It was a quick fix to my problems. It was even more great because I was constantly surrounded by people who drank.

Before long, I ended up getting pregnant at 18 with my first boyfriend. Scared shitless,  I went to planned parenthood and ended it. The hardest choice of my life. The relationship was doomed from the beginning, just a horny teenage boy and a desperate young girl trying to be a grown-up. Hell, at 27, I still do not feel grown up.

At 19, I became pregnant again with my now husband. Currently, we have 3 girls together. The most amazing girls by the way:) I have to say, having children makes you grow up faster. No more free time. My life in the past 7 years has been so chaotic. It is a love/hate relationship.

Why Intermediate?

imagesTQW8JXJAThe word intermediate is defined as “coming between two things in time, place, order, character, etc. “an intermediate stage of development” I wonder how many people out there feel this way about themselves. Not fully advanced, but feels stuck on midway success. We are not beginners, nor experts. This can apply to anything; parenting, hobbies, careers/jobs etc etc. When does a person decide they are an expert? Is it from gratitude and acceptance from everybody else around them? Is it internal? Perhaps it is both. When doing a certain thing for so long, many would consider themselves experts. But it does not apply to motherhood. Even though I know I am not a beginner, I am no expert. Who do we claim to be an expert mother? Authors or public speakers who have grown children that in which influence other mothers to be like them? Obviously it depends on who your audience is. Christians and Muslims will have a different opinion on who is an expert mother. But my question is; do expert mother exist?

I think many mothers like to think of themselves as an expert.  Whatever their motive for parenting. While I wish I was an expert mother, I know there will be many ways in which I unintentionally screw up my kids. I raise my kids to have free thought, not forcing them to believe one thing or another, but to think for themselves. I want to raise them with skeptical thinking, “Do not believe what people say, figure it out for yourself” so to speak.  I think of my kids as their own person, rather than “owning them” like so many parents I know. I want to raise my daughters to be independent and strong. There are so many nasty people out there, so I believe it is beneficial to encourage that type of thinking.

Back on the word, Intermediate. Wherever life takes me, I feel like I will always be an intermediate. As a child, I never was in advanced anything. I was good at volleyball, in a “B” league team, but not an “A” My G.P.A has always been 2.75ish.  As a photographer, depending on who you talk to, will tell you I am beginner/intermediate. Whatever it is, I have never been an “expert” or “mastered” anything. I go through many phases. I don’t generally stick around to one thing. I enjoy trying and exploring different things. Perhaps that may be a reason why I will feel stuck in the middle. What drives a person to become an expert? Am I so spontaneous and attention deficient that I do not permit myself to be an expert?  Maybe I do not wish to be an expert after all.  Perhaps I will always be “so-so”.

 

The life of a twenty-something year old