I'm a Warrior. Motivator. SURVIVOR;
Welcome to my journey. I hope it inspires you to find The Light in your own Darkness and the voice to speak your truths.
Excuse the mess – I didn’t it you from behind. I caught a glimpse, but the reflection’s only mine. It’s almost like I’m paralyzed and locked outside myself. I don’t need to concede, because I won’t be someone else!Well, I am not perfect … and I don’t claim to be … and if that’s what you wanted, well then, I’m so sorry! How about a better version of the way that I am? How about a better version that makes me understand? How about a better version of the way that I am? The way I look? The way I speak? HOW ‘BOUT A BETTER VERSION OF ME?
To call it one of my favorites just wouldn’t do it justice. It’s so much more than just a song to me … IT’S A WAY OF LIFE! I will never forget the first time I ever heard it – mid-workout at a gym with a King who truly adored “the version” that I was then. Yet, as I listened to the words, they shredded me in a zillion awful and amazing ways at once. After that, I would listen to it daily as I worked on rewiring my fragile psyche and heal my broken relationship with ME. Then, BAM! Before I knew it, that NASTY habit of refusing to look into a mirror and say, “I LOVE YOU!” just disappeared.
If YOU don’t love you, 100% unconditionally, EVEN on your darkest of days, and value, see, and TREAT yourself as EPIC living masterpiece that you are, why would anyone else?
With all that being said, and in honor of this and every “Recovery Day International“, please remember to be patient and gentle with yourself while you’re trying to change bad habits. Dare I say that perhaps the worst of them all – “not loving yourself” – can be found at the root of most of the others. The better version of you is counting on you to stay the course, my friend, so, just stay on “Route 66” and give it a try! Do or say at least ONE kind thing while your standing in the mirror for 66 days in a row and see what can happen!
Perhaps the most beautiful things in this life are all the things that we can’t actually see. Take God’s “artwork“, for instance. To me, He is THE master artist of all infinity, and it’s all the things He keeps hidden from me that are just so intrinsically breathtaking to look at despite the fact that my eyes can’t see them. Yes, I know this sounds like some kinda bullshit, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t true!
I guess what I’m trying to say is that maybe we should all just keep our proverbial eyes wired shut so that we stop being so worried about whether we’re doing enough, being enough, or even being “seen” at all. Oh, WE’RE IN THIS, my friends! Trust me, our unseen vibrations and fingerprints are IN THIS TO WIN IT! We just have to stop wasting precious time on all the lies that make us “sane” and always trying to make everything so fucking right. We need to make it back to ourselves, no one else, and the creation that unveils itself in that process is a thing to behold like no other priceless work of art ever made. Make it a powerful week, trying just looking with your eyes shut, and paint your canvas well.
EYES WIRED SHUT
I’ve thrown away, I’ve thrown away again the pills that make me. I’ve thrown away, I’ve thrown away again the chance – the want to change. I’ve thrown away, I’ve thrown away again standing all alone. I’ve thrown away, I’ve thrown away again. Eyes wired shut, running through my brain. Pulling back the skin. It happens, we’re getting older. Eyes wired shut, running through my brain. It’s all the same, but in the end, it keeps me coming. I’ve blown away, I’ve blown away again the fear of failing. I’ve blown away, I’ve blown away again the lies that make me sane. I’ve blown away the chance to make it right. I want to be. I want to see. I want to make it back to me! It’s time to face the way – a chance to talk and make some change. To make myself to think that things were better. {Edgewater}
I know, I know! Yet anotherlove letter to myself. Still, its kinda crazy how fitting and relatable both the words above and the words below are to me. Despite some appearances, life truly has been good to me so far. So, I’m not writing anything else today, but this …
Fifty-THREE
It’s SO Good To Be Me!
“Fifty-THREE-It’s-SO-Good-To-Be-ME!”
Why, yes. Yes, it is! It’s so Jean-Claude Van DAMN good to be me! With that, here’s to everything and nothing that has made me who I am today, and what will hopefully be yet another 365 beautiful trips around the equally beautiful Sun!
I’ve given a lot of thought to the thought of “you” since the day he entered my world, and as the years have passed, I must say I’ve been a little anxious, because it’s kind of scary the way that some little girls are being raised these days. Actually, it’s a crying shame.
I’ve prayed incessantly for the moment I would be at peace with the thought of no longer being the number one woman in his life, and yes, “you” have always been at the forefront of my MOST important prayers:
Please, God, PLEASE let her momma be raising someone precious for my son. No, I’m not asking for her to BE perfect. Just let her be the perfect one for HIM.
Some years ago I found this excerpt from a prayer someone wrote to God about his own sons, and I’d been keeping it tucked safely in the “drafts” of this Diary for the day he’d finally found someone who I believe was worthy of sharing it with. It had something to do with Princess Katherine, who as you know just became The Princess Of Whales:
And so I pray … for a princess that realizes she’s the daughter of the King of Heaven and Earth … for a Princess clothed in humility and grace (rather than the latest fashions and trends) … for a princess with hands that will get dirty for the sake of serving others and feet willing to walk the extra mile (rather than one that demands manicures and pedicures by age seven) … for a princess whose “adornment” is not merely outward (arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel), but rather, let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is “very precious in the sight of God.” {1 Peter 3:3-5} … for a princess who loves unconditionally and forever, and doesn’t run out when her prince falls off his royal horse and isn’t as charming as she dreamed (because it WILL happen). Amen.”
It wasn’t that long ago when I wrote these words in this Diary after first hearing this powerful song that I love:
Now, fast forward to “here we are” fifteen long years later, and I’m sitting here literally praying that he’s finally learning how to talk to girls, because God Himself knows he didn’t always have the best examples of that. When Zack came along, he literally flipped the game board of our lives upside down for the better, “talking to girls” took on a whole different meaning, and Christian finally had a good example.
Meanwhile, it looks like even I still have some work to do in the “talking to THE girl” department. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to turn off the radio when this song hits my cue, because all I can think about is how much it kills me that no man ever taught my son how to talk to girls until his stepdad came along. It kills me even more that he after the way he left us, he may have undone all those “man lessons” he spent so much time teaching Christian.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ALEXANDRA! Happy birthday to us BOTH! Yes, we all love you and care about you very much. Yes, I do believe with everything in my heart that you are the princess that was meant for my son. Yes, your momma did raise someone precious.
If, indeed, you are “the one”, none of us could be prouder of the true princess he’s seemingly found in you. Of course there will always be bumps on this road. We’re only human, after all. Please just know that I will always be for you, never against you, because NO, my son isn’t always “right”, and NO, he doesn’t quite know all the best ways to talk to girls.
HOW TO TALK TO GIRLS
Yeah, I remember yes or no, or how to ask her to prom. Then it was a pickup line … somethin’ you’d say inside a bar. Quick on the draw, good at the game, but the game just changed, ’cause I got this ring and I’m on one knee, and now I’m drawin’ a blank. ‘Cause this angel hangs on every word I say. She’s gettin’ so much more from me than my last name … everything … and I can’t hide it. She’s got me at a loss for words. I guess I’m still learnin’ how to talk to girls. And I remember two pink lines … ready or not … she’s on her way. Yeah, she got her momma’s eyes. Well, I hope she don’t act like me. You know they say you pay for your raisin’. I’m tryin’ to raise her. But what do you say when you can’t tell her no? Well, I can’t even think about down the road. What about sixteen? What about God? What about big dreams? And oh my God, what about boys? The bad ones? Will she find out her momma has one? Damn! {Brantley Gilbert}
{ME:} Gia, guess what? I caught a grasshopper today! Hey, so, what kind of grasshoppers are brown?
{GIA:} Umm, the locust kind.
Wait! You mean they have such a thing as locust grasshoppers?
No, momma! And if by “they” you mean GOD, no, GOD doesn’t have such a thing as “locust grasshoppers”. He does have LOCUSTS, which LOOK like grasshoppers, but are brown. Lemme see the video you made first before I say for sure, because knowing you, you probably made a silly video.
(60 Seconds Later:) Congratulations, momma! You caught yourself one hell of a beautiful LOCUST!
Wait! Like, the plaguey ones that ate all the corn?
Lol. Yes mom, the plaguey ones that ate all the corn. You’re so pretty! You do know that Dad was probably laughing while you were making friends with your ‘lil brown grasshopper, right?
Yah, yah! But, umm, so, should I put some corn out for it later or something?
(Smacking Her Head:) Yes, mom, you do that. Go get yourself a tiny bowl and make him some tiny corn. I love you. And remember, “Whatsoever is done unto the least of my creation, so, too, shall be done unto thee”.
Yes! God’s gonna lift me up of the ground and put me in the proverbial shrubs of life!
No, mom. God’s gonna just KEEP taking care of you the way He ALWAYS has, the same way you take care of everyone … INCLUDING all His bugs and critters!
~ Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor ~ April 21, 1926 – September 8, 2022
In case you didn’t know, I’m a “royalist” at heart, always have been, and always will be, and Her Majesty’s passing today finds me in bittersweet tears.
Indeed, there have been and still are many critics of the monarchy over the years, but if you have ever taken a deeper look behind the veil that is The Windsor Dynasty, you will find relatable human people that are THE living embodiment of “SURVIVAL – at ALL costs – under EVERY circumstance”.
Her Majesty was THE benchmark standard of loyalty, honor, and duty, and so, too, was her late, beloved prince, The Duke Of Edinburgh, who was one of the less than a handful of “famous people” who I would have truly liked to have gotten a chance to sit down and have one of those “Lucky Charms moments” with.
~ The Crown ~ Season 1 • Episode 1 • “Wolferton Splash”
Her Majesty and The Duke both very much understood “the job”, but how many of us can truly say the same? Life in a gilded cage isn’t for the faint of heart, this I know too well, and while I don’t rule over an actual kingdom, I am a mother and have been a wife, in which regard I am THE very axis upon which my own own little “dynasty” spins. As such, I have taken my job as “queen of their hearts” very seriously, and yes, I, too, have understood the assignment and what it means to “SURVIVE – at ALL costs – under EVERY circumstance” with the power and grace of a risen queen.
Likewise have I also very much appreciated what it mean to be the often unsung hero that MY beloved Prince Phillip always was, always in the background sacrificing his own wants and dreams to ensure that her reign looked effortless and that she was supported.
I could wax on poetically with my thoughts on this today, but I will now be getting back to the TV. “Hi everyone, it’s me, CAT, an American “royalist” far across the pond in Dallas, Texas, USA, who will be glued to the screen as this story avails in both bittersweet and joyful tears. And by the way, how fortuitous is it that my daughter is home sick with me today so that she can watch this historical, live coverage with me as well? She, of all people, knows exactly how I feel about the history of this remarkable family and why it is so important for us all to understand and appreciate it. Of course, I am not happy that she isn’t feeling well, but of all the days for her to be home with me, today is the perfect day.
Farewell, Godspeed, and goodbye. You have lived, and you have changed all our lives.
{Alter Bridge}
Surely your handsome Prince awaits you in the GREATEST kingdom of all. You were loved by many and your legacy of strength and fortitude will live on forever.
Well done, Your Majesty! “May flights of angels sing you to your rest.”
When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. Anything your heart desires will come to you. If your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme. When you wish upon a star as dreamers do, like a bolt out of the blue, Fate steps in and sees you through …
… and when you wish upon a star, you MIGHT even end up with an epic amount of “MOM GUILT”, two Benadryls, then the sweetest validation ever from your Mona Lisa daughter that despite your many failings, you’re still doing a “magical” job!
Yes, my friends, it was on THIS day exactly five years ago that my lovely daughter ever so lovingly reminded me of that time I lost her at fucking DISNEYWORLD! Yah! I’m THAT mom, and guess what? YOU’RE READING MY BLOG!
Yes, it is true that my husband had to medicate me with Benadryl to get me to calm down … but hey … at LEAST in her report she spun it in a TOTALLY less “EPIC MOM FAIL” way!
Hi everyone! It’s me, CAT!
Hot Mess Express – Party Of ONE!
Imma find that report she actually wrote which I only recently found while we were cleaning out my office and upload it into this Diary entry later! In the meantime, does anyone out there want “Aunt Cat” to take their small children to Disney?
Dear God in HEAVEN, how I literally adore my life … EPIC “mom fails” and all … and especially my two beautiful children who somehow seem to think that I’m an “100/10 perfect momma” despite my own damn self and MANY bungles. Something in my heart tells me that if either of them had it to do all over again and were actually offered the chance to “pick a mom … ANY mom”, they still woulda picked ME out of a lineup! That’s something, right? I’m sticking with YES, it is!
It’s no longer a big secret that I had a twisted and dysfunctional childhood, and also no secret that some of my mental pictures aren’t so homespun and stellar …
… BUT …
… I very much DO also have some precious and beautiful memories seared so deeply into the skin of all my days gone by that they’re a virtual tattoo inside my mind.
It’s raining, grey, and what some might consider miserable here in Dallas this afternoon, but as I walked into the kitchen just now and saw my favorite “Mindset Is Everything” coffee mug sitting on the table amidst a pile of skeletons and spookiness I’m about to HAUNT The Williamson Manor with, I literally snapped back in time to the MANY “Sundays” with my mom and HER coffee cup sitting around our often very rainy, New England kitchen table.
You see, Sundays were ALWAYS our “Green Stamp” days, and I fondly remember the countless hours she would spend with us at our tiny wooden table as she’d bust out all the stamps she’d collected for that week and let me and my sister help her put them in her books. We’d sit around that table drawing circles in “the catalog” around all the treasures we were saving for while having our little mother daughter chit chats about life.
For God’s sake, I even smelled the giant pot of scratch made Italian “gravy” that was ALWAYS simmering in the background while we were stamping our fingers to the bone, and how as all this was happening on those cozy afternoons, there was the best anxiety EVER simmering in my gut because I knew that soon my beloved Grandpa, aunts, uncles, and cousins would all be coming over for our weekly “family dinnuh”!
Jean-Claude Van DAMN I’m so proud to be turning “Fifty-THREE-It’s-SO-Good-To-Be-ME” next week, and while I do so adore all you young ones out there, grab a pen and paper and take NOTES from ALL of s “OMG, they’re like, SO old” ones, ’cause we know EXACTLY how to keep on keepin’ it REAL!
Meanwhile, as I’m writing this, my girls are upstairs all hunkered down in their fluffy pajamas and blankets as the storms are moving in while I’m downstairs just doing the mom thing. I’m overwhelmed with joy and an abundance of gratitude that I not only do I get to live this ethereal existence, but that my heart has been broken and put back together well enough to know that even when I’m not sifting through the ashes of my life, there is still so much beauty to be found in them that it just shows up during the storms like a ray of light shining through my soul. I am blessed.
… and THIS, my friends, is yet another“Grey HIGH” moment from my virtually tattooed heart and love-filled Williamson Castle to yours. Oh, and (PS) … there’s something that I’ll hope you’ll remember …
Been there! Done that! Guilty as frigging charged! Ironically, it was my kids’ father who first sent me this song years ago during our final dissolution in what I suppose was an attempt to validate my then very broken feelings. Nevertheless, the bittersweet words did then and still do deeply resonate. I very much remember the many days and nights when “all I had were screams inside, but somehow they came out in a smile” and I would hide inside my bedroom and scream into a pillow.
Meanwhile, I am here to tell you that even the strongest phoenixes and most favorite of God’s favorite children cry their ACTUAL fucking eyes out and “silent scream” into their pillows. ME! ME! ME! I do it! These days, it’s more so for the sake of my kids that I either “pillow scream” or “panic chair” in private:
You know, honey, you do that, too … the crying in your chair in private thing! Did you think I didn’t know that’s what you do when you run back into our room? You let yourself fall apart so you can keep it all together for us. It’s one of my favorite things about you.
As as every mother knows, I’m only ever as strong as my weakest child. When they’re going through it, I’m going through it, so, sometimes, “silent screaming” is the best thing I can do, because letting them see me fall apart when they need me to be strong just isn’t an option.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. If it was good enough for God’s Son, it’s good enough for us, and why John 11:35 is my favorite verse:
“Jesus wept.”
That’s right, people. I just quoted scripture and dropped an eff bomb in one HELL of an oxymoronical post. It’s part of my charm, and nope, I’m NOT fucking proud of it. Rest assured that I’ll deal with those consequences later.
In the meantime …
Jean-Claude Van DAMN, this “human BEING” ain’t for the faint of heart! If you woke up on the top side of the soil today despite anything that’s trying to bury you, you’re STRONGER than you know. If you need a day to be alone, TAKE A DAY TO BE ALONE. Just grab that pillow and SCREAM!
And remember …
Don’t you dare think that you really are “alone inside your room” when you’re alone inside your room. While you’re holding your breathe so that no one can hear your screams, God is screaming for you:
I won’t let you down when the seasons change. I won’t go down … I’ll fight through your pain. I’ll be there right by your side.
Wow! Look at me mixing up two of my favorite songs in one entry! Yah, I’m kinda kookie like that. Good GRIEF, how I love my life! For the record, while I may not personally have anything to scream into my own pillow about today while I’m alone here inside my castle, I’m always mindful that there are others in this world who are suffering in silence. I feel it. I do. My heart truly aches for all who are screaming today, and no, you are NOT alone!
A DAY TO BE ALONE
She said, “I wonder when it’ll be my day? ‘Cause I’m not too far from breaking down. All I’ve got are screams inside, but somehow they come out in a smile, and I’m wondering if I’ll always feel this way. This way.” Tell me about those nights you stayed awake. Tell me about those days you hated me. Tell me how you’d rather die alone than being stuck here with me. And maybe you’ve fallen down, and maybe you just took the long way home, but baby you could never love you like me. And one day this will fade away. In the mirror you’ll see a smiling face, and standing next to you will always be me. Yeah me. One day you’re gonna see things my way. You gave me so much room that I can’t breathe. When all I’ve got are pictures to view, it was nothing before and I started with you, and for some reason it’s supposed to be that way. That way. If I could shrink it down and put it in your hands. We made it hurt so much. I can’t forget the past. Just tell me what to say, show me what to do, then I could forgive me and I would forgive you. {One Less Reason}
Okay, SO, in the aftermath of last night’s Five Finger DEATH PUNCH to my face …
LET’S TALK!
To begin, what are the chances that after having made my “Inside Out” post yesterday that THE song they’d come out to WAS “Inside Out”? Was it coincidence? Was it “F8“? Hmm. Imma have to go with the latter!
Meanwhile …
While he didn’t even sing “The Brighter Side Of Grey” in this set like we’d all hoped would happen so that we could finally give Gia the letter Zack wrote her in the months before he left in what is now clear contemplation of his suicide, here’s what DID happen at the show …
Ivan acknowledged us several times throughout the show, to the point where the lady behind us said, “Wow, they must actually know him or something”. He would fist bump his heart then “throw it back to us”, and he waved at us a couple of times, too.
THEN, after the last song, “The Bleeding”, was over, the arena lights went on and he was laughing that all had to be QUIET because of the city ordinances and said, “that sucks ass”. But THEN he walked back over and pointed directly to ME again after having already done it from the platform he was standing on. So, the kids were saying, “Mom, Ivan’s talking to you”, at which point I looked up and he pointed and motioned for me to walk towards him. THEN, I headed through the pit towards the edge of the stage where he was waiting for me, he motioned for me to give him the banner I’d made for him that was still in my hands and the security guard handed it up to him. He signed it, “I love you”, then told me he’d been trying to make sure I knew that HE knew we were there but that the lights were making it hard for him to make eye contact. It was the MOST ethereal moments of my life.
All that being said, and as far as not getting to hear “The Brighter Side Of Grey” and finally give Gia “the letter”? Well, I’m just taking that as a sign from The Cosmos that it’s still not time for her to either hear that song or read Zack’s bittersweet “in case I’m gone tomorrow” words. When it’s time … it will be time … and not one single second before. Trust me when I tell you that she WILL not hear that precious, life-changing gift of a ballad until the day she gets to hear Ivan singing it in person. I’m at total peace with that plan going forward.
All in all it’s a good life! I got what I want … I can’t complain! I am living the good life … a toast to you now … it’s all SHAM PAIN!
Hmm. Let’s see, is there anything ELSE? Oh, yah, I think there kinda is …
Hi everyone, it’s me, CAT! I’m a “Fifty-TWO-Good-To-Be-True” going on “fifty-THREE-It’s-Good-To-Be-ME” next week year old heavy metal band groupie FREAK!
… that time my daughter and I were in a Five Finger Death Punch promo video!
Pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly, and if left unresolved, you can almost forget that you were ever created to fly in the first place.
If I’ve learned anything in this last fifty something years, it’s that the only person who ever had the power to destroy me was ME, and the only person who was ever meant to save me was ME. In many ways, I’ve been both my own Judasand my own Jesus, and you NEVER had control of my soul! So, you can wipe them away (all those silly fuckin’ grins), ’cause I’m so DONE listening to your mother fucking side! Please be sure and tell your friend Irony to actually go and SUCK IT, ’cause the very things that were meant to steal my Light, clip my wings, and turn me inside out, ONLY helped me see better, fly stronger, and elevate me.
So, with that, I gotta run. I have the concert of my lifetime awaiting me and mine, and I’m not letting ANY of you jack offs kill my buzz. I made the entire lot of you my little bitches, now didn’t I, and I’m JUST so over ALL of you! K, bye bye!
Take it, I don’t need it. I don’t wanna hear your mother fuckin’ side. You can love it, or you can leave it, because nothing I say and nothing I feel is right. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t understand. While I’m sitting up here dying, you’re just holding out your hand. And even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have explained, ’cause you don’t know the difference between violence and pain. There’s no denying it, you’ve never had control! I stand alone. Guess I knew it all along. Yes, I knew that you were wrong, how you left when I was down. I want you to say it was never really me. You just turned and walked away! How you turned me inside out! Inside out! I’m not a dog. I’m not a slave. It doesn’t matter how much money I get paid. I give a shit. I never did. So, you can wipe it away, that silly fuckin’ grin! If I wrote it down for you, could you ever see it clear? Or would it go straight through your soul and come right out your ear? If I slowed it down for you, would you think me insincere? Cause in the end I’ll never bend, I’ll never shed a tear! There’s no denying it, I’ve always had control. {Five Finger Death Punch}
Evidently, “Someone” needed me to hear this today, so He sent the memo through a very dear friend of mine on Instagram of all freaking places. Although I’m fairly certain that my dad got the text I sent him and I haven’t yet gotten a response, at LEAST I’m no longer “blocked” on his phone, so I‘m gonna call that PROGRESS!
In the meantime …
Dear Dad,
If for some strange reason you actually happen to see this, I hope you know you don’t have to say you’re sorry. You don’t have to live with the heartache you keep, ’cause I don’t need no apologies. I really have tried writing you out to get some closure, but the more the years go by, I’d rather not live with got cold shoulders, ’cause the more I realize as I keep getting older is that it’s never too late to turn it all around. So, don’t you beat yourself into the ground. I know you’ve tried your best. I know you struggle. The cards that you got dealt surely did give you trouble. Now, I see the you in me, and guess what? I SEE DOUBLE! But guess what else? We really CAN still turn it all around. We don’t have to change the story, but you don’t have to carry the weight that you keep, ’cause I don’t need no apologies. Please don’t turn your back on me, because I really do still love you.
Cathy
{Papa Roach’s Words Adapted By The Real Cat Williamson}
Three years ago this hour, the police chief of my small North Texas town walked into the hospital where my broken daughter lay to tell me they’d found my husband dead in his car courtesy of the hollow point he’d put in his own head.
No, I don’t think God was laughing that day or that He laughs on any of the days we spend facing the wrath of His angels. In fact, I’m certain that He was on that hospital floor wailing with me and holding me tight as every shred of what I’d come to believe as truth turned out to be the devil’s lie. God DID give me wings, but it was MY job to learn to fly. I had to face not just Zack’s, but my own “devil in the mirror” before I could ascend to the sky.
Yes, the end IS coming, and no, I don’t think I mind. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again … as hard as this “living” thing can be, I have no intention of dying unless and until HE says it’s my time. In the meantime, imma stick around here as long as I’m allowed as the UNBREAKABLErisen QUEEN I was born to be.
As for the devil? Come for me mother fucker! In case you haven’t noticed, my soul is already spoken for, and PS, you’re NOT the one who gets it! That’s not a challenge … IT’S FACT!
Wow! I guess that wasn’t too graceful, now was it? If you’ve been around this Diary long enough you know damn good and well that sometimes I’m Heaven, sometimes I’m hell, and sometimes I really can’t tell which is which. Through it all, though, I always did know it would come to this, my “roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead”. THIS living queen who “rolls” as God’s favorite daughter is NOT gonna sleep ’til she’s dead! I’ve got punctuating to do and phoenixes to raise, so, I have no other choice but to be alright.
THANKS FOR ASKING
‘Cause I’m alright. Thanks for asking. There’s a million things I’d love to say, but you don’t wanna hear. Yeah, it’s alright. I don’t need your blessings. I’d rather face the wrath of angels than the devil in the mirror. I don’t think God is listening. She told us to follow, but left us behind. I’ve never seen an angel, but I know the Devil, and he told me I’m fine. “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.” That’s what everyone keeps telling me. I’d rather capsize than chase an old horizon. Throw me back into the deadest of seas. I know that God is laughing. She gave us our wings, but never taught us to fly. They say the end is coming, and if that’s true, well, I don’t think I mind. Heaven or hell? I can’t tell which is which. I always knew it would come to this. Roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead. Roll, roll, roll … guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead. {Five Finger Death Punch}
In keeping with the metamorphosis of my journey, this day memorializes two profound occasions in it. You see, not only is this my 500THDIARY ENTRY, but it’s the three year anniversary of my husband’s suicide at “just before midnight” on August 22, 2019.
With that, it seems only fitting that I pay tribute to one of my very few muses, Franz Kafka, the anomalous writer from Prague whose inspired works left a tail on the fire of his words that still burns through me a century later. Much like Zack, he left this world tragically unaware of how powerful his legacy would be, much less that he’d eventually be regarded as one of the most prolific literary figures of the 20th-century. He only ever published a hand full of his work while he was alive because he didn’t believe it worthy. It was his dear friend, Max Brod, who as the executor of his estate blatantly disregarded the directive that his unfinished works be destroyed and published them. Be it not for the fact that Brod betrayed a dying man’s final wishes, the trajectory and longevity of Kafka’s legacy may not have been fully realized.
To say something is “Kafkaesque” is to infer that something is absurd and surreal, if not nightmarish and disorienting, all of which words in so many ways define my own seemingly absurd and surreal existence. Meanwhile, I could wax on poetically about everything “Kafka”, but perhaps the words that I believe sum him up the best are these:
Franz Kafka is regarded as one of the greatest literary figures in recent history. He is known for his uniquely dark, disorienting, and surreal writing style, a style and quality so particular to him, that anything that resembles it has come to be known and referred to as “Kafkaesque”.
No one will ever know what really happened in our home in the months before he swallowed that bullet. To say that demonic insanity besieged us wouldn’t give credence to the monster that overtook his mind and tried to devour my daughter during its reign of unholy terror. She ended up hitting a wall in the wake of her trauma two weeks before her sophomore year’s end, such that the school opted to early release and excuse her from final exams so we could tend to her fragile psyche. In lieu of finals, her literature teacher asked her to write a personal memoir without knowing fully why the school had negated her exams in the first place, but once she became aware that writing a memoir could be the worst possible thing for her under the circumstances, she had her write an essay about her favorite book instead.
~ Zack’s Last Audible Read ~
Unbeknownst to me, she had read “The Metamorphosis” after his suicide. Not only was she aware that Kafka was my favorite writer, she knew it was the last book he listened to nineteen days before he left. She was trying to make sense out both her parents, then also unbeknownst to me wrote her essay about “the invisible monster”:
How Do YouFight An Invisible Enemy?
YOU GIVE IT A FACE!
(Written By Gia Embach)
Since the beginning of time or existence itself, for living things big or small, life is marked with a common anguish: To live is to suffer. Over time, however, as humanity has specifically thrust itself into problems of its own device, it’s tried desperately to put incomprehensible ideas or situations into a box so as to minimize the pain and anxiety that fester in the face of the unknown or difficult.
Anguish was arguably never more prevalent than throughout the duration of World War I. The largest, bloodiest, most destructive war the world had yet seen, with such horrors as to reduce the social order and beliefs to rubble in a similar manner to the physical world around people all over the world. During the uneasy postwar years, this society of confused and angry people confided in Czech-born writer Franz Kafka.
His stories almost always depict characters who are in eerie situations they can neither comprehend nor escape from. While this idea of using the imagination to comprehend the uncomfortable and incomprehensible world of emotions and psychology was precious to those living during the postwar years, his message still rings true today, as people still find the comprehension of the human mind to be incredibly difficult and laborious. Through allegorical works of literature and art, artists and writers allow others, and themselves, to understand feelings and situations that would otherwise be terrifying or unfathomable to bring comfort that stems from a shared discomfort.
The Metamorphosis begins with Gregor Samsa awaking in his bed only to find himself transformed into a large cockroach or other bug-like vermin. Gregor becomes increasingly dreary after looking out the window to all the rain and darkness and decides to give in to the pull of sleep calling to him. His new body, however, won’t let him lay comfortably, so he tries desperately to fling himself on his side to rest, only to fall on his armored back, forced to look at his grotesque abdomen and thin, scrambling legs. His mind then drifts to the dread he feels for his stressful job, the importance of sleep, so he begins focusing on the mundane issues in his life that still take precedence over his terrifying condition. His family worriedly knock on his door attempting to converse with him and wondering what the matter is, as Gregor has always been a dutiful worker and had never missed a day of work in his life. Gregor comes to find that he is unable to communicate with human speech and struggles to converse with his worried family on the other side of the wooden door which he soon finds he is unable to open, only doing so after great difficulty.
Emerging from his room, his family and the Chief Clerc are shocked by his appearance and he is soundly scolded by the Chief Clerk. Gregor retreats to his room, injuring himself in the process, and remains isolated inside. He comes to find that his little sister, Grete, attentively looks after him, bringing him fresh food that is unappealing to Gregor despite his hunger. The next morning, he is brought rotting food which he devours ravenously. From his room, Gregor overhears his family’s troubles. His guilt and shame only grow as he listens to his family try to figure out how they will make enough money to support each other, as Gregor is unable to provide for them now. Overwhelmed with sadness and guilt, he returns to his isolation for a few weeks, and Grete slowly but surely becomes less caring for Gregor, and increasingly upset and impatient at her brother’s need for care. When he finally gets enough courage to leave his room, his sister finds him in the kitchen, disturbed. A month later, his mother offers to take the furniture out of his room, so he can crawl more comfortably in his room, however Gregor wishes to hold on to the furniture, keeping himself connected to his humanity, to the familiarity of the Gregor before he woke up that fateful morning as a giant bug. Gregor eventually puts himself upside down on his ceiling, above a painting in his room, the sight of which causes his mother to faint, and his father returns home to find Gregor outside his room once again, only to pelt him with apples, seriously injuring him as he flees back to his room. Gregor takes another month to heal. His family has become exhausted from working and decide to house some loggers for extra income. Later, as Gregor is drawn out by the beautiful sound of a violin, the sight of him disgusts the loggers, causing them to leave without paying rent, so his once gentle and compassionate sister now states that the bug is not really Gregor and has ruined their lives. Returning to his room, he thinks fondly of his family before he dies. His body is found, and his family carries on happily without him as they discuss their plans for the future.
Although there are many interpretations of this eerie tale, I believe it is an allegory for depression and the damage it causes to not only the one who suffers from it, but also those around them. The first time I read it, I was immediately fond of Gregor. In him, I found that sense of comfort that I had mentioned before. Comparing his experience with depression to mine allowed me to feel less alone. Like me, even simple tasks for him such as getting out of bed or talking became excruciatingly difficult and it exhausted him to venture from the safety of the safe, cold comfort and isolation of his room Thinking that someone who was alive over 100 years ago had the same exact feelings that I’ve had made me feel less ashamed of my illness.
In another mirror of my mind, Gregor’s mind drifts to his worries and anxieties about the future and all the little things that could go wrong. Been there! Done that! No matter how long you have depression or how “well” you handle it, there are always things on your mind. They’re like an invisible bag of rocks dragging behind your feet that make your legs tire quickly and your entire body feel incredibly heavy. Each time Gregor tried to reach out and become himself again, he was treated with disgust, disdain, and impatience, reminding him time and again why he had hidden himself away in the first place. To those living in a world outside of a disease festering inside one’s brain, there are no rocks and no issues, there’s just laziness and distraction. “They’re not trying enough” or “They’re being dramatic”.
Grete, who at first gave Gregor aid with love, soon drifted away. When you suffer from depression, it can be hard for others to love and care for you, so when you are living as a creature you yourself can hardly look at without disgust, how COULD you accept any help? Depression tells you that you aren’t worth it and you don’t deserve it. If your symptoms themselves don’t push people away, you will. Giving yourself excuses to be alone, hoping that if you sabotage the good things enough, you might begin to feel like your feelings are valid, but that is a rare thing to come to believe. Then, just like Gregor, you soon find that reaching out only gets you hurt again, and you fully realize all that you no longer have. At this point, a person with depression will respond in a variety of ways. Some seethe with a burning anger, others protect themselves with an icy numbness, and others drown themselves in tears. In other cases, like Gregor, he simply allows himself to fade away. He felt ashamed, guilty, impossible to deal with. The harsh words of others twisting the steel blade he had dug into his chest deeper. He thinks of those who shunned him with love, understanding that nobody could love a monster. He thinks of them and dies, utterly and completely alone.
The Metamorphosis was the last thing my father read before he lost his battle with his own invisible enemy … his “bug”. While literature like Kafka’s does indeed offer comfort, nothing can cover the harsh and bitter reality of mental illness. Only the luckiest ones, and these warriors are far and few between, survive the battle against the hidden enemy. Many, like Gregor and my father, slowly fade away, isolating themselves until death to keep those they love from the harm they know they cause.
The truth of the matter is this: human beings are far from being able to comprehend the human mind in its best form and are further still from understanding a mind that is damaged. However, through people like Kafka, who cut these incredible issues into tiny, more manageable pieces, we can all come to understand it a little better. Those who suffer, can come to understand their suffering. Those who don’t share that same, complex kind of pain, come to understand it. When people understand something so horrible and terrifying, it slowly falls apart as it’s being chipped away like a block of marble until something beautiful and heroic remains.
In closing, I feel it is imperative to appreciate the gift that art can give to humanity: the ability to comprehend the incomprehensible, the ability to look at ourselves as works in progress rather than vermin, and the ability to unite people of all walks of life together in an often-forgotten fact. Once we strip away our flesh and everything of this Earth, each of us has a soul that is broken, and each of our souls, whether we acknowledge it or not, has a burning desire to be loved. That fact can only be nurtured and accepted through people like Kafka who aren’t afraid to brave the nightmares of existing, people who shine lights in darkness so others can see light.
Of all the things she could have written, what are the chances that she’d have penned such a poignant and moving “personal memoir” after first having been excused from writing one at all? Can you feel the absurdity? Can you fathom the surrealism? Can you appreciate this cosmic kick in the face of that demon bug that’s infested the minds of too many Gregors to count? FUCK YOU “popular monster”! You may have obliterated, disintegrated, and annihilated my husband and tried to take my daughter, but you will NOT feast upon another soul in my divinely punctuated haloif takes my last breath to keep you underfoot. I’ve FOUND my way out of your web you fucking LIAR and miserable CHEATER.
I’ve fallen IN LOVE
with NOT falling apart!
HAPPY 500TH DIARY ENTRY TO ME! May you rest eternally Zachariah and Franz, two of the very few mortal men who were able to reach the depths of my soul. You may be gone, but you’ll never be forgotten, nor the countless ways you both inspired my metamorphosis. Last, but not least, thank you from my bursting heart to my Mona Lisaangel of a daughter for helping me finally find the words I’d been searching for to honor my favorite beetle.
If you or someone you love is battling an invisible monster, PLEASE reach out for help! The “SAMHSA National Helpline” is a FREE, confidential, 24/7, 365 day a year referral and information service (in English and Spanish) for individuals and families facing mental and/or substance use disorders.
The new album dropped at midnight and it’s mind-blowing, BUT, I got stuck on one song, “All I Know”. Meanwhile, while we were on a chat with him in the wee hours of the morning, Ivan said that the whistling at the intro just came to him one night while he was at his cabin in Wyoming. He said he’d been laying in bed, heard whistling outside his window, then got up and just started writing.
Now, here’s where this “Death Punch” may throw you for a loop, ’cause I’m about to go somewhere that some of you don’t wanna go. I believe the higher power (who I call by the name of “God”) is, indeed running this greatest show on Earth. As far as I’m concerned, creation itself is a musical composition straight from His heart to our souls, and the beings He specifically chooses to make music of every kind are His tuning forks:
“But now bring me a musician.”
Then it happened, when the musician played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him.
[2 Kings 3:15 NKJV]
Meanwhile …
Zack used to whistle and hum all the fucking time, so, before Ivan talked about it, I’d already been captured by that whistling and listening to it over and over. It was one of the most ethereal moments I’ve ever experienced in my life. “From Zack’s soul, to God’s ears, to Ivan’s mouth”, then POOF! “A seemingly magical process of transformation”through the creation of the hauntingly beautiful whistle at the beginning of a song that echoed to me just like the many other voices from my past that I believe sending me messages:
Somehow, the haunting intro to this song with its echoes of what seem like my ancestors calling to me, channeled me back to either the wild, wild west or some ancient arena in Spain where kill or be killed was the fucking assignment, much like it is today during “times like these” when we’re all just fighting not only to survive, but fighting for the will to survive.
Much like my “Brighter Side” moment in March 2020, I believe Zack needed me to hear the message in this song. So, God used Ivan’s whistling to do it. That’s right folks, love it or hate it, and as impossible as it may be to conceptualize, Ivan isn’t just some rock star who jumps around on stages worldwide and entertains the masses. His purpose here is so much bigger than perhaps even he will ever know. He’s a “universal elixir” tuning fork that God is using to perpetuate His greatest alchemy of all … MUSIC!
Have I ever told you that I’m the luckiest woman alive? Have I told you that I’m thankful to be sitting in all these impossible realities that truly are “all I know”, many of which I don’t even need to understand? Not a day goes by, nor will it ever, that I don’t literally thank Heaven for all the alchemists out there who sing, cry, yell, scream, and “fist pump” the words to the poems they’ve written to help me find the missing pieces of myself and managed to keep me alive.
ALL I KNOW
I don’t think that I’m crazy. Yeah, but how would I know, when the voices remind me that it’s all just for show. Well, I thought I had answers, but the questions have changed. It’s so hard to feel anything when I’ve only known pain. Pain. You can cast me out and dig my hole. Spit on my grave. Curse my soul. You can hold me down and not let go, but the devil you fear is all I know. And the road that’s less traveled, well, it’s all that I’ve known. Every time I look backwards, there’s still so far to go. If I’m born to be broken … cold, bloody, and numb … tell me, why am I running? What am I running from? From? As I sit here in silence, all alone in myself … who the hell would believe me? Better yet, who would I tell? I can’t tell. {Five Finger Death Punch}
… and now, a word from our sponsor! (Circa 6.7.24)“The Great Alchemy“
They can shatter you into pieces or build you into a masterpiece, the likes of which no one’s seen. Take for instance this Facebook memory from August 11, 2014 that popped up at just after midnight this morning, wherein I made poignant post in response to having heard someone use the words “selfish” and “suicide” in the same sentence:
“… how selfish of someone who has everything in the world to commit suicide”. Just read that complete and total bullshit and it’s so beyond infuriating. It’s called depression people, and it knows no bounds! As if someone actually wakes up one morning and says “Okay, I’m feeling kind of selfish today so I think I’ll just asphyxiate myself”. Been there, done that. It means a human being is in SO much unbearably excruciating pain, sometimes both mentally AND physically, that the only escape they see or “feel” from the noose around their own heart is sleep. It’s the ultimate end to the many broken voices in their mind. Don’t judge. Instead, be on your knees thanking your God that you’ve never been in such a deafeningly silent place. Seriously? And by the way, someone please define “everything”. If someone has “everything” they must not become depressed?
It clearly didn’t sit well with me to hear such careless words tossed into the wind without abandon. If only I’d known what was coming for me and mine just five years and 11 days later. It’s as though the Universe was already preparing me for the scattered pieces of a life I never imagined I’d have to put back together … especially after having survived my OWN attempt at suicide in 2006, back when the only words I could ever really manage to SILENTLY scream out to God were these:
I’m here again, a thousand miles away from You. A broken mess … just scattered pieces of who I am. I tried so hard. Thought I could do this on my own.
That was then.
THIS IS NOW!
I’m beyond thankful that I’ve grown to this place where the memories and scattered pieces of my shattered life no longer haunt me from the dark chasms in my mind. You see, it was in those very chasms and in my darkest hours that I was able to find my way back Home to my truly blind faith and rightful place as God’s favorite daughter. These days, my heart SINGS in a much different kind of silence:
Then I saw Your face … I knew I was finally Yours. I found everything I thought I lost before. You called my name … I came to You in pieces so You could make me whole. I’d come undone … but You made sense of who I am … like puzzle pieces in Your eye.
I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I’d give anything if I could just “zap” this power and grace I wield in my divinely punctuated soul to every person who is now or ever has been shattered in the silence of their painful memories, not the least of which was my beautiful husband who left us be behind in his shards. All of this pain has been a gift, because without it I would never have realized how beautiful the brighter side can be.
Thank you again to one of my favorite bands, “Red“. This bittersweet song has made more than a few appearances in this Diary, and I’m thankful for the way the meaning of its powerful words have evolved within me over the years. Oh, don’t get me wrong … it’s still a major tearjerker. Only, these days those tears come from a place of hope, faith, and healing that I can barely put into my own words.
Meanwhile, I’m still standing strong amidst a lifetime of “shards and pieces” that I suppose should have leveled me by now, but instead, have only helped me find God’s face and voice within myself. I will never be broken and alone in silent darkness again.
In the land of dirt and plaster, lies an army of a thousand nowhere kids losing ground and falling faster into a life that no one should have to live. Behind the fake family image … behind the smile of a thousand moms and dads … inside the cage that we’ve been given … I see an image of the future that we don’t have. We are the people that you hate. We are the bastards that YOU created. A generation with no place. A generation of all YOUR sons and daughters.
(Smile Empty Soul)
So, I have this “Life According To Real Cat” theory, and I’m sorry that I’m NOT sorry in advance if this Diary entry twists anyone’s drawers all up their ass … BUT …
The relationship a human being either has or doesn’t have with their biological MOTHER birth sets the tone for the entirety of their life. Short of that, every single thing a child hears (or doesn’t hear) and experiences (or doesn’t experience), has a physiological influence on their potential future mindsets, perceptions, and overall mental “wealth”.
Trust me when I say that I personally know from whence I speak, ’cause in case any of you missed the memo, I was married to a “nowhere kid” whose less than abysmal mother “THING” abandoned and left him behind to literally disintegrate before our eyes and ROT in his own remains.
This is why I fiercely believe that childhood toxicity, abuse, neglect, and abandonment – especially by a “mother” – are amongst the most egregious crimes against humanity.
Parents who abuse, abandon, or neglect their children are the bane of mankind’s existence – and they’re gross – and thank you JESUS that Karma truly IS a bitch. I desperately need to believe that such crimes WILL NOT be overlooked by this Cosmos or it’s God.
Oh, and BY the way …
I am not and have not been a perfect parent. Thankfully, however, I have grown to be a parent who at least tries to fix some of the things that I’ve broken and do better. Life behind the walls of this castle is no longer life behind the walls of a “fake family image“. The smile on my face grows brighter by the minute ever since the day I decided to start breaking our family’s chains and releasing my kids from the cage so that their futures can be the ones I could never see.
… that moment it’s the day of her 17th birthday and you spot the little wooden spoon that only she and you will ever understand, which spoon rests atop a special little box with the two precious pictures she pinned at age 13 before you even knew what “pinning” was.
Meanwhile, the first thing that comes to your mind as you’re clutching said wooden spoon and the “dream gown” pictures to your heart is the her walking down the aisle towards her future one day as this song is playing in the background. Then you smile from ear to ear because you know with every shred of both your beating hearts that you have taught her to do the right things, so, come hell or high waters, your baby’s gonna be alright. She’s a battle born warrior QUEEN just like her Mama whose fierce diamond heart adorns your crown and even on her worst day eclipses your own shadow in every best possible way.
Then the second thing you see, which brings a river of tears to your eyes, is yet another one of “those pictures of them” walking hand in hand down down “their pier”, because God Himself knows how much it’s going to kill you when it’s “that moment of her going wedding day” and he’s not going to physically be there to walk her down the aisle towards her future. But then again, he will be, and Dear GOD, how have we survived all these days and months without him? Oh, that’s right, it’s all that divinely punctuatedpower and grace of yours, the likes of which have helped you lead her towards her own destiny no matter which road or “aisle” she takes. Now, where was I going with this again? Oh, yes …
So, here we are again with another year in the books, standing at the precipice of “that day that’s fast approaching” when I’m gonna have let her take off and fly. She’s made my heart sing louder with each year I’ve watched her grow forward, and if only every mother could be so blessed to be leaving such a magnificent legacy behind one day, oh, what a wonderful world this would be! In my heart of hearts, I’ve known long well that I absolutely am doing my utmost to make sure she’ll have everything shes need to make it through this crazy life.
I love you, Mona Lisa, and I do only want the best for you, no matter what you decide that look’s like. May you never cease to remember that at the end of every day, it’s you who is the answer to all your prayers as you continue to rise in your ownpower and grace, lighting fires with your words and punctuating this world with an apostrophe of your own. For the record, I really do hope that if for some absurd reason I ever decide to grow up, I can be more like you. You are SO “not like the others”, and I couldn’t be prouder of you if I tried.
… “Mama”
MAMA’S SONG
Mama, you taught me to do the right things, so now you have to let your baby fly. You’ve given me everything that I will need to make it through this crazy thing called life. And I know you watched me grow up and only want what’s best for me and I think I found the answer to your prayers. And he is good, so good. He treats your little girl like a real man should. He is good, so good. He makes promises he keeps. No, he’s never gonna leave. So, don’t you worry about me. Don’t you worry about me. Mama, there’s no way you’ll ever lose me. Giving me away is not goodbye. As you watch me walk down to my future, I hope tears of joy are in your eyes. ‘Cause he is good, so good. And he treats your little girl like a real man should. He is good, so good. He makes promises he keeps. No, he’s never gonna leave. So, don’t you worry about me. Don’t you worry about me. And when I watch my baby grow up, I’ll only want what’s best for her, and I hope she’ll find the answer to my prayers … and that she’ll say … He is good, so good. And he treats your little girl like a real man should. He is good, so good. He makes promises he keeps. No, he’s never gonna leave. So, don’t you worry about me. Don’t you worry about me. Mama, don’t you worry about me. Don’t you worry about me. {Carrie Underwood}
Indeed, it is true that Superman really has left the building. But guess what, people? The Wonder Woman he left behind is still doing A-OK! Yes, I know, this video is SUPER long, but I PROMISE that it’s well worth watching!
Meanwhile …
I seriously DO love my incredibly absurd but insanely beautiful life, up to and including every single jacked up and twisted thing that has happened FOR me, not TO me!
Exactly how many girls do you know who can legitimately say they had a real life superhero step off of an elevator and help her save her own life? Yup! I CAN! Jean-Claude Van DAMN, I’m one hell of a lucky woman. As it turns out, though, it wasn’t actually Superman who carried me in his arms to get me where I am today. It was MY own divinely punctuated strength, power, and grace that carried me here today.
Supermandid, however, help me find all those gifts I already had hiding within me. As it turned out, he had someplace else he needed to be, like maybe “stuck at the five and dime”, but NOT before making sure I had this cape and crown of my own. He must have gotten stuck at the five and dime.
Ah, and now THIS is where I get to the BEST part of this hero’s tale:
Although it dropped a few days ago and I’d already given it a couple spins, because I’ve been preoccupied and unable to really dig into it the way I prefer when any new Death Punch drops, it wasn’t until today while answering a Quora question about mental illness that I really sat down and dug:
It’s nights like this, under a harvest moon. It came too fast and it’s gone too soon. A wilted rose and a frozen tomb. A memory for the wind.Anyway …
Does anybody notice that the sky is falling? Are we all just happy in the rain? Am I the only one who hears the sirens calling? Am I the only one who feels the pain?I read all the pages from the left to right. I took one in the morning and one at night. The fire still burns, but it’s cold inside. It’s all that I can do.Anyway …
No one wants to talk about the end is coming. Pointing fingers, handing out the blame. If I gave you answers to all your questions, could you change, or would you stay the same?
It’s times like these when the sorrow shadows all the laughter.
It’s times like these when the hurt goes on and on forever. It’s times like these I wanna fade away.
It’s times like these when left is right and forward’s backwards.
It’s times like these when days and nights just roll together.
It’s times like these I wanna fade away.
WOW! Just WOW! How the fuck does he manage to do this? Just like clockworkand always right on cue, that FUCKER I love so very much managed to find an unexpressed storm of thoughts in my head that I didn’t even know existed and pull them out of me for reckoning.
Trust me, I get it. I totally fucking do! I’ve had a front row seat to the SHIT SHOW for the majority of my life and know exactly how it feels to want to fade away. Been there. Done that. I’ve got the proverbial straight jacket and yetthe softest, most tender, stitched together, steel-encrusted heart to prove it, not to mention the unfortunate privilege of having to watch the dying soul of a person I loved literally fade away.
But let me ask you this …
If you could have all the answers to your questions, would you really change or would you stay the same? And what if I told you that the truth of the matter is that some questions just aren’t meant to be answered? What if our “assignment” is to simply roll with all these fucking punches, win, lose, or draw, and go screeching into the bull pen more like Ferdinand the flower smeller than Bodacious with his reign of destruction and terror?
But Cat, how the FUCK did you hear this song and end up standing at a bullfight?
Somehow, the haunting intro to this song with its echoes of what seem like my ancestors calling to me, channeled me back to either the wild, wild west or some ancient arena in Spain where kill or be killed was the fucking assignment, much like it is today during “times like these” when we’re all just fighting not only to survive, but fighting for the will to survive.
The late, great French philosopher, Albert Camus, who is one of my favorite “absurdists“, once said these most powerful words:
You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.
Well, I am here to tell you he was dead on giant BULL BALLS accurate! Happiness is what we make of it, even in the midst of falling skies. Pray GOD we all make it to the finish line in one piece with the power and grace of a Ferdinand and as many roses that we can possibly gather, wilted as some of them may be, and not like a Bodacious standing before a frozen tomb full of regret, disdain, and misery.
As and aside, I think I’m finally beginning to understand why I’m obsessed with grey skies and stormy weather. They’re a constant reminder that even though the sky falls from time to time, as if to scream at me in rage and provocation, at the end of the day I’m always gonna be okay, because it’s times like these that made me who I am.
Left, right, forwards, backwards, inside or fucking OUT, the fact of the matter is that these SHIT STORMS are gonna keep coming. So, I’ll just keep myself buckled up for the most epic ride of my life while I’m hunting for roses and laughing as often I can. I’ll make my own happiness on my own fucking terms while screaming back at the falling sky, “Guess what, Bodacious? I’m still here riding! You lose! I WIN!”
I called to say hello, but then remembered that you can’t pick up the phone. I miss the way your voice always used to take all the pain away. The thought is still unimaginable that I saw your face that very last time and didn’t even know it.
Now, we’re all walking around in a haze. Yes, there are many colors, but mostly every shade of grey, and although you did absolutely show us the way whenever we were lost and alone, you never really showed us to let you go. That, we’ve had to figure out on our own.
It seems to me that some people will do just about anything to avoid being considered “ordinary”, when the truth is that being “ordinary” is actually EXTRAORDINARY! I mean, c’mon, people …
Imagine an existence that you don’t need to put on display? Imagine owning the most authentic version of yourself and not having to pretend to be someone you’re not?
Imagine living without the pressure that comes along with farce, pretense, and jumping through hoops just to get everyone’s attention, then waking up one morning, taking a good, hard, honest look in the mirror, and asking yourself this most important question:
Wait! What’s so wrong with being your true, authentic, “ordinary” self without any farce, pretense, or jumping through hoops to get everyone’s attention?
CAN YOU? Can you imagine it? Can you imagine walking happily along as just another face in the crowd with your “ordinary” head held way up high because you’ve finally figured out that you don’t have to prove a damn single thing to any person ever, except that is, yourself and the God you serve?
Look, I’m not saying that I don’t care about life in general or the many beautiful people in it, because the truth being told, I VERY MUCH DO! It’s just that at this point in the game, being nothing (which makes me EVERYTHING) is my favorite thing to be.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – the only opinion that really matters to me at all is God’s, and my own, and, of course, my children. I am so much more than my labels or identities, and so much more than the box that those labels and identifies formerly kept me in. I am of myself, for myself, and with myself until the end, and ordinary is just amazing.
Besides? Who can ever have power over a person who doesn’t really give a fuck what people think about them anyway? Keep your power. Hold your head high. TAKE HOLD OF YOUR ORDINARY and be anything BUT!
ORDINARY
Whose eyes am I behind? I don’t recognize anything that I see. Whose skin is this design? I don’t want this to be the way that you see me. I don’t understand anything anymore, and this web that I’m tied up is taking me right up these walls that I climb up to get to your story – It’s anything but ordinary. And when the world is on its knees with me, it’s fine. And when I come to the rescue, I get nothing but left behind. Everybody seems to be getting what they need. Where’s mine? ‘Cause you’re what I need so very but I’m anything but ordinary. Can you save me from this world of mine before I get myself arrested with these expectations? You are the one, look what you’ve done! What have you done? This is not some kind of joke. You’re just a kid. You weren’t ready for what you did, no! And when the world is on its knees with me, it’s fine. And when I come to the rescue, I do it for you time after time. Everybody seems to be getting what they need. Where’s mine? ‘Cause you’re what I need so very but I’m anything but ordinary. I think I’m trying to save the world for you. You’ve been saving me, too. We could just stay and save each other. I’m anything but ordinary. I’m anything but ordinary. {Train}
… because some memories are so much better than others, ESPECIALLY ones like these that remind you yet again that although the MOST beautiful season you shared with him is over, the many powerful and life-changing words of affirmation he wrote across your heart are not.
I’m proud of myself right now for seeing this “memory” today and not shedding a single tear. Rather, all I could do is smile with pride, because after all was said and done, and although at first I couldn’t see the me he saw on those days he’d FORCE me to look at myself in a mirror and try to see myself through his eyes, I see her loud and fucking clear these days not only every time I HAPPILY look into a mirror, but even more so when I look at my kids. They are my legacy. They are the reason he fought so hard for me to make peace with my own reflection.
In my heart, I think he always knew he wouldn’t be here with me until the end, which is why he was hell bent on preparing to LITERALLY rise above his ashes. God knew it, too, so maybe that’s why God sent him to me in the first place, just as maybe I was meant to be HIS “crowning achievement”. The day he died, I became his legacy, and so on the circle goes …
While I’m sure there are a fair amount of people who feel this way but aren’t as willing to openly admit it, I believe there should be absolutely NO mercy, grace, or forgiveness for the “mother THINGS” that (not “who”) mindfully cause or allow grave harm to a child of their own womb.
Judge not others lest ye be judged!
(Matthew 7:1-3)
Yet, are the THINGS that are capable of inflicting harm upon their children even “human” at all and therefore subject to God’s disdain of judging or wishing them actual hell?
I really CAN forgive anyone for just about anything, and as God is my witness, I HAVE! But I’ll just keeping taking people on a case-by-case basis. The Devil’s Own really DO walk among us, but I’m not even sure they’re “people”. They’re a different kind of breed “thing” altogether. I’m not quite sure I’ll ever get to the point that I stop avidly praying that God really DOES sort us all out in the end. I’m just a mortal human, not a god or Jesus Christ, so I’ll just keeping asking for “forgiveness” for not being too excited about the idea of “mercy for the merciless”.
Just to be clear, I’m not talking about selfish, inattentive, unprepared, immature mothers who are truly oblivious to the damage they cause their children. Been there, done that, and trust me when I say that we are a collective wrecking ball crew to our own. I may be sanctimonious at times, but I’m not even gonna try and deny my own regrettable crimes against my children. I wear the hearts of two children on my sleeve who are still navigating the wreckage my former tragic mothering and weak mental health caused them, such that any shame or guilt I’ve suffered for not having done better sooner is well-deserved. Have they forgiven me? Yes. Have I forgiven myself? Yes. Have they forgotten? Absolutely NOPE, nor shall they ever, and nor shall I. If they have to remember everything, then why should I be afforded the luxury of “I FUCKED UP MY KIDS AMNESIA”?
That being said, if, like me, you have fucked up your kids but are able to acknowledge, account, and atone for it, indeed I believe there is mercy and grace to be found. Owning up to my parenting flubs and “remembering everything” with them is what keeps me growing forward as a stronger, wiser, and healthier mom who is determined to break the generations of cyclically egregious parenting on my tree. Let’s face it, people, you can’t fix something you don’t think is broken, and that includes ourselves. De-NILE was for little baby Moses, my friends, and in a basket I am not.
Meanwhile, I am talking about the seriously life-altering and mind-bending crimes against at the hands of “mothers” that NO CHILD deserves to suffer through. Here are just a few that come to mind:
🤮 Throwing them in the trash or just leaving them out in the freezing fucking cold on a curb or a doorstep!
🤮 Murdering them, drowning them, choking them, burning them, burying them alive, locking them in closets, caging or chaining them up like animals, starving them, or “sticking stuff” in places stuff isn’t supposed to be stuck in them!
🤮 Coat-hanger SLAUGHTERING them or letting a medically sanctioned hitman SHANK them in late term utero through their already formed tiny skulls, beating hearts, seeing eyes, hearing ears, and feeling spinal cords!
None of these horrors are forgivable to me, and even a crocodile mommy instinctually knows better than to intentionally torment a life she bears in such detestable ways. Look, there’s NO such thing as a perfect mom, because after all, most of us are only human. But sooner or later, even the worst of us wrecking ball mommies can grow up, take a sobering look at the body count on the battlefield of our children’s lives and the failed flights we caused, APOLOGIZE, move on, then just do fucking BETTER!
It is my avid prayer that these THINGS will eventually be dealt with accordingly and made to pay for their crimes against the humanity they made and BROKE! I can’t imagine that God will take such travesties lightly, as when He blessed women with a womb, it would seem that He did so with the intention of populating the world, NOT destroying it. I literally have no sympathy whatsoever for “things” posing as “people” that deliberately and intentionally violate, traumatize, or cause harm to actual human beings without remorse.
I’ll never forget the day in 2016 when my secretly crumbling husband, whose own mother THING discarded him, heard it for the first time while we were driving. The stoic tears that fell from his eyes in that moment still haunt me. After that, he would play it often and always said it made him think about the “IT” that birthed him. Now, I’m not saying that every child of a mother THING grows up to be a monster, but the truth is many do. I’m also not saying that my husband was a monster, but in the end there was a monster living inside his head that he felt he had to stop from hurting us any further, and thus the bullet to his head.
Dear Mothers:
Remember … WE CREATED THEM! All they are is pieces of what we are. We’re their Sun, their Moon, their Earth, their stars, and the actual air they breathe. We make them. We can break them. Be mindful of the power that you wield!
Are YOU are a mother THING? If so, here’s hoping that the fate you meet is far greater than anything you ever did to one of your own. Also? YOU’RE FUCKING GROSS! Are you the child of a mother THING? YOU DIDN’T DESERVE THAT! Just because everyone isn’t as openly angry at the THING that was supposed to love you more than her own life itself, it doesn’t mean that you aren’t thought of, cared for, prayed over, and deeply loved by more mothers than you will ever know. Don’t you DARE let yourself be defined by the monster that brought into this world or think for one minute that God didn’t see that.
MONSTER
Under the knife I surrendered. The innocence yours to consume. You cut it away and you filled me up with hate. Into the silence you sent me. Into the fire consumed. You thought I’d forget, but it’s always in my head. You’re the pulse in my veins. You’re the war that I wage. Can you change me? Can you change me? You’re the love that I hate. You’re the drug that I take. Will you cage me? Will you cage me? You’re the pulse in my veins. You’re the war that I wage. Can you change me? Can you change me from the monster you made me? The monster you made me? This is the world you’ve created. The product of what I’ve become. My soul and my youth? Seems it’s all for you to use. If I could take back the moment I’d let you get under my skin. Relent or resist? Seems the monster always wins. You’re the pulse in my veins. You’re the war that I wage. Can you change me? Can you change me? You’re the love that I hate. You’re the drug that I take. Will you cage me? Will you cage me? You’re the pulse in my veins. You’re the war that I wage. Can you change me? Can you change me from the monster you made me? From the monster you made me? My heart’s an artifice, a decoy soul. I lift you up and then I let you go. I’ve made an art of digging shallow holes. I’ll drop the darkness in and watch it grow. Who knew the emptiness could be so cold? I’ve lost the parts of me that make me whole. I am the darkness. I’m a monster. {Starset}
After a downright harrowing weekend of watching my daughter hit a pretty big emotional wall, having her home safe with me for a couple of extra days as we worked her through a process, then finally having to take her back to school, I’d been doing everything within my mommy powers not to text her during the day to just make sure she was okay. She had enough on her plate just walking onto the campus in the first place, and she, like me, all but dreads even “wanted” text messages when she’s trying to get out of her own head.
Meanwhile, I get this “is she okay” text from her ride or die bestie who didn’t even know she was already back at school. Knowing my child like I know her, although she probably very much “needed” to see her friends today, she was probably doing her best to avoid seeing her friends today to protect them from her perceived burden of struggling emotions. Learning to lean a support system is hard enough when your adult, much less when you’re a teenage girl whose “tribe” has somehow managed to band together from an array of equally struggling and burdened yolks. But hey, that’s another story for a different day, right?
Despite the brief moment of panic after receiving the text from Five (“Five”, by the way, because she’s like my “fifth child”), how blessed are we both that she finally has friends like this in her atmosphere who care for her so much so that they’ll even resort to reaching out to her dear ole mom when they notice that she’s gone missing? God Himself knows that it wasn’t always this way for her. Indeed there was a time, not too long ago, when she could have been missing for a week or two on end and not one of her putrid “frenemies” would have cared, much less have taken the time to go looking for her.
After having all but begged her to go find her people as she was getting out of the car today and not isolate herself the way we both tend to do only to be alerted to the sobering fact that she was indeed MIA, all I could do was literally hit my knees at the foot of the panic chair in my room and beg God to cover her with His love and protection as she navigates her internal storm.
It’s 95 degrees here in Dallas, today, not a single cloud anywhere in the sky, and because I was so focused on her all weekend long, I was thankfully focused on a barrage of neglected chores. I say thankfully because, for me, keeping busy on a day like this is just … BETTER! Meanwhile, there I was just standing and the kitchen counter sorting out the trash from her perch when one of my favorite songs of this lifetime cycled up to the cue.
This sweet song that I first heard over 25 years ago has gotten me through SO many dark days of my own, ever the consummate “light in the dark”, so much so that my words fail to properly express it. So, what are the chances that my “music wheel of destiny” would magically spin it up to me this morning as though God Himself knew I would need to hear it when I saw my Mona Lisa’s “smile” fall to the floor?
I won’t go into details about the black clouds looming in her sky right now, because not only is it just too overwhelming and tender at the moment, it’s not my place to share the intimate details of her private mental health journey. Sufficed to say, though, I’m in a pure power and grace momma bear survival mode for BOTH my kids’ sake these days, have been for many months now, and will be until both their suns rise again.
But guess what?
I once knew a girl who had lost everything. The story goes but it doesn’t end in misery. Down the road of circumstance awaited reality, ’cause she found a new beginning. You see, that girl was me.
I know her sun will shine again before her dreams fade away. I’ll just remember there’s a Savior who will brighten up her day. I know the sun will shine again … on her.
{Words Adapted from “The Sun Will Shine Again” by David & The Giants}
Yes, I’m a roller coaster of raw emotion today, but thank you GOD that I’ve survived so storms of my own that I know now more than ever that I have to keep my own oxygen mask on tighter than ever so that I can catch my babies when they’re falling.
This parenting gig ain’t for the faint of heart, my friends, and especially as a relatively new widowed and single mom who on the surface appears to have no partner to weather the stormy seas with. The truth is, though, that I very much do have a partner in my parenthood and I am never all alone. This precious paper smiley face falling to the floor is proof positive that I have learned to trust and lean on my Father, Who indeed is greater than this storm. I know her Sun will shine again, and so will mine keep shining. After all, I’m still God’s favorite daughter, and now that I think of it, so is she.
THE SUN WILL SHINE AGAIN
I hear you say you’re going through a big ordeal. Complications … your heart is breaking … you can’t see through. Time goes by. You don’t know why you can’t find the clue. Seem s the night is always darkest before the morning light. Life is filled with fire and rain and winds of change. Seems as though the things we know are misunderstood. But the trying of our faith is working for the good, ’cause we learn to trust our Father Who is greater than the storm. I know The Son will shine again before your dreams fade away. Just remember there’s a Savior. He’ll brighten up your day. I know The Son will shine again on you. I once knew a man who had lost everything. The story goes, but it doesn’t end in misery. Down the road of circumstance waits reality, ’cause he found a new beginning. You see, that man was me. I know The Son will shine again before your dreams fade away. Just remember there’s a Savior. He’ll brighten up your day. I know The Son will shine again on you. I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken or stranded in the rain. Close your eyes now. Wake up and proclaim! I know The Son will shine again before your dreams fade away. Just remember there’s a Savior … He’ll brighten up your day! I know The Son will shine again on you. {David & The Giants}
Someday when I get the chance to properly put it down in words, I’m going to explain how much your music meant to my late husband. The first time I ever saw the man (who was our “rock”) cry was when he played me Angel’s Son, then explained why. His “mother” threw him away when he was born, then the only woman who ever loved or cared for him in his lifetime before me was his Grandma. When she died literally right in front of him at age 13, I’m certain that’s when he stopped living and growing and was only “dead alive” until we lost him to suicide 910 days ago this moment actually.A few years ago, we were in downtown Ft Worth on a surprise weekend getaway for ME – eating at this FINE restaurant near a window that looked down to a square where he had NO idea you were playing. It was one of THE happiest moments of his twisted existence, and the pure joy on his face that night is in still seared into my memories. Thank GOD for that, too, because those truly JOY moments for him were fleeting.Anyway, I just thought I’d share. I’m blogging “Angel’s Son” in honor of his Grandma on Mother’s Day – I’ll send it to you then. Hope this very long message wasn’t too annoying. Your music means a lot to me because it meant so much to him. You’re a king, my friend.
~ Real Cat
🌺🌼🌺
MAY 8, 2022:
Zachariah,
Life is changing … but I am going on without you. Rearranging, yeah. I’m being strong standing on my own. You were fighting every day. So hard to hide the pain. I know you never said goodbye. I had so much left to say. One last song given to an angel’s son. As soon as you were gone. As soon as you were gone.
We love you.
~ Us
🌺🌼🌺
And so, with that, I suppose I’ve conveyed what finally needed to be conveyed about “the angel” and her otherwise motherless son. I cannot tell you how many times he told me over the years, “Catherine, I wish you could have known her”. Ah, but what that silly boy never realized is that I very much did know her. Every tear that fell from his eyes during the many times he would talk about her told me everything his many words and many silences could never say, as well did the tears he cried whenever he would listen to this song.
As with every Mother’s Day I’ve since had to or will ever spend without him, today is so twisted and bittersweet. On one hand, I am privileged to celebrate not just the gift of my motherhood, but the gifts of my mother beautiful Mother and angel Grandmother as well, it was on this day in May 2019 when he started coming apart at the seams. For that reason, this day will always be a rollercoaster of both deep joy and intense sadness for me.
He had just gone up to say goodbye to Gia before heading off to work that morning. As he made it to that last step on the way back down, he just stopped there dead in his tracks and started sobbing, much like the day at the kitchen window a few months before. When I asked him what was wrong, the words he spoke were all but paralyzing:
That whore that gave birth to me just threw me the fuck away. My own mother didn’t want me. She never did. She never will. I really AM a Zack Of Shit!
It’s a moment that haunts me still as though I were seeing him standing there and hearing the abysmal, scathing truth in those words as they fell from his mouth for the first time every time I’m sitting in the chair in my office where I was that Godforsaken Mother’s Day morning.
“The Staircase”
There he stood at the end of that beautiful staircase I love to hate so much, the “rock” of our world and the king of our hearts, just slipping down the cold, black hole that “mother THING” that buried him alive in on the day she left him behind like a piece of garbage on the street. Virtually every day and night for the months that followed until he left, he suffered, cried, ached, and sobbed, sometimes in the fetal position, for not just her, but the entire lot of them. All Gia and I could do was helplessly watch him dying out loud right before our eyes as he battled the actual demon that moved into his mind and destroyed not just him, but my daughter and me as well. The unforgiving and abysmally deep childhood wound he’d been harboring since the moment he drew his first breath finally began to swallow him alive. “Having what he’d never had” murdered him.
That angel on Earth beautiful Grandmother of his truly was the first and only other woman who ever really loved him other than me and my daughter. For that we will forever be thankful that not only did she exist, but that she was one of the few bright stars in his sky.
Today, in both their honors, we will not only take flowers to her grave for the first but certainly not last time, but we will also take some of the ashes the rest of his “family” couldn’t be bothered to come get and take home to bury in the ground at her grave where they truly belong.
… ’cause when it’s a 4:30am covert meeting of a pirate and his crew, this shit just hits a little bit harder. Jean-Claude Van DAMN he’s so right …
i AM a “PERFECT MISTAKE”!
It’s taken all of the people in the history of my family tree, and the masterful compilation of their comings and goings, hunting and gathering, scavenging and foraging, falling and rising, destroying and building, sinking and swimming, killing and conquering, lying and truth telling, silence and screaming, plus some perfectly imperfect genetic coding to create this glorious fucking STORM I am. Oh, and by the way … NEVER FORGET … with only one break in the chain of our lineage, none of us would even be here right now!
I love you Catherine Williamson! Not just some of you – ALL of you!
My husband found me (or did I find him?) when I was at my rock bottom worst in every possible mental and physical way:
For 16 years I have searched for my own reflection in another person’s eyes, but could never find it. I looked in the mirror and felt ugly. I felt dirty, empty, and invisible. I see the way people look at me but have never understood it. What the hell could anyone possibly see? There’s nothing here. I’m hollow. “Lights, smoke, and illusion!” Please, please, please Henrik, hear what I am saying. Last July, when it was finally time for the doctors to take the bandages off my chest and stomach, I came home and couldn’t even walk past a mirror, much less look inside one. I knew then that my destruction was finally complete, but just didn’t know how to reckon myself with the reality. That’s when I decided to not EVER search for my missing reflection again, whether in a mirror or through the eyes of another! I just gave up. Two full days passed before I was finally able to take my shirt off and I couldn’t actually look at myself for weeks. When the day finally came, I just stood there and cried. I touched my scars, held my stomach, dropped down to my bathroom floor, and cried for so many hours you can’t imagine. I have played the game very well I might add with the cards I’ve been dealt in a manner that would cause no one I love to suffer.
It was his unconditional love for me just the way I was that chased away the clouds of “imperfection” that had once loomed over my head. Slowly, but surely, I became less afraid to surrender “all of me” to not just my love for him, but the love I’d always needed for myself.
God Himself knows how much I do truly love myself now, PERFECT MISTAKES AND ALL, and not a day passes that I don’t stillstand in the mirror and literally see my husband, my God, my angels, my ancestors, and even a few of my demons standing right behind me whispering:
They’re the pirates who came before me and the zephyrs in my sky who forged this path and built this mountain for me to stand on as they push me into the perpetual state of punctuation and magic I’ve become as I navigate this sea of madness. In the meantime, as I continue to soar through these golden years of mine, “I’ll be wearing steel that’s bright and true and carrying the news that must get through! I hold no quarter! No quarter, oh!”
I love you, Ivan, my kindred soul and friend, and cannot tell you how long I’ve waited for the perfect time, space, and words to Diary this song. It was one of his favorites and I listen to it often. He truly believed that he was a pirate in another life, and the first time I ever heard him say it, I thought he was just being silly. He wasn’t. Every single time that man stared out across an ocean amid our many adventures, he insisted that he’d been out there before. The funny thing is that while searching for the missing pieces of himself that he’d never known anything about because of his abysmal childhood, the Ancestry report we fetched really did seem to point in that direction. Meanwhile, here I am, just swabbing the deck of my proverbial ship, and I cannot thank you enough. Your words of wisdom and the magic in your alchemy never cease to amaze me. I truly hope that they’re blowing through the sails of some other jacked up pirates’ sails, too.
NO QUARTER
Close the door, put out the light. No, I won’t be home tonight. The snow falls hard and don’t you know? The winds of Thor are blowing cold. I’m wearing steel that’s bright and true and carrying news that must get through. I choose the path where no-one goes. I hold no quarter, no quarter, oh! Walking side-by-side with death. The devil mocks my every step, ooh. The snow drives back the foot that’s slow. The dogs of doom are howling more. I carry news that must get through to build a dream for me and you, oh, oh, oh. This path I choose where no one goes … I hold no quarter, oh. {Led Zeppelin}
As Elsa from that “Frozen” movie once said over, and over, and over again … “Let ’em go! Let’ em go! Let all those driveway bullshitters GO!” Okay, so maybe that’s not how the song really goes, but you HAVE to get my drift! NO ONE is worth making yourself physically ill and literally “inflamed and swollen” for!
If you are the one emitting the noxious, toxic fume that’s making the people around you physically ill, “inflamed”, and “swollen”: DON’T BE A TOXIC WASTELAND! There’s a “Real Cat” name for you here in this Diary, and umm, do you really want to be thought of as a “Drinking Straw Parasite“?
I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming, but not until you go ahead and listen to this oh so cliche’ freakin’ Disney princess song about why you need to just LET GO of the toxins in your life. Whether you’re ingesting them or emitting them … LET ‘EM GO!
Ain’t it funny how things happen? I mean, c’mon people … do any of you still only believe in random coincidence? As I’m sitting here writing this, I’m yummily wrapped up in one of the king’sgrey sweaters that on any other given Monday would have traveled in Gia’s backpack to her dad’s house. But for the fact that I just happened to be doing laundry last night instead of on my regularly scheduled Sunday, it wouldn’t have been here to greet me this morning when I decided to just make it a “grey day” and stay home to enjoy the peaceful oblivion of my happily solitary existence. Hell, I wasn’t even done reveling in and relishing the last four beautiful days I had of time spent with my precious kids and family, the message I got from Skid Row, and that fucking EPIC German schnitzel sandwich situation. I mean, BRING IT you badass fucking Cosmos …
I HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR!
Meanwhile, I popped on to the Instagram earlier today only to find that while I was busy “queening” around the castle in one of the best “grey highs” I’ve had in months, that today marked yet another powerful Death Punch moment. It was the release of the official “Brighter Side Of Grey” video:
It’s hard to believe that our last record “F8” came out over 2 years ago in the beginning of 2020, born into the whirlwind of events that dominated our lives and will echo into the rest of our history. Those of you intimately familiar with that album, now know how some of F8’s dystopian lyrics became rather prophetic. Brighter Side of Grey was an important song on that record, but especially personal to Ivan (who’s the only parent in the band). It is a more than fitting commentary to what’s going on in the world that probably needs a good reminder right about now that we are here only for second, a tiny blip on the flow of time… not just as individuals but as an entire species.It took a trillion conditions to be just right for human life to exist in this Universe, yet it takes just one to go terribly wrong and make it all disappear. This song also serves as the perfect bridge to our new album we just finished this week, which generally revolves around similar existential questions. It’s incredible how much we don’t understand about our own existence, yet everyone’s relationship with the concept of death permeates, even orients their entire lives. Can’t wait to share it… enjoy this video and stay tuned for new music and big tour announcements in the very near future!
In case you didn’t get the memo yet, this isn’t just another song and grey isn’t just a color. “The Brighter Side Of Grey” is an entire mindset and way of life for me:
Grey is not just a color to me – IT’S EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN! It’s the grace I’ve received that is so undeserved yet given to me anyway by The One who has never loved me with black and white conditions. He “takes the best parts of me and locks them away without the key” and I know that He is never far away. He’s the Light that shines ahead of my journey and dilutes the blackness of the abyss into the most beautiful shades of grey. For more than four decades, I lived a black and white existence with no room for the forlorn grey I knew I needed but didn’t know how to connect with. As I look back at this picture now, I’m filled with the most unbelievable solace you can imagine. It reminds me of just how far I’ve come, that it was always supposed to be this way, and there is always a “Brighter Side Of Grey”. I’m not gonna lie … it is now my final wish that when it’s time for me to move along, this is the last song I hear as they bid me farewell.
I could keep going on about the “grey” of it all, but honestly, I’m so done writing about it. Now, I just want to live in it! I want to sit back, relax, and inhale all my life nuggets of goodness.
Today is a good day in the music world, people. Not just for the factions of knuckleheads like me who’ve been anxiously waiting for this video, but likewise for anyone who sees it, hears the words, and really bites in to its sobering and bittersweet message.
This life we’re living really is just a blip, and yes, the lights will go down. So, do everything in your power to ensure that when that door closes behind you for the very last time, you leave a light on for your people and not just a darkened void. It’s how you’ll become “nothing, everything, and ALL of it” and leave this place better than you found it.
Rascal Flatts released this song years ten years ago today with the birth of it’s mother album, “Changed“, and I just know someone out there needs to read these words and hear this song right now. Yes, I get it … it’s not fun having to scrub your wounds out. THIS I KNOW TOO WELL! Why would anyone pour salt on their already raw and bleeding flesh?
Jean-Claude Van DAMN, my kids’ father has done way too many things to count to make think about literally running him over. FYI, I wouldn’t really run anyone over, so simmer down if you’re thinking about calling Dateline NBC right now. At “fifty-TWO-good-to-be-true” years old and not far from “fifty-THREE-it’s-SO-good-to-be-me“, if I’d been capable of actually running someone over, I’m certain it would have happened by now. But I’ve digressed!
My point is that this very German man who I’ve loved to hate so many times really has pissed me off during the course of our lifetime with our kids together (because after all, I’m such a perfect mom, lol). But guess what? Even after all the “way too many things” he’s pulled, THESE are the moments and stories I desperately want our kids to remember and tell their kids down the road.
Hey, BRATS! I mean “Crazy Grandma Cat’s grandkids“! Let me tell you a super cool story about your Grandpa and “the day of the epic schnitzel sandwich”!
To any “co-parenters” out there reading this right now, please remember that no matter how many times you’ve thought about running your baby’s momma or daddy over, or HOW many jacked up things they’ve done to you, if and when they do something epically right, be sure and give them the props they are due, and tell your kids the same. While no parent is perfect, and some of us can and have been nightmares, sometimes we manage to do things that are redeeming. When it happens, what could be the harm in saying, “Good job”?
Keep on looking for the brighter sides of all this grey, my parent friends. Embrace it when you find it and do what you can to change the toxic narrative being pipe-lined to your children’s psyches. Trust me when I say that not only will they likely look back and thank you for it, nuggets like these will serve their both mental wealth and their memories so much better than, “I’m pretty sure my mom wanted to run my dad over”. Just sayin’!
… ’cause when you see a random picture then immediately hear one of your “Top 10” favorite life songs playing in your head, you know said picture wasn’t random:
Show me a sign to a light that shines one direction into another … sheltered peace of mind.
No, this isn’t just a random picture of a rock star hugging his daughter. It’s a message of hope and healing to every parent in this jacked up world who is hell bent on changing the generational curses and toxic narratives that have haunted their family tree for years.
Somewhere I lost a piece of memory, but somehow, I know my legs will carry me. Searching for circle’s end, hoping the wounds will mend.
Yes, it’s true. Somewhere I have lost so many pieces of my memory. But then again, no, I really haven’t. You see, it’s all the little jacked up, fucked up, and also very beautiful mental nuggets I keep stored in this rabbit-hole head of mine that keep me safely anchored to my own soul while I’m out there perpetually searching for the circle’s end. It’s also why I’m cosmically drawn to other “apostrophes” in this world who somehow manage to crash my pity parties with signs like these of positivity and optimism right on cue when my burgeoning pessimism needs to be redirected into better and more constructive thinking. It’s how I’ve managed to become the “nothing, everything, and all of it” that I am, and truth being told, I wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.
Today has been a very good day and I’m thankful for this “light in the dark”. Truth being told, I’ve been kinda struggling with some tired old, familial demons of my own as of late, so I really needed to see this picture and the video that inspired it to remind me to keep looking for the signs of hope as my legs carry me forward as the living embodiment of power and grace I’ve truly become.
As and aside, if you ever actually read this Ivan, please know that I am so beyond proud to know you, my Phoenix friend, even prouder of your “little girl”, and forever grateful for the many unintentional ways your journey has intersected with mine as my paths keep changing from one direction into another and I cross all these bridges alone (but never lonely). If that voice of yours was only ever meant to reach just one other person’s ears and make their internal voices a little messy, then I’d say you’re doing a bang up job! I hear you, see you, and feel you loud and clear, and I know I’m not the only one. Much love to you and yours, my friend. Keep on keepin’ on one day and “little nugget” at a time!
INTO ANOTHER
Slowly I heal the love that’s found its way on to another path in times of change. Crossing that bridge alone, hoping our strength will hold. Should they let go then let me lay. Let me lay. Show me a sign to a light that shines one direction into another – sheltered peace of mind. Somewhere I lost a piece of memory, but somehow I know my legs will carry me. Searching for circle’s end, hoping the wounds will mend. Should this scar, then it was meant to be. {Skid Row}
This ever-lovin’ man bashing biz is getting about as old as the crotchety, hate-filled, unkind women who will surely only grow as old and bitter as their toxic minds, tongues, hearts, and souls that are stuck on this same old tired channel.
REMEMBER …
It really does take two to tango, and umm, the last time I checked, Jesus’ beloved and truly saintly mother, Mary, is no longer here on the face of this Earth, so unless and until some crotchety and bitter man-hating bitch can show me the perfect human woman, I’m not standing for this “ALL MEN ARE” complete and total BULLSHIT narrative anymore. It’s getting tired, and old, and the horse is beaten and dead now. Mmmmkay? Thanks!
Over Spring Break, I was both privileged and honored to have chaperoned a week-long trip to New York City sponsored by the art department at Gia’s high school. Fifteen teenagers, four museums, three Broadway shows, all five boroughs, and a lifetime of beautiful memories for she and I to add to our ever-growing adventure passport.
Of course, it goes without saying that given the less-than-optimal circumstances we could have been left in with Zack’s way too early departure, not only might I not have been able to even afford to send her on this trip, but I also probably wouldn’t have been able to chaperone it, either. With that, she and I were both ever mindful of the abundant blessings in our life courtesy of him, and rather than being said that he wasn’t actually there with us, we reveled in the pure joy of knowing that if, as we suspect, he can still see what we are doing, he was smiling ear to ear watching us live out our dreams and the many wishes he had for her. I didn’t take as many pictures as I could of, because I wanted to live this experience through my OWN lens and not the camera’s. These are just some highlights.
As and aside, I absolutely love New England, always have, always will, and being uprooted and whisked away LITERALLY overnight from my home, my childhood, grandfather, aunts, uncles, family, cousins, and one of the most beautiful places in this country was, indeed, my first true childhood “trauma”.
Meanwhile, it looks as though Gia is hooked, lined, and SINKERED, and will be going to art and design school somewhere on the east coast! I find no irony in this … just a beautiful, bittersweet circle in my life which a GAPING hole in it that will be coming into its full completion.
After everything this child has had to endure in life thus far, seeing the pure joy and true love for the overall New England vibe and aesthetic made my heart so happy. I believe with everything in my soul that New England is where she truly belongs. Only time will tell, I suppose, but now IS the time for her to start touring campuses. I’m down with that plan and also very excited for her!
Useless news flash for all of you: Today is both “World Monopoly Day” and it’s 81st birthday! Yes, my friends, it was on this day eight decades ago that the iconic, monocle sporting, sharp dressed little dude we all know and love, “Rich Uncle Penny Bags” was born!
So, in keeping with the game play theme, I want to share something kinda poignant I’ve learned about playing games over the years … that is … there is a price to pay for rolling the dice. And no, I’m not necessarily talking aboutthe metaphorical life games we play with peoples’ hearts and minds, I’m talking about the actual games we play for fun and jest like our beloved Monopoly.
You really can learn a lot about not just other people, but yourself as well, when playing recreational “games” with them. Watch how a person plays any kind of game, be them board games, cards, video games, and even sports, and you’ll catch a fairly authentic glimpse of not just their personality, but how they handle and present themselves in everyday, social, and business settings as well. If you pay close enough attention, you’ll likely be able to see their:
🎲 Ethics
🎲 Morality
🎲 Honesty
🎲 Integrity
🎲 Patience
🎲 Humility
🎲 Priorities
🎲 Generosity
🎲 Jealousy
🎲 Coping Skills
If you pay even closer enough attention, you may be able to see their:
👉🏼 Ability to hold random conversations.
👉🏼 Sense of entitlement if there is one.
👉🏼 Ability to compromise and be flexible.
👉🏼 Ability to collaborate.
👉🏼 Ability to share.
👉🏼 Overall life goals and motivation.
👉🏼 Attitude about people in general.
Ya wanna know what kind of person you’re really dealing with in “real life”? Challenge them to a game of Monopoly, pop some popcorn, and observe! Of all the things you can garner about a person’s personality, many of which aren’t even listed above, perhaps the most telltale sign of who and what they really are is their attitude whether they win or lose. Do they accept defeat with anger, resentment, jealously, and tantrum, or do they accept it with a “win some or lose some” grain of salt”? Or if they win, do they become a pompous in your face ASSHOLE, or just stay humble and thankful that “this time” they won because “sometimes they don’t”?
Truth being told, I myself have learned a great many things about my own children, God love them both, having both watched and played play board games with them over the years. As it turns out, I’ve raised one shark and one saint, neither of whom I’ll identify by name to either protect their guilt or save their face, lol.
Meanwhile, one of my darlings has been known to literally flip the Monopoly board upside down in a fit of rage when the game isn’t going their way and takes great personal offense when they can’t manage to con someone into selling them ALL the prime real estate on the bougie block of the board. That’s also the same child who shows no mercy whatsoever when people land on their Boardwalk hotel and have to forfeit the game. Meanwhile, much like me, my other one simply walks away from lost board games like, “So what, I lost, but DAMN that was fun!” That’s the same one who feels awful and shares more than an abundance of grace, often to their own demise, when someone lands on their Boardwalk and is on the brink of their own demise.
I’m Jean Claude Van DAMN telling you people – BOARD GAMES are the “real deal” when it comes to reading people. And by the way, as I said at the beginning, this “game playing test” also works for ourselves. As I’ve gotten older and really homed in on the process of self-discovery, awareness, and accountability, I, too, have “checked and balanced myself” when I was playing a game by really thinking about “why” I either did or didn’t react in certain ways or think, say, or do certain things:
Damn, girl, why’d you do that? It’s JUST a game?”
… or …
Damn, girl, why’d you do that? Don’t you even WANT to win this game?
As far as I’m concerned, and in case you haven’t already figured this out by now in reading through my Diary, there really is a message in every moment and something to be learned in the process and outcome of every single thing in which we endeavor. EVEN SILLY BOARD GAMES! Yes, there sure is a price to pay for “playing games” with the truly discerning amongst us, that being the risk of showing who you really are. By the time the game is over though, the end will have justified the means, ’cause let’s be honest, folks, these days it’s getting harder to tell the difference between real and make believe. Whether or not we like it or will admit it, so many people are hiding from even themselves and pretending to be someone they’re not, so if Monopoly is what it takes to get someone to speak their truth with the simple roll of a dice, let the games begin!
PRICE TO PLAY
Fail to see how destructive we can be. Taking without giving back ’til the damage can be seen. Can you see? Can you see? The more you take, the more you blame, but everything still feels the same. The more you hurt the more you scream. The price you pay to play the game. Then all you see and all you gave and all you step on with no shame. There are no rules, no one to blame. The price to play the game. Empathy, the chosen way to be. Blindly look the other way while you waste away with me. Can you see? Can you see? The more you take, the more you blame, but everything still feels the same. The more you hurt the more you scream. The price you pay to play the game. {Staind}
… that moment she sends you the screen shots of a conversation she had with a friend who’s in the midst of a struggle with her truly and insidiouslytoxic mother, only to read it and discover once again that yes, she really is listening to you, and yes, your dream for her really is coming true.
If you’ve been around this Diary long enough, by now you know I have a song for every moment, and in every one of my moments there’s a song. If I had a dollar for the countless number of times I’ve listened to and belted this one out loud to myself as a battle cry to remind me of exactly what I’m fighting for, then I’d could feed the world.
Do you want me to just listen, give you my thoughts, or offer advice? What would help you the most right now?
Pray GOD, how many times have I said those very words to her?
Everyone’s love is like water in a cup. The water in their cup is what they have to give …
And how many times have I said those exact words to her, too? I’m not gonna lie, folks, not 2.5 milliseconds after reading those words, “like water in a cup”, the waterworks began and I swear to HEAVEN that the first thought that came to my mind was the “the dream” in the words of this song.
My Mona Lisa made very much made me smile today, because after all that has been said and done, it’s becoming clearer to me each day that everything I’ve been praying for, fighting for, and dreaming about for her is coming to fruition.
As and aside, my daughter is far from perfect, just like her perfectly imperfect mom, and by no means am I attempting to canonize her into sainthood. She’s a normal and hormonal teenage girl, my friends, and truth being told, there are days when that little brat takes me toe to toe and drives me up literal walls. But if only you knew just exactly what she has been through in this lifetime thus far, and the actual demons she’s had to slay, you, like me, would be more inclined to expect that she’d have not only become a demon herself by now, but an extra cold and black one at that. She’s been broken in ways that no women should ever be broken, yet here she is spewing love, light, empathy, patience, understanding, and validation for another human being’s condition instead of the jaded toxicity that often accompanies the victims of the unfathomable crimes against her.
Likewise, by no means am a perfect parent. I have admittedly made way more than my fair share of mistakes, fails, and blunders. But this girl? My masterpiece? Although I have often felt that I don’t deserve her, evidently God believed I did, so, he charged me with her care even despite myself. She is every diamond in my jewel encrusted crown and exactly who I hope to be if and when I grow up. The more time passes, the more I can’t help but wonder whether my single greatest purpose and contribution to this world isn’t something I’m gonna do, but the children that I am raising.
SHE is my utmost achievement. SHE is the voice that will surely linger on as she continues lighting fires of her own with not just my words, but the brave and wise words of her own. SHE is the living expression of my life’s every song, and I am so blessed to call her my daughter. Today, as always, my “cup” truly runneth over.
TO MY DAUGHTER,
If you wanna lead, be a leader. If you wanna dream, be a dreamer. Climb to the top of that mountain and SCREAM IT, but, remember when you get to the top … everything you say is gonna matter … everything you do is gonna add up. It’s what I’ve asked for. So, don’t lose heart when it’s not what you thought. Careful now, girl – avoid those Jezebel ways. Don’t wear a crown on your head, but be a queen of clichés. Soon you’ll be playing with the big girls, so make sure that you’re ready when it comes around!
If you wanna preach, be a preacher. If you wanna teach, be a teacher. Remember that the footprints you’re leaving will tell us all who you really are. Never forget to remember your worth … instead of spreading your legs, please just use your words. Character is shown by the things that we do. The one thing you’re never gonna hide is the truth. ‘Cause anyone can sell when they’re selling out, and anyone can fly when they’re falling down.
I had a dream that YOU were born a generation to behold! Lighting fires with your words instead of useless smoke that blurs the lines of right and wrong; expression that lives on; my army with a song that will linger when I’m gone. I had a dream!
Sometimes I hate the world today. It’s been so good to me, I know, but I won’t change. I’ve tried to tell you, but you look at me like maybe I’m an angel underneath, but I’m not so innocent and sweet.
Yesterday I cried. You must have been relieved to see the softer side. I can understand how you’d be so confused. I don’t envy you. I’m a little bit of everything all rolled into one.I’m a bitch. I’m a lover. I’m a child. I’m a mother. I’m a sinner. I’m a saint, and I do not feel ashamed.I’m your hell. I’m your dream. I’m nothing in between. You know you wouldn’t want it any other way.
So, take me as I am. This may mean you’ll have to be a stronger person. Rest assured that when I start to make you nervous and I’m going to extremes, tomorrow I will change and today won’t mean a thing.
Just when you think you’ve got me figured out, the season’s already changin’. I think it’s cool you do what you do, but please don’t try to save me.
Lol! I’m an experience, that’s for sure. To truly know me is to truly love me, but only the worthiest of the worthy will ever get to say I truly love them back. If you know, you know. If you don’t, you don’t. If you did, but then pissed your chance away to stay on the much brighter side of all my blacks and greys, well, sorry, but I’m not that damn sorry aboutcha at all. You snooze, you lose, and so the story goes.
For the record, there’s literalangel dust beneath my feet that are very much planted both on the ground and above it both at once, and just enough fire and ash to keep me perfectly imperfectly balanced and always soaring and balanced above this sea of madness I temporarily call home.
I’m truly am “nothing, everything, and ALL OF IT“, but hey, at least I know EXACTLY who I fuck am and I own it – sometimes raving BITCH AND ALL! Riddle me this, my friends … exactly how many people in this world have you or will you ever know who will happily and proudly admit that there the most worthless, useless, AND valuable commodity anyone could ever have the privilege of knowing? I’m guessing the answer is, “Yah, maybe not so much.”
So, with that … I bid you adieu … ’cause this temporary bitch session is now over.
That’s it! I knew I was on to something the moment I finally realized that:
I am EVERYTHING …
… because I’m NOTHING!
I’ve said it before, but please just let me say it again. It wasn’t until I realized that in the much bigger picture, I am but a grain of sand in a boundless desert, a minuscule pebble in a shoreless ocean, and a singular blip on life’s radar of infinite sights, sounds, echoes, and discoveries. No one can become “everything and ALL OF IT” unless they first become “nothing at all”. It’s the one great paradox in our meaningless yet profound existence that makes us truly magnificent.
Your ego wants you to win so you feel good about yourself. Yet it’s exactly the ego itself that’s sabotaging you from winning. The paradox… Killing the ego before it becomes big is a great way to sustain a happy life … because once it gets enough power, you’ll start to beat yourself up for small stuff. It’s a guaranteed way to cripple yourself.
I wholeheartedly believe that every little grain of sand, every tiny pebble, and every singular blip on life’s radar is purposed and destined for something much more powerful than even the wisest mortal mind that’s existed could ever know. There’s magic in accepting and embracing our all but invisible yet infinitely powerful place in “all of this”. This is also probably why I am such a fierce proponent of letting everyone live life on their own terms with no judgement.
Sounds crazy, right? Well, then fit for me a straight-jacket and send me back to the psyche ward. My blind faith in something way more significant than me has been a concern for many. It’s not at all uncommon for people to laugh at me and my childlike beliefs. BEEN THERE! DON’T CARE! At least I know my place in all of this, and trust me when I say that it’s both pointless and powerful at once. I am literally nothing more than a singular spec of dust in an atmosphere which 99.99999% of humanity will ever breathe – and! I’M OKAY WITH THAT! Only time will tell the tale, so, I guess we’ll just have to see who’s laughing in the end.
I really AM just like the Sun. I’ll burn out your eyes, get under your skin, then blow out your eardrums with my words. I speak the TRUTH, damnit! So, love me or hate me, ’cause I literally just don’t care. Nothing about me is anyone else’s concern unless I allow it to be, just as NOTHING anyone thinks about me is any of mine. I’m the FIRST of me and the last of me, ’cause there’s never gonna be another one LIKE me, and I’m STILL the luckiest woman on this planet!
In the meantime, and as I said on Valentine’s Day just a couple of weeks ago:
Nevertheless, always remember that my last singular blip on this life’s radar will never truly be my last, as I, too, will travel the distance in your eyes … Interstellar … light years from you. Like a Supernova, we’ll fuse when we collide, awaking in the Light of all the stars aligned. You see, love really is the one thing that transcends time and space, and I know this with every shred of my being, because even though I cannot see Him, I feel the unyielding love and presence of the Supernova of all Supernovas … God … the one Who is always watching over me across the sky through the greatest telescope of all.
… but in keeping more with this Diary entry, I also say this:
So, say the word and I’ll be running back to find you. A thousand armies won’t stop me. I’ll break through. I’ll soar the endless skies for only one sight of your starlight.
That’s when you’ll realize just how truly magnificent I really was!
STARLIGHT
Stardust in you and in me. Fuse us into unity. Primeval, we’re coupled, born from the Universe. Farewell. The void is calling. Don’t fear, for futures and dreams – they’re fleeting, retreating. It’s ok, I promise. I don’t know what to say, but I’m going to want you till the stars evaporate. We’re only here for just a moment in the Light. One day it shines for us the next we’re in the night. So, say the word and I’ll be running back to find you. A thousand armies won’t stop me. I’ll break through. I’ll soar the endless skies for only one sight of your starlight. Tell me. Just tell me to stay. I’ll turn. I won’t look away. I’ll stay here. I’ll never go, but you don’t feel the same. Farewell. Farewell and Godspeed. Light years between you and me. I’m fading. Your beauty conquers the darkness. At night the Earth will rise and I’ll think of you each time I watch from distant skies. Whenever stars go down and galaxies ignite, I’ll think of you each time they wash me in their Light and fall in love with you again and I will find you. A thousand armies won’t stop me I’ll break through. I’ll soar the endless skies for only one sight of your starlight. Don’t leave me lost here forever. Show me your starlight and pull me through. Don’t leave me lost here forever. I need your starlight and pull me through. Bring me back to you. {Starset}
…then one day I woke up and realized that the narcissist I almost allowed to destroy my mind, my belief in love, and EVEN my faith in God, was actually a weak, pathetic, insecure JOKE of a “man”. If I so much as even think about him now, I laugh to myself, “Lol. What a fucking pussy!” The power he once had over me is MINE, always was, and is EVERYTHING, because queens don’t hand over the reigns to their kingdom to ANYONE less than a king!
At this point, these chronicles are getting kinda funny. Be it known, however, that although this Diary entry is dated February 20, 2022, because that’s when the little fucker called me yet again, I didn’t find it on my phone until a week later.
My son has been “on the market” for going on 15 years now if you count back to age 16, and up until now, there has only been one who I truly loved (and still do). But umm, Jean-Claude Van DAMN she was definitely NOT “the one” for him. Those two took “toxic” to a totally different level, not to mention the fact that they were both literally just kids when they met.
Now, fast forward to “here we are” fifteen long years later, and I’m sitting here literally praying that he’s finally learning how to talk to girls, because God Himself knows he didn’t always have the best examples of that. When Zack came along, he literally flipped the game board of our lives upside down for the better, “talking to girls” took on a whole different meaning, and Christian finally had a good example.
Meanwhile … THIS girl? She’s literally turning him inside out in all the best ways possible, and I’d be lying my face off if I said I wouldn’t actually kill him if he lets her get away. A mother can dream, right? I guess that only time will tell.
The Diary Of My Perfection 