Can a mother be a father too


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Some days, ok maybe everyday, I wish you’d just stay away. Stop trying, give up and just be the shitty dad you’ve become. I wish you knew that every time you call or text it just pulls her right back down. Would you stop if you knew?
I hate that one text and you can become a hero again. The week before you had her crying at school and hating herself. Do you realize how hard it is to bring her back up, how close I have to watch her to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. Oh that’s right you don’t realize because you aren’t actually around her.
What can you really teach her that I can’t? You’re already teaching her that men can’t be trusted. She should have learned the lesson from a shitty boyfriend not her father. Bring on the daddy issues and her dating a man older then you.
You taught her that a stupid fight can be held against you forever. This she should have learned from a friend, someone who could have walked away and she would have been better off. Yay drama queen psycho friend that never goes away.
So stay away don’t come in and out of her life.
Don’t text. Is it wrong to block you on her phone but not tell her? Probably. Ugh.

Try not to fuck up our son next.




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Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe.

Being strong sucks. Sometimes I would like to just break down and scream. I can’t, but I’d like to.
Crying in the shower seems to be the best bet lately, no one can tell your crying; and maybe the tears that go down the drain will release the pressure inside. Hiding in the shower crying alone hoping no one notices once you step out. I’m happy, I’m happy, always but don’t look.

Got to be strong got to hold on. Figure stuff out, don’t let her see, the depression in me. Make sure she’s fine, take the pressure off her mind. Don’t let her be sad and always ask why, look her in the eye so you can see the lie. Always glance at her arms, you can still see the scars. Checking in everyday to make sure she’s ok. Tell her you love her and show her she matters. Hope that she can be the greatness you see.



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Sometimes when going on Facebook you see parents with kids and all they do is brag about them. Is it wrong that when I see that and the child is under 12 I want to comment….. In a few more years your kid is going to hate you!

I’ve had one of each, my girl is older, she went into 5th grade and became an emotional train wreck and I could barely deal. Everything was a HUGE deal and overly dramatic. (Which some crazy bitch called her once) <- why I hate people. Anyways, then she became a woman, holy crap I thought the drama was bad then, she almost drowned us with her tears every month. Horrible. Once bitchmode started I figured only one of us would come out alive. But lo and behold we lived, barely. It’s not over yet though.

Now the boy, that all started when he turned 9. Boys just think that they know EVERYTHING. They don’t know when to just shut up either.”Shut up. But. Shut up. I was…. Shut up. I ummm. I. Shut up!!!! Calm down mom, jeez.” OMG it feels like your head is just spinning. Then they turn 12 and are taller then you and their voice sounds like a man now, and you just want them to still love you. But they don’t, they just want to play video games and smell, god they smell so bad! They are to lazy to shower, especially in summer. This boy is crazy and wants to move out. Β He’s 13, he can’t even get a job! He doesn’t listen. But if he had a job it’d help me out a lot. πŸ™‚ We fight all the time and yet he’s my baby.

So, Yes, love your kid, brag if you can, but remember they’re going to turn into a teenager and hate you!!! And believe me or not, you will always love your kid but as they grow into a teenager, you will not like them. Your daughter will be a bitch and your son will be an ass!




Can you have to much information, yes, kind of, sometimes?
I feel like I have to much information when I’m about to fall asleep, so many things run thru my mind all day; work stuff, kid stuff, is my dad ok stuff, it’s amazing how much info and just endless thoughts you can have in a day. But it all seems to culminate right before I close my eyes. Did I do that thing at work, should I apologize for calling the guys I work with stupid, yes I did it, nah they’re grown fuck them. Then ok it’s Tuesday is the Boy here, no, ok I can leave for work a little later, wait, do I need gas? Crap ohhhhh wait uhhhh. OVERLOad! Then it’s ok go to sleep. shut up! Wait…. Check on the Girl, she was smiling today right? did she seem sad? no. she’s good. Ok she’s alive! We’re good. Ok now calm down, relax see everything is fine. And then shit last thought is always did I lock the front door? Sigh and it starts all over again.

And then you get a text. OMG now what! Who died? Oh it’s Target I can save a dollar. UGHHHHH!

Maybe my dreams are peaceful, because my mind cannot be.

The Daily Post

New year


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Well it’s been a year since the Psych ward. We made it! Sometimes I can’t believe it and sometimes I think we’re going back. It’s been easy, it’s been hard, it’s been hell even. But it’s done, school started and it’s going well.

It’s still weird that when the girl wears short sleeves I check for cuts, and when she wears sleeves I get nervous. Will that ever change, doubt it. It’s a comfort though how much we’ve grown, together and alone, we’ve become a team. We understand each other better and she can share if I’ve gone too far. I don’t have the best parenting skills and I don’t try to be perfect, I know it’s hard for her but she’s learned that I can change; especially if it’s for her or her brother.

I’ve finally figured out how different our personalities are. I can’t expect her to have my attitude or my who gives a fuck demeanor, she’s the best parts of me and the parts I know I lack she seems to have them all. So I step back try not to lecture, and listen, because she doesn’t want to hear my opinion she just wants to be heard. It’s truly been hard. I definitely struggle to not scream and yell but then I stop and remember how far we’ve come. Sometimes I can’t help myself and she she has to hear a back in my day story… She pretends to listen πŸ™‚ but it is so different now than then.

So today was hard but tomorrow will be better and I know that come hell or high water we will always work together to be better.



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How can someone so loved feel so sad. Reading about Robin Williams has left me heart broken. He was hilarious and happy and loved, well we thought he was happy. How do you hide such darkness, why do you want to.
This death has me panicking and scared.
Just a year ago I found out how depressed someone can be and how willing I was to not see what was happening. I couldn’t see that one of the humans I love the most had broken. I got them help and we’ve been working on keeping the pieces together; but seeing this happen when only a year ago everything was twisted is hard. I can’t even read an article about Robin Williams without tearing up. All I can think is…

OMG is this what could have happened.

I’m not sure if I can ever truly get over this even after a year, I freak out over a suicide story. School is starting soon and it scares me. What if it happens again, what if I can’t stop it this time. What if my love isn’t enough to save her. I’m terrified.
Depression and darkness is not something I see, sure I’ve been sad but never to the point of madness. Will I see it if it comes again?

Ryan’s Story


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Ryan’s Story.

this story is so hard to read. It felt like I was reading thru what happened with my daughter. Why is 5th grade the age, how can kids be so cruel. If anyone should have been a bully it should have been my kid. God I was the biggest bitch in school. All of school. But not my kid. She was too nice, I thought, to everyone. She told us about the girls making fun of her, and at first I told her the same thing. Ignore them, kids are stupid. Fuck ’em. But it got worse and she told her teacher. The teacher didn’t do anything until I went to the school and told her I told my kid to punch that girl in the face. Its funny how fast a teacher will move then. She told me “you can’t tell your daughter that” all shocked. I laughed And told her, “No You can’t tell my daughter that, I can and did.” my daughter and her bully were in the principals office the next day. Done and on to the next school.

I stupidly thought middle school would be better. Big mistake. the bullying started again, and again. We would fix a situation and another would pop up. Eighth grade seemed to be the best grade. Her grades went up and stayed up she seemed better happier and not as moody. Until high school.

How can high school go so wrong. How could I have been so wrong. Starting a new school especially high school is hard. But when your child comes home hating life you figure well shit, new school, new people, she just has to get used to everything. There’s hundreds of kids at school how many of them actually care about what she is doing. Well it only really takes one. I never thought it’d come to what it did. Until it did. Reading thru Ryan’s story and seeing the suicide prevention tab hit me hard, all the Warning signs were there. Insomnia, broken relationship, failing grades. Looking back I feel stupid, how could I have thought it was just teenage moodiness, just my daughter being like every other teenage moody bitch in the world. I’m grateful my story doesn’t begin with the date of her death because I’m not as strong as Ryan’s dad. But to all parents who know your child is having problems with kids at school… Go to the school. Ask for help and don’t leave until they help. Raise hell. They have cameras in school now, find the kids hurting your kids and make them accountable. schools move a lot faster when you become a problem to them. They move a lot faster when your kid thinks suicide is the only decision, believe me they move like lightning, but don’t let it come to that. Don’t depend on others to help because most kids wont get involved. Help them, even if they don’t want it. Because suicide isn’t the answer and the aftermath of a voluntary hold on your child’s life is not something that is easy to come back from.

My ankles hate me


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I convinced my daughter we should start running. I always liked running because I could clear my head and I thought maybe it could help her too. The problem with me convincing her is that than she convinced me to do a 5k. So I’m training to run a 5k. I might die before than and my ankles hate me. They’ve been screaming at me for days. So I gained a little weight after I had my last baby…. 12 years ago. I mean if they couldn’t handle it wouldn’t they have gotten bigger too. WTH.
It’s only been 3 days since we started. I don’t want to jinx it but it’s not to horrible. I mean if the screaming in my shins stops I’m sure I’ll be able to get thru week one without dying. If only I could convince my son to go. But he won’t. He doesn’t even like walking. One day I’ll get him to do it tho. Don’t worry this won’t become a bullshit exercise blog. Since I hate exercise, but I’d do anything to keep the depression away from my kid. Including running and exercising. We’ll see how this ends up. Hopefully with us running a 5k and not with me breaking my kankles. πŸ™‚ wish me luck….

Admitting blame


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It’s hard to see how you’ve fucked up. Even harder when you’re the parent and you’ve fucked up your kid. You never realize when you hold your baby in your arms how many ways you can hurt them. Not intentionally. I never thought parenting would be this hard. How do you fix things that should have never gone wrong. How did those things go so wrong. How do you fuck up those things that you love so much? Hold to tight, let go to soon. How do you even know if anything you do is in their best interest or not.
Maybe just paying for the shrink for the rest of their life is the way to go.
To my kids.
I’m sorry. It’s my fault.

Thank you

Mom and Dad. I wonder all the time what I would do without you. I haven’t come up with an answer and I hope I never have to. Thank you. For everything. For standing beside me when you could have stood behind me. Making me become responsible because you knew that I had to become an adult too young. Letting me still be young within limits. Believing in me and loving me. Letting me make my own mistakes and holding me up when they were wrong. Loving my kids, driving my kids. Helping me in more ways than I can even explain. I hope you know I appreciate everything and I love you more than words.
Thank you.
I love you.
I’m glad I’m your favorite.
One girl three boys. Boys are dumb.
You made some great kids.