Happy Birth…aw shut the f*&% up!

54174145Today is my birthday but really, I could care less.  Later today, I will be forced to stand in front of a cake while my co-workers sing Happy Birthday.  I want to do what I have done at all my other jobs and that is completely skip this day, as far as cake and singing goes.  But these people won’t allow that.  I’m not mad really.  I just wished this day would go by without recognition.  For the most part it does. I don’t have my birthday set on my Facebook so I don’t get those millions of “happy birthday from the person who you don’t even know in real life!” on my Facebook feed.67017502

The truth is, I’ve never acknowledged this day since about 15 years ago because my whole  life I’ve never been acknowledged or noticed by anyone anyway.  As of lately, I can’t even have a conversation with my mother and/or sister not just because I really only tolerate them and their constant negativity but because they really don’t allow others to speak in the conversation. It’s nothing but talking over everyone else and interrupting.  It becomes a narcissistic type of conversation where what THEY have to say is the only thing that matters.  It is actually quite rude and I’m sick of it.  So I sit there and just listen with tons to say but no way to jump in fast enough to say it.

And don’t think that just because my birthday is the same month as Christmas I get double the gifts.  That has never happened for the following reasons:

  1. I grew up in a cult that didn’t even celebrate Christmas and;
  2. When I was finally out of the cult and celebrated Christmas it was believed that a birthday gift AND a Christmas gift could be combined. Hence, I get 1 gift for the price of two occasions…..

imageYeah…a combination of cheap family and never getting noticed anyway.  So who really cares if I’m one year closer to my death.

I’m 40 by the way…just more lemon juice in the gaping hole that is my soul.


We are only here for a short time….

That is what I keep telling myself…’This is temporary…This is temporary”

It may seem that I left this blog by the wayside and perhaps I have.

In the weight department, I have been at a steady and maintained weight loss of 75lbs. Sometimes it goes up…then I bring it right back down. I am now conscious of when I start to gain a pound or two and make sure that it comes back down. As of right now…I’m up a bit but I will bring it right back down. I have been keeping exercise as a regular part of my routine at 3-4 times a week, 30 minutes on the elliptical or bike and weight lifting. I am pretty much carb free but sneak the occasional dinner roll or fry here and there. But 98% of my food choices do not include carbs in any form. I am going to finish up my last two weeks at the medical clinic and then I’m going to switch to another facility which is just around the corner from my office building and I can visit for my vitamin injections during my lunch hour.  I want to start fresh at a new place, from my current weight.  I still have about 30 pounds to lose although I may try and go as far as losing another 50 lbs bringing me down to about 120 lbs at 5 feet 4 inches height.  I started this journey May 4, 2013 and will never look back.  After a year, I will start fresh and these will be my new goals:

Height:  5 ft, 4 in
Current Weight:  178 lb  (give or take)
Healthy weight range:  117-146 lb
Current BMI:  31
Healthy BMI range:  20-25

MjAxMy1lYjAyZjhlYThkZWIyNGUwWork has not been so good.  I am currently dealing with a boss who yells, argues and screams at me, on the phone, or to anyone he’s talking to.  I’ve documented it with H.R. and that is all I can really do.  He also burps all the time, farts in front of me (his office constantly smells like butt) and I literally have to leave the area when he eats lunch because he’s SO loud with his chomping and slurping that it makes me physically ill.  I made the mistake once of walking into his office while he was eating lunch and let me just say, the spaghetti sauce was ALL over his mouth….all…over.  And by the way, this is a 58 year old man.  He is disgusting.  My solution, since I need a paycheck and can’t quit, is to completely shut down any interaction with him.  Basically, I avoid him at all costs.  Communication is mostly through emails.  It’s working out, for the most part.

But the worst was about 1 ½ months ago, when somehow, an un-authorized person snuck into the buildings and stole 3 wallets straight from purses sitting on cubicles.  My wallet was one of them.  I’m very disappointed in how my employer handled the situation.  But I have to put up with all of this because eating is not an option.  I will say it really takes its toll on me.  The stress is beginning to affect my stomach.  I’m pretty sure I have IBS but I need to go to my Dr. to get him to diagnose me but from what I’ve read, I’m sure that’s it.  On my own, I’m starting probiotics and cutting back on the coffee…(*sorta* teehee).  But my appetite and eating is pretty much null and void.  I have no desire for food as I used to over a year ago.  But that’s fine with me.


My farm….

I have become mildly obsessed with Farmville 2: Country Escape.  Yes, yes I have. I’m farming and harvesting and creating yummy foods such as cakes, pies and fish that sometimes just playing the game brings my appetite back! It’s funny.  Anyway, look up cpamorain@gmail.com on Google Games and that would be me. It should be listed as one of my games that I’m getting achievements from.

Rejection-Investors-Startup--790x391I have officially given up on finding someone, a companion to walk with me and beside me for the rest of my life.  After putting myself out there for a bit…the rejection, even after becoming physically attractive (or so I thought the weight loss would help) is unbearable.  I was never one to react positively from rejection.Plain Jane

I’ve had a series of revelations. There was a time that I firmly believed that my over weight issue was what kept me unattractive and plain.  I have since come to find out, it was never the weight.  I will admit to being a “Plain Jane” and nothing that turns heads.  Hell, I’ll be lucky if I can get another human being to even acknowledge that I exist.  Beyond that, there is something about my personality that makes others turn away.  I am not all alone for no reason.  I should wear a sign that says “does not play well with others”.  The weight is gone and still, I’m a nobody.

I barely exist to anyone.  My son just sees me as a bank to make sure he has what he needs and a disciplinary who stops him from having “fun”.  Although I firmly believe that I am the coolest mom on the planet.   Just recently, he started becoming interested in Superman comics and we found a great Comic Book store near our apartment that I take him to (when he acts good) and I get him comics to his hearts desire.  Now tell me, how many mothers will get down on their hands and knees digging through boxes of back issues of Superman comics in a local comic book store, to find the right Superman comic for their 10 year old son.  We are not many, us cool moms.  I love it though.  I’ve always been a geek at heart.

Mario KartI also visited just about every McDonald’s in the area JUST to get The Boy his last Mario Kart toys from there.  They were the Happy Meal toys and he was only  missing three.  I found two out of the three he was missing.  I couldn’t find Donkey Kong.Beanie Babys

I will admit…I did get some of the Beanie Babies (the “Girl” toy) for myself…they were so cute!

But this all proves this theory: That kid…is my entire reason for existing…my entire…..reason.

My parents barely know I exist beyond giving them their most precious grandchild. I’m just waiting for my father’s impending progression of Alzheimer’s to finally kick in and he won’t know who I am, at all.  Until then, he just can’t talk.  But both my parents pretty much ignore me more now than they ever did.   My younger sister….*sigh*…her and I are just not on the same page about morals and standards in life and are having serious personality conflicts.  It really does break my heart but she is the most stubborn and unforgiving person I know.  She also needs to think before she speaks just as a common human courtesy.  I also think she resents me for my weight loss but that is just speculation.  She is going down the path of physical self sabotage and gaining SO much weight and I worry for her health.  She is pre-diabetic, has thyroid issues and back problems.  She really needs to lose about 100 lbs, for health reason alone!   I know that she holds some resentment towards me just by being in the same room with her because we’ve both been fat our whole lives.  This journey is a lifetime change and she is all about the “3-day cleanse” diets.  That doesn’t work for us.  It’s a lifetime thing.  My older sister, well I never had a real relationship with her as we didn’t grow up together.  I have no friends and barely know a handful of relatives.

liar_liar_pants_on_fireI tried the dating thing and it just didn’t work. There was always someone better than me or, as I’ve come to realize, most men, especially the so called “Christian” ones, are all liars.  The amount of liars and hypocrites I’ve run into in the approximately 8 months I’ve tried dating is outstanding and absolutely incredible.  Guys that say “I’m looking for a Christian woman, with standards and values……” then turn around and want to jump in the sack…uh…no….?  Or you get the ones who really like that I’m a sports fanatic and would rather go to a good baseball or hockey event than shop for shoes, then drop me like I have leprosy to pursue someone who, surprise…..surprise, is eye candy for them to hang off their arm.  Pathetic…. Men, are a lost cause, especially at this age.  I’m done with them and their lies, arrogance and hypocrisy.

And after that evaluation, I really will be brutally honest and admit that for me, death cannot come fast enough.

Now let me explain that statement.

The Bible tells us that Christians will be with Jesus the instant they die.

In 2 Corinthians 5:8 the Apostle Paul even longed for death because he knew it would take him into the presence of Jesus.  He said,  “We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord. “

In Luke 23:43 Jesus tells the thief dying on the cross, “Verily I say unto thee, Today shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.”

I just want to be with Jesus, where there is no pain, physical or mental or emotional.  This life is temporary and full of heartache and sorrow and sometimes, it’s a bit to much.  But I do not condone murder, so when I say that, I mean that getting older only carries for me regret that I didn’t live my younger years with more wisdom.  I sometimes feel I have nothing to teach my son yet, on the flip side, I have everything to teach him because of my mistakes that I learned from.  I know that he alone, is the only reason I exist on this planet.  Well him and the fear of the eternal consequences of murder (because, yes, suicide is murder and God gave us each our paths for a reason).

So please, no comments like “you need to seek counseling blah blah blah”.  I’m not going to off myself.  I just can’t wait to be in a happier place when this life walk is over.  The end of this physical life in this physical skin will be such a welcome to me.


I used to blame God for my loneliness and be petrified of dying, but I can’t feel that way anymore.  It was I who made my choices. The only “blame” that can go towards God is that He gave humans the ability to choose right from wrong.  He only shows us the paths and we must choose to walk the proper one.  I did not  with the choices I made, out of rebellion and spite and now I suffer the consequences by dealing with loneliness and the harsh reality that for however many more years I have on this planet, they will be utterly and totally, alone.

So, in essence, since my last posts in here of our wonderful day trip to Hearst Castle to my constant battle with loneliness, it hasn’t gotten much better.  There are good days and bad days.  There are days when my family really get on my last nerve and I’m done with them.  But for the most part, I spend most of my time with The Boy and just prepare myself for the day when he will jump on the bandwagon, and also reject me somewhere down the line.  Then I will be utterly and truly alone and my battle between living and being patience for God’s time for Him to call me to His Kingdom, will truly begin.

Or, it might not end up that way because I have also learned that I am not the one making the path.  I just follow what is right and how believe.  I will enjoy my son and teach him the best I can.  He starts school a week from Monday and will be entering the 5th grade.  I’m taking him to a Dodger game on Sunday as a “End of the Summer” last fun thing to do and a night at a fun restaurant in Pasadena where you throw your peanut shells on the floor.  I’ve already been to two Dodger games this summer, one with my sister and my kid and one with my sister, kid, and my parents and I think I just want to be with my kid now.  Sometimes, they are all to much for me to handle and my patience is pushed to it’s limits.

But I constantly do question one thing about my faith.  If Jesus died for us and forgave us, why do the sins of our past hurt us in our present?  I guess I should talk to a pastor about that but I try to figure things out on my own.

Today, she would have been 37

I had a friend who was sweeter than cherry pie.  She never had a negative word to say about anyone.

She was more my sister than my friend.  She would never show her emotions beyond a silly grin, whether she was sad or upset.  She only once gave me a good scolding and that was because I deserved it.

She never wanted to let off that she was sick, to weak or in pain.  She was stubborn like that and I adored her for it.  She never asked for help.  She never seemed to need it as strong as she was.  She never worried about anything and I mean anything.  She had building debt but still traveled and enjoyed life.  She also never cleaned her room but I loved her for it.

She was living on borrowed time the moment we all found out she had cancer at age 19.  She fought that bitch until age 29, when finally, it won.  She spent her last days with loved ones, travelling with her family, celebrating her birthday with her friends.  All the while, I knew she would be gone soon.

I was there when she died, I saw her soul go up to God.

There isn’t a day I don’t think about her in just about everything I do.  I lost my best friend, my only friend and because of it, I’ve been friendless since.

I miss you and Happy birthday.

Let’s talk about 9/11

Every single American adult (and even the children) in this country will forever remember where they were the day that thousands of our fellow American died.  I’m sure, just like in the past 12 years on this day, there will be plenty of blog posts about what one was doing on that morning we witnessed the horror.

My story of that day and how days after have affected me, is no different or more special than the next person who blogs about their memories of this tragic event because we all, universally, shared the same emotions.

I was 24.  On that day, I woke up a bit earlier than normal because I was about to spend the day apartment hunting with my fiancé.  We were to be married on October 27, 2001.  I was not working at the time so I usually woke up later in the morning.  But today, I woke up earlier.

I turned on the T.V. and every channel was set to a burning skyscraper in New York City.  I really didn’t know the lay out or much of the demographics of New York because I live in California and have my whole life.  However, I did recognize these towers and knew them to house many business companies and many people worked in them.  As I stood in the kitchen, I stared at the T.V. listening to the reporters describing the flames coming out of the building because a plane had slammed into it and you could hear the panic in their voices mixed with confusion because no one really knew what was going on!  One reporter thought it was an accident or that maybe the pilot lost control.  Another did suggest a hijacking and that it was done on purpose.

It was when the second plane hit WHILE they were still reporting and showing footage of the first planes’ wreckage, that I believe every American watching it knew, all at once, in unison, what exactly was happening.

This was not an accident, this was deliberate.

I walked upstairs and woke up my mother and said “I think New York is being attacked. Come look at the news”.  Of course, knowing my mother, I should have used less dire words because she woke up with a start and I’m sure all she heard was the word “attack” and probably words I never said like “our house is being attacked and we are all going to die”.

Although, now that I think back, her awakening panic was very much called for this one time.

We both watched the news for a bit but I had to leave to go apartment hunting.  Of course, at this point I, and I believe a lot of us on the west coast and around the world, didn’t realize what kind of tragedy this would turn out to be.  I got back home later that afternoon after randomly listening to the radio news about what was happening in NY.  Little did I know that airports were being shut down simultanesouly across the country and public places were being cleared out.  Even Disneyland was quickly emptied out for fear of the unknown that could be heading towards ANY city or public venue, big or small, within the U.S.


Actual photo taken of Main Street, Disneyland in Anaheim the morning of 9/11/01.  By this time in the morning, Disneyland should have been filled with smiling guests. It was never opened that day. Photo from laughingplace.com

As the days rolled on, more news came in about what happened and what was thought to have happened.  The black boxes from the United planes were retrieved and soon released.  Stories began to flood in from people at Ground Zero and more footage was becoming accessible.  Being that I didn’t watch the whole news cast on the day it happened, I had yet to see the footage of the Towers collapsing until days later.  I was stunned and horrified when I did.

As the years rolled on and Anniversary’s of the day came and went, more stories came out.  Footage from random people in apartments many blocks away were revealed.  They even released some 911 calls that came in from people in the Towers and the planes which were devasting to hear.  Simply devastating.

Ever since that day, anytime I watch old movies from before 2001, I always notice something I’ve never noticed before.  Those tall, towering skyscrapers in the New York skyline.

It turned out that just as the Statue of Liberty depicted New York, so did those Twin Towers.

To this day, watching a movie that shows New York, or any metropolis, being attacked and buildings crashing to the ground, gives me chills and makes me cringe.  I know it’s all Hollywood and in those movies when Aliens attack, why wouldn’t they want to bring down every building they can.  I just think that from the moment the first plane hit on 9/11/01, the “Alien attacking” scenes from any movie, rubs everyone a little raw.

Before 9/11


From “Armegeddon” (1998) Image from rottentomatoes.com


From Super Mario Bros. (1995) Image from therealnewsonline.com

 Films more recently released…

A scene from The Avengers (2012)  Image from onthesetofnewyork.com

A scene from The Avengers (2012) Image from onthesetofnewyork.com

Man of Steel

Man of Steel ( 2013)  Image from businessinsider.com

September 11th is now called “Patriot Day”.

In remembrance of the thousands of lives lost.

In remembrance of the many children who lost mothers and fathers, many spouses who lost husbands and wives and many families who lost brothers and sisters.

911 Never Forget

R.I.P. DJ the Hamster


DJ the Hamster

This morning, I was awoken by The Boy rushing into my room saying, “Mommy! DJ Died! ”

Oh Good Lord…..

So, I get up and go to see what is what. Sure enough, it’s dead.

I then explain to him that we will clean the cage out and place him in a bag.  He says he wants it buried.  Uh ok?  Being that I live in an apartment complex I don’t have access to a back yard.

I must think fast.

I tell him that I will put it in a bag and take it down to the bushes on the other side of my apartment building where there is more dirt than grass and I will bury him there and then come back and get him and he can place his little “tombstone” on it with a flower from the bushes.

I take the bag with the dead animal down the stairs, to the dirt spot, pass the dirt spot and drop it into the large dumpster in the back.  I then go back to the dirt spot and rustle the dirt a bit to look like I dug up the dirt and put it back, then go to get The Boy.

He puts down his little piece of “tombstone” bark and a few flowers there and we move on with our day.

I feel bad that I couldn’t tell him that I just threw it in the dumpster but I’m pretty sure that someone would have seen me putting a small rodent into the ground and I would have been caught.  There are always people walking around and it’s out in the open.  And if a gardener had found it, I don’t think they could have pinned it on me but who knows if they have cameras around the tops of the apartment buildings!  I think like that sometimes.

So, The Boy got his Memorial.  That is all that mattered to me and he was able to lay DJ to rest.


A moment of silence for DJ the Hamster, please……..

First question out of The Boy’s mouth….”Can we go to Pet Smart and get another hamster?


The days go on and the idiots are still around

I continue, day by day.  I took The Boy to hockey lessons last night, and after, we went for our traditional In N Out dinner.

I woke up to the news about Prop 8 in California.  My opinion and where I stand on this subject is not the most liked point of view.  So I will leave it at that.

As I already posted, I lost another dear friend last week to breast cancer.  I’ve been doing better.  My mother actually pointed out something very important that I agreed with (yes, pick up your jaws from the floor.  Sometimes we DO agree).

She pointed out that it may have been a “blessing in disguise” that my friend told no one about her battle, especially me.  After losing my best friend and watching her deteriorate over the years then die, I may not have been able to handle going through it all over again and adding the pain her small child and husband into the picture.  So I’m wondering if maybe, it was all for the best.  I can only take so much.

And right after pointing that out my mother pointed that out I’m a bitch because I told her about my issues with my ex on Monday.  She said I am a bitch to him and I whole fucking heartedly agreed!

I’m sorry (or not sorry) but I hold no respect, honor or decency to someone who turns their back on their child for any reason.  It is selfish and wrong and only shows that this person wants to hurt the child and since this is MY child….I give you this:Mother Bear

He lost any type of respect or non-bitchyness from me the moment he did that.  I care NOT for the reasons he claims to have done it either, which were that he couldn’t handle me.  Excuse not accepted. I don’t care if I acted like Miranda Priestly herself!  You are there for your kid.  I know men to have endured MUCH worse than I ever could have dished out and were always there for their children. 

And for corn’s sake I really wasn’t that bad!  He just got mad because I ripped him a new one because he shaved my 1 year olds head bald right before a photo session and not only did my baby look like he should be saying Hail Hitler but that is not the look I wanted for him at his baby photo session.  And I know that my kid screamed the whole time he was getting his head shaved while his father probably just told him to shut up.  (Yes, he would have said that, I had seen him do the exact thing I describe to his nephews.  I don’t make this up).

So yeah, my inner bitch WILL come out when dealing with that asshole.

Anyway, I digress.  To top off this wonderful roller coaster of emotions I made the very bad mistake of posting in a group on a certain Disney forum about the recent loss of my friend to cancer.  I have known a lot of the people who post there for years and wanted to check in.

Big mistake.  My “check in” was greeted with this insensitive and callous comment, at least in my opinion, anyway.

Sorry Claudia, it happens. Many kids lose parents

By the “many kids lose parents” comment, he was referring to the fact I mentioned my friend had a 6 year old daughter… but hey…so what! Many kids lose parents right?  That makes this loss mean nothing…right?  Or does that make the motherless kids feel any better?!

What the fuck…..I wonder how anyone who is as insensitive as this lives with themselves on a daily basis.  And I now remember why I left that fucking Disney forum.  Disney my ass……

Or maybe I’m being super sensitive about the comment to because I know some people just don’t know what to say but if that were the case, just say nothing.  I can guarantee if this had been said to me to my face, I would have punched him in the balls.

Oh and FYI – I changed the address of this journal from amorainbette to claudiabette.  I might do this every few months just to ensure that I keep out of the radar of those who I don’t want seeing this blog.

So former links to the old address will show a deleted blog but I’m still here.

I have had the night to think on this…

I found out about my childhood friend dying last night, around 10:00 p.m.

I’ve had some time to think, to message and get a response from her sister on what the heck happened. 

She did have Stage IV Breast Cancer and had been fighting it for 3 years.  Apparently, no one really knew and I believe that was by her request.  I totally respect and understand that.  She also will not be having a funeral service, also by her request.  That last one kinda bothers me but I’m trying to find out at least where I can visit her gravesite.

I will admit to wanting to cry, a lot, here at my desk at work.  I probably should have just stayed home but I am one to put on a happy face, when inside, I’m screaming in pain.

I know sometimes, I just want to shake my fists at God asking “WHY?”.

Why would two of my friends, who were fairly healthy people, non-smokers, non-drinkers, one a devoted wife and mother, the other a kind soul, be taken so young…yet….

My ex husband who a) abandons his son b) drinks and smokes heavily c) gets into bar fights and d) is just an over all mean and heartless soul amongst who knows what other bad habits he’s contracted…….gets a clean bill of health every year and will more than likely live until he is an old man.

There are other people I’ve known who have done horrible things and live into their 90’s. 

That kind of “logic” will never make sense to me, ever.  No matter how many minister’s or Christians explain it to me.  Is it the Achilles’ Heel of my faith?  It sure is.  It just simply is not fair.

I would like to think it could possibly be a type of torture.  These people have to live with how they are and/or what they have done.  So life, for them, is a jail sentence into their souls.

My friends, were just to damn good for this World and needed to move up higher than anyone.

Maybe….maybe I’m just sick of all this death happening around me lately.  It’s bumming me out.

My youth…is dying

I knew that THIS post was happening for a reason.

Along with my Best Friend, there was another friend who was part of our circle.

I just found out last night, that my other friend, just passed away last week from breast cancer.   She was 38.  She left behind a husband and 6 year old daughter.

These two friends of mine, shared an apartment together when we were younger.  I would always go over there to visit them.  They both hosted my Bachelorette Party and helped me make my wedding favors.

They are now both dead.

As the title states, I feel like my youth is dying…. and I suddenly fear I’m next.

Oh Lord help me.

What would we be doing right now?

I remember what we were doing before we were 29.

  • You always had so many different friends that I always felt that I was sharing you with so many others, even if you were the only true friend I had.
  • You were usually telling me that I was a bit to blunt and outspoken for my own good and you would always do it in a way that put me in my place, without making me feel like a Class A Bag of Douche.
  • You would always pour me to much Rum and Coke and I would always push it away, until I just decided to just take the drink so you would stop pestering me to lighten up.
  • You helped me through my wedding and fights with my mother, even though you shared her feelings that I was marrying the absolutely wrong man.
  • You always had positive words and a bright smile………Always, up until we were 29.

What would we be doing now?

  • You would have been my shoulder to cry on when my divorce finally became reality because you always listened so patiently and without judgement.
  • You NEVER would have said “I told you so” after my marriage was officially done because you would have known that my family would have already said it enough.
  • You would have helped me with my child as much as you could.
  • You would have given me the advice and the strength to venture on my own and to be independent as a single mother.
  • You would have joined me on my adventures with my son, and smiled the whole time.
  • You would be here with me, in the present, to take me out for coffee or a stiff drink, when I needed a night off.

However, we will not be doing those things.  At 29, something else entered our lives.  At 29, Cancer claimed you and stole from me my Best Friend.

You were my only friend and I have never found your equal since, nor do I feel I ever will.

7 years ago, my life went from “what did we do then” to “what would we be doing right now”.

I miss you so much it hurts to the core of my being and I would give anything to have you back, sitting here, telling me that I’m a bit blunt and outspoken, then handing me a Rum and Coke.

rum and coke

The Nothing

As I sip my hot tea behind my desk, each time I swallow it feels like I’m swallowing razor blades and the pain makes me think about my current existence.

Let’s talk about suicide.

Now, before you all start dialing the 911, I’m not going to kill myself. I don’t believe in murder and yes, suicide is murder. However, I will say that to just not exist anymore is a very inviting notion even if it is pretty much the equivalent of being dead. To not exist means that one is in a state of no pain. Pain, that comes from the soul and not from the physical flesh is so very debilitating.

So, I can say that I completely understand why some people do consider this option, as sad as that is.

But that is not really where I’m going with this.

I believe I speak more of the suicide of one’s soul.  I would guess that someone whose soul has committed suicide would be more like a Zombie, except they don’t require feeding on flesh to survive. They just roam the earth, doing daily functions, yet have no enjoyment in much of anything.

What happens when one’s soul wants to jump off a bridge?  I believe this is something that a 1980’s movie brought into the light.

The Nothing.The Nothing is Coming

Atreyu: What is the Nothing?

G’mork: It’s the emptiness that’s left. It’s like a despair, destroying this world. And I have been trying to help it.

Atreyu: But why?

G’mork: Because people who have no hopes are easy to control. And whoever has control has the Power.

The Nothing is described as “the emptiness that is left”.  There is just a “nothing” type feeling.  I get up, I go to work, pay my bills, deal with my kid but The Nothing is still there, hovering over my soul making it feel heavy and listless.

My soul was once light, fluffy and had spirit. That is gone.

My soul would once laugh and dance. That is gone.

What is left is a hole void of any human compassion or any human touch. Void of laughter and vivacity. My soul feels like it is slowly just disappearing.  It feels like it is committing suicide.  It feels like….The Nothing.

Why is this?

As of this moment, I have not one single friend. Yes, you read that right, not one friend. I have people I talk to online, through Facebook or Twitter maybe but never that friend/s you call to go have dinner or drinks or see a movie. Not one. I do not exaggerate about that.

However, I do live my every moment around my son.  Anything I do, it’s with him.

My daily routine is:

Get up

Take the Boy to school

Spend 8 hours behind a desk in an office

Leave office to pick up The Boy from school

Come home and make dinner and do homework

Time for bed

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Being that his father turned his back on him 8 years ago and never looked back, I do this on my own, no “visitation weekends” off.  So my life is and probably always will, revolve around The Boy.

I would have to say this leads to a very lonely lifestyle.  I have no one to talk to.  I have no one who asks me how my day was.  I doubt that anyone even cares.

I sit, by myself, watching TV or on the computer.  For instance, I was alone when I reacted to the last Episode of Game of Thrones.  I found a video on YouTube which showed reactions from people while watching that episode and most of these people were in rooms filled with others, also watching it with them and reacting with them. I was alone.  No one to react with me.  No one to scream at the TV with me. (It was a VERY startling episode if you haven’t already heard.)

When I contemplate this existence, I wonder, how did I get to this point?  Mainly because I have developed a severe lack of trust in anyone male, female or alien (although I have yet to meet an alien and if I did, I probably wouldn’t trust them right away. I mean they ARE an alien).

After my divorce in 2005, I grew to not trust men nor their intentions after finding out that the man I married was pretty much a liar, a manipulator and an all around asshole with an alcohol problem to boot.  I still blame myself for not seeing it.  This blame upon myself led to my lack of trust in my own judgment of people, even if I was deceived.  After a few dates between then and now (I can count the dates on one hand and they don’t reach the 5 fingers that hand has), I grew to not trust men even more.

Even my own family (which is basically mother, father and sister) always seem to betray me in some way either with neglect, hurtful words or selfishness.

Then of course, there is the lack of any human decency in the human race, period.  The things I read and see on the news TV are enough to send me running to Hermitville, Population 1.

Humans are disappointing and my lack of trust in them did NOT just sit with men.

So, we have established, that 1) I’m lonely 2) I have no adult human interaction on a regular basis which leads to 3) hopelessness. The kind of hopelessness that even a strong faith in God can’t fix.  The kind of hopelessness that this dark and thundering monster called The Nothing thrives from.


The road I travel is lonely and ends in The Nothing

How much I do long for my soul to be kick started like a dead car battery and talked down from the slippery ledge it is on. I loathe and despise the fact that I have never known love beyond my relatives, relatives who are obligated to love me and I them, simply because we share blood. What’s even worse, is realizing that I may never know that kind of love, ever.  I would be to afraid of more disappointment.

After being on this planet for the past 36 years, I used to fear death and its finality.

I have now come to realize, there can be a fate worse than death.

Loneliness and his minion, The Nothing.

Witnessing the moment my best friend died…..

An experience like what I describe below is an experience one never forgets.

The following is long but its best to start out with how I came to be blessed with and to love my Best Friend.

M. and I were best friends from the womb. It’s true!

Our mothers were best friends. They both became pregnant at the same time. She was born only two months before me. Her in September, me in December. We were friends from the beginning of our lives. That is why I always considered her more of a sister to me.

We grew up together, played together. I used to wait for her at her house when my mother would be helping her mother with work. I would wait for her at her front door for her to come  home from school. We started our gaming together.

And she always envied my Strawberry Shortcake collection.

I didn't have quite this many, but almost. Memories...

I didn’t have quite this many, but almost. I also had the play house that came with the set. Memories…

Yet, I always envied her Cabbage Patch Kid collection.

More memories. And she even had the TWINS!

More memories. And she even had the TWINS!

We would always spend the night at each other’s houses. We even shared clothes. I remember we had other friends as our parents knew a lot of people in our Cult but it was always me and her.

As we got older, our paths stopped crossing. We both went to the same private school the Cult owned.  But I was set back in the 6th grade leaving her and a lot of my other friends to move forward while I stayed behind. Luckily, I made new friends but she was in Jr High and I was still stuck in elementary. We no longer shared the same adventures and friends as we used to.

In high school, she ended up going to a public school a year earlier than me at a school that was about 15 miles from where I ended up going to public school. Our paths never crossed much at all at that point. I made my own friends in my school though. But we still remained as close as we could, considering our distance.

She started college at U.C. San Diego during my Senior year in high school. I spent many weekends visiting her during my Senior year in high school, partying with her and her new circle of college friends.  Being that I didn’t have many friends at my own school, there was no reason for me to not visit her when I didn’t have to actually go to school.

I remember a few weekends in Tijuana. I remember getting super drunk and making out with one of her guy friends who I was super attracted to. I remember her drunk friends (not me) who she always ended up having to babysit at the end of the night.

Oh no she didn't

One night, I was at home and she called me up around 2am, crying. If you knew her, you would have known that she never cried. Half asleep, I asked her what is wrong and she tells me that one of her friends had gotten drunk and started making out with her boyfriend.

Well, I had my shoes on, my keys in my hand and I told her I would be over there in 1 hour (it took 2 1/2 hours to drive from my house to her dorm in San Diego) to kick this girls ass.  She soon realized that she may have had a mistake in calling me knowing that I would react this way. Again if you knew her, you would also know that she was the most non-confrontational and easy going person on the planet. That is why lots of different people were attracted to her and able to take advantage of her. Even the drunk sluts…

Needless to say, I did not kick anyone’s ass that night, which may have been a good thing.

Towards the end of her first year in college, she started to get really really tired. She later told me that she thought she was partying too much, and smoking and drinking too much or maybe the 1st year of college was taking its toll on her. So she cut down on smoking and drinking. But just before the end of her Freshman year in college she was sent to the ER because she was having trouble breathing.

We later found out, she had a large lump in her neck just at the collarbone and one crushing her lungs.

When it was thoroughly examined, she ended up with the diagnosis of Cancer, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

She was 18 years old.

She recovered from the initial onset of it and did her radiation treatments. She had a head full of dark lustrous naturally curly hair. And I mean the curls that are ringlets, all what God had given her. She never dyed it excessively and always kept is long.  Her hair was beautiful.

Within months of her treatments, it was gone. She was devastated. Myself and many of our other friends pitched in for hats and scarves to help her out. It was all we could do.

After a year of the treatments and her losing all her hair, she finally went into remission. She had 2 years of being cancer free.

Then it returned. She was 21.

This time it hit her harder. Some lumps were found in her feet and around her neck. She went back to treatments and lost all the hair she had just grown back. This lasted for about another year.

At this point, I had already met the man I was going to marry and later divorce. I remember when she first met him she asked him a million questions and he hated that. He didn’t like having questions asked of himself. But that is who she was. She wanted to know who her friend was dating. It was a gesture of concern that any good friend would do.

She was back in her home town, Pasadena, CA and rooming with another friend of ours. She smoked a lot of Marijuana to help her relax as she was just ending another round of treatments. Of course, I engaged in that with her. But quickly realized pot wasn’t my thing. Blegh….

She had already graduated from college but she wanted to pursue photography as a hobby so she took some classes at Pasadena City College (yup, the same place that I was Homecoming Princess). During this time, I was preparing for my wedding and she wanted to take some photos of me. She was actually really good. I remember she took some still photos of a martini shaker and martini glass. She gave a print to me and signed it. That photo is still hanging in my dining room to this day with her signature.

She used the colleges’ photography studios to take my portraits.  What came from this photo session was probably the most fun I’ve ever had and some photos of myself that I still, to this day, deny its me. She really captured me wonderfully.

Here were the best photos of that session:

I still remember this one. Just after she clicked the photo, I started cracking up. I couldn't keep a straight face. I was nervous.

I still remember this one. Just after she clicked the photo, I started cracking up. I couldn’t keep a straight face. I was nervous.


I started laughing hysterically after this one to. It was HER idea to show, uh, more than I cared to.

That session was a riot! She was laughing a lot to only because I couldn’t keep a straight face to get any good photos. I had a pair of my glasses on so she wanted to use those as a prop. It was a lot of fun.  These photos were taking in 2001

Soon after these photos, I got married.  She had just turned 24 and I was about to turn 24. She had just finished her round of treatments and her hair was a cute little short cut. I remember I got her rhinestone hair clippies to wear.

Below is her and I at my Bachelorette night. She and two of our other friends took me to Saddle Ranch on Sunset Blvd. in West Hollywood, CA.


I rode the mechanical bull, got knocked off it, then drank a lot. Then they took me to a strip joint…needless to say, I got really drunk and passed out in a car, somewhere. That seems like a whole other lifetime ago.

I then got married and she worked for a little while but was always feeling so tired, listless. The below photo was taken at a 2002 New Year’s party. It was one of the last times she would live life normally.


In 2004, I had my son and she just happened to live right across the street from the hospital where I was at. She was one of the first people to visit me after I had given birth. At this point, she was starting to get dark spots all over her skin and her hair was not growing back as it used to. She never told me what the doctors really said was happening to her but her body was deteriorating. However, she always tried to function normally and refused to let any of us acknowledge that she needed help with things. 

Soon after that she moved out of her apartment that she was sharing with a roomate to move in with her parents in Pasadena. Of course, I wasn’t told why she did this but I knew it was so her parents could help her more. In the summer of 2005, her parents took her to the Caribbean and New York City, two places she has always wanted to go.

In September of 2005, her family threw her a 29th birthday party. Everyone she had ever known in the 29 years she was living, was there.  People came up from San Diego, even other countries like Ireland! (She travelled a lot during her college years and made friends in other countries). The aura of the party was always kept lively and fluffy, on the surface. But we all knew what each and every one of us was thinking.

She was dying.

At this party, there was one moment where she was to weak to get up from a soft chair she was sitting in. Some of us offered to help her up but, completely out of her character, she smacked their hands saying she didn’t need help. She didn’t say it loud or mean. She just really didn’t think she was dying. She probably couldn’t believe it.

Note:  The next part of this was VERY VERY hard for me to write. I believe it took me about two weeks to get my thoughts in order and get it all typed out. Many times, I had to just stop, the pain was more than I anticipated it to be.

The last time I was to “party” with my best friend was New Year’s 2006.


We were in Pasadena at a Steakhouse on Colorado Blvd. The group was our smaller, closer group of friends which included two other close girlfriends and their husbands, myself and her.

We ate and danced in the New Year. She was actually in really good spirits that night. She enjoyed her food and even danced a bit. But I’m sure she was forcing it.

Two weeks later, my mother called me at work.  It was Thursday, January 12, 2006.

“M. is in a coma”

I left work within seconds. I don’t even remember what excuse I gave my boss. I think it was that there was an emergency and I needed to go to the hospital.

I first went to my parents house and we all went together, my parents, my sister and my then 2 year old son. When we arrived, they only allowed a certain number of people in the room and no children so my father stayed outside with my 2 year old while my mother, sister and I went into her room. She was at the City of Hope.

She was hooked up to ever machinery imaginable. She was no longer really breathing on her own, the machines were doing it. Her skin was still so blotchy and full of dark spots. Her mother was there as well as her other family and friends of her mother’s and of our families.

I had been there for about an hour when I realized that my son had to get home. Since we all came in one car, my mother offered to take him home with my sister and father and my father would say home with him and my sister and mother would return to the hospital.

About 20 minutes after they left, we were all standing around her bed. Her aunt was rubbing her feet and had just put Phantom of the Opera (her favorite) in her ears with ear buds.

I can still see her breathing…very shallow, up and down, up and down…then. Nothing.

No movement at all. At this point, a lot happened all at once and all within 1-2 minutes.

Her aunt who was rubbing her feet said “she stopped breathing!” 

Then her father started yelling her name before crumpling onto the floor like a pile of clothes.

Her mother, at her bedside, was crying, more like screaming. I had known this woman for 29 years and had never seen her cry, ever.

I’m sure others in the room were crying but I only remember her father and mother.

I grabbed her mother’s hand with one hand, then grabbed my best friend’s cold hand in the other. I noticed something amazing happen to her body within these few seconds.

When I first saw her lying there, her skin was covered in blotches and dark spot.


However, the moment she stopped breathing, I knew her soul had left her body because her skin instantaneously cleared up from the dark spots. It was like something you would see in a movie, some sort of CGI effect. Her skin just became clear and was like porclein.

It was the most amazing thing I’ve never seen in my life. Like magic. Like her body had become just a shell as her soul was lifted away.

I called my mother who was actually on the way back to the hospital with my sister and told her “she’s gone”…..

Everything I’ve stated here was absolutely true, there was no fabrications for drama effect. I experienced this.

At the age of 29, my best friend lost her 11 year battle to cancer.

That’s what I say!


I remember after her brother came in and he was in shock, absolutely speechless, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore and left with my mother and sister.

I got home and I believe I just passed out.

The next day was a Friday. I had planned a Disneyland visit (I had been taking The Boy to Disneyland since he was 10 months old and Fridays were my days off from work which was when I went).

I decided that I would go ahead and go. Below is a photo that was taken the day after my best friend died.

It is with Eeyore, both her favorite character and mine.


The smile was very forced but I was still happy to be hugging something that she liked.

I spoke at her funeral. The church was filled with over 250 people. She touched many lives.

I know the preceding was extremly long and I thank you for taking the time to read it. This was yet another major part of who I am today. I miss her tremndously and know that my life would be so different if she was still walking it with me.

However, she was the sweetest and kindess person I had ever known. The only place left for her was with God.

The Day I Almost Died

In the course of my life, I have had 4 surgeries. Hospital visits are not uncommon to me.

This story, is about the one hospital visit, where I almost left the hospital to go straight to the morgue.

I was 6 years old and it was 1983. Yes, that is young but a lot of this I do remember. Some of the holes were filled in by my parents but it all fell into place with the memories I do have.

My parents, my 1-year-old sister and I were on one of those Cult Religion trips that we took every year, in September. This particular year my parents chose Tuscon, Arizona to spend the week.  So, we drove from Los Angeles, California to Tuscon, Arizona. This is approximately an 8 hour drive.


We had just started the trip and stopped at a hotel. The following is from my memory:

I was taking a shower. I’m still shocked my parents allowed me to shower with no supervision. Or maybe I was independent like that, I would believe it.  I dropped the soap. I see it on the floor of the shower. I was a kid, I was probably fooling around and I stepped on the soap which slipped from under my foot and sent me flying towards the edge of the tub. The edge of the tub meets my abdomen right on the lower right section.

I get up, I’m screaming and I walk out of the bathroom to meet my startled parents. I don’t remember much after that but from what my mother tells me, to her it seemed like I just had the wind knocked out of me. I was fine after a few minutes.

This scenario above will play a big role in what is to come.

We spent the whole week in Tucson with no problems. I remember going out to eat with my family and their friends. I remember staying in a nice bungalow type room for the week. I even remember playing in the stone lined pool.  All was as it should be.

It wasn’t until the day before we were supposed to leave did the vomiting start. My mother told me at first she thought I got food poisoning. I always had stomach and/or digestive problems when I was younger so my mother was used to me having slight tummy aches and constipation. But this was something different.

We finally went to our last church service of the week (there were church services every morning for two hours every day of that week).  We decided to have lunch at a cafeteria type place. I remember it was similar to a Hometown Buffet or Souplantation.

I didn’t eat a thing. My stomach was in full panic mode. At this point, my mother still believed it was some sort of stomach bug. I vomited half way through lunch and my mother rushed me to the bathroom. I still remember this bathroom. It was painted a yellowish-green. I remember a woman telling my mother to put a cold paper towel on my head.

I was still able to manage a smile for one family photo outside the restaurant although just minutes before I had vomited up all my insides.

I actually don’t remember if we started our 8 hour road trip back to California after lunch, later that day or the next day. But it was on this return trip back to California when the horror happened.

This is what I remember.

I was in the back seat, on the passenger side. My baby sister was in a car seat on the driver side. We were in a rental car, I think.

My stomach was on fire. Right now, typing out this memory makes me want to cry because even 30 years later I still remember that pain.

It happened while we were in the middle of the 8 hour road trip and right in the middle of the strip of nothing (as I call it) that is in between Arizona and California.

My appendix exploded.


The road we were on when it burst pretty much looked like this, for miles.

Now, I was writhing around crying before it burst but the pain of when it actually happened was more than I care to remember. The pain was indescribable. I’ve given birth to a child and that was painful. And remember, I do have a low tolerance for pain and maybe this experience was why I have a low tolerance for pain. I was only 6. Pain petrifies me to this day. But this pain was horrifying.

Back to the moment it burst, for I knew exactly when it did. Up until that moment, the pain was more a dull stomach ache but times 20. When it burst, it literally felt like someone had stuck a huge red hot poker into my lower right abdomen and then scrambled my insides around. Remember, I was 6…and still remember the pain. That is how bad it was and how much it impacted my memory banks.

I can see my parents, at the moment this happened. My father was driving, my mother was in the front passenger seat but facing me in the back seat, behind her. They both looked at each other and seemed to tell each other that they other knew what was happening. Since they were on that road you see pictured above, with nothing around, my father floored the gas. He drove about 90 mph. My mother said that she hoped a cop would have pulled them over because maybe they could have escorted them. But surprisingly, no cops were around. Luckily, the roads were empty and it was late at night. It would have been awful if they got in an accident trying to get me to a hospital and my family was killed. Blegh…

About 2 hours after the initial bursting of my internal organ, we arrived at Huntington Memorial Hospital in Pasadena CA. Ironically, this was the same hospital I gave birth to my son, 21 years later and was also the same hospital that I had another organ removed, my gall bladder, a year after giving birth to my son.

It is necessary to note that somewhere in those 2 hours after the appendix burst, the pain had stopped, completely. Very strange.


When my father pulled up to the ER of the hospital my mother ran inside to inform them what was going on and a nurse came out with a wheelchair.

Being that I wasn’t in pain, I remember sitting in the back seat twiddling my thumbs as we pulled up to the ER. I can still see my thumbs moving between each other. And I was humming, like a bored child would. But my thumbs were the only things moving.

My father got out of the driver seat, went around to open my door and my mother went around the other side of the car to get my 1 year-old sister out of the car, who had apparently slept through this whole ordeal. As my father opened the door, out of habit I made the movements to jump out. Except that is not what happened.

My legs would not move, at all.  Ah, so that is why the pain stopped so abruptly.

I was temporarily paralyzed from my chest to my toes. What my parents were later told as to why I couldn’t walk was because I had been dormant for so long after the appendix burst and poison fluids had leaked out from the burst appendix.  This rendered my lower body numb. So even though I felt paralyzed as I couldn’t move my lower extremities, my body was just numb. As if it went to sleep. It was still shocking for my dad.

He scooped me up and by that time, a nurse with the wheelchair was behind him and I was placed there.

What happened next was probably the blurriest of these memories. I remember laying in a hospital ER bed, getting needles poked into me,  my blood being taken from all sides. I remember my mother’s face, crying.

I know that soon after that, I went into surgery and the burst appendix was removed and all the fluid cleaned up.


I remember, being in a nice big hospital room. There were many visitors, lots of my parents friends and friends of the family. My grandfather anointed me (as was the custom in our religion to do for the sick and ailing).

I was in the hospital for 3 weeks to recover. I was weak and it took me a while to be able to eat normally. I was only 6 so I didn’t weigh much but after those 3 weeks, I weighed close to nothing. I recall a photo I found many years ago of me, just after that ordeal, and I had just turned 7, and I was still so skinny. It was bizarre to see.

I know that during that time hospital stay my mother wrote down all her thoughts. I have seen some pieces of what she wrote as she wrote a lot of it on scrap paper she found, such as envelopes and napkins. I remember reading  “They just wheeled by baby into surgery…”.   I could not even imagine what horror she must have gone through. You know, my mother and I may not get along most of the time and we certainly don’t agree on much of anything, but I would never wish for any mother to go through this trauma. I felt for her.

This especially became apparent when, many years later. I got to experience this all through her eyes as she relayed the experience to me from her perspective.

She said that the doctors told her two things that astonished her.

1) They told her I should have died. When the appendix burst poisoned fluids were given at least 2 hours to float around inside me, which would have poisoned every organ it touched.  But to their astonishment, only about 10% of the poison escaped. What happened was that the fatty tissues of my belly (I was a little chubby), kept all the poison in one area, kind of making a bowl so that it would not to escape.

That was one time I was grateful for my fat.


2) They asked my mother this “Did she have any kind of fall or blunt trauma to the right area of her abdomen within the past week?”

Scroll up…….

A simple bar of soap could have ended my life.


Life is a crazy thing.

Some history: My Relationship with My Mother

I will just say that my mother and I really just do not see eye to eye at all and we never have. She is NOT my best friend, as I have seen some women claim their own mothers are just that. If she was not family and the woman who gave me life, I would not associate with her. Her theories are so backwards it’s unbelievable. As I said in my Black Widow Dream entry, I am VERY careful with what I share with her because she is the type of person who will take a weakness about me and absolutely exploit it just to make herself feel powerful. The funny thing about this is, she only does this with me. To the outside public, she is a saint.

The History:

Her and I have bucked heads since the day I was born, when I actually almost killed her coming out of her. As morbid as that sounds, it is the truth. I mention this because, it is for that reason that I still honor and respect her because, she did birth me and she deserves that in the very least.

Also, it should be expressed that she lost her own mother at the age of 9 and had to raise her 3 younger siblings at that age, as a mother would. My grandmother died of Kidney failure at the age of 35. I am 36, I carry my Grandmother’s name and when I finally passed 35 I breathed a sign of relief because I to, have had Kidney problems in the past. I’m superstitious like that sometimes.

Moving on, growing up, it was quickly established who was the “man” in the house. My father gave up his “cahones” the minute he married her. She was very manipulative and would have bouts of absolute hysteria (now, looking back, I realize she was probably severely bipolar and a manic-depressive). I remember it, my sister, has blocked a lot of it out.  There are also other family issues that arose many times dealing with my mother’s father, who is now dead.

Side Note: I will never feel well speaking ill of the dead but this man, my mother’s father, well let’s just say I really do NOT think he is sitting at the right hand of God. He did horrible things to my family, my mother, sister, aunts and to his last breath he never asked for forgiveness. He died lonely with only my mother and his wife by his side, the only two women he apparently had a strong hold on. He had 7 children (one that is out there but never was brought into the family), none were there. He had numerous grandchildren, none were there. He even had numerous great-grandchildren, one of which is my son and none were there. I can assure you, it was not without good cause, that he died practically alone. At the funeral, as I looked around, the only people who really “mourned” him were those who didn’t know what kind of man he really was. I know I was just there to pay respect to a life, even if it wasn’t lived all that well but if he hadn’t lived, then neither would I be living.

Moving on, I know my mother suffered in her childhood and there isn’t a day that goes by where I hate that she suffered. Because of her suffering and the sins of her father and the unfortunate death of her own mother, my sister and I suffered. Tremendously. But a lot of who she is today isn’t her fault.

A lot of my mistakes in my choice of husband not only had to deal with low self esteem and thinking no one else would want me but it also included the fact that I wanted to get away from my manipulative and controlling mother.

I realized that I would never get away from her as long as I continued a relationship with her, no matter where I was in life.

Life in her house, after my divorce:

When I lived with her after my divorce and while my son was a baby, the manipulations were tremendous because now, she was using my son.

Oh and where is my father in all this….the man did whatever she wanted, followed whatever she did and if his daughters were hurting, crying, in pain because of his wife’s words, it didn’t matter. He was her puppy, not one ounce of backbone. But, just as I still respect my mother for giving me life, I do the same for my father because he worked hard to provide for his children and wife. I will always respect that and for teaching us to work and not wait for “hand outs”. He had his own family history to blame for it (another entry maybe?).

I was 28 and living in my parents’ house with a small baby. Not a good combination. It was their house, their rules so there was no way I was ever going to be a mother the way I wanted to be a mother.

I wanted to be a fun mother. Not the “I will be your best friend, son” type of mother because I don’t think a mother and child can be “best friends”. But they can be friends. I wanted to go on adventures. I got a Disneyland Annual Pass when my son was 10 months old and that was the first time he went to Disneyland. It ended up being a routine just about every Tuesday, my day off from work.

My mother, did not make life easy. She constantly put me down, which I should be used to by now because even to this day (more on that later) she still finds a way to put me down. She would tell me everything I’m doing wrong.

For example, I was giving my son soup for lunches and forgot to put the one can of water into the soup. She was determined to convince me that because I was not putting the one can water into the soup that The Boy was breaking out in a rash. I do not make this stuff up. She berated me for forgetting to put the water in the soup and there was my father, right behind her just nodding his head.

Thinking back on that now, it’s laughable because the me of today would have laughed in her face (as sometimes I do when she starts to come up with silly notions again). She would make sure one little mistake I made was blown up to the size of a mountain and that it was cause for The Boy’s demise.

I do recall one incident that showed me that some how, some way, I needed to Master the Jedi Art of Ignore when it came to my mother.

I had just lost my job. It was not a high point in my life. I fixed The Boy some waffles and eggs for breakfast. He was being fussy and didn’t want to eat and threw a fit. I put him in his room for a time out. My mother came into the kitchen screaming at me that I was a horrible mother, that I didn’t know how to do anything and couldn’t even keep a job…on and on.

What happened next, in my head was like something you would see in a movie. I could hear her voice screaming at me I could feel the angry and frustration building up and I could feel myself using all my power to push the anger down. It’s like her voice was in a distance and I was losing it.

What she did next was not unfamiliar to how she handled things. She took the plate that had hot eggs and waffles on it and threw it directly at me, spilling it all over me and the kitchen counter. (it was not uncommon for her, throughout my childhood and teen years, to grab the first closest thing she could and throw it at me. If she was close enough a good slap to my face was the next best thing. Although the last time she physically hit me was when she punched me in the stomach at a restaurant in Palm Springs back in the summer of 2007.)

So after the plate of food was thrown at me, this is what I recall happened next.

I rose my hand, half to block the egg that was being thrown at me and half to just throw my hands in the air in disgust at this woman.

She, in turn raised her arm and stepped back. At the time, I’m assuming she thought that with the raising of my arm, I was going to assault her.

She then stepped backwards and tripped over the counter stool and fell back, bruising her arms and leg.

That is what I saw…her story was different.

She said I pushed her, full force into the fireplace area causing her to fall.


She told my sister this, my sister comes home from work telling me off. She is crying and whoa is me and then my dad comes in telling me off.

I’m astonished how she has the power to make others see what is not there.

I am the bad guy in that scenario. I grabbed my kid, got in my car and spent the next 3 days after that in San Diego, where I took my kid to the Zoo for the first time.

When I returned, to keep peace, I apologized. But never, not once, did I receive an apology from her for actually assaulting me with a hot plate of food. However, as I mentioned before, it was not uncommon for her, in the past to throw the first thing she could grab and chuck it at me. Or if she was close enough, a slap to my face worked best for her.

It was then, I realized, this woman will do and say anything to make her look white as snow….I see the game being played now.

Moving on, in April of 2011, I moved out of their house and into my own apartment. It was tough and money was non-existent but it was my home. It was a smooth move with little drama because it was necessary to get my son into a good school district and at least we agreed on that. Where my parents live is not the best of school districts or cities for that matter and on that  subject, I put my foot down and said I will get The Boy into the best school district I can. And I did.

The Relationship I have with my Mother today:

For the past two years, being in my own home and out of hers was an interesting transition for our relationship. She still believed that she could come into MY home, as if it was her own, and belittle me, put me down and berate me. She could not. This was MY home, my money paid for this home, I pay the bills, I AM THE MOTHER HERE.


She did not like being out of the control box.

Even just as recently as last night the occasional belittling comes out. My parents finally came over to help with the last, oh, 5 boxes of my move (The Boy and I had already moved the bulk of 40+ boxes but hey, they came over for the last 5). She begins to put me down on why The Boy has allergies, why he was dirty (uh, we had just gotten home…showers hadn’t been taken yet), why his toe nails weren’t clipped.  *sigh*

I wanted to say, “none of your f-ing business…” but of course, could not. I bit my tongue. And when I say BIT MY TONGUE….I mean I literally bite my tongue. Sometimes to the point of bleeding.

She then walks around my home telling me how dirty everything is. Uh, we are moving…of course it’s a bit messy, believe me the mess drives me nuts. It’s just put down after put down. More tongue biting….

This was all last night. Granted, her visits are VERY far and few between because, well because I just can’t stomach her sometimes. So she rarely comes over. I usually go to her house or we all eat out at a restaurant. The latter is my favorite choice because in public, things stay neutral.

For the most part, I’ve learned to be more patient with her. She is getting older and more tired which is why her rants may be getting fewer. She does have a lot on her plate right now. She is taking care of her step-mother’s affairs such as bills and expenses. She has to deal with the dramas of her sisters and just recently one of her sisters died in a car crash.

She has to deal with my father’s failing memory. Although, I believe on that count she is becoming more and more impatient and the way she treats him sometimes is just downright rude. Last night, he was having trouble getting one word out (the speech has gotten worse over the past 6 months to the point where he can’t put 3 words together) and she hit his face. Now, not a full on slap but just tapped his cheek. I think she saw the look of horror on my face and explained that sometimes, if he can’t get the words out, she will tap his face. I ask if she does this in public and the disgust must have been visibly apparent on my face because she didn’t answer and just turned away.


To wrap this up, my mother is not my best friend. My best friend died of cancer in January of 2006.

As of right now, in this time and place in my life, my mother is a relationship I keep at arms length and am very wary about. I do not confide in her alot, if at all and I do not let her see that I can break down. She no longer sees me cry and I have mastered the ability to be able to walk away when she starts to pick a fight with me, something that continues to happen to this very day.

I love the woman, I always will. But let me picture it this way….

Our relationship is like Regina and Cora’s from Once Upon a Time. Regina loved her mother, Cora, but Cora was an evil witch who used magic to manipulate Regina. Yet, Regina ALWAYS returns to the mother who has betrayed her numerous times.

That is me. I will always have loyalties to my mother, she almost died giving birth to me. But will I ever respect her and confide in her…no. She never gave hugs. Not once, ever, has she said “I love you” but states that her actions show it. M…kay….

She is who she is because of her past and I am who I am because of her past. That is how it will go from here until one of us is no longer on this earth. And when that happens, we will both be at peace with each other.

Can anybody out there interpret dreams?

Last night, I had a disturbing dream which involved a certain arachnid that you see pictured below, the Black Widow

Black Widow, courtesy of Wikipedia

I sure wished it was the Black Widow from The Avengers because I would take Natalia Romanova over this mini monster any day. But alas, this dream was not about a beautiful red-head but a deadly spider with a red hourglass. 

Note: I apologize for any of those who cringe at the picture I posted. I’m cringing just posting it but I needed visual to get my point across.


The Dream: 

I don’t remember how it started. In fact a lot of it was hazy except the Black Widow part. This spider was HUGE. About as huge as the picture you see here….no, it was a lot bigger. It was so huge, I could see its fangs. The thing would not leave me alone. It kept biting me and in my dream, I could feel the pain of the bite.

However, I guess I was pulling it off quick enough each time to not give it time to inject its venom into me after each bite, because it bit me numerous times and I was still able to pull it off each time. It bit me on the hand, forearm, neck, forearm again. After pulling it off each time it would bite, it would pounce at me again like Super Ninja Spider. This thing hated me.

The last thing I remember is pulling it off with its fangs still in me (I could see its fangs IN my skin) and throwing it to my mother, who was also trying to get it off me. That was the end. 


What is the significance of that? I assume the introduction of my mother trying to save me from the gargantuan Black Widow was the fact that, last night, before this dream, I confided in her my unwillingness to get up and go to work on Monday and being in a very bad state of depression that day. I was apprehensive about saying it but sometimes my lack of moral support leads me to just blurt out things which will, in turn, make me very vunerable.  The minute it came out of my mouth, I regretted. My mother tends to thrive on my vulnerability and uses it to either put me down or boast about how she never would have done something like that because she was the perfect mother….blah…blah…blah.

But she was not judgemental about it. In fact, her face showed, concern. She even admitted that she sometimes needed a day during raising myself, my sister and later my half-brother, to just rest and re-group. Whoa what? She actually was not Super Mom and admitted to being….wait for it…HUMAN?!

For once, in our relationship, I felt safe confiding in her and not cringing waiting for her put downs and judgements to start. It was just for that one moment though as I will not count on that happening again. I don’t trust her and still am vunerable with her knowing that I needed a break. I now get to see how long it takes before this is brought up again and used as a tool to put me down. It’s happened before, I wouldn’t be surprised.

But back to my lovely 8 legged friend. What the heck would make me dream of a super large Black Widow spider biting me, not just once  but multiple times and even targeting me for destruction? Maybe the apprehension I felt telling my mother something that would leave me vulnerable, as I was vulnerable to a 50 lb spider?

Or maybe this spider represented depression. I have not one person to confide in when I get into a state of depression. In terms of the dream, no one to tear the spider off and throw it to. No help with my inner “spider”.

Not my sister, she is to wrapped up in her own life of owning her condo and getting her degree to even offer an hour of her time to help me move boxes.

Not my father, I could never confide in him or even have a conversation with him in the past due to him asserting the “I am the authority ” role if I had an opinion other than his own. I just never tried to talk to him much. And now that alzheimer’s is setting in making him inable to speak a full sentence or remember anything past 5 minutes, I keep our interactions to a minimum.

And never my mother, she would throw my weakness back in my face with an example of how wonderful a mother she was and I just have to turn away because she has a MUCH different view of my childhood as it was not wonderful at all.

I know one thing is for sure. Whatever that spider represented, it was something that should be small (as a spider is small) yet, it was portrayed as something rather larger (as it was 5 times as big in my dream than a real spider should be).

That’s a bit frightening.

April Fools! This isn’t your life!

This Easter was slightly blanketed with sorrow because of the tragic death of my aunt. The funeral was as any other. Loved ones spoke, wonderful photos were displayed on a PowerPoint screen. I saw many people from my past.

But it just leaves a numbness inside, I’m actually stuck. Yesterday, we had family all over at my sister’s condo. There we sat down with food and shared in the grief we felt at the recent loss we had. I listened, and did not participate.

I listened to my mother speak with her sisters on how we have to let my cousin grieve how she feels at losing her mother. My mother said we just have to comfort her. I listened and inside, I laughed.

Why the heck would I laugh as we were all trying to figure out how to comfort my cousin as she was falling into a hard depression since this happened? I laughed inside because, my mother was lying. She would not comfort her and tell her its ok to cry or that its ok to cry in front of your daughters and its ok for them to see that you are human and need to grieve.

Neither she nor my sister would say that. They would say NEVER show your children any emotion because you are supposed to be a rock hold especially as a mother and never feel any sadness or show emotion at all. They would say, get up and do what you need to do, don’t lay in bed covered in sheets of your own sorrow. They would say there is never time for depression and pills are a cop out.

Lies….just for show. Hence, I did not participate. I left with the excuses that the next day the boy started school after two weeks off for Spring Break and I had to get up for work. (I reality, the season finale of The Walking Dead and Season 3 premiere of Game of Thrones was about to start….needed to get home).

But don’t get me wrong. In essence, I’m so sorry that this tragic thing happened and now my aunt is gone, my cousins lost their mother and my mother and other aunts loss their sister. Her husband, who she had just re-married a few months ago, lost a wife. Just loss all around, which is never happy times. I was never really to close to her or my cousins but regardless; it is still a great loss.

On the way home, the boy demanded ice cream from Coldstone’s. Of course, he threw in my face that I HAD promised to get him this ice cream. Even though the premise of that promise was to get him to settle down and behave. Possibly bad parenting, I know, but there are some points when I throw “good” parenting aside and toss the kid the candy! Sue me!

Now I stare at my half frozen meal replacement shake. It is frozen because my mother suggested if I freeze it, it will be defrosted by lunch time…nope. When will I learn? So my meal replacement will be replaced by an actual meal, due to the bad timing of its frozen state.

I go back again to my neck and head which both feel like they are made of iron. The reason for this could be because I woke up extremely tired, even though I went to sleep at the normal time I always do. It could be because the alarm woke me up from a dream of someone actually loving me and wanting to be with me…but then I get jerked into the reality that it was only a dream and there is no love of my life, ever.

I wished I could say this whole entry was a April Fool’s but it isn’t. I wished I did wake up and it was “HAHA! Just joking! you do have a fantastic husband and a 3 bedroom house with a yard, instead of a 2 bedroom hole that you pay close $1250 a month for! And because of that fantastic husband, you get to stay home with your children and miss nothing of their growing process….”

This…is my life. Possibly a year round, lifelong April Fool’s Joke.

Sometimes, I go back in time

Sometimes, I go back in time with my thoughts.

When I was younger, I adored The Cranberries. (This reminds me I must get their newest album). I worshiped them from about 17 years old. Their lead singer, Dolores O’Riordan, had a booming strong voice. The album cover pictured above was the first album of theirs I ever owned and had Linger on it. That song made me realize…I could sing. I idolized this little woman’s voice and her energy on stage.

I still listen and sing to The Cranberries CD’s in my car. Then the thoughts and memories run rampant.

My best friend, Michelle,  bravely battled cancer for 10 years, from age 19 until she lost her battle to it, at age 29.

Yes, 29.

I was there the moment she passed and it was, truly a miraculous experience to see the soul actually leave someone’s body and the body become just an empty shell. That is the only way that I can explain it.

She shared my love for The Cranberries. I went to their concert when I was 24 in Los Angeles and she was supposed to go with me, but she was already full into her cancer and constantly was sick from the medications so at the last minute, she couldn’t go. I ended up going with my husband at the time.

I love singing to The Cranberries in my car. I love remembering the posters I had of them in concert above my bed in my dorm room when I was in college that showed how vibrant and how much fun Dolores was on stage. I remember how young I was when I adored them. How much I wanted to be in a band and just sing my heart out while three handsome men played behind me.

I do not like how, sometimes listening to those songs, makes me miss my best friend so damn much. She would have gone on adventures with me to this day if her body had allowed her. She was always so adventuresome. And we shared our forever adoration and love for The Cranberries.

My favorite songs, to date, from The Cranberries were Zombie and Ridiculous Thoughts (posted below) featuring a very young Elijah Wood, pre-Frodo days.

Sometimes, I go back in time and I miss my youth. I miss the people I knew in my youth for I will never see some of those people again and it is with regret and sadness that I look back.

I will forever love The Cranberries though.

Sad news today…

I wake up this morning to about 5 missed calls and 2 text messages from my sister. I panic. Of course my cell phone was on silent so that is why it didn’t ring.

I call her back and she tells me that my mother’s half sister, who lives up in Washington, was in a car accident yesterday and didn’t survive.

So this was my Aunt. She got really sick a few years ago and her heart stopped twice then but she survived. She JUST got re-married to her ex husband and they were both really happy.

My mother wasn’t doing to good yesterday as her other sister, also in Washington, was the one to call her and tell her.  The thing is, this happened in the morning yesterday, yet her husband wasn’t told until 8pm that night and her children were calling everyone trying to find out what was going on after she didn’t come home from work around 6pm.

Its unbelievable how life is. The cliche happened. This made me step back and think.

How can we step back and smell the roses and slow down when this world forces us to move so fast. We are late for work or something and we are rushing, not just in cars but always on our phones or some electronic. Now i have nothing against electronics, just sometimes they can hinder what they are supposed to help. But I do love my camera. So its a love hate thing.

But I know one thing I will always regret. Not choosing my mate wisely so that I was forced to be a single mother and HAVE, not want, HAVE to work, therefore missing pretty much 80% of the boy’s life.

I hate it.