Ribbons and Detours

img_9091Four  years ago my life changed…

I was forced to take a detour through hell.

I was tested and brought to my knees.

I could have literally filled the bathtub I was often laying in with my tears.

There were times I prayed for peace.

Others I asked for vengeance.

I often went crazy with my grief.

Spending hours, then days, which turned to weeks unable to function or get out of bed.

I was so angry and bitter.

Constantly trying to figure out why?

Yelling at the top of my lungs how unfair it was until I was hoarse.

Arguing with God that I was a good person who didn’t deserve this.

Wasting away to a mere shadow of myself…in spirit and size.

Screaming at God to give me my life back.

Finally I found my way again.

It was still a detour from my previously scheduled life.

I learned to embrace the detours in life.

To let go and let God.

He has sent me tests.

I have failed and kept on trying.

Continuing when you are lost and tired is half the battle.

Here I stand.

Not a year, not two years but four years out from D-Day.

I am surrounded by my family.

I am now called Gammy by one, soon to be two grand babies.

My children have grown up.

They still have two parents who love them and are a daily part of thier lives.

They know I’m crazy and love me anyways.

I am surrounded by friends, some who have been by my side for years, but a large group newly assembled.

And by assembled,  I mean  they will circle the wagons and go to “fist city” for me.

My detour lead me down a really bumpy road.

I didn’t choose it.

But I don’t fight it anymore.

Four years out.

I’m better most days.

And I’m still trying everyday.

To find the happiness which used to live here.

“I can’t believe it, you of all things
It’s been a while, memories teem
Some kind of anthem lingering
Images settle internally

Ribbons and detours meant nothing to me
Swaying the sentiments, pulling our strings
Tempting me softly, but killing our dream
You said it’s over but maybe
It’s the same old thing

[Verse Two]
I can’t believe it, you of all things
Coming in homage, devious needs
Intimate outlies, weakening
Tranquilize slowly, inside of me”


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D-day is approaching.

It makes me a little angry and sad.

Not totally flipping out crazy anymore, just a little angry and sad.

Hey, that is progress.

My life has been extremely busy, I think that helps me not dwell and immerse myself in the anniversary of the worst day in my life.

I feel God testing me lately, maybe smacking me, because he knows how I am.

My blog and my personal life, were attacked publicly a couple weeks ago. I was told I can’t preach kindness and non judgment in life if I continue to write this blog.

I guess people in my small town think I’m crazy 🙂 for writing about my life.

There is a group of people whom I guess have nothing better to do but read my blog and then discuss how awful I am.

Awful mother.

Horrible wife.

I must need more Jesus in my life.

Those words she uses?

The stories she tells?

Oh my gosh she’s going to Hell!!

As they talk and make their comments about me, on Facebook.

People  who have never set foot in my house.

Have never set at my kitchen counter.

Never had more than a fifteen minute conversation with me.

Who then received messages on their wall congratulating them on putting me in my place?

Thier talk of me, Kelly, acting as if I’m perfect.

I stopped, took a big breath, calmly sat down with a smile.

Then I thanked God for showing me how much I’d grown and how far I’ve come.

Three years ago, they would have brought me to my knees.

Two years ago, I would have called them  out.

Instead I laughed.

I don’t care.

I started writing to heal.

To not feel so alone.

To convince myself I wasn’t crazy.

It has helped to heal me.

I have helped others along the way.

And at some point, I stopped worrying about being crazy and embraced it instead.

I think others would be so much happier if they could make peace with thier own crazy too.

Instead they will spend thier days throwing stones at people like me.

My arm would get way too tired to live like that.

So instead I’ll just sit over here with Angry Kelly, Crazy Kelly, and Sad Kelly.

Bob made popcorn for us 🙂

We’re just going to sit back and watch the rerun of people making a show of calling me out.

“Haven’t we seen this episode before?” Crazy Kelly takes a handful of popcorn.

“Sshh, they mentioned me by name!!” Angry Kelly does a fist pump.

“Bahahaha!! I love this episode!!!” Sad Kelly holds her stomach as tears roll down her face from laughter.

Bob quietly holds out his hand and my fist meets his in a fist bump.

“Seems like there’s always someone who disapproves
They’ll judge it like they know about me and you
And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do
The jury’s out, but my choice is you

So don’t you worry your pretty little mind
People throw rocks at things that shine
And life makes love look hard
The stakes are high, the water’s rough
But this love is ours”








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I Am Woman

The presidential election has been bugging me.

Politics Kelly? Really?

Not so much politics as an “Excuse Me?!?”

Politics in 2016 is a nasty business.

It is just NASTY and REVOLTING.

I understand it’s the age we live in, with reality T.V. and social media, everyone is writing their own script.

Hillary killed a Kennedy.

Trump saved troops in desert storm.

Both stories can be researched and fact checked.

Both stories are false.

People keep posting and ‘reporting’ and believing.

I keep on shaking my head and moving on.

Except the last couple weeks I’ve started to get a little angry.

I might have asked the TV and my newsfeed on Facebook, “Are you fucking serious?!?” More than a couple times.

Bill cheated on Hillary.

Bill cheated and Hillary had a choice.

Stand and fight for HER marriage, or decide to leave.

She chose to stand.

‘They’ say she wasn’t nice and supportive of Bill’s victims.

‘They’ say she helped him prove several of the accusations false.

Now ‘they’ say she has no self respect or dignity, for staying with her husband after he cheated.

‘They’ are holding her accountable for her husband’s choices.

She didn’t cheat.

She didn’t have an affair.

She stood on stage with a man, hours after he invited the women involved with her husband, to sit in the audience.

Front row.

To humiliate her.

To shake her.

To make her lose her poise and get a reaction.

When it failed? She was called cold and robotic.

As a stupid woman, with no dignity, who stood by her cheating husband.

Who sat front row across from his ‘victim’.

Who took him to court to humiliate him and me.

On false accusations.

Who sat there cold and robotic, as her lawyer laughed in my face.

Who showed no reaction to her or her mother’s lies.

I’m going to tell you it’s fucking hard.

It is hard to not jump across a stage or courtroom and start soccer kicking their heads around a room.

It is hard to stand before your child and fear you have failed them by not leaving.

It is so fucking hard to stand before a town/nation and be judged. Not for your actions, but for your reaction to a really shitty situation.

Trump cheated on his first wife.

He has admitted to it.

But that’s okay according to his supporters.

Hillary stood by her husband, and stayed in their marriage.

That just proves what kind of woman she is, and why she shouldn’t be president ‘they’ say.

‘They’ need to stop.

Judge her for her policies.

Judge her for her record.

But don’t you dare judge her for being a betrayed spouse and fighting for her family.

It doesn’t in my opinion reflect poorly on her, but on you.

Let’s stick to actual things that used to matter, like the economy and foreign policy.

Not judge a woman based upon the crimes of a man.

“I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back an’ pretend
‘Cause I’ve heard it all before
And I’ve been down there on the floor
No one’s ever gonna keep me down again
Oh yes, I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain
Yes, I’ve paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong
I am invincible
I am woman”
-Helen Reddy-







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Imaginary Friend

A friend messaged me last night…

“FUCK!! You left out what Bob said!!”

She went on to say he was one of her favorites and she still reads every one of my posts.

I think after 20 years of being a listening ear?

Of crying…



and putting up with me.

You get to ask for Bob to make an appearance 🙂

Bob my inner therapist. He is the voice of sanity, when my other Kelly’s rise up and sometimes take the wheel.

As I laid in bed sandwiched between Angry Kelly and Crazy Kelly, with Sad Kelly hunkered down at the foot of the bed, I heard a voice clear their throat…


We all looked up, and Crazy Kelly quickly hid the bottle of Vodka we had been passing around.

“Aren’t you all a mess today,” Bob smiled down at us, standing at the foot of my bed.

“Fff..uuu..cc..kkk,” Crazy Kelly slurred trying to sit up.

“Bob??” Sad Kelly wiped her eyes as she pulled the covers back.

Angry Kelly glared at him, and threw her pillow towards his smiling face.

Bob caught the pillow and gently laid it at Angry Kelly’s feet.

“We’re making progress I see, ” he chuckles to himself. ” Not a month full of crying and anger, not even a whole week of it. This is the smallest pity party I’ve seen on your anniversary.”

“Fuck you very much Bob,” Angry Kelly kicks the pillow off her feet and it smacks Sad Kelly in the face.

“Still having anger issues I see,” Bob opens his notebook and writes quickly. ” But thats to be expected, so is sadness and sometimes wanting to make unwise choices.” He nods towards Crazy Kelly who has quickly took another swing of the vodka, and is struggling to keep it down.

“But I’m so tired of it still hurting,” whines Sad Kelly as a tear rolls down her cheek. “It’s not fair..”

“Life my sweet imaginary friends, has never been about fair,” Bob hands Crazy Kelly the trash can as she loses the battle and her lunch.

“Shut the fuck up Bob, no one invited you!!” Angry Kelly wrinkles her nose as the smell of vomit reaches her.

“Well as figments of Kelly’s imagination? None of us were invited, it’s kind of like a high school kegger, we all just crash these pity parties.” Bob pats Crazy Kelly’s back as she starts heaving again.

“Is it ever going to hurt less Bob?” I ask him. ” Am I ever going to be fully healed and able to just be me, just happy? Normal? Free of the anger, sadness and crazy? ”

“These sides of you,” Bob motions towards the other Kellys,” they are as much a part of you now as Funny Kelly, Mom Kelly and Kind Kelly. You used to hide these parts, afraid to acknowledge they were there. Afraid to admit to being anything but ‘Facebook’ perfect. Now you not only acknowledge them but embrace them. ” Bob strokes Sad Kelly’s hair softly.” You have come so far Kelly, from the Kelly laying in the bottom of her tub crying, to the one sitting here now. You are stronger, braver, and a okay kind of crazy. A crazy which let’s you be you with no apologies, it keeps you insanely sane.”

“What does that mean Bob, no seriously, stop the mumbo jumbo bullshit therapist lingo and tell us what the fuck it means?!?” Angry Kelly slams her fist down.

“It means you’re going to be okay, and while you will probably never celebrate your wedding anniversary again, there are worse things.” Bob closes his book, and tucks his pen in his shirt pocket.

“Worse?!?” All Kellys ask in a chorus of voices.

Bob chuckles,” Yes, worse, you could all be forever known as the CanCan Whore of Valdez.”

Bob turns to walk away,” And that my sweet Kellys is something that lingers forever… longer than sadness, anger or even vodka smelling vomit. Because no matter what she does? Being a dancing, tutu wearing, selfie taking, lip puckering, fucker of husbands and random men? It’s a legacy which will never be overcome,” Bob stops in a the doorway,” As a smart women once said, whore is a hard smell to get out..” Bob waves and in a puff of magic fairy dust disappears.

As do the other Kellys, leaving behind only a rumpled bed and lingering smell of vomit.

“When I was young I had imaginary friends
and boy did we have fun
One day my mother told me they were just pretend
and then I had no one
Building castles out of dirty, smelly sand
and baking in the sun
Hear the sound of the popsicle man
and we’d run, run, run, run, run, run, run

And My life is like a movie
everyone is going slow
There’s a crazy cast of characters
none of which are real at all
and I cannot feel you anymore
\n No, no, no, no, no

In the summer, we will spend the night outside
in the comfort of our own backyards
Then we got older and we went our seperate ways
and everything got hard

Look at me, I’m getting older
Look at me, I know
Look at me, I’m getting older
Look at me, I know”










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Oh Henry

Today is my 22nd wedding anniversary…

Do you think it’s too late to ask for a refund?

“Hey Osage County courthouse, I’d like my $20 dollars back, this license you gave me was defective…in fact it didn’t work at all!!”

I’d really like to see the ladies face as I stood there with my old battered copy of our marriage license.

If I told her my story, I like to think she’d give me twenty bucks and a cup of coffee…maybe even a shot of tequila..or two…shit 22 years, make that five, and a margarita chaser.

I will spend my day with children, like every anniversary of the last 22 years.

How did he spend some of his? I have a pretty good idea, and it makes me…angry…sad…slightly fucking bitter.

I like on the other three  anniversaries since D-day, am spending it ignoring the date, teary eyed at times, waiting on it to pass.

Telling myself the day means absolutely nothing to me, because so many years it meant nothing to him…less than nothing…running joke between us used to be how often he forgot it.

So fucking funny when you are so happily married, not so funny when he’s fucking around and doesn’t have the time to remember to call or send flowers.

As you can tell by my over use of FUCK today, I’m maybe a little more angry than even I knew today.

I guess if a girl can’t yell FUCK on her wedding anniversary, when can she yell it?

I’d like to tell you all I’m not sitting in a dark room, writing this and wiping away tears.

I’d like to brag it doesn’t hurt one bit…not even a little…not at all.

Instead I’m here alone for the minute, arguing with my old friends…

“Let’s drink the whole bottle of vodka in the freezer, and then puke all over his side of the closet!!” Crazy Kelly suggests, snuggling down in bed beside me.

“Let’s hop on a plane and go visit our old friend in Valdez, I hear she’s back with her ex-husband. We can pack up the old emails and finally have our revenge!!” Angry Kelly throws herself on the bed, pushing me over.

A sob comes from under a pile of blankets, and a tear stained face pokes out “I just want to lay here and cry..” moans Sad Kelly.

I’m thinking a road trip to Kansas…I want my $20 dollars back my liscense to happiness was bullshit.

Happy Anniversary Kellys you have made it another year.

“Oh the grass is green
Everywhere but under me
Or so it seems

I got a wedding band
In the name of a wandering man
I love the best I can

Oh Henry, have you got something to tell me?
‘Cause everybody’s been sayin’
You been runnin’ around
Oh Henry, I know you wouldn’t hurt me
Don’t you know that we don’t need
One more grave in this town

Boy if you’re smart
You know you’ll only have my heart
‘Til death do us part

Oh you and I both know
That at the end of forbidden road
There’s a six-foot hole

Oh Henry, have you got something to tell me?
‘Cause everybody’s been sayin’
You been runnin’ around
Oh Henry, I know you wouldn’t hurt me
Don’t you know that we don’t need
One more grave in this town

When we wed, we said forever ever and a day
The whole town heard you promise to be true
So boy you’re gonna only give your gypsy heart to me
If it’s the last thing you do, ooo ooh ooh oh woah ooh ooh

Oh Henry, have you got something to tell me?
‘Cause everybody’s been sayin’
You been runnin’ around
Oh Henry, I know you wouldn’t hurt me
Don’t you know that we don’t need
One more grave in this town
Oh one more grave in this town”

-The Civil Wars-

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The Long Way Around

Went to see the Dixie Chicks last night…

It was a little surreal listening to them live, and screaming/singing ‘Goodbye Earl’ and ‘Not Ready To Make Nice’ with them.

Their cover of ‘Landslide’made me tear up.

Maybe it should be my bucket list, to travel around and listen to all 200 and some song titles on my blog live. From seedy bars to major venues, me sitting in the audience with a drink in my hand, singing loudly off key, to the music that spoke for my heart.

The Dixie Chicks spoke of “women with balls” at the beginning of the concert 🙂 I wanted to tap on my imaginary mic, get their attention and correct them…

” Excuse me, Natalie?” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Those are lady balls, and are much different than man balls. They are much larger, and not as sensitive as men’s balls. They aren’t used for procreation like men’s instead they are used to do impossible daunting tasks. We also aren’t born with them, but instead grow them when faced with adversity and heartache.”

Instead of interrupting the show, I screamed my approval with the thousands of other women.

The DIxie Chicks might not know their connection to me and that’s okay.

The night was a visit down memory lane for me, and I came home and reread the blog posts.

Man was I angry 🙂 and honest…and ANGRY.

Looking back made me realize how far I’ve come from my first year out. It was a really long, and sad road I traveled, full of setbacks, crying, and heartbreak.

I’m coming up on FOUR years this fall…

Four years since my whole world came crashing down.

Four years of changes.

I could have taken the shorter path, and divorced.

Cut the ties and started over.

Instead I took the long way.

And sometimes all that got me through my darkest days was the ‘Dixie Chicks’ and you my sweet friends 🙂

If I haven’t said it before?

thank you

For walking down this dark road with me.

For being a voice in the darkness.

For showing up to my pity parties.

For never judging.

And always listening.

thank you

“It’s been two long years now
Since the top of the world came crashing down
And I’m getting’ it back on the road now

But I’m taking the long way
Taking the long way around
I’m taking the long way
Taking the long way around
The long
The long way around

Well, I fought with a stranger and I met myself
I opened my mouth and I heard myself
It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself
Guess I could have made it easier on myself

But I, I could never follow
No I, I could never follow

Well, I never seem to do it like anybody else
Maybe someday, someday I’m gonna settle down
If you ever want to find me I can still be found

Taking the long way
Taking the long way around
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around”

-Dixie Chicks-



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I was asked a question last night…

“How did you survive it all? The rough time in you marriage and stay married..”

It wasn’t a judging me question.

Or a nosey question.

It was a “hey I need some advice and I know you’ve been down some pretty rough roads in your marriage” question.

As I listened to her story, I realized it was very similar to mine.

Different characters.

Warmer setting.

Not the exact same plot.

No cheating or whores.

But lots of stress, lack of communication and anger…don’t all marriage stories have a similar chapter?

Hers even began, eerily like mine…

Two Years ago…

I listened to her story, and found myself nodding my head as it unfolded.

Life you see, takes us all down certain roads, roads that often end in cross roads.

Did you know crossroads often have demons waiting there?

“Crossroads demons are entities that make formal agreements or bargains with humans, granting any wish in exchange for claiming their life and soul at a fixed point in the future. Deals made with humans are sealed with a kiss, and contracts are written invisibly on the skin of the person. They tend to have red eyes.” -Supernatural-

They also sometimes dress as Can Can whores and live in Valdez…just  in case you ever travel to Alaska.

Either way crossroads in life are scary and dark places.

Chose the road to the left and the roads get rough and it’s storming but after trudging through the mud and the muck, you might find a rainbow.

Make a deal with the demon? The one standing in front of the sunshine and butterfly filled road? You are promised nothing but fun and good times 🙂 and it is…so much FUN…that you almost don’t notice as the air gets thicker, hotter and smells of sulfur…by the time you step out of the ‘fun fog’ you are in Hell.

My point being, you can’t be afraid to go through rough patches in life or marriage.

Without the bad, we don’t appreciate the good as much.

Cloudy days make you stop and notice the sun on your face.

One of my favorite scenes in a movie?

The grandma in Parenthood explaining life to Gil…

“[Gil has been complaining about his complicated life; Grandma wanders into the room]

Grandma: You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster.
Gil: Oh?
Grandma: Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride!
Gil: What a great story.
Grandma: I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn’t like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.”

Life isn’t about avoiding anything scary.

It isn’t about choices made when times are good.

It isn’t about always taking the safe well lit path.

I would rather ride the roller coaster 🙂

And see the rainbow after the rain.

And that’s how you survive my sweet friend, in life and marriage.

With the knowledge that not storms or bad times last forever.

“All you folks think you own my life

But you never made any sacrifice
Demons they are on my trail
I’m standing at the crossroads of the hell
I look to the left I look to the right
There’re hands that grab me on every side

All you folks think I got my price
At which I’ll sell all that is mine
You think money rules when all else fails
Go sell your soul and keep your shell
I’m trying to protect what I keep inside
All the reasons why I live my life

Some say the devil be a mystical thing
I say the devil he a walking man
He a fool he a liar conjurer and a thief
He try to tell you what you want
Try to tell you what you need

Standing at the point
The road it cross you down
What is at your back
Which way do you turn
Who will come to find you first
Your devils or your gods

All you folks think you run my life
Say I should be willing to comprimise
I say all you demons go back to hell
I’ll save my soul save myself

Tracy Chapman-




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Story Of My Life


Maybe the trick is to tell it until you are immune to the pain?

Until you build up your tolerance to the heartache…

When you can be separate yourself from your “story” and look back but not relive it?

When it becomes a chapter in our stories but not the whole book of our lives?

When it stops being about what was done to us and instead it is the story of what we overcome?

Maybe that’s when we become healed…and that my sweet friends is when we start writing a new chapter.



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7 Years

Once upon a time there lived a little girl named Lou…

She was the heart and the light in her broken family.




But for how much longer? That has been the thought in my late night, can’t sleep restless mind.

How much longer do we have?

How much longer will she not know?

How long till her finding out changes the person she is/could have been?

My constant vein of sadness which flows through my being, is Laney.

She lived through this once, the knowing, and yet not understanding. Remember, she patted my back at night while I was curled in my bed sobbing so hard I woke her. She ran to me as her ‘bubbas’ cried, unable to comfort them. She screamed as she saw her Daddy, the reason for everyone’s tears, and demanded he leave. She heard unkind words, and watched her family fall into an unending darkness.

She came out, happy and funny, and anyone looking in would think untouched.

She asks questions.

“Are they married?” she will ask as a couple kisses on TV.

“She’s not his wife? Why is he kissing her?” she will demand from us furious. Thank you The Intern for needing to add in a cheating spouse.

Little things, she says and asks, which I don’t remember my boys noticing.

One day, she stands there, watching as I put my makeup on, and asks…

“Why don’t you wear a wedding ring?” Lou looks up at me intently.

“Because,” I pause thinking,” my hands swell and hurt.” I tell her with a sad smile.

“Why doesn’t Daddy wear one?” she questions with a tilt of her head, and narrowing of her eyes.

“Because his doesn’t fit him anymore,” I answer her, and give her a quick hug,” Now go get your shoes on so we can go.”

“When I get married? Maybe I won’t wear a ring either.” She smiles up at me and turns to leave and find her shoes.

She is almost seven now.

How long till her friends repeat their parents gossip to her?

Or she overhears a conversation and puts the words spoken with old memories?

When will the day come that we have to sit down and explain the truth she already knows?

You all know me, I won’t lie.

I won’t cover it up, or try to push it away in the dark.

In this family, we tell the truth, even when it’s hard.

The whore’s mom once told me to lie to my children, not tell them what was going on. I think at that time she thought her daughter was going to be my kid’s stepmom, and it would make them hate her. She was so wrong on so many different levels.

I was right to tell my boys the truth. They are smart kids, they would have figured it out on their own. I got to control how they found out, and when it was told. I think it helped them, the knowing I wouldn’t lie to them.

The truth might hurt, but it is so much better than darkness and lies.

I hope in a couple years, when I know we have to sit Laney down and tell her, I still feel the same way.

I hope she understands.

I hope she forgives, not only her father, but me.

Once I was seven years old, my mama told me,
“Go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely.”
Once I was seven years old

It was a big big world, but we thought we were bigger
Pushing each other to the limits, we were learning quicker
By eleven smoking herb and drinking burning liquor
Never rich so we were out to make that steady figure

Once I was eleven years old, my daddy told me,
“Go get yourself a wife or you’ll be lonely.”
Once I was eleven years old

I always had that dream, like my daddy before me
So I started writing songs, I started writing stories
Something about that glory just always seemed to bore me
‘Cause only those I really love will ever really know me

Once I was twenty years old, my story got told
Before the morning sun, when life was lonely
Once I was twenty years old

 I only see my goals, I don’t believe in failure
‘Cause I know the smallest voices, they can make it major
I got my boys with me, at least those in favor
And if we don’t meet before I leave, I hope I’ll see you later”

-Lukas Graham



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Lost Boy


Is it funny, ironic? That the ONE thing we have all been searching for, when found is maybe the scariest part of healing?

We used to take happy for granted, at least I did.

Now a bunch of my kids firsts, family functions, hell holidays and celebrations are triggers. They are tied to the worst of my life and it’s like untying a six year olds shoe.

Full of tight, dirty, knots which seem endless…

I have untied the triggers, well untied them enough where I can get through the days without hiding in bed. This last year there have been minimal tears even, which is a celebration in itself.

I see happiness on the horizon, as my journey is ending.

I am leaving the depression and anger, discarded on the path behind me.

My final hill “Happiness” doesn’t look like a rainbow, covered in unicorns and sparkly sprinkles of goodness though.

Instead it’s  Mount Everest made up of can-can whores and broken promises, which I have to find my way through.

Happiness is scary.

It is really fucking scary…

Being unhappy just means the next day brings more misery, and we are used to miserable.

Being happy means to be HAPPY again, and taking a chance.

Happy is a risk.

Being happy with the one who once broke you? Who broke your heart, and if we are being blunt? He broke my soul, I will never be the same person I was.

I just won’t, some pieces can’t ever go back how they were.

But I can be happy.

I am so close I can see the thighs on Everest clapping together.

I can read every shredded broken promise.

Question is?

do I dare climb the final mountain in my long road to happiness?

When all you ever wanted was to be happy, you don’t think “What if I find it again?”

Happiness the second time around comes with the knowledge that bad shit happens….

Good people do bad things.

People who love you will hurt you.

Happiness comes with a price, a hefty price of admission.

It means stepping into the light, feeling the sun on our faces again, hearing laughter, and finding peace.

And knowing it can all disappear in an instant.

It is enough to make me crazy again.

It makes me wish I could escape to Neverland, where we can all stay young and innocent. No growing older, no being sad, no broken promises…just an island of lost people playing make-believe.

Believing in happy is like being sprinkled with pixie dust and pushed off a cliff.

You might fly.

but you might also die…

“There was a time when I was alone
Nowhere to go and no place to call home
My only friend was the man in the moon
And even sometimes he would go away, too

Then one night, as I closed my eyes
I saw a shadow flying high
He came to me with the sweetest smile
Told me he wanted to talk for awhile
He said, “Peter Pan, that’s what they call me
I promise that you’ll never be lonely, ” and ever since that day

I am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we’re bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
“Run, run, lost boy, ” they say to me
Away from all of reality

Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free
Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free

He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe
Believe in him and believe in me
Together we will fly away in a cloud of green
To your beautiful destiny
As we soared above the town that never loved me
I realized I finally had a family
Soon enough we reached Neverland
Peacefully my feet hit the sand
And ever since that day

I am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we’re bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
“Run, run, lost boy, ” they say to me
Away from all of reality

Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free
Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free

Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Wendy Darling
Even Captain Hook, you are my perfect story book
Neverland, I love you so
You are now my home sweet home
Forever a lost boy at last

Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Wendy Darling
Even Captain Hook, you are my perfect story book
Neverland, I love you so
You are now my home sweet home
Forever a lost boy at last

-Ruth B-








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