297. Thank you <3

Are you there Internet? It’s me, Stacey.


I know sometimes taking too many pictures and oversharing on social media can ruin the experience of being present and really enjoying things. I also know it can ruin the lives of whoever follows you online because they are subjected to the slew of random pictures you decided to flood their feed with at all times of the day.  But..I was looking back at my photos from this year and I love every, single one of them. I’ve taken 297 photos in the last 9 months. That sounds like a crap ton of annoying Instagram pictures, for sure. But, I’m also sure they mean the world to me. I’ve taken 297 photos since I left an old life. 297 photos of me being silly or feeling cute or wearing something obnoxious. 297 photos of my crazy, beautiful friends. Of their adorable children giggling and dancing or cracking pinatas. Of my brothers making me laugh. 297 photos of my mother with dramatic sunglasses on and her go-to silly face of tilting her head to the side and an open-mouthed, goofy grin which looks awfully familiar. 297 photos of my father making meatballs and standing by his prized pool with his jolly, drunk children floating in it. 297 photos of new places, favorite places. Photos of my beautiful sister-friends who I’ve watched grow as humans, as professionals, as mothers. Pictures of them holding their babies, holding wine glasses, holding shit down. And also, just being wild AF. 297 photos of friends’ bands. Strangers’ bands. New music. Old music. 297 photos and videos of tipsy Sheetz walks. Of watching Game of Thrones at 3 am..also drunk with Sheetz. 297 photos of cute dogs and even cuter doughnuts. My family’s ridiculous group text messages. Band practice. New friends. A new bed. New hair. I have 297 documented new memories of literally ALL OF THE THINGS I LOVE AND THAT GOT ME THROUGH THIS YEAR. Some of the moments earlier on were mere survival pictures. Me just trying not to die. It seriously could have been an Animal Planet documentary of everyone watching life sneaking up on me and trying to kill me. It was getting pretty close. But, most of the pictures, thankfully, are me being in love with all of my people and in love with a life I wasn’t expecting, but at the same time, had in front of me all along. I was always going to be pulled and surrounded by all of you wonderful, little angel bunnies. You’ve either been here the whole time or you were waiting for me. It was always going to break this way. And I’m so glad. And I am so thankful.


I know Thanksgiving is over, but if you are family, friend, or a co-worker you already know time isn’t really my thing.


And I am thankful on so many days. This year, for sure.


I’ve been thankful and I’ve been super busy.


Busy watching my hair grow and playing bangers on the juke box and dancing to bangers on the juke box and recording vocal tracks and going to friends’ shows and listening to them sing beautiful songs and stroke pretty guitars.


Real busy taking pickle backs and eating gummy bears and watching two year olds turn three and watching my savings account dip dangerously low but still buying earrings because they’re pretty and hot dogs because they’re fucking good.


Busy meeting friends in coffee shops and talking for hours on end about nothing but also everything.


Busy smiling and giggling and crossing paths with gentle, but giant glowing souls that make my heart burst to just be in the presence of their beautiful existence.


I’ve been busy shouting at women in bathrooms and bars that they are beautiful and can do and be whatever they want and I’ll fight anyone that even blinks the wrong way in their direction. And then I’ve been busy going home and wondering if this is off-putting or creepy of me, but then remembering I don’t give a fuck and it’s out of love and I’m adorable when I’m on a tipsy, aggressively loving soap box.


I’ve even been busy writing and just not posting because I have so many fleeting thoughts and sometimes I get too passionate and picky about something that I over edit it and by the time I’m done editing it I don’t really give a shit about it anymore. I’ve written a lot of “don’t do this, don’t do that, shitty people blah, blah” stuff and again, I think about it for a second and then I just don’t want to spend my energy on it anymore.


I’ve been busy trying to focus more on positive shit and learning new things and diving deeper into music and loving people and trying the whole loving myself thing.


297 times I loved myself this year by surrounding myself with people I love, live music, junk food, cold beers, dogs, cute kids, walks around the neighborhood, sleeping in, being hungover, being sober, being drunk, sitting in front of a bubble machine, brushing my hair, not brushing my hair, singing, dancing, laughing, living. 297 times I lived more in the last few months than I have in the last couple of years. My brother pointed that out to me. He was right. I don’t want him to say that to me ever again. That I wasn’t living. I don’t want to ever back myself into a corner or walk on eggshells or stuff myself down a hole or feel trapped ever again. I don’t ever want to find myself in another situation where I am internally fighting myself and snuffing myself out and numbing myself over to tolerate things I know in my heart are not okay. I like things. I like people. I like life. I like love. I like spending my energy on those things. It makes me feel whole. It makes me happy. These past 297 pictures make me so, so happy.


I love you all so much.


If you have lent your hearts, or ears, or homes to me, you are a fucking saint and I will never forget it. I will never forget that you pulled me in and fed me and kept me safe and sane at a time when I felt like evaporating. Thank you. If we have locked eyes, or smiles, or hands, or arms, thank you. If we have exchanged giggles or dance moves or phone numbers or hilariously vulgar or uplifting-ly sweet messages, thank you. If we have shared beers or coffee or songs or snacks or kisses or embraces, thank you. Thank you so fucking much.

I can’t wait to see what comes next with all of you beautiful babes.






Honk if You Like Art

I was writing this as two of my friends were posting about a similar theme and when the three of us have weird telepathic moments I know better than to dismiss it as just noise in my head.


If you don’t believe in anything, well, I feel sorry for you. But, if you don’t believe in anything, at least believe in the creatives, the empaths, the ground breakers and the envelope pushers, and the “no, she didn’t just do that”-ers and support them when they are doing their thing.


There are people doing some cool ass shit, mostly just being themselves and speaking their minds and it’s pretty amazing. To watch people throw caution to the wind and not give a fuck if everyone agrees or loves it. To be completely and utterly themselves. To watch people explode out of the cages that someone kept them in – or even they kept themselves in.  Never stop little birdies.


There’s something awesome about writing or creating something. No matter how big or small. It is cathartic and necessary to get out of your body and brain – mostly so it stops consuming you. But there’s something even bigger in the moment you actually share it with someone. The exchange. The passing of these feelings you tried to articulate or convey in some kind of written or visual or auditory or textural totem. The fear and excitement of releasing it, and the anticipation and anxiety of how it will be received. The “I don’t know if I even want you to see this, but I NEED to show you” predicament. And sometimes we are worried about what our peers will think, but more often than not they respond graciously and appreciatively and say:


Ah, this IS you. And I see you. And now I carry a piece of you with me and I thank you.


Yes, thank you.


Thank you, to all of my lovely, creative friends for choosing me to be someone you share ideas and poems and essays and songs and paintings and doodles and designs and even just random thoughts and opinions with. Thank you for seeing and receiving me, as well. Thank you to all the strangers, too. Who I look up to in awe about how badass you are for doing the damn thing. Thank you for letting yourself think and feel and create these things, for being brave enough to share them and for making me feel brave, too.


There is nothing quite like exposing the deepest and sometimes darkest parts of you and someone not just saying This is okay but also, I understand.


Often times I get overwhelmed with feelings of: Why should I share this? I don’t really matter. I’m just a dumb lady who thinks things. What makes me special? Why would people give a shit about what I have to say, write, or sing – everyone probably thinks I’m an asshole for saying anything at all. And I KNOW some of you have these feelings too – like your voice or your ideas do not matter or feeling like you are not good enough, or feeling like everyone hates you or rolls their eyes anytime you open your mouth.


Well, your ideas do matter and you are good enough, and they don’t hate you..but if they do..fuck ’em! If it’s calling you and stepping on your face every morning to make this damn thing, it’s because you can and you should and the rest of us will get mad at you if you don’t. Do not waste the gift. People get pissed about that shit. Wasted talent. Who said something along those lines? De Niro in A Bronx Tale? You was right, Bobby boy.


A dear friend of mine says “It wont be for everyone and that’s okay. The people who need you will find you.” I don’t know if she wrote this advice herself or if she pulled it from another intellectually beautiful person, but she is adorable and smart and she’s my wise, Slim Jim eating owl so we are going to give this one to her. And I just hope she remembers this advice herself when she writes and shares because her words have kept me from crawling into some pretty dark places before.


Please never stop. All of you. Never stop creating and sharing. So many people need your voices and visions – not just to reflect and to learn and to grow but most importantly, to not feel alone. There are times where you may be the only string that person is clinging to – one that keeps them from floating away. Keep tossing out them strings.


So all of you crafty, dramatic, empathetic, wise, tortured, quirky, against the grain, anxious, awkward artists – Do not get discouraged if not everyone understands or “likes” it. The rest of us need you and you mean more to us than you will ever know.


I love you all and cannot wait to see what you do next.


A lovely poem by a lovely person.   JABpoet

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A Long-winded Post For My Bunnies on the Struggle Bus. For People Who Don’t Understand But Mean Well. And As Always, For Me.

Also, a lotta fucks in this one.  Don’t continue reading if fucks upset you.




Life is weird.


Sometimes you’re all great and gung-ho and then sometimes you find yourself engulfed in malaise and using two small coffee straws as chopsticks to eat take out because you already took your pants and bra off and you’re too lazy to go downstairs to the hotel lobby and get a fucking fork. Because you are a savage.


If life wasn’t weird enough, divorce is fucking weirder.


A big ol’ mind fuck within a mind fuck.


Everyone is in a different relationship and if you’re going through a divorce, your divorces will be different, too. So some of the shit I feel and share wont resonate with everyone. And it’s not supposed to.


Also, DISCLAIMER: I am NOT a psychologist or marriage counselor – obviously! I just do what I do and feel what I feel and lived what I lived so, take and leave whatever you want about anything I ever say.


Another disclaimer: I am a woman. Surprise! So, a lot of this will come from a woman’s perspective but also, surprise! I do know some men get the short end of the stick in relationships and marriages, so don’t worry I’m not forgetting about you. So, just change the pronouns yourself because I’m too lazy and this is about me and what I think.


This post has a lot of people’s marital issues intertwined in my thoughts. They are all different and important. Some issues range from having different core values to actual emotional and physical abuse. My marital issues lay somewhere on this spectrum. But, if I smoosh and cloud and hide my own issues in plain sight within everyone else’s issues, then I wont get in trouble for publicly posting mine! High five!


Some of you truly just have irreconcilable differences, some of you are best friends still, some of you cheated, some of you equally contributed to downfall, some of you got drunk and went to Vegas. Some of you are so graceful and wonderful with co-parenting, some of you protect your children by keeping them from the other, some of you are shit heads and use the kids as leverage. Some of you want to set each other on fire, some of you were in pretty healthy marriages, some of you struggled with intense mental health issues. Some of you were physically, verbally, or sexually abused within your marriage, and some of you were in emotionally abusive and manipulative ones.


If you’re going through a divorce and you can still meet your spouse every Wednesday for coffee, I applaud you.


If you’re going through a divorce and you feel like you might set them on fire the next time you see them, well, that’s okay too. I mean, don’t really set them on fire. But, you are allowed to be angry if someone hurt you or fucked you up.


It helps to work on letting the anger and resentment go. Currently, I am okayish with this..some days. Other days my friends have to stop me from impulsively shouting things on social media or slashing tires when I see or hear some things that really piss me off.


BUT, if you really work on it and really want to be free of them having any more control over your brain and life, then that will happen in time. You will learn to let go and move on if you put your mind to it. But honestly, be angry for a while. Some things we are supposed to get mad at. And remember.


I’m in this new phase now where I’m not really sad anymore about ex-husband or even marriage ending, but now I just have all of these question marks ahead of me, and sometimes it is terrifying.


Sometimes it is exciting and adventurous and zen and boozy and outdoorsy and giggly and other times it is overwhelmingly unknown and unpredictable and lonely and it makes me want to vomit.


If you’ve ever grieved anything, there are a bunch of those scientifically proven stages you go through, or get stuck in, and they ain’t lyin’. Even though I’ve seen 72 power points on the Stages of Grief, I’m not going to fact check them or actually talk about them or be accurate about it. Instead, I’m going to just lay out how grieving the death of my marriage and future has gone for me so far and then it’s probably gonna turn into me yelling at you to do certain things if you are in a similar situation so you DON’T DIE.


Ok, so, you have left. And it was almost impossible. And you know deep down you shouldn’t go back. Here we go..


First, get to safe place with good people. You know where they are. Go to them. I don’t mean that someone has necessarily been beating you, I just know when we all get hyped up on our emotions we need to be somewhere safe and around people who can ground us. But also, if someone is physically hurting you, please run to your nearest safe place. One of the greatest things one of my brothers ever did for me was when I was hysterically crying and shooting snot out of my nose and gasping for air and he just slowly and silently reached out and squeezed my arm to remind me I was real and I was okay. Do this for people. If they are hysterical or hyperventilating, just touch them in the non-weirdest, least threatening way possible. It keeps them from floating away.




Cry for a few days straight.


Have false sense of empowerment that you are strong and are doing this thing and don’t need nobody!!!


That feeling lasts anywhere from three days to three weeks.


Cry for a few more days when you realize you don’t feel as strong as you did when you huffed and puffed and packed all your shit up.


Have lots of wavering thoughts about going back.


Actually go back a couple times.


Maybe you just need space?


Your “space” is now a closet sized office at your brothers’ place that is too small for you to even unfold a futon.


This isolation chamber was actually the shit and surprisingly a lot of people can sit on that futon and sulk together and it is beautiful. My brothers would ask me to switch rooms with them. Everyone wanted this tiny panic room. It literally was smaller than a prison cell. But I never gave it up!




Have moments where you think you’re possibly rekindling your marriage but quickly realize it’s actually just burning down faster.  You’re starting to notice shit you didn’t notice before and you’re embarrassed you are such a softie and thought there was a chance. You also realize you shouldn’t have spent all that money on that weekend in Raleigh or on that top where your boobs look fucking fantastic.


A few more clumps of hair fall out.


Get really angry at hair falling out.


Get exhausted by anger and resentment.


So exhausted, more hair falls out.


Don’t consume any water or nutritious foods.


Make yourself go to work.


Start super secret society with funny, supportive women in similar situation and an awesome dude who loves you like sisters and checks your pulses bi-weekly.


Vent. A LOT. But only to select few people because you don’t trust anyone to understand and you don’t want to burden people with that shit anyways, and also, you kind of have a conscience and don’t want to talk shit or complain or cry to just anyone.


Make a few passive aggressive posts on social media. JUST A FEW! DO NOT blast anyone or use Facebook as a diary because you will look like a crazy person and then everyone can go, ah, it was her.


Make everyone else believe you are fabulous. Well, because you are. You’re just going through a hard time.


Also, FUCK EVERYONE, who thinks they know you or your spouse and your situation. Your family and true friends know you and they know what happened and you also don’t need anyone to validate you. Validate yourself. You know all the things that were said and done and not done.


Keep being yourself.


Your actions and the way you choose to live your life will outshine whatever slanderous shit someone is spreading about you. Let some people talk shit and write you off and unfriend or even block you. Those are people that were never important to you, have never and will never benefit you, and they are doing you a favor by removing themselves from your life. Thanks, shitty people!


Stay honest.


Stay busy.


Stay the course.


If you fill your days with enough shit, you have a little less time to cry and waver and second-guess yourself.


DO NOT LOSE YOUR JOB. A good friend beat me over the head with this and he was SO RIGHT. Not only do you need your damn job for normal things like rent and saving money to start a new life but, you need to work and you need to be productive and you need to be around people. It helped A LOT that my work family was insanely wonderful and supportive and let me cry in bathrooms a lot.


Literally go and do WHATEVER YOUR FRIENDS ASK YOU. If they want to get a drink or go get dinner or need a babysitter or need a gym or walking buddy, GO DO IT. They are angels and they are secretly and not so secretly trying to pull you out of your dark hole. Also, they just need their friend back, too, so DO WHAT THEY SAY. They love you and they do know what’s best and you probably turned into a shit friend when you fell into the toxic marriage thing, so YOU OWE THEM.


Pay attention to your feelings. They will change almost everyday, sometimes very subtly. Start compartmentalizing them. Not everything is “Oh my God, I’m so sad and feel like dying”. Ask yourself what you are actually so sad about.


Are you sad about the loss of a partner? Are you sad about the death of what you thought was your future? Are you sad because you’re embarrassed this happened to you? Are you sad because you think you are going to die alone now? Are you embarrassed you got secret married and didn’t tell your parents until months later and then six months after that you tell them you are getting divorced? Are you scared of your Grandma finding out and putting a hex on you? Are you mad because you wasted a lot of time and money and energy? Are you so mad it’s making you sad? Are you terrified about what God thinks? Are you pissed off that he (your husband, not God) pushed you to leave but then wants to throw it in your face that you are “hurting the kids”? Are you angry he gambled away your car payment money or abandoned you and your children? Or asked you to put your dreams on hold so he could pursue his and then he just didn’t do anything he fucking said he would? Etc. All very important questions. Get to the root of what you are feeling and why so you can make rational decisions and keep yourself in check.


A lot of these feelings present themselves in similar ways, we stew and we cry. And sometimes when we can’t separate this clusterfuck of feelings it just makes us want to give up and sometimes it makes us want to go back, because even though going back is a shitstorm, it’s a shitstorm we are familiar with.




I mean if you’re in like a normal, kind of healthy marriage and separation and you have very specific issues that you both are actually working on with a plan to reconcile, then yea, I support that shit! I truly do. I am a super, strong believer that marriage is not some joke to be taken lightly. It is sacred and serious and it broke me in pieces to admit mine was ending and I felt like a huge failure – like now there’s some demerit or strike against me. Sometimes I still feel this way.


But I also feel a certain way about idiots who say: You agreed to stay ‘til death do you part, so go back and fix it. These people can go fuck themselves and they really don’t know much about anything except that:


1. They have never experienced anything quite like what you are going through


2. They are in a marriage with two reasonable and mentally healthy, rational adults – please see number 1.


3. They are probably just projecting and secretly want to get out of their own marriages and have to say this out loud to keep convincing themselves to stay


4. They are probably the ones being shitbags in their marriage and don’t realize how miserable they make their spouse


5. They are old and old people yell at us for not doing anything the way they did. But remember, women didn’t work much, men did literally whatever they wanted including galavanting around or beating their wives, women had no where to go. Yes, let’s please keep following this system. Get the fuck out.


6. They mean well but are stuck in some stupid-ass traditions that, in my opinion, are pretty anti-wife.


Let’s be honest, more women get a stigma and shit for leaving their husbands than men get for leaving their wives. I’ve had men and women tell me I should stay and “wait it out” or fix it or try this or that, and I guarantee you no one has said this to my husband. It’s typically the woman’s job to submit and stay and fix by submitting or becoming apathetic and numb and to keep enduring stupid-ass shit. I’ve heard grown ass women actually say:


“Women will always have to put more work in or put up with more than the men”


“They (men) just don’t understand some things”


“Men need to be trained”


“Men need more time”


“Men aren’t good with these kinds of things”


or another good one:


“He wont be able to get on without you if you leave”


Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, let me stay so this motherfucker has food and water everyday. GO FUCK YOURSELVES. Also, stop doing this in your own lives and definitely stop giving young women this advice.


If you ever give the “you should stay” advice to a person who is being walked all over or abused or neglected or manipulated or run around on, especially a woman, I will punch you in your fucking face.


Do you think it’s easy to leave a marriage? You think it was a quick, easy decision to pack up her car and leave something she WANTED to work, leave someone she loved, go into the unknown?


You think this hasn’t been a constant, overwhelming, brain-pulsing, heart-wrenching thought in her mind for months or even years?


Do you think it’s fun when some women have to strategically and slowly start packing one item at a time so he doesn’t notice and leave when he’s at work or drunk at the bar?


Do you think it’s just shits and giggles to have to pack a child up and take him from a two parent home?


Do you think grown women want to move in with their brothers or their parents?


Do you think we jump for joy about divorce papers and custody hearings?


It is awful. Awful. Awful. Awful.


Fuck shitty advice and fuck people for putting others in this position. To have to leave. And then get mad at us for leaving. Again, go fuck yourselves.


‘Lotta fucks today.


People who say these things are insulting the fact that you HAVE been trying. They are insulting the fact that YOU DO TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY. They are minimizing the torment you have gone through in making this decision. They are disregarding you as someone who didn’t care enough. They don’t know shit. And if people say this to you, then they don’t really know you.


Not everyone who gets divorced is just some dumb kid who gave up because they just didn’t feel like it anymore.


Just because you are married does not mean you aren’t allowed to have boundaries. This isn’t an “anything goes” scenario now because we signed a fucking paper. Boundaries are good. Boundaries keep you mentally healthy. Boundaries leave you with some self-respect. Boundaries have kept some people alive.


God forbid you are getting physically or verbally abused or raped within your marriage, which IS A THING – I’M TALKING TO YOU, YOU IGNORANT, CULTY FUCKS. Then no, you definitely don’t need to stay. Not for him. Not for her. Not for your parents. Not for your social status. Not for the kids. Not for Jesus. Go. Take the kids or co-parent. Just go.


When I say, DO NOT GO BACK. I’m talking to women and men who we all know shouldn’t go back.


Insert Britney Spears – Toxic.


Actually, go ahead and listen to a lot of Britney. And Beyonce. And also some sad, dark, angry shit.


Ok, moving on. See, I told you this was just going to turn into me yelling at you.






It sucks sooo bad.


The discomfort is parts of you dying and most of you growing.


You’re going through this tumultuous process of once being somebody’s partner to now being all by yourself. Like someone is just peeling off all of these layers you built up around yourself and you’re kind of just naked and exposed and trying not to get eaten alive.


You miss having a partner, not only to feel loved, but you miss giving love, too.


You were probably good at it. And it’s probably why you stayed too long. Because you loved loving someone and you thought your love was enough to make things better.


Take all that love, and start loving your damn self and those around you.


Your love is worth it and it’s awesome and you don’t have to bottle it up and cross your fingers that you will find a new love one day so you can use it again.


Use it now.


Sprinkle that shit on EVERYONE.


Especially yourself.


Love your friends and their babies. Love your kids if you got em. Love the people you work with. Love old people. Love puppies, or cats – I mean, if you’re silly and like cats more than dogs. Love your parents. Love your brothers. Love your Grandma. Love a meatball sandwich. Love the family sitting next to you at a restaurant. Love your bartender. Maybe even go home with one. Love the lady cashier who works third shift at Sheetz – maybe don’t go home with her. Not that I have anything against her or Sheetz, but if you’re there at 2 AM then you are trashed and you shouldn’t be hitting on the nice lady ringing up the french fries and mac and cheese you plan to mix together and eat with your hands when you get home.


Anyways, love WHOEVER. As much as possible!


Be kind to yourself. Let yourself breathe. Take a nap. Sleep in. Get a pedicure. Buy a new outfit. Go see your mother. Buy her an outfit. Also, she’s getting a pedicure, too, but she’s adorable and it always feels good to take care of her or anyone else you love. Call your Dad. You are embarrassed and expect him to scold you, but he wont. He will say all the right things and remind you how much he loves you. I mean, unless your Dad is a dick. Then just call mine. But, please avoid politics.


Lay on your friends’ couches and watch trash tv.


It’s okay if they are eating a box of chocolates and watching you cry. They get hungry and this is overwhelming for them, too. To see you like this. They probably didn’t realize how bad it was. And also, eating candy is kind of a must if I’m friends with you anyways.


Thank you to all of my friends who always have food or snacks or booze prepared for me.


Just be with them – your friends. Be around people. There’s literally no way it won’t at least take the edge off.


Say THANK YOU when someone gives you a compliment instead of saying how fat or ugly or tired you feel.


SLEEP! Get some mothafuckin’ sleep.


Let yourself cry, but you literally have to start a timer at some point and only give yourself like 15 minutes and shorter increments as you go on.


You no longer have to spend your physical or mental energy on someone else. We don’t realize how intertwined we are with another person until they aren’t there anymore. And for some of us, you don’t realize how much you were destroying yourself for someone. Yes, there’s no more of the good parts of a relationship like snuggling and sex and holding hands and kisses and binge watching Netflix together, but there’s also no more of the other overwhelmingly negative shit draining you either. And I know you’ve already made a list of pros and cons, which is why you are relating to this, because it became blatantly unbalanced. And you didn’t want to admit it, and you didn’t want to leave, and I know you are tired from the battle.


No more, no more.


So what does that leave you?


A shit ton of alone time to either hate yourself or start liking yourself again.


You will probably do both.


I suggest allowing yourself a short while to hate yourself first and then,


Rein. It. In.


Suck it up and power through.


Force yourself to figure out who you are going to be now.


For you.


For your kids.


For the next person who comes along, because they will.


I mean, take your time, but definitely commit to a long-term goal of not letting this kill you or turn you into a monster. It’s too easy to stay mad and angry and blame someone for ruining your life. I’m sure it feels like they have ruined part of it, but it isn’t over.


This is your time now. Your uncomfortable, but much needed and wonderful, scary, but exciting time to change literally anything you want about yourself.


Weed out what doesn’t work for you – habits, behaviors, lifestyle choices, people.


And just go ahead and start doing the shit you always wanted to do.


Do it all and do it while you work on healing and polishing any rough edges you know you have. Figure out why you did some things or why you let some things happen. And yes, what was your part in the demise. I don’t believe that bullshit about things always being 50/50. Do both people contribute? Yes. And sometimes it is very much even. But sometimes there really is an overwhelming amount of destruction from one side. But, the other side enables it or makes it worse, for sure. What was your part? And how do you prevent that from ever happening again?


Breathe and relax and rest, but then strengthen the shit out of yourself and really assess what happened so you don’t make the same mistakes or find yourself in a similar situation.


During this time, there will be waves of every possible emotion.


You will wobble and sometimes you will be rock steady.


You will feel strong one day and then some days you will crouch in a corner. I know a cute lady who does this. She’s amazing, but sometimes, anxiety hits and ya just gotta crouch ya know?


If you’re like me, sometimes you take a walk with your friend and he’s telling you how great you sound and then eight hours later he’s knocking on your door because you’ve been sobbing on the floor and not answering your phone. Find and keep friends like this by the way.




The best descriptions I have read about grief were ones comparing it to ocean waves.


Erica Roman Blog – Surviving the Waves of Grief   – Read this if you have lost anything in your life ever 


It’s so ridiculously accurate.


Waves of Grief. And all you can do is stop fighting them and just ride em out, or let them pass over you. You can’t escape the feels, so just hold on. Feel them.


They will hit and hit hard, but they will pass. I promise.


All of it is important. Even the shittiest of days you have will benefit you in the long run. Remember, you are supposed to be uncomfortable right now. Don’t avoid dealing with it or pretend you are okay. Don’t resist mourning this “death”. Don’t throw yourself into another person before you get through some of these parts. That will come back to haunt you.


Don’t waste this time. Don’t let the past year or even 20 years of shit define you.


It does not define you.


You do not have to own it.


No more, no more.




You can do this.


You’re already doing it.


And there’s no way your cry face can look worse than mine, so you got that going for you, too.


I love you, little bunnies.


I’ll see you on the bus!







Holes: No, Not Referring to Vaginas..this time.

You’ve got some holes in your life. I know you do.


In your heart, in your pocket, in your home.


We all do. I’ve got a few. They are scary and we don’t like them at all, so we avoid them or pretend they are not there or blame them on someone else. I’m just thinking out loud here because I really don’t know shit about anything, but stick with me here..


Why not work on filling the holes back in? Like using earth, or dirt, or soil, or whatever stupid, metaphorical garden term you prefer, back into it instead of just putting a wood plank over it, or one of those hideous plastic orange fences around it. Slowly, over time, someone is going to walk or fall through it. You or him, or her, or the kids, or some other innocent bystander.


It’s your stupid hole. Stop leaving it there for everyone else to deal with. Put the work in. Build it back up. Do not go around. Do not turn and walk away. Because you will keep coming back to this same ditch, every fucking time, with new people, with new damage.


Just stop.


That’s the first step.


Stop and take a good look at that fucking hole. Why is it there? What tools do you need to begin fixing it? Maybe come back to it next week with a lawn chair and a six pack  (or maybe some soda if your hole is binge drinking) and sit and look at it a little longer. Where can I find the shit I need for this stupid, ugly hole? Is there someone I need to help me with it? How long will this take? Do I have time? Where do I start?


And honestly, I think the best thing to do is: just start.


That’s right, first you stop, then you start.


Take an educated guess or just aimlessly start poking at shit. The movement alone will stir some dirt up, loosen the walls. You can figure it out as you go. But just start.


Stop looking away.


Stop being a pussy.  Sorry to all the people against using the word pussy to describe a weak ass person, but honestly it fits and this is my blog and I have one so I can say it and use it however I damn well please! 


Stop making other people walk through or tip-toe around this hole, or carry your burden with you or for you. Carry it yourself and start shoveling that fucker in. Until one day you walk past it and it’s finally filled in and the grass has grown over, probably all jacked up, but whatever, and it’s just another piece of life that you don’t even really notice anymore. Something you were brave or lucky enough to walk through and take care of and smooth out – not just for others, but for you too, dummy. It’s about you. Stop living a life you don’t even like. Why are you doing that? Uh. We are so stupid, and lazy, and selfish, and terrified.


Stupid holes!


Everyone’s got em. Including me.


And I don’t even care what holes are in your yard, baby. 


I love people who have them! As long as you’re working on them. Like, really working on them. Not just talking about how much you hate them and how they are ruining your life, or what strategic steps everyone else has to take to avoid falling in them. I don’t even mind helping you fill them in, but you will reach for the shovel first and you will do most of the work, motherfucker.


I feel like this holes bit is running dry.


And, I also just keep thinking about a young Shia LeBeouf.


I’m sleepy. 


Just deal with your shit, people!


Happy Monday!

30 Things I Would Like to Do, But May or May Not Get Around to Doing Before I Die



I was going to write a dark and twisty post, but then decided my divorce will go smoother if I keep my mouth shut about some things for the next little while 🙂 Seriously, I wrote it and read it hundreds of times and was going to share it, but I changed my mind because I do what I want.


Next year, hopefully I can publish a collection titled, “The Dark Days”, or “Shit Storm City” or “I Think I Really Did Marry An Axe Murderer” or “The Shit I Wished I Could Say When I Started This Blog” or “What the Fuck Was That About?”. Please comment below, leaving your title suggestions for this next series.


I had a baaaaaad night recently and it fucked me up for about 48 hours. But the fact that I can say it only fucked me up for two days is really, truly, madly, deeply awesome. Even just a few months ago, that would have ruined me for quite some time. But, not today,  crippling situational anxiety and enabler’s guilt, not today!


So, fuck off, bad temporary feels! You don’t even know me!


Today, instead of sharing my awful night inside of a shit storm, I’m gonna talk about my new life!


Here’s a follow up to the 30 Before 30 post:


30 Things I Would Like to Do, But May or May Not Get Around to Doing Before I Die


1. Don’t rush into another marriage


2. Cut my hair really short


3. Learn how to play at least three songs on some kind of instrument


4. Never weigh myself again


5. Regularly exercise without it being a phase or a chore


6. Pay off my car


7. Pay off my credit card


8. Accept I will be buried with my student loans


9. Sing my fat fucking ass off


10. Learn how to worry less about tripping over my feet or mic cord on stage – legit fear


11. Get specialized in stroke rehab, lymphedemic massage, and/or therapeutic yoga


12. Get a dog


13. Take dog with me everywhere


14. Have a baby or just pick one up off the side of road when I’m older so I don’t have to stress about having that other baby


15. Get an RV and live in it for at least a year


16. If I don’t like living in an RV, sell it or set it on fire


17. Have ZERO tolerance for unhealthy behaviors in a relationship


18. Be really honest. Not like, dickishly honest. But just open and honest and unafraid.


19. Tell and show my family and friends I love and appreciate them, on the reg


20. Write a book or compilation of some kind of random stuff I’ve written..


21. Make better eye contact when conversing with others


22. Stand up straighter


23. Learn self-defense


24. Sing more on command for old people. They really, really like it.


25. Sing more with Dad. Again, he really, really likes it. And I do, too.


26. Spend a ridiculous amount of money on a weekend with my girlfriends to celebrate a bachelorette party I never had and a divorce that I have almost survived


27. Buy my mother a car. Like a new one.


28. Build something by myself with like tools and wood and shit


29. Learn how to do a cartwheel – Not a big believer of people’s feet leaving the ground much, but I need to work on being brave and stuff


30. Keep working on being a stronger, wiser, scary old lady




Family: This One is Serious!


I love my Family more than anything.


Do you know that some people give me shit for that? They joke and say we are some kind of clique or something. But I think that’s a poor choice of words, an understatement. Because I think we are more like an army.


I’m not just talking about my five brothers and my wonderful parents. I’m talking about my whole Family. The men and women with different last names and skin tones and religious beliefs who I would die for. I would take a bullet for them and their children. And they would do it for me. Because they know how amazing this is and they know what it takes to be a part of something this awesomely beautiful. They show up and reciprocate and contribute.


They are reliable, and trustworthy, and just really fucking Good.


You have to work hard to get in, and once you are in, you still have to work to earn your keep. This isn’t some participation award or $5 membership fee. This is an elite squad, the best of the best, a fucking force to be reckoned with.


There are rules. Flexible, but firm. There is leeway and room for error and time for practice, but there are also consequences if you don’t step your game up. There is still an exit to be escorted out of.


But once you walk in and realize what you have surrounding you – how much love, acceptance, support, protection, and loyalty you have in your corner – you will never want to leave and it will then be effortless to stay. But, only if you see it and appreciate it and truly know what you have in front of you.


Don’t you dare come in here with ill intentions or some kind of selfish angle. I don’t say that to protect The Family, I say that to protect you. Because when you realize what you fucked up, you will never ever be able to forgive yourself. And we will carry on without you. Still wishing you the best, but knowing you won’t ever get it again.


Not like this.




Insert late night, should-be-sleeping-but-appreciating-all-my-lovies slide show. If your pic should be on here, forgive me! It’s late and I’m sleepy and I may not have an easily accessible photo of you and yours. Also, there’s so many extended family and friends and so many lovely and not so lovely situations and circumstances that have brought us together or have physically kept us apart. I love and appreciate all of you more than you will ever know.



Also, I ate gummy bears for dinner.





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