the goodies.

Because friendships, are bullshit.

**disclaimer: if you get offended by this blog and the truth that’s in it, then clearly you were one of the people that help me write this.

Lately, I’ve been really questioning people’s motives with being apart of my life. One lesson I’ve learned since becoming an adult is “if you’re not losing friends, you’re not growing”. I use to think that line was a complete joke, because friends will always be there… right….? The ugly truth is no, they won’t be.

In the last several months, I’ve learned that sometimes people can totally suck and only be in your life to benefit themselves. It makes them feel good to be apart of someone’s life that’s doing good, but when shit hit the fan… they bounced. When it came to having awesome girl time and just hanging out, lies began to unfold about being “busy”, instead of simply saying “no, it’s not a priority”. Excuses, to lies, to pictures of what they were really doing posted on social media, and that my dears… fucking sucks to see.

I don’t really have friends anymore, and I’m fine with that. I have a loving family with awesome women! We’ve created a bond that doesn’t depend on drunken nights, and constant conversation. Two live in different states, and three live here in my home town. The amount of empowerment we bring each other, is up lifting. The amount of honesty we have, is amazing. The amount of trust and faith we have in each other, is inspiring. I’m learning that these women, are my go to’s for everything. They understand me, I understand them… and we all understand that life is seriously freaking busy. We have babies on the way, school, work, relationships, projects, vacations and so on.

Friendships can kiss my ass, because sisterhood is what it’s all about. ✌🏻

Daughter.

Over a year ago, my heart filled with joy… and in the last few days…. it’s completely shattered into a million pieces. My wife and I opened our home and hearts to a child we love dearly. We went through classes, trainings, questionings, therapies, and so many more things… however none of them could prepare us to say good bye. I went from miss Kelsey, to Kelsey, to Momma, and now…. I’m just a distant figure in someone’s heart that I hope some day can look back and remembered that we tried.

When you foster a child, the information they give you is such a large amount that you drill it into your brain so you can’t forget it. There is no handbook on how to handle a child though. There’s no handbook for what your heart will feel. There’s no handbook on how to tell people you no longer have your daughter when they ask where she’s at. There’s no correct way to answer your families questions on what happened… and there’s no handbook on how to grieve a child that’s still alive.

Today we had our final meeting with our case worker, and each minute it lasted…. I felt a whole in my heart growing bigger and bigger. I made it through the home visit without completely breaking down, as soon as the front door shut… I lost it and fell into my wife’s arms. I looked down the hallway and saw my daughters room, it was dark and empty. I’ll never look down the hall and hear her singing to kooper again. I’ll never hear her snoring when I leave the house at 545 in the morning again. I’ll never get the hugs again, the laughs, or the tears.

Went went from adoption a few weeks away, to this. My heart is torn. My brain is in a cluster. My stomach is in knots. I’ve lost many people in my life. I’ve buried loved ones. None of that… will ever compare to this. Ever.

To the mother of my daughter.

Although I’ve never met you, you hold a place very close within my heart. It’s taken me months to realize that it’s okay to be angry with you, but also to cherish you at the same time.

Sixteen years ago you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl; that by the amazing grace of this universe, ended up in my life, home, and arms. I always wonder what kind of woman you were, what you were like, if you loved animals the way my daughter does, if she got her amazing chocolate drop eyes from you, and if you were strong like she is.

It’s been hard sitting by her, when she cries and misses you, it’s hard to see her hurting. However, it’s amazing to see the love my daughter still has for you.. and I’m truly thankful and happy she does. You are apart of her life line. You supported her with oxygen and the nutrients she needed to grow within you for nine months. You felt the kicks and movements she created in your tummy, you felt the pain of labor and delivery. You felt the joy when my daughter took her first breath in this crazy world, and I admire you for that.

When I first met my daughter, I didn’t know she would be the biggest inspiration in my life and the only thing my world would end up revolving around. She was snappy, afraid, angry, and probably many more things… so needless to say… we didn’t exactly mesh well. The first day she called me Mom we were in a room at the group home I worked at. My eyes filled up with tears and I instantly wanted to just save her from every single thing she was feeling. Time passed, and I left the group home for a different job and my daughter met a family. We parted ways, but were brought back together by god himself I believe. The second time she called me Momma was about 3 months after moving in with me.

I don’t know every detail. I don’t know every word that was said. I know bits and pieces of past memories and emotions. It’s hard to know those little things, but I’m thankful that I’m able to do so. I know life is hard, and that sooner or later you will look back on these recent years and feel hurt or sadness on missing out on my daughters life… one thing I can promise you though, is she will always have a home. She will always be fed. She will never have to go without or wonder where she will be moving to next. She will remained loved and wanted by her mom and I. We will push her to succeed and thrive in this world. If you ever question if she will go down dark paths… please know, she won’t. She’s moving mountains already. She’s made this earth her canvas and she won’t stop painting until she’s left her mark.

Watercolors and oil paints can tend to be a little messy sometimes… such as life. I hope you always know though… that no matter what challenges may arise or what darkness may fall, we are thankful and beyond honored to be the parents of our daughter.

To the mother our our daughter, thank you.

The real world.

Since the shooting in Florida, there have been threats upon threats of mass shootings at my daughters school. I didn’t want to bring up the topic, I didn’t want to ask her if she had thought of a safety plan…. but I knew it was something that needed be brought up, and I knew I needed to prepare her.

“Kiddo, we need to talk. I need to bring to something to your attention no matter how scary it might be. The ugly reality is that there are people out there targeting schools across the United States. Have you thought about this? What are you feeling? Have you made a safety plan..” I never thought I would have to explain a safety procedure to my sixteen year old on how to keep safe at school if there were to be a mass shooting. During the entire conversation, during the entire time of hearing her thoughts, and explaining to her that she will be safe… I carried a feeling so heavy in my chest I thought my heart may stop… “what if she doesn’t come home at the end of the day”.

“I’ll just call you and Mom… even if I can’t respond. I know your voices will get me through it.” My heart is still sinking by this response, my eyes are still getting watery by this response, and I’m still angry over this response. My daughter feels as though my wife and I can keep her safe no matter what the situation is, and although I’m happy to know our daughter trusts us and feels safe with us, I’m angry at the world for making me realize the ugly truth that we can’t always protect her, I’m even angrier that this is now the reality our children face.

They no longer come to us for make up advice or boy troubles. They no longer come to us for hugs when they’ve had bad days. They no longer call us from school just to say “hi, I miss you.” They come to us, with fear in their hearts and terrifying nightmares that they will be next. They come to us terrified to go to the one place they are supposed to be safe. They come to us asking what they can do in a situation to buy back 5 more minutes of their lives. They come to us asking how to barricade a door from an active shooter. They come to us asking that if this happens… do they run past their class mates leaving them alone on the ground, or stay put to save them. They come to us asking if we think they will be safe tomorrow.

How…. how did our world get to this. How do I explain to my daughter that she will be scared for a long time… possibly forever after this tragedy. How do I get her to understand that she needs to keep herself safe and hide in the event of another tragedy. How do I let my child go to school tomorrow…?

We teach our children to be fearless in a world where mass shootings are killing other children their ages…. how do I prepare myself as a parent…. to prepare my child for this?

I’m just the “care giver”.

My job sometimes can be extremely demanding, stressful, exhausting, and heart breaking…… and at the end of every day, I’m just the care giver.

1. All you do is wipe a**. You’re on some type of CNA power trip.

A: well my fellow human. You’re right… I do wipe a** quite a bit. But did you know, that as people get older they are more likely to get infection…. everywhere….. including the places I wipe. Also, do you know what skin breakdown is? Thank god I try my best to wipe a**, to reduce infections and skin irritation. Because some of the wounds I’ve seen, would probably make you collapse.

2. All you do is deal with people that are loosing their mind. It can’t be that hard.

A: you’re right. It can’t be… all the time. Some days it’s really fun and we dance around and laugh and tell jokes. Some days though, are dark. Have you ever seen someone suffer from the inside out and not be able to communicate it? Someone crying for help, but they don’t know what’s wrong? What about someone who lays in bed 24/7 because their brain has betrayed them and has been taken over by a violent disease? Some days, it’s not that hard. Some days, I come home crying because I wish there was a cure for Alzheimer’s and Dementia. Some days I come home and ice the bruises from being punched, smacked, kicked, scratched and so on. But some days it really isn’t “that hard”.

3. Wow, so you’ve seen a dead body?

A: this is the only thing I HATE about my job. I’ve seen dead bodies. I’ve seen people take their last breath. I’ve seen people hang on in so much pain that they are excepting their fate and want to be on the other side. Is seeing a dead body cool? No. It’s not. Seeing a lifeless shell of someone that use to sparkle and live…. is not cool. I’ve comforted family members who would try their best to prepare for the loss of a loved one…. but not realize that no amount of planning or preparing can take away the void in their heart.

4. So like, do you only work there to wear scrubs?

A: oh brother. Well although scrubs can be considered super cute and comfy…. the things that have been on mine would probably terrify you. I’ve had BM, urine, vomit, blood from someone busting open their head, a catheter bag explode on me, spit up from someone that was dying, snot, spit…. basically anything you can think of. Do I think my scrubs are the best thing since sliced bread? Sure. When they’re brand new. Do I only do my job to wear them? No…. I don’t.

5. You can’t even argue, you’re just a care giver.

A: ugh.. fine you’re right. I’m just the care giver that takes care of your loved one. I’m just the girl that wipes a** to make sure they don’t get infections that could really harm them. I just hold their hand and hug them when they’ve lost of recollection of who they are. I sit with them as they are dying and pray with them for their passing to be easy. I hold their wounds together while 911 is on the way. I feed them when they no longer have the strength to hold a spoon. I stand up for them when their rights have been taken away. I shower them. I give them medication and try my best to find what can take the pain away. I’m just a care giver. I love them as if they are my own family, and take care of them as if they were my own child.

I guess being just the “care giver” isn’t half bad if you think about it. I’m changing someone’s day, while they’re teaching me lessons that change my entire life

.

Oh, mother.

Help.

I need somebody.

……. but for real…. send in someone who specializes in being a mom. Because right now, I can’t tell if I’m making my daughter stronger, or in fact, making her hate me. I know, I know… that sounds a bit dramatic and over board. But seriously how scary is it knowing that you have a human being…. that you’re responsible for… and that means making them mad sometimes. It’s terrifying.

(Momma needs a cocktail made out of chamomile tea with honey! STAT.)

Okay now that I’m done having my mental break down of emotions, this is where sh*t gets real. I have a sixteen year old that is full of life. She’s intelligent, sarcastic, stubborn, and so many more things. All of these qualities are amazing ones to have…..however, sweet child of mine….. I need to teach her how to use them in the right way.

Current situation. My daughter is a straight A+ student… yes… you read that correctly… A+. How she understands the things they teach in public school nowadays…..I have no freaking clue, but here she is killing it. Totally “slaying” high school…… until today…. when Momma checked the grade book. My little Einstein went from straight A+’s all year so far… to c’s….b’s…. and a couple A’s……. and a D. Wait what? You mean her grades dropped just randomly and that fast? Yes. Yes. And again… YES! Holy sh*t, my mind was blown…. and partially still is. Uh, flash back….. I said this at sixteen. No, dear lord. There I am. I’m currently hiding in my bathroom typing my little heart out over this situation. Although my daughter is not bio….. she has so many of the same qualities I did, and still do have.

“I get it mom. Whatever you want me to have good grades. Okay. Yeah”. Translation *** I’m never going to use half of this sh*t in life, and I really just want to go to my room. News flash mi amigo. You use half of that sh*t every single day. Literally. Your good grades in high school, reflect the work ethic you put out at your future job. I use math…. every single day. I use grammar…. every single day. I use common sense…… 24/7. Oh how I wish I would have listened to the teachers drilling it into my brain about adult hood. How I wish, I could drill into my daughters brain.

Sweet girl if you some day read this.

I know you can do whatever you set your mind to… I know you can be whoever you want. You are smart, driven, strong and so many more things. I love you. Please get good grades.

Stacy.

It’s taken me forever to understand the fact that my biological mother had mental problems, drug addictions and other issues that were not my fault. It took me forever to understand that she was an adult, she made her own decisions, and those decisions were not my fault. Neither were the consequences that she faced. Setting aside all the wrong she did, and how much she put my brother and my self through… I never had the chance to say “I forgive you”, without her screaming at me.

So Stacy, this ones for you.
I remember the countless times you weren’t there. I remember growing up completely aware that everything was my fault, and that I was unloveable. I remember the screaming and yelling, but regardless of all of that… I forgive you.

I remember not having food in the house to fill up my empty tummy, and I remember the times James would send you money to get groceries only for you to spend it on drugs. I remember the times you did cook, and I remember how much my body and heart would ache for those meals… but pills became your priority and pills became what you fed us. I forgive you.

I remember the countless times I watched officers put you in handcuffs. I remember hearing you scream out that you “didn’t do anything” and the charges were all lies. I remember the cops searching our house for you and them coming through our back door to find you hiding behind a couch… you used me as an excuse that day. You said I was sick, and that everything you were doing was for me. I was never sick, it was a Saturday morning and I was sleeping. I forgive you.

I remember the time I was at home alone. I remember cops knocking on the front door and asking where you were. I remember telling them I didn’t know, I remember saying you had left a while before they had arrived. I remember them sitting out front of our house until you got back. I remember them telling you to get me and Tyson out, and that we were being evicted.
I remember you taking me and Tyson to my brothers baseball coaches house, and I remember trying to deny that you were having an affair with him. I remember being homeless for a few months after that. I forgive you.

I remember when I was 13. I was really sick with strep and had an extremely high fever. I woke up in the middle of the night to find that you and my brother were gone. I remember calling you and asking where you were. I remember you answering your phone laughing, and saying you were drunk. I remember hearing you say that brandan was “shit faced”, he was 16. I remember you coming to get me, I remember you sneaking me out of the house so that James wouldn’t wake up. I remember telling you that “I wanted my dad”. I remember you saying shut up. I remember getting in the car with a bunch of drunk teenage boys. I remember you and the coach making me drive because you guys couldn’t. I remember getting to the coaches house and finding my brother passed out, and being turned onto his side because he was puking. I remember hiding under a bed that night in a strangers house, and I remember keeping an eye on my brother. I forgive you.

I remember both the physical and emotional abuse you enflicted on me. I remember growing up after you finally went to prison. I remember acting out and damn near throwing my life away. I remember every day looking in the mirror and hating the face looking back at me. You created me, your eyes were the same as mine, and so were many other charateristics. I remember every day telling my self what you had repeated to me for years. I remember answering phone calls from you only for you to be crying and only thinking of yourself, and not how you absent parenting affected your two children. I forgive you.

Here I am today, 24 with a family of my own. I have a 16 year old that my fiancé and I are adopting. I have dogs. I have my own home. I have a really good job that I love, and I’m getting ready to go back to school to excel even more into the medical field. I have friends that have become my family. I’ve decided to learn from everything you did or didn’t do, rather than being bitter and cold. I’m being the best mom I can be, the best fiancé I can be, the best human I can be, and the friend that I can be.

I made it…. only because I found forgiveness in myself that I could share with you.

So remember three words, I forgive you.