TO MY BOYS WITH LOVE

     So, they say that a child always knows who their parents are whether their parents actually raise them or not. This is something that I've wished for as long as I remember. I often wonder to myself if they miss me as much as I miss them. Or if they are so brainwashed by what their father wanted them to think the trust was that they hate my guts. Deep down I know that's not possible, deep down I know that they mis me too. Every day I think about that day that they might let me back into their hearts, and into their lives. If only just a little. There is still so much I need to tell them, so much I need to make them understand. I need them to know that my love for them never faltered, that I never wanted them to feel not wanted. I just didn't want them to feel the loss of losing a parent. But in all actuality, that's exactly what happened. I know that whatever I say will never make things right, will never get back those years. I've missed so much and its left such a gaping hole in my heart. Not a day goes by that I don't think of them, my three angels. Leaving them is and will always be, my biggest regret in my life. And I've got to take responsibility for the fact that I fucked up. I really did. I can't even blame the asshole that pushed me down the stairs every time he got hammered and would punch me in the head so hard, I prayed to die. I should have made better choices in my life, but I didn't. And there is nobody to blame here but me. 

    I decided to post this as yet another attempt at speaking with my boys, Justin, Tony and Luca, please if you're reading this, please reach out to me. Please let me explain myself. I can't stand living this life without you in it. Please let me in, if only just a little. I miss you guys so much and love you so much more. Please, please message me on fb, insta or sc. I love you guys so much.  I'll never stop trying.

A MIRACLE THAT CAME FROM A BROKEN HEART

    I may not be perfect, and I may have my flaws, but I have always prided myself on being a respectful, loyal partner. Unfortunately, though my partner of nine years has been anything but that. I don’t know why I’ve dealt with it as long as I have, correction, I do. It’s because I love the dumbass, and all his flaws. The things that’s he put me through most wouldn’t survive. But the hardest thing Ive got to say is when I found out that the last one that he cheated on me with was pregnant. What do you do when you hear something like that? 

Me? I screamed and cried and acted like a lunetic for I think about three hours before finally telling him that I fucking hated his guts and ran into the bedroom to crawl in a ball and cry. And that’s exactly where I stayed for the next week. My emotions were all over the place. One minute I was pissed and wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face. The next minute though I felt like a child, frustrated because I couldn’t fix it and, in such shock, because I felt as if I was living in a nightmare. A nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

After two weeks of my emotional rollercoaster, I came to a decision. And almost everyone Ive told believes that Ive completely lost my mind. And the ones who doubted my strength said that they will never doubt me again. 

Sitting on my bed one night it hit me like a mactruck going a million miles an hour. There was only one solution that I could see that just may make this whole situation alittle bit easier for me to digest. I grabbed my phone, swallowed extremely hard, called myself a damn fool, and dialed the dumb bitch’s number. She answered and I told her to find a ride and to get her ass to the house, that we needed to talk. She agreed, she’s always been extremely intimidated by me, and I told her that she’d better hurry before I changed my mind.

    A few hours later there was a knock on my slider. I reminded myself that I told her to come and to act like an adult. That there was no need to stab her in the eye with the nearest sharp object. She walked in and I could tell how nervous she was. It wasn’t something she expected that’s for sure. She stood by the bed, obviously terrified of me, for what reason I have no clue.

    I didn’t even know where to start, there was so much that I wanted to say to her. But for some reason I had no issues at all, everything came pouring out. I told her how she ruined a family, how he had lied to us both, and most importantly, that he didn’t love her and that he never would. I repeated that he always came back to me because I’m the one that will always have his heart. She agreed and started to cry, telling me how sorry she was. She tried to say that she believed everything he said even though he constantly came back home. She admitted how stupid she was to actually think that anything he said was the truth. She admitted that they both had no business having a baby and that the whole situation was just a big mess that never should have happened and that she had no clue what she was going to do now. I agreed with her that this was a mess and that she was a goddamn idiot but then what I said next, shocked then hell out of her. And her response shocked me even more. 

    I looked her straight in the eyes and told her I was taking that baby. That she had no choice because DCF would take it anyway. She started to cry again and said that deep down she felt like she intentionally became pregnant to do just that, since I can’t have any more children. And she agreed and said that she thought that was best. I could not believe it; she had just agreed to give me the baby. A baby. How on earth would I explain what I had done to Bryant? What would he think? Instantly, I went into nervous mode. 

    A few days later I got up nerve enough to say something to him about it. He continued to insist that it wasn’t his. I found this very hard to believe. He told me though that he thought it wa aactually a giod idea, if the baby was his. He again insisted that it wasn’t. But Im a mother and an empath and I feel things. Deep down in my gut and in my heart, I knew that he was wrong, he was about to be a daddy again. And apparently, I had just insisted on being its adopted mother. What on Earth am I thinking? 

KITTEN

      I haven’t been able to speak of it until now. What happened the end of August was probably on my top ten of hardest things I’ve had to go through in my life. Things like that change a person and it’s something that I can honestly say will stay with me forever. 

      August 23rd was my Tonys birthday, every year when another birthday passes my heart hurts more and more. Anyway, as I was wallowing in self-pity my phone went off. "Hi Kitten" popped up on my screen. It was my Aunt Emily checking in as she often did sometimes fifty times a day. There was a period of like five years where we didn't speak, and we had just recently made amends and instantly were close again. She had moved two streets in front of me like six months prior, so we were always communicating, and she was always knocking at my slider. I enjoyed the visits, and she enjoyed my company as well. 

      After finishing our conversation I went about my business, I enjoyed our little talk and felt better. The next couple of days I went about my life and all the bullshit that came with it. The 28th was Bryant and my nine-year anniversary. For the first time ever, we had plans to go out on a date. I was so happy.

      As I was getting ready, my aunt popped into my head. I realized that I had not spoken to her for five days and figured I'd give her a call and check in. When I called it rang and rang and I was sent to voicemail. This wasn't abnormal for her though. Usually, she would go to bed pretty early and then around 3-4am she'd be up, and she'd message me. Bryant and I went out and stayed out till probably 5am. I was so happy that when we got home, I didn't even realize how late it was. I went to bed and that was that. 

     Two days later, around 4pm my aunt popped into my head again. I realized that she never called me back from two days prior and a nervous feeling came over me. I dialed her phone and this time; it went straight to voicemail. Instantly, I called my uncle. He informed me that he hadn't spoken to her since he had seen her on the 22nd and asked me to go check on her.

      Reluctantly, I agreed to go over and make sure everything was okay. I didn't know why, but I had a really, really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I went outside and told Bryant that I'd be back. He just nodded and went about his business. I stayed on the phone with my uncle as I walked over and expressed to him the worry that had come over me. When I reached the trailer, all was quiet. Exactly what I didn't want to hear.

    As I approached the door, I realized that feeling in my stomach hadn't been for no reason. About five feet away from it I looked up at the window and I knew that I didn't want to go any farther. There was about a dozen flies that had made their home there. My aunt had a boxer, and my uncle kept asking why the dog wasn't barking. All I heard was silence. I told him about the flies in the window and told him that I didn't want to go in. Forcing me to, I got about two feet from the door, and I was hit with the smell of decomposition. It's a smell I didn't think I'll ever forget. As I opened the door, I felt like I was in a horror movie, swarms of flies came rushing out and the smell about knocked me on my ass. When I walked in, I was only able to take one step up into the trailer. I first looked to my left towards the kitchen. The poor dog was lying there, dead. I couldn't believe it. I screamed out to my uncle that he was gone, and my uncle automatically asked where my aunt was. I turned my head to the right and oh my god, what I saw I will never forget. There lying on the bed was my aunt, on her back, with nothing on from the waist down. Her stomached had distended so much it looked as if she was twenty months pregnant. I screamed out in terror to my uncle telling him that she was dead. I looked up at her face as he was asking me if I was sure, and I only was able to look for a second. Her face was swollen, purple and distorted, it didn't even look like my poor aunt. I screamed out in panic and told him I had to call 911 as he was telling me to do the same. I ran out of the house and fell to my knees as I called, I couldn't believe what I had just found. My poor aunt in there six days dead. Six days she laid in a hot box because the breaker had blown probably the first day and killed the air conditioning. 

    For probably two weeks after finding her I didn't want to go to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes her face was the only thing I saw. The guilt of not going over there sooner to check on her is something that will weigh on me probably the rest of my life. One thing is for sure, I definitely need some intense therapy after all of this.