Thought of the day…. if a person is medically declared dead when they no longer have brain activity, why do we have laws declaring someone living at the first sign of a heart beat? If life is based on brain activity then technically life doesn’t begin until 24 weeks inside the womb. 24 weeks – 26 weeks is about the time a baby can survive outside of the womb…… something to think about
Ok so I understand that not everyone is going to have the same sexual knowledge as My hubs and I, and I even understand that it’s less likely since it was something I minored in…. that being said, shouldn’t all doctors have a basic knowledge of human sexuality, or is that solely something gynos/reproductive/women’s health care providers have to know? Adding to that how much does religion, and cultural differences play into the role of this sexual knowledge by doctors, it any at all, and should it?
Ex: shouldn’t they know the three basic sexual positions by name?
I’ve not been here for a while, life has a way of sneaking up on you, leaving you no time for anything else.
I’m still around. But I just wanted to say if you are a Trump supporter, if you voted for him, please leave. Don’t follow me. Don’t read anymore. I can’t and won’t be around anyone who thinks what he has done and condones is ok.
So leave and don’t come back.
My family’s life is endangered and I won’t be around those who put it there.
To the rest. Thank you for your continued support and love.
It’s with a heavy heart that I write this post. I hesitate to even talk about it. Yet a very good friend of mine, put the whispers in my ear to write about it. They know me. And they know it’s one of the best ways for me to work this out in my head..
So here I am writing about it.
Before I start, I’m gonna say the following:
1. What happened, should have NEVER happened. I morn with my fellow Americans.
2. Even though we own a gun, we do know that there absolutely needs to be better laws, and restrictions to get one.
3. I. AM. An alley to the LGBTQ….. Community. Love is love. And we are ALL God’s children. And God loves us ALL.
You must have heard about the terrible tragedy that happened in Orlando, at a night club. I’m not gonna tell the whole story, but in short, a crazy lunatic went into a gay night club; shot and killed 49 people and wounded 53 (I think). Speculation is out there about why he did it, but we really aren’t going to know the truth. Only he and God knows.
Anyways it’s been all over the media, social media included. The LGBTQ.. Are hurting right now. And rightfully so. Those people were just living their lives like the rest of us. I hurt for them. I cry for them. I’m angry with them
Well at first I was. Lately, that hurt, that anger, my empathy, has turned into jealousy, resentment, and rage. Not at them, not because of them but because the way they are viewed and I am viewed.
I feel so foolish. I stupidly thought that we, were fighting in the same level. That I understood, just like they understood the struggle, the fight for equality. That we both just want to be treated as anyone else. That we got each other, because the world viewed us the same. As outsiders. Less than.
I. Was. Wrong.
People of color are actually viewed worse.?
Take for instance the church that was shot up by a crazy lunatic. Many people died. All these people were doing was attending church. ATTENDING CHURCH. And because they have brown skin this terrorist decided to kill them.
The world never stopped to morn them, there were no gofund me pages set up for their families. No blood drives for the wounded. Cities didn’t hold rallies to support them. The mayors didn’t come out to support people of color. Hell the president even got criticized for mentioning them.
Yet after this latest killing, even crazy Donald Trump is coming out saying he will fight for them(even though you and I both know he doesn’t support them) congress (even though it was interrupted) held a moment of silence for them.
Many people who have came out to support the LGBTQ…. Community aren’t really supporters. (Especially since they push a law in silence against the LGBTQ community). People are out protesting for them (I would be one of them) holding rallies. Coming out of the wood work to support the LGBTQ community.
When a crooked cop shoots and kills an a person of color, or a neighborhood watch person kills a person of color for no other reason than they have brown skin and they “feared for their lives”. How many people were on the victim’s side? And how many people supported the cop, telling us we just need to know how to act around them. How many people gave money for the legal fees for the man who killed a person who was just trying to walk home. How many people bid on the gun that killed that poor kid.
The killer in Orlando; was a lunatic. But the media has labeled him as a terrorist, even though Isis didn’t really claim him until after the fact.
The shooter of the church; had a “mental illness.” Even though that bastard was a member of a skin head/kkk group. Who ARE terrorist in America no matter how you cut it. The lunatic who killed the church goers is STILL alive.
I’m not blaming the LGBTQ community for any of this. Please don’t get me wrong. They deserve the same freedoms as me and anyone else. And I will keep helping them fight until they get those rights.
But right now, right now I have too many emotions, that I don’t know what to do with. And I don’t want to take it out on the community. There is just something nagging at me. Eating at me, saying “if that night club, was a club where nothing but people of color attended, you know darn well it would NOT get this type of attention. The media wouldn’t be sharing stories about people doing heroic things. The media would be showing any and all criminal acts the victims had. Or researching if the club was shady or not.”
And that is why I have to take a step back. Pray to the Lord, and find out what to do with these feeling. So that I don’t hurt the LGBTQ community and so that I can move forward on the fight for equality.
First off I want to apologize for not posting in a long while. Life. As the boys get bigger I find that I’m more and more busy. I usually write once everyone is asleep and the house is quiet, but I’ve found that I crash myself, sometimes before they fall asleep. And if I’m not crashing I’m getting time with my hubs.
Anywho something has been on my mind and I know once I write it down I’ll be able to put it out.
A person whom I thought was close to us ended up mad at us over the stupidest thing, which is fine, people are allowed to have their feelings. I just don’t have to agree with them, or apologize for it. They tried to make a jab at me. So they said that my husband that he had changed since he met me. Like it was a bad thing. At first it kinda took me aback. You know the more I’ve thought about it, and talked with hubs about it, and prayed about it; they were absolutely right. He has changed since meeting me. I’ve changed since meeting him. And I’m glad that we have. He was 19 and I was 20 when we met. We’ve been together for 12 years, married for 8, and parents for 5. I would hope that we have changed; that we’ve evolved since then. That’s human nature. Could you imagine if we still acted like we were in our early 20’s now?
The statement about him changing since he’s met me, makes me proud. If they think his change was for the worse, It shows just how little they knew/know him. I won’t tell his story, I’ll leave that to him, but when I met him, he was headed down a bad path. One that could have ended very badly. And that was a deal breaker for me. (Watch requiem for a dream to know the path) Now look at him. I’m so proud of the man he’s become. Working hard for our family. Loving his boys, being the best father for them.
Fighting the world for a future our boys deserve.
The boy I met many years ago would have never done half the things the man today can do. That man isn’t anyone’s puppet, is strong, very intelligent, funny as hell, but most of all loving. I cringe at what kind of change they expected him to be.
Notice I say loving many times.
The person I met 12 years ago was afraid to have kids because he didn’t think he could love them. The man today wakes and sleeps loving our sons. If that doesn’t show you the type of “change” he has went through then I don’t know what will. That change is why I’m so very much if no even more in love with him.
Change is a beautiful thing. Everything changes. If you don’t THAT’S when you have problems. With that I leave you this:
I don’t know if it’s the sign of the times, or the fact that my hubs was out of town, or the simple fact I suffer from anxiety. But while the boys and I were having dinner in the mall, all I could think about was:
“damn if a shooter came we are screwed!”
I had originally chose that spot to sit because it was close to where you empty your trays, but once I sat down I realized that was a horrible choice.
1. We were sitting by the door. There wouldn’t be any time to duck and hide.
2. If we could get down quick enough we where stuck behind a half wall.
3. I know this may sound harsh but we were sitting right behind the security guard.
4. There was only one way out.
After these thoughts I started having more anxiety. Watching every one coming and going. I realize this isn’t how one should live their life, and I don’t plan on it, but it did open my eyes. Just like we have a plan in case there is a fire/tornado, I should have a plan just in case some idiot decides to shoot up the mall. It sucks but it’s a reality.
A few of my homeschool friends have code words for their kids. And if they say a word the kids know to drop to the ground, and be quiet. To listen to their parents no arguments, so they can hopefully get out safely. I think I need to start doing this. And practice it while we are out, just like we would practice a fire drill.
I would like to think this could never happen where we live. But I’m sure that’s what many of the latest victims thought also. I can’t guarantee this will save our lives either. I don’t know what a shooter is thinking, but it just might.
What are your thoughts?
new things are in the works here at baby steps. Can’t wait to share. Stay tuned.
I had forgot what it felt like. This; this, was a little different. The heaviness, the darkness. In the past it was more of a sadness I couldn’t shake. Motivation to do anything was gone.
I can’t describe this feeling. I didn’t want to exist anymore. I didn’t want to be. What was going on? Let me see if this is a rational thought…
“Honey, do you ever just not want to do life anymore?”
“There are times where I don’t want to do parts of my life. Like work. I would rather be here with you, but life as a whole. I still want to live.”
Well crap ok I guess that wasn’t a rational thought. I really am in a funk. How did I get here? The tiny part of my brain that is rowing through the fog yells “IT’S MOST LIKELY YOUR HORMONES. FIGHT THROUGH IT!” The fog clouds over and I can no longer hear it.
“What’s the matter honey?” My hubs asks.
“I’m in a bad funk right now. I can’t seem to shake it.”
“Did something happen today? Did you remember your medicine?”
“Took meds and it was a good day. But right now I feel myself plummeting.”
“Is there anything I can do for you? Tell me.”
“I don’t know. I can’t feel. My emotions are gone.”
He proceeds to stop my sons from climbing on me. He seemed to know I needed space. I have a good hubs. I continue to argue with myself. It’s like having and angel and devil on my shoulders. I wonder if the person who came up with that was depressed? Right now the devil is winning. The fog is so thick that I almost tell my husband to take me to the hospital. I don’t want to do life. I want it to end. But that little rower is fighting. “YOU HAVE TO FIGHT. YOUR KIDS, YOUR HUSBAND NEED YOU!” I wanna die, but I don’t wanna die. I think I need someone to make me not die. I’m fighting. Fighting. I tell my husband I’m in a bad funk again. And let my friend know. Good; people who know me have been told… That’s a good step in the right direction. What else… Ok do what you like. Dance. I love to dance. I’m not ready to dance so I turn on music. Music is good. Music feels right. My baby comes into the room and dances to the music. This makes me happy. The fog is lifting. Both boys are here. I’m dancing. Ok. I’m getting better. My husband comes and checks on me. Tells me how much he loves me. I tell him I’m in a funk, but it’s lifting. Lack of sleep, stress, trying and failing to keep things afloat, and these horrible dreams I’m having when I do sleep are not helping me. My wonderful husband reassures me that we made promises to be in this together. That’s exactly what we WILL do. He tells me how much he loves me some more. And kisses me.
Whoo. I’m out of that cloud. It’s not gone. But I’m not in the middle of it. I’m going to hopefully make it to my friends house tomorrow. If the darn gas people get here at a decent time.
That’s was exhausting. I go outside to see the comets. I saw a few. My baby comes out and I have the privilege of rocking him. Under the beautiful night sky. I hum “twinkle twinkle little star”. It’s like he knows I needed this extra love. He squeezes me tight. Telling me don’t go, live, I need you. And with that I feel better. The fog is still hovering, but not covering. Hopefully with some sleep it will leave, but not forgetten. I won this round. And I will continue to win. I have to. I want to. I will.
I was going to just post this on Facebook but I felt it needed more space.
My sister. My big sister. She has been a staple of my life since the beginning. The one true constant. My memories of her go far back to when I was two. She’s my first memory.
When you think of the oldest, the first; she fits the description perfectly.
She’s ambitious, determined, strong, a perfectionist, independent, and hard working. She’s also very loving and kind. Just don’t tell her that.
She’s a fixer. When I see Olivia Pope, I think of my sister. (Just without all the sex, and killing people) when my dad died and my mom was not mentally able to take care of us. My sister took care of us. Miles away. She was a freshman in college. And instead of going out drinking which I’m sure she did, since she was the one who got me drunk for the first time. She was ordering pizza for us, from college, because we had no dinner. She was helping me fill out fasfa while filling out her own. She was helping me get scholarships, and helping me advance my education because she wanted better for us.
Not only was she helping her family, but she was, and is paving the way for other minorities. I can’t even begin to list all the things she has accomplished in her line of work as a woman of color.
We both are trying to make this world an equal opportunity for our kids and others. She through her career, me through family. Both working to prove We, woman of color, are not what you see on TV. We aren’t neck rolling, gum smacking baby mamas, taking advantage of the system. We are hard working, educated, women who want just as much, if not more, as our counterpart.
As of late, my sister has found, that not every person wants to be better. People are fine living the stigma. They are fine with status quo. And it’s breaking her heart.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s heart breaking to me also. I want more for my boys, I want more for me. I’ve just came to the conclusion that there’s got to be someone out there doing the things that the go getters aren’t going to do.
Being that she’s the fixer, this is unexceptable to her.
“I know it just disappointed me so much. It hurt my heart to read it. I just don’t understand.” Big sister
I wish I could give her the answers. But I don’t have them. All I can do is keep on fighting. Fighting for more, fighting to show her that there are people who are striving for the same goal.
I love you big sis. Thank you for giving me the knowledge to know I’m worth more.
We are on our third year of homeschooling, and believe it or not I still question myself about putting him in public school. I know sounds crazy. I know this is what is right for our family, but I’m a mommy. And the last thing I ever want to do is harm my son’s education. I’m not a teacher, with state regulations to follow. So how do I know I’m doing it right?
Well it’s gonna seem stupid, but it’s such a big deal to me.
Today I was walking into the living room after changing lil’s explosive diaper. Big was playing on the DS, jumped off the couch SO excited and ran to me.
“Mommy mommy I can read!!!”
“You can?! Well that’s cool.” Half ignoring him with other things on my mind.
“That says press start to play!” I look at the screen, and by god that’s what it said.
“Wow you did read it! Very good sweetie!”
“I’m gonna go tell dad.” And he runs off.
Now you may say big whoop, but it is to us. No one ever told him the words on the screen. He was playing angry birds. So there wasn’t really anything to read. So he read the words, and understood what that meant.
That is exciting to me. It’s like reading finally clicked and made sense.
The best part, was that he liked it and wanted to do it again. So at bath time, he read a book to lil…. Twice.
I’m so proud. Proud that he likes reading now, but I’m more proud that I’m the one who taught him.
So exciting. Just another way I’m being reminded that I’m doing something right.