"I only care about you, because I love her... and I'm not sorry."

I have so much to say, but I can't say it. To sum up: I only care about you, because I love her, you stupid narcissist I can't write right now, but maybe at some point I will come back to this. If I don't, it may just be for the best. But eeehh.... raaar... whatever, might as well get it over with.

How dare you treat her in the way you do! She does nothing but love and care for you. You have put her through hell. You treat her like shit. You put her down every possible moment. You don't take care of yourself. You threaten your life, her life and mine. You say horrible things about her father. You say horrible things about my children. You do all of these things. And you think everyone is out to get you.

You think that all she wants is your house and your money when you are dead and gone. How can you say that? All she wants is for you to get better. That's all she wants. She wants to have a real mother. Someone to call up, just to say, "Hi, how are you? How's your day been?" Not someone who chooses to put her only child down on a constant basis. You don't even see what you do to her. You can't even comprehend what is going on because you refuse to take your medication. You refuse to take care of yourself. You just want to slowly suffer, because as you say, "I won't go to heaven if I kill myself."

I may not be Catholic, but I was raised by one. What you are doing is essentially killing yourself slowly. That doesn't get you into heaven. Praying daily, and asking God for money, that won't get you into heaven either. Don't preach to me your religion when you don't even understand what you have to do to get into heaven.

"I'm a good person, I deserve to get into heaven." No, you're not.

I have watched you torment your daughter. I have heard of unspeakable things. I only care about you, because I love your daughter, and she loves you. And I will do anything and everything I can to help you, but you seriously need to help yourself.

I'm not sorry.
I'm not sorry for supporting your daughter, and driving 30 miles north just to take you to a hospital... because you were delusional and couldn't breathe.
I'm not sorry for standing by her and defending her when you chose to rip her down emotionally, yet again.
I'm not sorry for calling 9-1-1 to get an ambulance to come help you, because you refused to come with us to a hospital, and then subsequently threatened to take your own life.
I'm not sorry that the paramedics came in to your overly-immaculate house with their shoes on, and walked on your carpet.
I'm not sorry that the police came, because you refused to go with the paramedics, and... well... you did say that you'd "kill any other asshole that walked on your 'brand new' carpet with dirty shoes"... and you did say that to the paramedics, and your carpets are only as new as the house is. It was built in 1993, the carpets are not new.
I'm not sorry that the police broke down your bedroom door, and I am probably going to have to fix it.

We asked you nicely to come with us, we begged you to come with us. You refused. You were delusional. You are TRYING TO DIE!

I'm not sorry for anything. However, it is so unfortunate that you don't want to get better. That you are just so miserable, that you feel the only way out is to slowly die, because you are "at the mercy of God's will." That is the saddest thing I have ever heard. You can't see how much she cares about you, you can't see the hell that you put her through. You don't even know her. You choose not to. And that is the saddest part about this whole ordeal. You choose this, over actually living. This is not living. This is not a life. You are choosing to do this. Why? What does this even proove? You have pushed away your entire family. All you have left is your daughter... and... me.

She will never have to do this alone. And that I will never apologize for. 

Stop drinking. Get help. Please.

Love,
Your Pseudo-Daughter-in-Law

Fuck Counter: 0

Looks Like Its Time For That “New Year, New Me” Bullshit: How to Make and Keep New Years Resolutions, with this Simple Diagram!!

Happy New Year, and welcome to 2015. I’ll be your guide this evening. Buckle up, boys and girls, it’s about to get awesome!

So, every year people make these beautifully cliché things called resolutions. I don’t make those. And when I did I could never actually keep on it anyway.

A few years ago I resolved to never make a New Year’s Resolution. I can’t keep them. I honestly can’t.

“I’m going to lose weight this year!” Nope. Not happening. “I’m going to quit smoking this year!” Hahaha… Yeah. Ok there buddy. Good luck with that one. “I’m going to fall in love and get married and have lots of babies.” Seriously, how delusional are you?

I don’t do the resolution thing. I haven’t made a New Year’s Resolution in 4 years. I guess you could say that I resolved to never make a New Year’s Resolution ever again; a resolution I could actually keep. Fantastic.

What I have been doing for the past four years is essentially this:

It’s fairly simple. You get rid of up to 3 things you don’t want to do anymore, like “having so-called-friends that just don’t care about you” or “don’t swear as often.” And then you put them in the “get rid of” column.

Then, what you do is pick up to 3 things that you have learned from the previous year, put those into the “keep” column, and really put them into action. For example; “keep up the good work on not speeding as much” or, “you’re doing awesome with cooking healthy and well-balanced meals. High-five!” would work out really nicely in the “keep” column.

Lastly, we come to the “add” column. This is just as self-explanatory as the previous sections, but I’m feeling rather good about myself and this “New Year, New You” bullshit, so I am going to explain how this works. This is where you add things. You can add things like, “create a schedule you can actually work around,” “plant a victory garden in the spring”, or “actually check the mail every day.” Stuff like that.

It’s a pretty simple solution to avoid the hassle of making a New Year’s Resolution that you’re not really going to follow through with anyway. “I’m gonna lose all my weight!” says almost every woman on this planet in unison. “89%* of all of you aren’t going to, so stop it, and actually do something about it, instead of talking about how you want to do it.** “I’m totally quitting smoking this year!” says every other smoker in the United States. Does it happen? No. Some of them make it, most of them won’t though.

So, what am doing this year?

I am currently putting together a packet that will outline what my plans are for every one of these items, and I will update this entry when I complete it.

Goodbye 2014, and all of your bullshit. Hello 2015, may it be better than the last and the best so far!

Fuck Counter: 0***

Wait, there's more:
*  That 89% is a completely made up number. Do not take it seriously.
** I’m fat too. I feel your pain. Believe me. But, I also have a thyroid problem, and I also want to lose weight… so setting realistic goals for yourself would probably be a great start, and talk to your doctor too, because that’s important. I know nothing.
*** Looks like my profanity is getting better. However, “shit,” and all variations of, was used 5 times.

Rant: Holiday Stress, tubals, and babies. Oh – and fuck your job, too.

Oh, Santa... I really really really just want to have a
stress free Holiday Season... I'll be good. I SWEAR!

So far today, its been pretty good. Got some shopping done. I’m going to clean later, and wrap up some presents.

I was rather nervous about getting my tubes tied tomorrow, but since I was not very confident about my choice to get it done, aaand I also just got over a nasty stomach virus… I ended up calling to reschedule. That alleviates some serious stress.

Seriously, who wants to be recovering from surgery during the holidays anyway?  I know I certainly don’t. Could you imagine the bullshit? I can. I want to go sledding with the kids during their brake. I want to have fun while Hubbs is home. I want to enjoy the holidays. I can’t do that if I am covered in ice-packs and loaded on pain pills.

Circling back to getting my tubes tied, I can’t help to wonder why I am so nervous about getting it done. So I guess I am going to talk it out… because that’s what journaling blogging is for right?

Read this before you read the rest of this post: I'm just letting you know right now, there is a serious amount of profane language in this post. I am stressed and need an outlet, and it seems that I'm going to post that here. You have been warned. Love you. Oh, and if you are Hubbs, or Wifey... please don't read this. And if you do... please know that I love you, and we can talk about all this at a later time. Just remember, I'm wicked stressed, and very upset and venting. I love you. 

I know Hubbs wants kids of his own… but kind of like getting married; if that piece of paper (or having kids of his own) is that “important” (especially if I already have three kids – two of whom are “special needs”) then is it [having more kids] really necessary?

Don’t get me wrong, I love being pregnant. Its AWESOME!! But, what type of affect would having another baby have on my kids?

Two of my kids are special needs. Artsy suffers from her own personal blend of alphabet soup; PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, PDD, ADHD… the list goes on. Short-Stack is a non-verbal autistic child, who does get violent from time to time. Having a baby right now would not be wise choice… just based off of Artsy and Short-Stack, but where does Brainy stand in all of this? Well, Brainy is far more responsible than any eight-year-old should be. She is very wise, and independent. But… that’s probably because she has to be. I don’t really have time for her. It kills me to say this, but Artsy and Short-Stack monopolize my time.

If each of the kids were to get equal time, it would be 33% all around. But unfortunately, it breaks down like this: Short-Stack – 54%, Artsy – 36%, Brainy – 10%. That’s not fair at all. I think it’s a rather accurate assessment of how my time with my kids breaks down.

Now, let’s throw a new baby into the mix: Spawn #4 – 65%, Short-Stack – 20%, Artsy – 10%, Brainy – 5%. Brainy would probably help out, like she does, and always has with Artsy and Short-Stack. Artsy’s tantrums and depressive fits would go through the roof – anything for a little bit more attention. Short-Stack… well, I don’t know what he would do. I don’t have the faintest idea.  I am sure things would not go over well… but then again these imaginary figures are not based off of factual scientific evidence, and would be as if I had a baby today. Which I have no intention of doing… because… well, fuck that.

There is also a bit of a “what if Hubbs ultimately wants to have kids, and I am not the answer for that?” Well, as a rational human being, I would say to myself… “Are you fucking insane? Just because you have a uterus, does not mean that you are a fucking vessel for some man to use. If you want to breed, then do so. If not, then fucking don’t.”

And then there is the “Well, Jo, if you do get your tubes tied, we could talk to Wifey about maybe carrying for us, and then it would be as if the baby would be all three of ours.” Well.. that would be cool, if Wifey was on board for that, which, from my understanding, she is not. So again “Who the fuck are you to dictate what the fuck we do with our bodies just because you want kids? There are already THREE kids in this house! And you want more! And you are here 6.8% of the year?!*** So what about the rest of the 93.2% of the year? Hmm…? Do you just expect children to be born and raised for you?? So you never get to really be a parent like your fucking father?????!!!! You just get to be their buddy. That’s it. Wifey and I would have to raise your spawn that you want. So fuck you.”

But then again, we are a polyamorous family. ** Hubbs is strictly monogamous, according to him. What if he found himself a lady who wants to breed. She would fulfill his needs. She would do what I am simply refusing to do…. But where does that leave me? Well, I would be happy for him. As I type this out, I feel jealous as fuck, and threatened by an imaginary person – who does not fucking exist – but I would still be happy for him. But, that choice would affect all six of us currently. That would be something that would have to be talked about. I mean, if I went off, and got pregnant by another guy, Hubbs wouldn’t have it. He would be pissed. But would he take that sort of thing into consideration?

I wonder how pissed off Hubbs would be if he actually understood the freedom that Wifey has, and regardless of how badly he is slowly trying to get with Wifey… does he really get it? What if Wifey wanted to breed with some random guy who was "more appealing" in the genepool department? Hubbs would have a shit!! Does he understand her freedom? Fuck no. I don’t fucking think so. I think he doesn’t really get it at all.

I also don’t think Hubbs is removed enough from his family to actually make the choice of weither or not he actually wants kids but rather is pressured from his family to have kids with me. “Damn, Son. Your girlfriend is mighty pretty. Ya’ll would make some beautiful babies. So Jo, hunny, you could be a Smith.**** Hell, if I was 30 years younger, I’d sweep you off your feet.” Fuck. You. You old, crusty, racist, sexist, bigoted, redneck, drunk fuck.

Why am I so angry? No, seriously. Why? I just read what I have wrote out so far, and daaaamn. That’s some serious anger. All I did was talk about getting my tubes tied.  SHIT.

I think a lot of this anger is being thrown in Hubbs’s direction because everytime he comes home, some sort of bullshit happens.

This time last year, it was the awkwardness of loving Wifey and Hubbs at the same time, and not being able to talk about it. We became a "Poly-Family" in January. And the akwardness was resolved when we both went to visit Hubbs, 1,223 miles away from home, in Febuary. I wonder if Wifey felt pressured into anything when we were there. I will put a pin in this and talk to her about it.

Then six months later, Hubbs came home for 10 days in the summer, and then he proposed. He proposed 6 weeks after Ex Husband and I were finally divorced. AND ALL IN THE SAME WEEK he tried to get with Wifey (granted, I also pushed the matter, and then flipped the fuck out when it was a real thing). So that was later resolved. Hubbs and I are no longer engaged. And Wifey doesn’t want to be with Hubbs… he can barely sustain a friendship with her, let alone court her. I wonder how much of an influence I have / had over that whole thing? I mean, how much of an asshole have I been about this? I mean, its not THAT big of a deal. If I can see others, why did I feel threatened when Hubbs was going after Wifey? Hmm… fuck. *

The last time Hubbs was home, in October/November, he was home for 10 days. It was awkward as fuck. I didn’t want to be engaged. I was constantly flipping the fuck out, asking myself “why the fuck am I marrying him?” And I was too focused on the future to really focus on the present. I mean, I did what I could with it, I just didn’t know what to do.

So now I am finding myself just… pissed off, and moody and just generally bitchy and “well… fuck that.” Its as if I am pushing aside my “OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG HUBBS IS COMING HOME YAAAAY!” and just looking at things like “Oh. Yay. Hubbs is coming home. That’s… awesome. Woo. Hoo.” I think I am doing this to avoid the inevitable heart break that comes with him leaving. Its making me callous and I am afraid I am picking up the persona of… well… his mother. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! NOPE. No. Not happening.

Fuck that. I do not… Repeat: DO NOT. D O   N O T. Want to be like that ever. Fuck that. Nope. Not fucking happening. Absolutely fucking not.

I do not want to be like Hubbs's Parents. I don’t want to be like My Parents.

I do not enjoy emulating my parents, or his parents. Can’t we just figure out who we are, what roles we all play, and how those roles affect my kids, our families, and the best versions of ourselves? Can we please just take a good look at how our choices affect everyone in the family circle?

I know that sometimes the evil being, known as depression, can rear her nasty head and whip out those tentacles and pull me into the deepest depths of myself, of which I would never want anyone to truly see. And when those things happen, I tend to be docile, and lazy, and not productive, and everything goes to shit. But eventually I come around and fix things, or at least do my best to fix things. And I know sometimes it seems like I am legit using mental illness as a crutch. But I am not. But seriously, the choice he has made as of tonight is as follows;

“I am going to be away until we can find me a job back home that makes the same amount of money, if not more money, than I do when I am not home.” -- Hubbs

I don’t know what to do. Does he have any idea what that can do?
6.8% of the year. ***
He is home for 6.8% of the year. ***
Our relationship is crap, at best.
He needs to stop acting like his father. He really does.  The EEEEENNNND.

And now to define the vast amount of asterisks.

*  So, I just figured this out. I am glad they are not together because I did not want to see Wifey go though the same kind of hurt that I have been going through… but secretly wanted her to all up until shit got real, and it was all over the place like Kardashians on tabloids… but AAAAANNNNYWAYYYYS….

** My only experience with polyamory in the past was when Ex Husband was with another woman. And honestly, it was a super shitty experience that has fucked me, as far as trusting partners, and mostly the partner’s partners; and essentially don’t trust them, and I am severely horrible to them with malicious purpose, and have every intent to protect those I love. Wow, that sounds horrible. More on this with a different entry at another time. But to sum up what I would say: I know now that polyamory is based off of mutual love, mutual trust, and mutual communication that all ties into the common goal of the intimacy of the intrapersonal relationship – and no, I did not just look that up.

*** So, Hubbs is here 6.8% of the year. So this just happened: Short-Stack woke up, its around 1am. Its really 12/23 right now as I write this. So Short-Stack woke up, was having an asthma attack, and so Wifey and I (who were having a really awesome moment that I may eventually end up writing about later) acted accordingly, and took care of it in a rather precise fashion, if I do say so myself. Short-Stack ended up sort of communicating that he needed to go to the bathroom, so I asked him if he wanted to go potty. He motioned towards the bathroom. AWESOME!!!! Now, the super awesome part is what happened next! He’s sitting on the toilet, just chilling out, doing business, when suddenly I have this wild idea. I had a moment of when Brainy was on the potty while I was super pregnant for Artsy, and she was reading a foamy Care Bears book called “Bath Time”. Brainy loved the shit out of Care Bears. Short-Stack loves the shit out of dinosaurs. Why not get him a dinosaurs book to “read” while on the toilet? Start ‘em young, ya know.  Well, shit. He starts legit mimicking “reading” while on the toilet. It was awesome. The next time this happens, he will be “reading” “Ten Twinkling Stars.”

So now you are probably wondering how this ties into Hubbs only being home 6.8% of the time. He missed it.

**** The name was changed... to well, protect identities.

Fuck Counter: 29

And So It Begins... An Introduction.

Blogging? Again?? Aggh...

Hello, Internet. My name is Jo, and well -- I'm back to blogging... again. 

I used to blog in my early twenties, when that was a thing to do when you needed to vent. But I learned rather quickly that EVERYONE and my MOM could read it. 

Let me tell you, I deleted that account so fast! But, alas, that was a few years back, and things are actually really awesome now. Things are different. Life is different! And honestly, everything is awesome... [Well, not everything] and that's AWESOME! And, its time to share that with others. What is the key to happiness? Well, reader, I don't know what your personal key to happiness is... but I can tell you what mine is. I mean, there are how many people on this planet? There is no way that everybody's key to personal happiness is 100% different... pardon me, I tend to go on tangents. Eeekk!

So you may be wondering what you'll find on this blog. For starters, I'm a DIY-er. I love to build things, break things while trying to build them, and having my life partners tell me to fix them or call in a professional... and not a professional mess maker. I am a closeted cosmetics addict -- but you wouldn't know that if you saw me on the street! And I am also a homemaker, so let me tell you a bit about my home life.

Some of you may look at this stick figure family and go "whaaat?" Don't worry, we are not crazy. We are a Poly-family. "What is a Poly Family?" (Read this, and it explains so much, and I will write my own post on being poly, and what that means to my and my Life Partners, and our kids... at some point in the future.) 

Lets do this from Left to Right:

Hubbs, one of my life partners, is a "traveling accountant" and currently is working away from home. 1,223 miles from home to be exact. It's hard for all of us, but we do everything we can to make things easier. Hubbs only comes home a few times a year, but staying connected is key. He's a bit of a nerd, and is an avid gamer and reader... and has a bit of a Teavana addiction. He is quite the Sir. :)

Second in this Stick Figure diagram would be me. As I have said earlier in the post I love to DIY, and get crafty, and Pintrest all day, and do stuff, and maybe spend a little bit too long on Instagram, but they don't have a stick figure mom wearing jeans and a hoodie. So I am represented in a dress. You'll learn more about me as time progresses, I guess. There is too much to just sum up... and I apparently link just about everything that is relevant to what I am saying. Well, that's cool I guess.  

Wifey would be my other life partner. She's currently in a Masters Program, and is wicked smart. She's understanding and patient, and is an artist. She is a professional photographer, a lady-nerd, and also suffers from a Tetris addiction. She doesn't do skirts, so again, her stick figure is not a proper representation of her either. If only there was a lady-stick-figure that has short hair and wears a fedora. My Lady is awesome. :) 

Brainy is an eight-year-old girl in the third grade. She loves science [particularly weather], crocheting, every Lego video game ever made, and her favorite foods are dill pickles and spaghetti with meatballs. Oh, and she is currently telling me to add that her favorite color is PIIIIIINK [specifically, this color pink], and is learning to play the violin. And loves to read!

Artsy is a seven-year-old girl in the second grade. Artsy loves... ART! She's great with paints, pastels, on all kinds of mediums. She is caring, and loving, but sometimes the "alphabet soup" gets in the way. She is adaptable though, and really pushes to get things moving. She's a hard worker, and tries so hard in school, and is starting to love the magic of reading. She also has a seriously soft spot in her heart for anything fluffy. 

Short-Stack is a four-year-old boy who is currently attending Pre-School. He loves loves loves dinosaurs! Honestly, his first word was dinosaurs. He doesn't talk much, as he communicates non-verbally due to being Autistic, but the boy loves to dance! Pocoyo is his favorite show, and he will do just about anything for marshmallows. 

Lilly the Dog is our furry family member, She is a six-year-old Beagle-Husky mix, and she is the best dog ever. I may be biased in my representations. She will do just about anything for string cheese. She is a great listener. And my best friend. 

That pretty much sums up my intro. Thanks for visiting, and happy reading. :)