After much thought and consideration, I've decided to re vamp the old blog and give her a new title, new description and most likely less pictures of my kids and more insights into my messed up, battered and bruised brain. It has been around 2 years since I've last written anything here. I don't even know if people make these anymore.. kinda like vines, myspace and xanga pages. It will most definitely show my age. And-I'm okay with that. It has been a rough 2 years.

The holidays make it worse. It was literally earlier this week that I texted my best friend how sad I was that a person wasn't in my life anymore. And then 2 days later that person resurfaced as if they could sense the vulnerability, and reassured me that I did the right thing a year and a half ago. And I'm tired of acting like it didn't, I'm tired of hiding it, I'm tired of having to censor myself and what I say. BUT- for my kids I will. For my kids I will shield them from the ugliness that is addiction and sickness. I will keep them from family when that person is not in the right state of mind or well being. I will keep them from knowing that side of that person. Why? It's probably easier just to tell them exactly what is going on. I wouldn't have to rehearse what I say or how I say it. I wouldn't have to make up excuses as to why that person is no longer in their life. But here I am! And it sucks. In all honesty, it sucks. This is not what I wanted to give them. Expose them to. They were supposed to have a better childhood then I did. And so here I am, trying my damnedest to make that happen.

I'm about to get real here. My brother and I had so much family support. Our dad was ALWAYS there. He is still there for us, even as adults. Our grandparents, always there. Always ready to babysit, feed, clothe and chauffeur around. Our mom? She tried. As her oldest, I picked up the slack. I did what she couldn't. I protected her from those that she wronged, offended, used and slandered. I even lied in court for her. Twice. I was afraid that if something didn't go her way-she wouldn't wake up. I was afraid she'd shut down completely. So even as a 7 yr old, 10 yr old, 13 yr old, I tried my hardest to make sure that didn't happen. Looking back? I realize how sick and twisted it was. How manipulated I was. Memories that I had shelved because of the pain have started coming back to me. I'm remembering a lot more, things are making a lot more sense and I'm realizing how naive I really was. It sucks that this just now happening to me at 30, but better late then never right? Which also scares me. Nonetheless, here I am with these old memories of my childhood. Realizing that it wasn't normal to have to fend for yourself and your younger brother in elementary school. It wasn't normal that our house was always a cluttered mess. It wasn't normal to have to hide it from family members and friends. To have little to no food in the house. To get the water turned off and have to resort to more creative ways to use the restroom and bathe. That last one was a tough pill to swallow when I realized what that actually was and that our toilet wasn't broken like I'd been told. It wasn't normal to drive to her friends house so she could run in for literally a minute and then we'd leave and never question it. My brother always knew when mom had gotten paid and by paid I mean, her child support came in. She had only held a job solidly for 4 years that I can remember. There was the church secretary (our favorite because when we were sick or she didn't feel like taking us to school because we were late, we'd get to go to work with her and watch movies in the brides room), working at Xerox (very short term), working for the speedway and volunteering for the police department. SO when that child support check came so did a real person. By that I mean, she got out of bed, showered, put on makeup and actually took us out of the house. Don't get me wrong, I knew money was tight. She told me all the time (as a parent now, I realize that children should never know the amount of money you have. Only that they are taken care of) when we had no money. When she'd have to borrow from my grandparents and they'd always give it to her because of us. But the money was gone as it quick as it appeared and then she was back in bed. I knew my mom had depression. I knew she was sick. She never was good at hiding that like she was at other things. She wasn't good at remembering to take her medication either.

My parents (from what I'm told) had a great time in the 80's. They met at Price Club which was the pre-Costco and he was the newly divorced bad boy with 2 kids and she was a single white female. They fell in love, got married and had me. She embraced her new family of 5 and took pride in it. Then she got sick (the first time?) and sought help via a live in rehab center. I was always under the impression that it was for postpartum depression and it didn't happen with me but with my brother. She always said that when I was born my biological father decided he didn't want to have to help with me and would be gone all of the time. Naturally a real image of him forms in my head of this dead beat asshole that didn't get his party days out of his system. Little did I know, she was the one that left and he was the one that stayed. That's 20+ years of me being lied to about my first year of life. The honeymoon didn't last either. My dad's wandering eye caught the attention of another woman, whom he later married and had another baby girl with. That was short lived as well and soon found love in another woman and had 2 more babies with. Six children in all. All mostly resentful and with daddy issues. He never became an active participant in my upbringing. I never knew him, but my mom made sure that I had an impression of the guy. My mother always told me about my siblings and the women my dad had been with. They were all nuts according to her. I had grown up always wanting to know my other siblings and it wasn't until I was 18 that I was able to track most of them down. We still maintain a relationship today which I am forever grateful for. However, the relationship or lack thereof with my biological dad is distant. I'm okay with it though, I was lucky enough to be raised by my step dad (although I NEVER refer to him as that). After her unsuccessful marriage to my bio father, my mom remarried and had my brother. He knew what cute baggage she came with. He's my dad. In every sense of the word. So when I say "dad", I am referring to Jake and I's dad.

Speaking of our dad- I really can't convey how much I am grateful for him. Even after their divorce when I was 6 and Jake was 3, he stayed my dad. He didn't have to, most men don't. He still picked me up and made sure my homework was done, my clothes were clean and that we were getting to school. He knew of her issues as well but what could he do? It wasn't until I was 15 that he was granted full custody of us. We moved to his house and changed school districts. He always referred to me as his daughter. I even had his last name (not legally but did go through school with it). He's MY dad. And with the unfolding of recent events, I've grown so much more gratitude and appreciation for him and the way he cared for us. Never speaking ill of our mother, even though she wasn't as tactful. Never pointing fingers of blame, never leaving us, always supporting us-even into our late 20's and early 30's. That's what a parent is supposed to be.

It wasn't until 2015 when my relationship with my mother completely shattered. I REALLY would like to go into detail, really make people aware of the kind of person she is but what would that do? Besides make me feel better. I've decided there is a more civilized way at handling this. Before I vented to my dad, my brother, my husband, my step mom, a couple of aunts and only a few close friends. All that really needs to be shared is that our relationship is no more. Which does make me sad, then I think of my kids and the kind of grandmother they deserve. They deserve a grandmother that thinks of them first and herself second. That respects their parents, boundaries, their religion and the choices that they make as a family. Not a grandmother that only thinks of herself and how she feels. Not one that makes excuses for her bad behavior, manipulates, lies and plays victim. I'm sure a lot of people have wondered why they haven't seen us together in quite a while. The truth is, I told her to leave. I'm the one that called it. I decided that for the safety of my children's well being, both physically and emotionally, that I'd spare them the heartbreak and disappointment. They had a hard time at first and said I was being mean. That if grandma just said sorry that it was okay. I have never told them what actually happened. What she actually said to Jake and I. All I've said is that grandma is sick. I even spoke with our Bishop about it when it all happened. I was so overwhelmed with everything that I needed guidance and answers. His answers helped to reassure me that I was doing the right thing. That it wasn't all in my head.

And now here we are, a year and a half later and nothing has changed. Recent events hurt like hell. My brother has his way of dealing with the turmoil that they cause and I have mine. This. I've blocked her on all social media, I've kept her from going to see the kids at school (the fact that I even had to do that angers me), I've been careful about things that I post or say in case someone shares it with her. But I'm tired. I can't go the rest of my life living like that. I know that I have the support of my husband, my brother, my dad and stepmom and family and friends. We'll be okay. And if my kids ever happen to stumble upon this post, I'm okay with that too.