Confessions of a Recovering Skeptic

Master of manipulation

2026-06-01T19:41:39.195-07:00

On episode 2 of: “step moms that didn’t give a damn”

(I want to be clear that now as a grown ass woman I can see this "step mom" was a child and clearly had no idea what was going on around her. But what I can not forgive is her fully allowing abuse and not saying a word and/or defending the man abusing his daughter.)

She was only 11 years older than I was…
and at the time I was in fact…11.

My father...was 44.

You can totally do that math yourself.

I had already survived more than she could comprehend at this point
...and was dealing with a constant battle of trying to keep him happy while trying to get out of his home.

She had a son…and he was my little brother.
They then had a baby as well.

I couldn’t walk away if I wanted to because I loved those little boys.

In fact, my father used them all the time to gaslight me into coming back to his house.

There is truly no guilt or weight that compares to that feeling.

The feeling of an older sibling trying to protect little kids in this kind of situation.

Especially when the older sibling can't even protect herself.

However, this post is only about one thing to be honest.

It's about her response to me going to file a domestic violence report for the first time when I left his house on a weekend that she witnessed small parts of.

The specific situation was from him hurting me earlier in the week (you can find all of that here). Police report included photos of my bruised and swollen head. She wasn't there...but I have no doubt she knew something had happened.

She made a report on his behalf discussing her interpretation of the weekend (can we please address one more time that she was not there during any of the time frames...)

This “step mom” also continuously caught him using drugs and got him on tape weeks later admitting to drug use and abuse (around me).

Literally. Let that part sink in please.

I hugged her. So clearly, I was fine.

That’s not even the best part.

This post was meant to showcase another human that had a chance to help me…but chose not to.

Here was her take on the overall situation…

DESPITE THERE BEING PHYSICAL EVIDENCE MATCHING EXACTLY WHAT I SAID HAPPENED.

Clearly...

This was all on me.

I was wrong.

I was manipulative.

I was the grand puppet master of everyone around me…at 11-12 years old.

It couldn't possibly have been the psychopathic drug addict involved.

I was worried about chores.

Not pure survival.

They never leave a mark

2026-05-25T19:11:24.263-07:00

They never leave a mark.

The truly talented abuser doesn’t leave evidence.

They terrify you on a deeper level…and they minimize the physical damage (or the actual evidence).

They make you feel crazy and like you can’t breathe without setting off a bomb.

My father was a true professional when it came to abuse without marks. If I had a mark…it was only earlier in the week or when he had extended time. The scrapes/bruises were usually gone or well faded before I had to switch houses again the next Sunday/end of vacation.

I kept most of the instances to myself because I didn’t want to tell anyone without proof. It would only hurt the people that loved me, or risk a report being filed that would only make things worse.

However, in August of 2003…

he finally messed up.

A lot of the times he would get mad at me, it would come out of nowhere and wouldn’t fully make sense. He would fly into a rage over something small and then it would only escalate. This day...the conversation had gone to me and biting my nails...something that infuriated him (ironic, given the anxiety the man gave me every moment of my life)

It was a Thursday afternoon…we had been out to lunch on the boat. He was yelling at me and I was just letting him, not trying to argue. He went on about how I had been lying to him about it (how I’m not sure given it was pretty easy to see) and was screaming at me. He got progressively angrier and told me to sit on the floor of the boat. It was an open boat…so I sat on the opposite side from the steering wheel facing him with my back against the side. I remember very clearly (I can still see the house we were passing when I sat down) thinking that if I had to I could just jump off and swim if he got too insane.

To be fair...I had that thought a lot…
frequently when he was aiming the boat at large pilings at full speed.

Anyways…I sat down and he would occasionally slow the boat down to scream at me…and then take off again. He eventually worked himself up so aggressively that he slowed the boat completely, moved towards me, and kicked a life jacket at me on the floor. His foot was still in contact when it hit my face…and it slammed my head into the side of the boat. I fought like hell to not react, because that was the only thing you could do to avoid a further consequence.

Friday and Saturday things remained mostly calm. His current girlfriend came over, we went back out on the boat. To be perfectly honest...I don’t remember a whole lot of specifics from those next days.

However, Saturday night, he got angry again and our conversation turned. I got too confident and made a comment about him kicking me in the head. He denied it and he started threatening me again. I told him to stay away from me or I would call the police. His response was telling me that I wouldn’t be able to call 911 with the ropes I would be tied in.

Again...I have no idea how the night ended. Probably like most of the arguments where I would just stop talking and avoid him until he went to bed.

The following day was Sunday and it was the start of my mom's week. She showed up at the house per the usual visitation schedule, I grabbed my stuff, and said my goodbyes. I got in her car and immediately unraveled with everything that had happened.

Without hesitation, she drove directly to the police station and we filed my first domestic violence report.

For possibly the first time...officers actually listened.
I had proof.

To my luck...
the bastard had left a mark
...3 days later.

Not child abuse

2026-05-18T20:39:30.104-07:00

Let’s start with one of my favorite excerpts that I got to enjoy while going through court records last month.

Anyone that has followed this page from the beginning knows that my father had lots of “fiancees” “baby mommas” whatever you want to call them. There was never NOT a woman “seriously” dating him. There was also never a lack of other women around in general. To this day, I’m not entirely sure I know how many children he has, or how many we don’t know about.

(Which by the way, is exactly why I won’t ever do one of those DNA kits).
I don’t have the mental capacity to know who else was wrapped into all of this without my knowledge (and maybe without theirs).

Let’s not go ruining innocent people’s lives when they find out their father was a psychopathic arsonist.

But this quick clip is a court document where my “step mom of the year” was testifying that I wasn’t being abused.

Wasn’t.
Being.
Abused.

“Gives her chores around the house for days at a time when he is angry with her.”
(I was 9-10 by the way.)

“Sent Katharine from a restaurant because she wasn’t cutting her lettuce correctly.”

“Told her to shut up when the child was excited about a school event.”

My favorite personally…

“Shoved food into Katharine’s mouth until her cheeks were bulging because she was not eating. The food had been sitting around for awhile and the child threw up all night.”

Let me be clear.

As a mother.

And a step mother.

If my significant other threatened my children or put my children in danger…I would get myself killed protecting them. There is not a single thing on this planet that could stop me. And to be clear…since none of my step moms really understood it…

That includes my daughter.
The one I took on the second I dated and married her father.

I didn’t get that. I was disposable to every single one of those women. I was a babysitter and “his daughter.” I had all of the responsibility for my younger siblings…but none of the protection and unconditional love I deserved from the adults.

The more I look back on it and think about how hurt I was and how hard I tried to make everyone happy…the angrier I get.

I was actively drowning…and they were critiquing my swimming.

At least it wasn’t “child abuse.”

Hi, I'm Katt the cactus

2026-05-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

Just occurred to me that there are going to be new people on this page that haven’t followed my story over the last 15 years. So let’s do a little introduction here (you can also go back and read posts if you want…I’ll link some here to help you navigate the “big stuff”).

My name is Katt.

I’m a mom to 6...
and the daughter of a psychopathic drug addict (literally).

Wildly long story condensed into a few sentences:

I lived with him on and off for 15 years.
He loved drugs…and loved getting women pregnant.
He was a stalker, he was abusive, and he was also the nicest guy you had ever met.
I am his only child that spent any actual time with him (despite my mom spending decades fighting to save me from the crazy).
He died in prison, after setting his girlfriend’s house on fire (his girlfriend…who was barely older than me).

I’ve seen some shit I wish I hadn’t. I have been through stories that people assume I am making up. But I recently got ahold of most of the records from back then, which prove everything I have been saying for years.

They also expose a lot of people for exactly who they are…enablers of abuse.
Abusers themselves.

I got sick of fighting like hell for my own mental health, while the people that hurt me got to walk around guilt free behaving like nothing happened…or acting like I was being “dramatic.”

I’m done with that.

So I finally started the book I have been spitballing for as long as I can remember.
The real story of Paul.

The details of every human that couldn’t be bothered to protect a little girl from a
severely
mentally ill
psycho.

I’ve done a lot of healing.

I am a wildly different person than I was even when this page was started.
I don’t fake happy anymore.

I’m not afraid to say what I think and I found a way to turn my anger/hurt into something productive and healing.

I consider myself to be a cactus.

Surviving on minimal water
as much sun as possible

...and I'm cool looking.
until you get too close.
Provoke me...

and I will stab you.

I'm kidding...
kind of.

ACTUALLY...I’m a social worker now when I’m not being a mom…because our court systems are total shit, and I am sick of children having to hold the burdens of dumbass adults. I am a huge advocate of the “war on drugs” because I have watched so many lives get leveled by addiction.

SO...

if anything you’ve read in this short time bothers you…
probably a good time to check out and not read anymore.

Definitely don’t read the book when it comes out. But if not…check some of this other stuff out. The upcoming months will be details/stories/things that will be covered in the book.

The Recovering Skeptic

He Burnt My House Down

Drugs and Strip Clubs

Front Page

Gremlins, Knives, and Government Spies

Do You Remember the 20^th Night of September

Life In Prison

There’s a lot to read. You can pick and choose.

There will be a lot more when this book launches. So catch yourself up now. <3

Legacy

2026-04-27T18:11:00.000-07:00

Round 75 of me saying "I'll write more now" or "I'm back!"

Except this time I'm back with news...and a whole lot of entertainment.

I have removed a lot of posts, refocusing on why this blog was started.

Paul's "legacy" (for lack of a better term) is in the works. I have spent the last few months requesting police records, reading through thousands of pages of court documents...and starting to write the stories of my paternal nightmare.

Life update- because I feel like it matters for anyone that has followed this from the beginning of my rantings 15 years ago (what?!).

Next month is 10 years married. 6 kids. (Yes we got surprised by twins since our last post). We've lived in Ohio, Virginia, Texas, and soon to be Hawaii. We've been through some stuff.

But other than the million kids...this book has been my focus for a few months now. I have found stories that I forgot about, I have read through documents that made me want to throw things. I have lost the tiny bit of faith I used to have in the court system.

So now I'm unloading it for all of you.

I named this blog the recovering skeptic for a reason. I'm always working on recovery...I'm always trying to deal with the hell that was my earlier life. I will never not be.

I write for me. And I write for other people going through these things...whether it be kids/teens currently in it, or adults that are trying to process their own trauma. I also want to hold the world, and all of the people that chose to throw me to the wolf over and over again...accountable.

So everything in those public records...is about to be painfully public.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

If I lost you over the years...tune back in. Please. This is gonna be good.

Stop pretending

2021-02-24T22:35:00.001-08:00

It's funny...it's only been 6ish weeks since I posted about turning this year into a thankful year.

And to be clear, I don't in any way take that back.

Let's pause and just adore that tiny face before we keep going.

I need a little "happy" tonight. And this is it.

But I will say that I feel this strange urge to write on the nights that I am struggling. I don't think to write when I'm thankful and happy and in pure bliss. But I NEED to write when I am hurting or need to unload some of the thoughts that are exploding in my head.

Which is what brings me to write tonight. I am having a night that has both of those things. Tonight I was hiking with my kids and my husband...and I was so thankful as we walked. I took all these pictures of my beautiful family walking along a beautiful path with the moon coming up...and I was just so happy with my life.

Multiple times I fell into this bliss and just thought to myself "this is how it is supposed to be."

Then we got home...and they all went to bed.

And my thoughts started again.

The overwhelming anxiety, the tears for no reason...the definition of this beautiful mental illness that has been in my life for nearly as long as I can remember.

I can laugh one minute...I can joke around and truly be happy...just to have this crazy dread shock me out of it 5 minutes later. It makes no sense. The attacks have been coming more frequently lately...even when driving around for happy things. With my beautiful kids, my amazing husband...and suddenly I can't quite breathe right.

None of this is easy.

Not having a dad really fucking sucks sometimes.

And that is something that I can't really put into words efficiently.

My mother is truly perfect. My family is everything to me. But not having an actual father to be there when I could use it...takes more out of me than I can admit sometimes. I like to pretend I function fine without him. But while I can function...it truly wrecks me.

I deserved more. My mom deserved more. My kids deserve more.

We have AMAZING months coming. A partial family vacation, a honeymoon, a move for all of us...

But some nights it is just plain hard.

And really sad.

I know it's gonna get better.

And tomorrow will be easier.

But it's okay to say...it's hard right now.

I can be nice or I can be honest when I write.

And when I was struggling even more than I am now...I read a lot of blogs and a lot of posts. Of people pretending to be okay. Pretending to be honest. It did me zero favors to read how "great" they were doing.

Sometimes you're not okay.

And being honest about that is the only way to make it better someday.

I'm good. I'm happy.

But I am struggling.

And it's okay to not be okay.

Moving on 2021

2021-01-03T18:25:00.001-08:00

If you pay any attention to this page...you know I have desperately struggled to write the last few years.

I spent a very long time being sad. Struggling with emotions, and not knowing how to deal with the feelings that were wrecking my mental health. Nearly 20 years of my life were spent trying to process the things that were happening around me.

Today...I don't have to try and process nearly as much. I have my bad days. These last few weeks actually have been chock full of my father in my memories and in my dreams. It has been exhausting, my anxiety has been in overdrive...and I have struggled.

But as I looked at social media memories today compared to my current life...I was so thankful. I realized that when I take a step back and look at where my life has gone...it has changed more than I ever thought possible.

So I am going to try and take this blog in a new direction so that I can start writing more.

I will never sugar coat things. I will never pretend that hard things aren't hard.

The first 15 years of my life were painful...physically and mentally.
Marriage at 19, divorced by 21...in an ugly situation.

Excessive trauma from a drug addict parent...and then his death.

The last 2 years...nearly impossible. Deployment on crack, a house sale. Moving. Parenting alone.

The last 2 months...reintegration, a cancer scare, and a miscarriage.

Yet here we stand. And when I look at my life on a day to day basis...I am so thankful. When I see my husband and kids together...I tear up. I am relieved. My life isn't anything that I thought it would be...it is better. It is real. The daily REAL...is exactly what I needed.

The new direction is simply "thankful."

It's not just surviving trauma.
It's thriving from trauma.

It's living the life that you didn't want...and creating the life that you dreamed of.

Yes.

Dreamed of.

Life will never be perfect. But if you do it right...it is sooo damn good.

This year has rocked worlds.

But this world is so much better.

Stay tuned for finding positivity in "hard." Because in fact...in can be done.

War on drugs

2020-09-28T18:55:00.000-07:00

I hear the term "war on drugs" a lot. Very very frequently actually. Especially given the degree I am pursuing. People have a lot of opinions on this war this country is fighting. Well, that the world is fighting.

I want to be sure to preface this entire post with the fact that I completely understand the thought process behind "ending" the war on drugs. I truly do. There are a lot of things that aren't working, and things are being criminalized that shouldn't be. There are lives being ruined because of criminal charges that may not be justified.

I get it.

But. There is another side to that.

My side.

Drugs ruined my family.

A few stupid white and brown substances tore my family apart piece by piece.

They killed my father.
They destroyed every chance at healthy relationships.
They took away a grandfather.
They caused mental illnesses.
They shattered any sense of normalcy.

They TRULY ruined lives. So many lives.

I wish the person that provided my father with his drugs could be charged. I wish they could at least see the extent of the damage caused by their choices.

I don't blame them. My father had a choice and he could have gone elsewhere. But he didn't.

On that same note...I also wish my father had been charged earlier. It makes me physically ill to think of the amount of people he supplied drugs to. To think of the ways he behaved around me and other people's children. The dangerous choices he made that could have killed me or anyone else around him.

If he had been charged, or formally held in a facility...he might have stood a chance.

Maybe not.

But he might have.

It might have been the one thing that got his attention. No "suspended" jail sentences. No mercy. Just straight into lockdown and then to rehab. Forced psychological treatment.

SOMETHING.

If back then this "war on drugs" had been anything like it is now...I might still have a father.

Maybe not.

But I might.

It's something I choose not to think about frequently because we have to deal with life as it is given to us. We have to "accept the things we can not change." We can not dwell on the things that "could be."

But for just a second when you think about how bad this war on drugs is in your opinion...

Think about those "might" circumstances.

Because those MIGHTS would have changed so many lives.

Lives like mine.

Just stop.

2020-02-19T20:17:00.003-08:00

It's been a rough week.

One where I felt about 10 times my actual age.

It's hard to be the "mean" one. The one that says things that people don't want to hear.

But it comes with the territory.

You come from this past where you are so painfully aware of everything you do and the decisions you make. You have over-analyzed every part of you (and so have a lot of professionals). And suddenly you start to see your qualities in other people.

I went to school for psychology. I spent a lot of time in trauma and the aftershock.

And it's nice to be self aware. It's nice to be a good source of advice for a lot of people. But it's also incredibly exhausting. Because no one wants to hear the hard stuff.

So be nice. Listen to those that love you. Chances are they are really just trying to make sure you're ok.

Return address: Inmate number 1439493 Pinellas County Jail

2020-02-11T21:46:00.004-08:00

My best friend of over 10 years came over the other night for girl chit chat. The conversation turned into a conversation about my dad...and she told me that I had never told her the story. Other than what she had read or seen on social media...she really had no idea what happened to him/with him.

To be honest...my jaw kind of hit the floor. I couldn't believe that I hadn't talked about it at some point over the years. How crazy...the thing that essentially defines who I am today...and I had never talked about it.

So we got to talking. I explained the stalking, the abuse, the fire...

I pulled out old letters that I haven't looked at in years. The letters from jail that my father sent for over a year before he died.

Something crazy? I forgot how bad they were.

I had truly talked my brain into thinking that the letters were...a little delusional? That maybe I had overreacted to what they said.

But let me tell you something. I was more horrified than I was years ago. I was disgusted by not only the things my 19 year old self was told by her FATHER...but the fact that I had somehow brainwashed myself into thinking that what he said "wasn't that bad."

It was horrible.

Suddenly the feelings rushed back. I started to wonder if maybe I was all the things that he said. Maybe I was the one with all of the problems...maybe I needed professional help like he said so many times in his letters.

But then I read them again.

And again.

I watched the handwriting change from sentence to sentence. I watched my father's thoughts go from "let me be there for you and help you" to "you are disgusting and worthless." My FATHER.

I watched him threaten suicide in the same sentence of saying he wished I had picked up the phone earlier in the day because he wanted my voice to be the "last thing he ever heard." Yet I was the manipulative one...

Suddenly...I am grateful that I kept all of those letters. I am grateful that I have a reminder that I didn't make up the things that I went through. I'm not crazy. I'm not dramatic.

I was abused.

Point blank.

Period.

I was emotionally ransacked.

I was taught at a very young age that I wasn't enough...

and that I couldn't trust anyone...even my own family.

I was taught to second guess the people I was supposed to be able to trust.

These are things that may never go away. I question everything. I worry at the drop of a hat. I am a control freak when it comes to my family and knowing that they are okay. I am constantly convinced that people are mad at me and don't want me.

The slightest chance of conflict and I am hyper aware of my relationships.

But at the same time...I also continue to stand for those that can't stand for themselves. Because NO woman, wife, girlfriend, DAUGHTER...should ever read things like this from someone who is supposed to love her.

Someone who CLAIMS to love her.

This...

Is not love.

I've wondered why I am the way that I am sometimes. It's hard to deal with a constant anxiety and stress that I don't understand. PTSD is a real bitch.

But this is why.

My father was right about one thing.

"Holding hate is like swallowing fire."

So I refuse to hate. Even if it takes me every day...and even if I have to remind myself on a constant basis that I am not that person he made me out to be. I won't hate him. I will be disappointed and I will never forget the things that happened. But I won't hate him. Because it's only hurting me.

And I refuse to let him be right.

2020 and new beginnings

2020-02-11T20:28:00.002-08:00

It's been a year. We welcomed our 3rd daughter into this world. We dealt with deployment starting and turning our family into a walking disaster. I had surgery and a long recovery. I finished one graduate program, and started another.

We fought hard through this past year. Incredibly hard. Nothing has been quite what we wanted it to be. The second we thought everything was getting better...a huge part of our family was pulled away for over a year.

But we are coming into the home stretches (well...kind of...a girl can dream). Soon our entire family will be back hand in hand.

I have a little more time these days. Time to get my mind back together, and time to get back to writing and sanity. It's been way too long.

Mutually exclusive

2019-04-23T20:36:00.000-07:00

I have been struggling lately...in case that wasn't already clear.

Everything is flying around so quickly right now, I can't quite see straight.

One second I feel like I have everything together. I am organized and ready to take on the world. I am confident and proud. The next minute...I can't pull myself out of bed because I truly don't know how to do the things that all need to be done.

I feel like a crap mom. I yell so much. I am frustrated 99% of the time. I WANT to go do fun things with my kids...but I can't shake the feeling of "xyz" needs to be done before I do fun things.

I HATE seeing the posts on Facebook and social media about "they are only young once" etc. I get that. I am painfully aware that I am going to miss these moments later. I hate every day that things are so up in the air and that I don't get to spend all of the time that I want to with them.

The kids have been going with my mom once a week. The first week I still had munchkin with me and the two little ones were gone for the night. I spent some time with a few friends but also got a lot done around the house. This past week I was completely alone in our house. For probably the first time ever. I had SO much to do. Homework, revising my graduation speech, cleaning, cooking, grocery shopping, working out...everything was falling apart.

But instead...I went home and had a few drinks. I DANCED around the kitchen for probably an hour. I blasted music louder than I have in years. To the point I kind of worried that it was too loud for neighbors. I got down to some Destiny's Child and some Nelly.

And for just a little bit...I kinda felt like me again.

I didn't get enough done. And I'm paying for that this week. REALLY paying for it. My to do list got longer. My "completed" list got shorter. My sleep schedule got even more screwed up.

But. I. Felt. Like. Me.

I need to remember how important that is. I spent so many years of my life focusing on other people and how they affected me. I spend all of my time now finding ways to take care of my kids and my husband. I work, I run a household, I go to school so that I can financial provide more later...I kill myself on a regular basis. To the point that it may be somewhat self destructive.

I need to learn to take more of those moments. Moments where there are a thousand things to do...but I just need some "me" time. There were 15 years where I didn't have any control over my life. I was in a situation that stopped me from choosing anything for myself.

Then I got married and again was in a situation where I didn't know who I was anymore.

I got out...for the first time in my life I was my own person. I spent a year figuring myself out and growing from my experiences. I had FUN. No holds barred...I worried about ME. I smiled more. I blasted music more. I danced around and didn't give a damn who it bothered.

And then things changed. For the better. I found a person I wanted to spend my life with...TRULY spend my life with. We traveled, we built a home together, we had children.

My identity changed. I wasn't the abused kid anymore. I wasn't the teen divorcee anymore.

I was a wife.

I was a mother.

This funny thing happens when you become a mother. It quickly becomes your identity instead of PART of your identity. It consumes you faster than you have a chance to realize it.

These tiny humans become every part of you.

And that has to stop sometimes.

You will never not be obsessed and completely in love with your babies (hopefully).

You will never be the person you were before.

You will never do anything without thinking about them.

You will never sleep normally again.

You will never stop worrying.

But you have to find time to remember that you were something before they existed. That person is still there and still needs attention.

You have to love on your relationships. All of them.

Relationships with your kids.

The relationship with your spouse.

But also the relationship with YOURSELF.

I'm still me.

And I'm still mom.

They aren't mutually exclusive.

February

2019-02-25T20:44:00.004-08:00

February has been a horrendous month for this household.

There are a lot of things going on that we can't really talk about. We are fine, kids are fine...just a lot of stress that is exhausting. Sometimes it feels that you finally start making progress, and then all hell breaks loose.

It's not one big thing...just a lot of little things that are piling together and getting overwhelming.

I was feeling really overwhelmed tonight. Angry about some of our circumstances, exhausted, and sad about things I can't control.

I've been binge watching Grey's Anatomy and an episode came on about a couple losing their baby. They had no control over their situation and there was nothing they could do to help their own child.

I cried watching it...but it also reminded me to be incredibly thankful. Not only for being out of the circumstances I used to be in...but also for these tiny humans. I was given the things I never thought I would get.

And even in my worst moments...I have to remember that they are my "why."

Today was a bad day

2019-02-14T20:11:00.002-08:00

Tire wall was punctured. Big bill.

Dogs were attacked by a neighbor's wandering dog in our yard.

Kids were crabby. Sleep was nonexistent.

But I was reminded of something really important today.

I have had the same doctor for over 20 years...and she is now the doctor for my husband and our kids as well. From the day they are born...she sees us all.

At baby's one month appointment today...our doctor got emotional. She started talking about how she had been thinking about how my life had changed...and how amazing things were finally getting. She saw me through hell with my father. She saw me through infertility struggles. She saw me through a nasty divorce...and a subsequent few years of depression.

But then she saw me meet the man I then married. She saw us bring two beautiful girls into this world. She saw us succeed, finish school, and plan for a future.

On a terrible day...she changed my perspective. She reminded me that things have been so terrible in the past...and that they are so amazing now. She reminded me that I am beyond blessed and have more than I ever thought I would have.

But she also showed me yet again that there are more people in our lives that love us. More than I realize sometimes.

We are so very very lucky.

Today was a bad day. But it is a really good life.

Rainbows

2019-01-30T21:05:00.003-08:00

It's been a rough day. One that I will talk more about later.

But as I was thinking about how great it would feel to write and get my stress out of my fingers...

I realized a few things. I realized that I hadn't written in awhile...and that I hadn't announced one of the most important things that has happened in my life lately.

On January 16th...we welcomed our darling little girl.

I have bad days...and sometimes it feels that we are constantly facing setbacks. I find myself growing frustrated with how hard we are working to just be thrown a new curve ball. I understand that it's life...and that's how it works...but we all know that some days are just worse than others.

While all of these things were going on in my mind...I was able to see some perspective. My kids make me completely crazy...but they are also the good in the darkness. They are the reason we make it work every day, and the reason that we are so crazy blessed. They make those bad days so much better.

They are my two rainbows.

I'm thankful for the things that I have now...and how amazing life has gotten. I am thankful that even my truly bad days are good ones. I still come home to this amazing family and these beautiful kids. I come home to a husband that I am unbelievably in love with...and a life that is more than I had imagined.

The November struggle

2018-10-26T10:52:00.000-07:00

So this entire year flew by in a way that I wasn't really expecting. Between the flood in our home, living in a hotel while it got fixed, finding out that our next baby was coming...things have been ridiculously fast paced.

I am struggling to grasp that we will have another baby in less than 3 months. I don't feel prepared at all. And on top of that...I don't feel mentally ready at all. My anxiety has been kicking up a notch, and I'm constantly envisioning these horrible scenarios (that won't ever happen). It's exhausting, and it's hard to enjoy what may be my last pregnancy.

Meanwhile...we are almost back to November. One of the roughest months in our household. My husband and I both have struggles with our past. Mine tends to flare in September, his dark month is November. It's a month that reminds me of the absolute hell he has overcome...but also that he is a human with extremely harsh memories.

It's strange to have two people in the same household with remarkably similar diagnoses...but completely different symptoms/struggles. It's hard to remind yourself that you don't understand what the other person is going through...despite understanding the basis of why they feel how they do. I understand the exhaustion and mental struggle...I don't understand the background or the emotional toll it takes.

PTSD is a real bitch. It turns past scenarios (or even made up scenarios) into real images in your head. It turns what would be a normal thought in one person, into an exhausting worry fest in your brain. It changes your outlook on things, it drains you of the little energy you have left, and it confuses your emotions.

I am thankful we both have our experiences. Our pasts pushed us to each other, and helped us find another person that has some understanding of how our history makes us better. We found a partner that appreciates those struggles instead of criticizing them.

Part of that is giving the other person time to process however they need to. Not trying to understand, not trying to fix...just giving them grace and your presence. The anniversary of my father's death this year...Nick didn't even realize what was wrong. I was short tempered, and tearful kind of all day. He obviously figured it out...but he never pushed. He never asked, he never got frustrated with me. He was just there.

I always want to fix, and I have to focus on not doing that. Being present and available when he needs it, without pushing things down his throat. These memories and the sadness are not things that can be fixed or processed away. Time will help dull them...but will never take them away.

So if you have someone in your life that struggles with their past...just keep those things in mind. We all process in our own way. We don't fully understand anyone else's fight. A good day could turn bad in seconds...and a bad day could be turned around with patience.

I'm just thankful going into this month that my survivor is willing to deal with it every day instead of falling to the past. Too many have been lost, and I'm thankful that he isn't one of them.

And for all of the 1/3...know that I'm here. You don't have to talk, I won't shrink your brain. But you're welcome in our home at any time...and my cell is available to every single one of you if you think you need it. I'm super awkward and inappropriate...so at the very least I can make completely ridiculous (and not funny) jokes to distract you for a bit. This world is better with you in it. Guaranteed.

And for your viewing pleasure...a super cute little girl excited to go to a dance with her hero.

22 a day is 22 too many.

Reach out <3

Bachelors and babies

2018-06-08T11:38:00.004-07:00

We did it!

After almost 6 years of exhaustion, trying to maintain a marriage from a distance, and learning to parent by ourselves.

And it's over.

The husband graduated at the end of last month...and for the first time in forever, we can start to slow down. No more deployment. No more classes. No more late night studying and sleeping alone.

We are so proud, and so relieved.

Boards this summer...and on to bigger and better things in the SICU come this fall.

Then as a surprise ending to it all (because we truly don't know how to SLOW down...)

Offspring number 3 is coming your way January of 2019.

Apparently we REALLY love having kids in January. I vote annual family vacation to celebrate.

Less expense...more cocktails for momma.

It's a win win.

The married single mom

2018-04-12T20:34:00.001-07:00

The last four years have been no walk in the park. They have tested me to my furthest point and they have been more exhausting than I could have imagined.

Or at least I thought they had.

Then our house fell apart. We woke up Easter morning to a disaster that not only caused thousands of dollars of damage in our plumbing...but also flooded our crawlspace.It shorted out our furnace and flooded our AC. As of right now...we have been without heat in our home for 12 days.

I have dealt with it.
Every. Single. Piece.

Every contractor. Every restoration team. Every insurance adjuster.

And I am drowning.

I am so past the point of tired and overwhelmed...that I am straight into numb and confused.

Trying to keep a life together, a child healthy, animals in safe places...work, a business, school...FINANCES.

I am exhausted. I am more exhausted than I have ever been in my life.

I am past numb. The more the bad news hits...the more I check out of the situation and just start to function on auto pilot.

I am a married single mom right now. I am on my own to deal with these things...and I thank God every day for my family and my best friends who have stepped up and stepped in to help me deal with this disaster. Never in my life will I forget how amazing some people have been. I am forever thankful.

But I am tired.

I am struggling so hard to keep my head above water...and so far I'm doing it.

What scares me a little bit...is how easily it comes to me. Crisis management and the ability to juggle five thousand things at once without the slightest emotion...is kind of scary. I have a list, I have a timeline, I have an impossible problem to fix...and instead of turning to anyone else...I just handle it.

I have become too self sufficient.

And before anyone gets all up in arms...this isn't meant as a "I'm so awesome and blah blah blah I don't need anyone else blah blah blah."

This situation honestly scares me.
I hold myself to standards that aren't attainable by any normal human.
I expect too much and don't allow myself to truly decompress.
Ever.

I grew up in a situation where I had to act fast...and not emotionally. I had to process things in my life quickly and safely. I had to navigate troubled waters on my own.

Here I am 15 years later...and I still don't know how to let someone help. I don't know how to not just fix the situation on my own. I run myself into the ground until I can't see straight...because it's what I know. I don't know how to turn it off.

I want to be vulnerable. I want to be able to turn things over and just walk away. I want to STOP worrying about every tiny detail of everything ALL THE TIME. I want help.

But I don't want to ask for it.

Some days I want to pull over on the side of the road and just scream my face off. I am so pushed to the point of exhaustion that I don't know how to rest. I don't know how to shut things down.

Maybe it's pride. Knowing that I CAN do everything that has to be done...is huge. My self worth and confidence comes from knowing that I am capable of "doing it all"...and doing it well.

But the exhaustion that comes from that is something that isn't sustainable.

A hard lesson that I haven't learned yet...
You can't be everything to everyone all the time.

And because it has literally been on repeat for a week...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRP8d7hhpoQ

"Well baby I've been here before. I've seen this room and I've walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew ya. And I've seen your flag on the marble arch...and love is not a victory march."

You fight.

2018-04-02T23:37:00.003-07:00

So what do you do?

When you're pissed. Hurt. Upset. Mad at the world. Holding grudges on everyone that ever hurt you. Questioning everything that is happening around you.

What do you do?

You acknowledge the love. There is at least one person in the insanity that loves you no matter what. Find that person.

Then dig deep and find some stupid badass attitude that pulls you out of the negative.

What do you do?

You fight.

This life is going to beat you past the edges of your sanity.

Trust me. I know.

It is going to truly rock your world and ruin everything around you.

You are going to fight some battles that don't make sense and don't seem to have a solution.

And some nights you are going to feel so alone and like you have to do it all on your own.

You might be right.

But the reality is that you can handle it...and you will.

Know that it's okay to feel like the world is crumbling around you while you try to maintain your footing.

It's truly okay.

I am not in control.

I try to be and then life rocks me. I lose everything I thought I had...and we start over.

Every single person in this world will let you down if you let them. And don't take that as some horribly negative thing. Just think about it.

You will create failures in those people if you want to see them. You will find a way to make their support a negative.

Your world will still crumble.

It's just going to happen.

Be strong enough to put it back together.

Every.

Single.

Time.

If you need to punch things, scream into a pillow, or go for a long walk alone...do it.

But do it...and then

put yourself back together.

Fight.

I don't have time for meaningless

2018-03-21T19:52:00.003-07:00

It has come to my attention lately that I am cutting things and people left and right. It's not really intentional...I just find myself not caring about the things that I did before. There are relationships that I'm too tired to keep working for. I have been putting crazy amounts of energy into people that are sucking the life out of me.

Worst part...I didn't even realize I was doing it. I thought the opposite...that I had a good balance of fighting for those that deserved it...and letting go of the ones that didn't.

Until I got too tired.

When I got too tired...I just stopped. Completely. I reached out to some people occasionally...but when the response was non-existent or less than true effort...I just stopped responding.

I'm not fighting stupid fights anymore. I get frustrated with school or other stupid things...and I just don't have the energy to care.

The things that mean something to me...I will fight to the death for.

The other things...I'm truly starting to walk away from.

I want my happy. And I'll do anything to keep it.

I want the things that mean something.
And only those things.

My family is so amazingly beautiful. The family in my home...and the extended family that we choose to surround ourselves with. I run a business that I love...with people I enjoy working with. I have an amazing full time job...that feels more like working with family than anything.

I am still working towards healing and choosing healthy love. Every day I have to avoid falling back into bad habits and giving myself to people that don't deserve it. I have to remember that some people truly aren't worth it...blood or not. My household needs my attention, my work needs my attention...I need MY attention.

I don't have time to be unhappy.
I don't have time for frustration.
I don't have time for meaningless.

6 years

2018-03-18T21:25:00.002-07:00

6 years and 1 day ago I was still anonymous.

I was still some random person on the internet going on about whatever my heart desired.

And then on a whim I decided to talk to a newspaper reporter about local domestic violence, our court systems, and our local agencies. It appeared that the news finally wanted to sit down and talk about how the systems had failed someone for a lifetime...and now wanted to revamp and help our community.

6 years ago I went public.

Just months after my father died.

I showed it all.

My disaster of a life at the time, the pieces I was still trying to pick up.

I did it for two reasons.

1. NO ONE should feel like shit for being in a domestic violence situation. No one. I don't care who you are, what the situation is...YOU SHOULD NEVER FEEL REVICTIMIZED WHEN YOU SEEK HELP. You are allowed to talk about your abuse, you are allowed to be injured by it. The beginning of my story saw a lot of hiding...I didn't want to come forward because no one ever helped me. Or they claimed to...and then they argued. People judged. People told me to STOP talking about it. It apparently wasn't my place to talk about the abuse and manipulation I suffered from for years. Somehow...the power to be in control of my life was stripped from me a second time.

2. I was done hiding personally. For 5+ years I hid from my father because I didn't know for sure where he was, what he would do, or how he would react. At the end he was in prison...but then I had reporters on my doorstep. Society REALLY likes drama...especially when they get to watch people's lives falling apart on TV. I hid from the reporters. I hid from my father. I hid from his friends and family. But that article gave me the chance to stop hiding. He was gone...it was old news...and the article gave me the chance to not only talk about it for my healing...but also to encourage change in our community.

So 6 years later here's what I will say.

-The fame has died down, and for that I am thankful. It was hard to answer awkward public questions. It was hard to go to the gas station or the grocery store without questions.

-The point remains the same. Domestic violence is EVERYWHERE. It is your neighbor, your coworker, your child's preschool teacher.

-YOU ARE ALLOWED TO GRIEVE. If you are a victim, you get to feel like hell. You get to be angry. You get to feel however the fuck you want to feel in these situations.

-YOU ARE ALLOWED TO TALK ABOUT IT. Yell it from the rooftops. "Overshare" to a coworker. Tell your neighbor, the guy you just started dating, the girl you met in class. Whatever. TALK ABOUT IT. Stop letting the world stifle you because it's "awkward."

This is your life.

You get to talk about it however you damn well please.

And anyone that tells you differently is a coward and an enabler to abuse.

It's. That. Simple.

This is your chance to go from scared, silenced, and jailed...

To free.

Choose free <3

Thankful

2018-02-28T21:34:00.001-08:00

It’s been a rough few weeks...as anyone that knows me is aware of.

But I can honestly say that I am remarkably proud of the life that I have built. I have amazing and patient people around me...people that truly care about surrounding us in so much love.

There have been nasty triggers, horrible panic attacks out of nowhere...and a lot of anger on my part. But the people near me have been perfect. So patient and so loving. I really can’t ask for much more.

For once

2018-02-25T00:54:00.003-08:00

I have rewritten the beginning of this post 20 times. I have created hooks and sentences that would catch people's attention. I looked for the shock factor...and I'm readjusting to the fact that I don't write for other people...I write for me. I have to stop editing myself because I'm worried about what people will think or be offended by.

I'm not on that train anymore...what you get is what I think at the moment.

You don't have to read it...I need to write it for my sanity.

Take this as your warning.

- Stop reading if you are offended by swear words or honesty.
- If you are related to my father...I also suggest you stop reading now.

It's 3 am...I am beyond exhausted...and pissed. I have kept a lot of my thoughts private lately because I was trying to navigate our new normal. I have been holding in a shitload of anger because I sometimes feel like I'm supposed to have it all together.

Sometimes these things come up out of nowhere and I am livid.
I am overtired, emotional, punch holes in things kind of mad.
I'm a relatively calm person...I usually bury anger and cry instead of reacting physically.

But right now...I'm just mad.

I'm livid.

All the things I have been fighting are boiling up and I suddenly wish there was a basement to this house where I could keep punching bags and weights.

Right now...I can't get half of my "family" out of my head. Certain conversations and dreams are to blame. Suddenly I can't stop thinking about all the things I have never said.

Let's not pretend that I'm not hurt.

I am.

My heart is falling apart half the time because I think about what could be. I am angry that "family" can be so hurtful and shallow. I am sad for myself...and I'm sad for my kids.

My kids are so loved.

By so many people.

So many sides of family.

They are SO beyond blessed.

But there's still something missing.

There are people missing.

My kids will never know that those people are missing. Because I refuse to explain to them that there are people that have CHOSEN to not be in their lives. My kids are gold. And any person that doesn't want to be around them...clearly doesn't realize what they are missing. Those people are CHOOSING to miss out on some of the best people on this planet.

It pisses me off. Those littles deserve better.

Better than people that don't see their worth.

And on the same note...I deserve better. I deserve better than people that choose not to see my worth. I struggle sometimes because I wonder if I get to be mad about that? I get so caught up in being mad that my kids won't ever know a quarter of their family...and I forget that I'm still grieving losing those same people. They were in my life once...and suddenly they are just all gone. I no longer fit the mold for them to love.

Tonight...I'm mad for me.

My heart hurts.

Sometimes it hits me hard...that people have chosen their rich lifestyles over just loving on their own flesh and blood. I struggle with that thought. For an hour or so it creeps up and makes my chest feel heavy. I feel like garbage because someone's pride is more important than me...than my husband and my kids. I feel worthless.

And then I get really mad.

I go from hurt to pure fury.

Let me be clear.

If you are one of those people reading this...please understand that you are missed. I am sad that you have chosen other things over us. I am sad that the money and "prestige" of that family name has made other things more important than us in your eyes. I am sorry that mansions and fancy things are more important than integrity and honest love for one another.

But at the same time...(turn your kids away from the next few paragraphs)...

Fuck you.

Seriously. You don't know what you're missing. As much as your absence may be felt here...you don't have the slightest grasp of what you are missing.

I am sad because we all deserve better.

Including you.

Love isn't supposed to have conditions.

Did you get that?

It's NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE CONDITIONS.

If it does...it isn't love.

I'm pissed because I deserved better for the last 27 years. I deserved unconditional love. I deserved one of you to stand up for me. I deserved more than you gave. I deserved any of you to stand up to the money and the "name"...in order to help keep me safe.

But you chose not to. And when I stood up for myself...you treated me like garbage.

So please remember...we are not the problem. Despite the years of me leaving the door open for you to come see us...despite me inviting you to every family event...YOU are the ones who made the choices that you did. You are the ones who decided our wedding wasn't important. You are the ones who complain about "missing seeing Emma grow up" when you've never actually met her. You're the ones who pretend to give a shit...but haven't met Munchkin in the last 6 years full of opportunities.

This is all on you.

We will always be here. Because that's what family does. But we won't be here with conditions.

You want us...you know how to find us. But don't come at me with rules or expectations. Show me that love is more important than your pride.

For once.

Baby steps

2017-12-24T21:41:00.002-08:00

This "daddy issues" life never gets easier.

Every day things set you back and kind of kick you when you're down.

Holiday time...that kick gets a little more brutal. Stupid things eat at you to your core.

But tonight I'm focusing on really basic baby steps.

The situation is never going to change. I am always going to feel that void where my father should be. Only I get to decide what comes of it.

Merry Christmas <3

Lose Yourself

2017-11-20T21:26:00.002-08:00

I feel lost a lot lately. I am constantly running and trying to keep everyone on track.

Between the kids, the house, school, work, my business...girl can't keep anything straight.

It's a hard thing to constantly feel like you are failing in every aspect. Teachers tell you to get really good at a couple of things...they tell you to emphasize your strengths. They tell you NOT to try and do it all...because that's just not possible.

Part of me loves it. I work best in the face of adversity and stress. The things that I can accomplish on a day to day basis when I have to...is nothing short of ridiculous.

But I'm not really happy. I feel like I'm always drowning...and my child isn't getting the best version of me that she could. She deserves better and I deserve better.

I've been thinking that maybe it is time for me to lose myself...but intentionally. Maybe it's time to take off some of the ridiculous pressure to be perfect. Lose the extra stress and expectations...to try and learn how to just exist again. I don't know how to relax...I don't know how to just quietly be happy with the little things.

More park visits with my girl. Less cleaning.

More coffee with friends. Less working through lunch breaks.

More time with family. Less constant refreshing of my email.

It's not my job to take care of everyone all the time. It's not my responsibility to make sure everyone is happy at all times.

I'll do what I can.

But not at the expense of ME.