Everybody keeps asking me what "the secret is" so here you go.

In the last year and a half I have went through many lifestyle changes. One of these lifestyle changes is the fact that I lost weight. Like, alot of weight. I'm talking ninety-six pounds and almost a whole other person kind of weight. I didn't realize how intense it was, but then I look at photos of myself from our wedding or the last few years and it's like looking at a different person. I had my annual doctors appointment the other day and her mind was not only blown, but she's the one that confirmed the amount of pounds gone.... after doing a double take and expressing how proud she was of me.

With this comes people commenting on my appearance (consistently and without fail no matter the situation) and asking me the question "what's your secret?" (Plenty of people have also asked me if I want a cheeseburger.... which is kind of rude, but also yes, I do in fact want that cheeseburger, they're delicious).

I always say things along the lines of "nothing really, just lifestyle changes" but they are persistent in wanting details. Once I start explaining the "details" I usually get to one or two changes in before someone goes, "nope, can't do that!" It makes me laugh, because a year and a half ago I would've said the exact same thing and wholeheartedly meant it. 

You see, I didn't set out to lose weight. That was not my goal. Honestly, I didn't have any goals or plans in my mind. I was just at a place in my life where I felt awful. I was mentally, emotionally, physically, and psychologically exhausted. Depression and anxiety do funny things to you. I just didn't feel like me. I couldn't get my mind to slow down and my body didn't even feel like my body. I felt as if I was simply existing instead of living.

My home life was suffering. There were days I didn't even want to get out of bed. So I didn't. My work life was suffering. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't get my brain to slow down enough to focus. I felt like I was drowning in a pit of black water. Just getting swallowed further and further down into swirling darkness and never knowing if I would get to come back up for air. The worst part was, my amazing husband was more than willing to stand beside me and hold my hand so I didn't have to do it alone.... which meant, I was effectively drowning him too without even meaning to.

But, then one day it was like I was struck by lightning. That's the only way I know how to describe it. Just sudden and out of nowhere, it hit me. I had a beautiful life. I have a husband that adores me, pups that depend on and love me, and a whole life to live whichever way I choose. While losing Momma was the hardest and most devastating thing I've ever dealt with in my life, I started thinking about it in a different way. Yes, losing her was catastrophic, but then again, I was fortunate enough to have her for almost twenty-nine years of my life. That's not near long enough, in my mind at least, but I'm still forever thankful for it. I get to live the rest of my life, however long that may be, with the fact that I had the most amazing woman be my mother and nothing can take that away. And with that realization, came the rest. She wouldn't want me wallowing in this pit. In fact, she would kick my ass for it.

I wanted to do better. I wanted to feel better. I simply wanted to be better.

So, I tried as hard as I've ever tried at anything in my life. I applied myself like I never have before. All that determination and stubbornness and recklessness within that has managed to get me through life, yeah, I tried to use all that too. And I found once I started accepting that it was ok to make changes and try new (or old) things, no matter how strange someone might think they would be, I felt so much better. After that came the realization that I was in fact a grown ass woman and I didn't have to answer to anyone other than myself. I'm the one that decides what kind of person I'm going to be and how I'm going to live my life. And let me tell you, if you've never had this epiphany and whole-heartedly accepted it, you are missing out. Because, damn, did it feel good to take that pressure off my shoulders and that weight off my chest.

I stopped taking all the medicine the doctor had me on: I had been on hormones and meds for insulin resistance for quite a few years and when I lost Momma, we both felt like I needed to be on something to help try and control my depression/anxiety/sleeping patterns. I was a mess. It was like I couldn't function while taking all of that medicine, but I didn't feel strong enough to live without it either. It wasn't an addiction kind of thing, it was more of a fear situation. I was scared. I was honestly afraid that if I felt that terrible while taking the medicine that was literally designed to help with this, how was I going to feel if I went off of it? 

I've dealt with fear in my life and I think it's dumb when people say "I'm not afraid of anything!" But, I've also never ran away from fear. My entire life, if I've been afraid of something, I've always faced it head on and let the consequences lie where they may. Fear was not something I had a problem dealing with until that point in my life. And at that point, it was all I could think about. But once again, I found myself tired. I was simply tired of fearing my own mind. So, I took the medicine and worked on other things in my life until I felt I was mentally strong enough to do it on my own. And while it may sound strange, I was thankful to have had the help when I needed it. I didn't want to ask for help in the first place, but my doctor, being the amazing human being she is, saw I needed it and helped however she could. 

Then one day, I felt it. I just felt.... ok with the decision. I still had fear, but I accepted that I could face it. So.... I did. I stopped taking all of my medicine. I wanted my body to feel like my body again. I decided to stop taking all of my medicine and just let my body do what it was going to do on its own. I knew it was risky and against all advice, but I decided to take my own advice and follow my gut. Afterall, my gut is what has always helped with facing my fears in the past. And for the first time in a very long time I made the decision to face it and let the chips fall where they fell.

I stopped drinking: I know, I know. I originally didn't see this one coming either. But in all honesty, quitting drinking was so much easier than I ever thought it would be. I got to the point that I was drinking too much. I knew it, my husband knew it, and every person around me it felt like knew it. I wasn't using alcohol as a way to relax or unwind, I was using alcohol as a way to suppress dealing with everything I needed to deal with. It was easier to have a few drinks than look at myself in the mirror, because when I looked in the mirror, I didn't like the person looking back at me. Hell, I didn't even recognize her. It was easier to have some shots than it was to accept the fact that I had to rearrange my whole life. I was drinking to the point it was becoming a problem and that right there is what stopped me. I didn't want to be a miserable alcoholic that didn't know how to make decisions in their own life. I didn't want to put more struggle on top of all my other struggle. Instead of alcohol being fun it became something I thought I needed to have copious amounts of every single day in order to function.

Except, I wasn't functioning. Not at all. I was merely going about my existence with alcohol as a crutch. And I didn't like that. I didn't like that I felt like I should drink just to deal. So.... no more drinking. Sure, I had a shot of celebratory gummy bears at our Christmas party last year, but it felt good. Not the shot, it was horrendous, but the fact that I could have a celebratory drink and that's all it was. I had one and didn't feel the need to have anymore. Because now when I look at alcohol, I don't have any desire to drink it. I remember all the mornings I would wake up feeling like shit, and all the days I would think to myself "just a few more hours until I can have a drink." It wasn't a good or fun way to live my life and I finally decided enough was enough. One morning D and I literally woke up, looked at each other, and were like "ok, we're done." And that was that.

I had my top row of teeth removed and replaced with a plate: I have had dental problems my entire life. It's never been one of those things where you have a little toothache, go to the dentist for a filling, and then you're good to go. No, my toothaches were always to the point of exposed nerves and broken teeth. It was to the point of melt down frustration. Why? Mostly because I've always had good oral hygiene. Throughout my entire life I have brushed my teeth twice a day, flossed regularly and used mouthwash. But, did my teeth care that I tried so very hard to maintain and be nice to them? Hell no. They were ungrateful brats. I was in constant pain and once again.... tired. After losing one of my front teeth, because it quite literally decided to fall out of my face for no reason whatsoever, enough was enough and I made an appointment with a whole other dentist. 

I talked to D about my options, because you know, he's my husband and we talk about everything and he was nothing but supportive. I didn't want to be thirty-two years old with dentures, but I also didn't want to live the rest of my life in agony. I put a little thought into it and made the choice. And let me tell you, while this has not been an easy process whatsoever, the fact that I'm not in constant pain is more than worth it. I had actually forgotten what it was like to not have a toothache and to say that I feel better all around with this being done would be an understatement. Sure, it was emotional and there were many things I had to come to terms with, but once I decided to make this choice for me and not care about other peoples opinions on the matter, it was without a doubt, worth it.

My eating habits changed on their own: I know some of this has to do with having the majority of my teeth removed, but honestly I think it has more to do with aging and mindset. You see, I used to eat just because someone told me I was supposed to or because I was bored. I would eat three meals a day because you're "supposed to" and I would snack all the other times of the day, because snacks are delicious. I wasn't eating healthy or unhealthy foods, I was just eating all the foods. Now, not so much. I only eat when I'm hungry or feel like having a snack. I don't let people tell me my eating habits are wrong or that I'm not going about it correctly. My stomach is extremely sensitive, not with gross stuff/gag reflex, but more sensitive to the foods/drinks I put on it and especially in the early mornings. At night, if I don't feel like eating or having anything heavy throughout the day, I don't. Or, if I feel extremely hungry, then I will eat all day everyday. It really is just dependent upon how I'm feeling. I let my body tell me what it wants or needs and I go from there. 

I stopped drinking so much soda. In fact, now it's pretty rare for me to drink legit soda. The carbonation was making my stomach feel like I was being weighed down and I'm assuming all of the sugar wasn't making me feel too great either. Now, it's mostly juice, coffee, Gatorade. I'll still have a soda on occasion like when we eat out or something, but we don't even really buy it much for the house anymore, with the exception of the occasional Pepsi. Speaking of eating out, we don't do that as much either. We were eating almost all of our meals via takeout, because I couldn't convince myself to get up and cook. D cooked, but he was also exhausted, so we just went the easy route. And dude, did our stomachs not like that. So... cut way down on fast food. I also drink a shit ton of milk. When I got my teeth pulled, D introduced me to this breakfast essential shake thing that has protein and a shit ton of vitamins in it and I drink one of those almost every single day. Sometimes, those are my meals. And I don't feel down about that or care if other people think it's not enough. It feels like enough and that's good enough for me.

I lay in bed sometimes for twenty minutes or more when I first wake up: I was at the point in my life where getting out of bed seemed like the most daunting task I had ever encountered. I wanted to lay there and watch the world pass me by, not caring if I was involved in it or not. There were times I couldn't even drag myself out of bed to pee, let alone function as a normal human being. So, I just laid there and let my mind go and go. But once I started changing things in my life and was no longer accepting the fact that everything was passing me by, I realized that my bed was a place for comfort, not hiding. My bed is the place where I lay my head at night, surrounded by my husband and our pups and get to shut everything else off. It's where we get to laugh and hang out. We watch tv, read books, play games. We get to cuddle, love each other, and talk about our days. 

No matter how much better I try to do and am doing, I still have days where it feels like it takes everything in me to actually get up. So, I don't force myself. I ease myself. I wake up and I'll lay there and think, or I'll read, maybe work out some stuff that's going on up there and try to sort some of my thoughts out. I never realized what people were talking about when they said you had to take care of your mental health, but I very much get that now. I wake up earlier than I have to on weekdays so I have the time to contemplate or have an extra cup of coffee. I take that morning shower even though I just had one the night before and I do whatever I can to make myself feel good. Maybe that's shaving and lathering myself up in lotions or oils or maybe it's standing in my kitchen in complete silence and just taking some breaths before the rest of the world wakes up to join me. 

And that doesn't just apply to mornings. I used to hate getting in my bed, because it felt like I might never get out, but now I enjoy it. I like getting out of the shower and airdrying my hair so I can then snuggle down in our blankets, fan going full blast and watch tv with D and our pups. Instead of finding it dreadful, I find it calming and serene. I decided early on in this process that in order to feel like me again I had to do the things that I enjoy. And I've always enjoyed taking care of myself. So, I use those lotions and get the conditioner I want because it has that amazing smell and I cuddle up in our bed and lay my head on my husband and sleep.

I started stretching and moving around more: Sometimes with depression, your body hurts for no reason at all. I had a continuous ache about me. Still do at times. No matter what I say or do, no matter how much rest I get, sometimes I just feel down. But, I've learned that's ok. Because while I might be a little achy, it's at least better than it was. Maybe I am sore or feel "off" but at the start of everyday I think about all the amazing things I have in my life and at the end of the day I'm grateful for them. My head is always full and going a mile a minute and sometimes my body has a hard time trying to keep up. And that's ok too. Sometimes I just have to give myself a little grace and be ok with it.

I've found that stretching and moving about has helped in more ways than I could imagine. I don't have a full exercise routine, nor do I work out on a regular (or at all) basis. However, I do stretching, because it helps me feel like I'm in a more pleasant place. I move around more, because I don't force myself out of bed and dread the entire day ahead. I now face my soreness or the fact that I feel weak or disoriented. I don't run from it, but instead try to find ways to be more comfortable with it. I know it's coming and obviously I'm not going to stop it, so if I can't stop it, why not find a solution to it being so miserable?

I became ok with being the introverted homebody: So many people have insisted over the years that I need to get out more. I was made to believe that I was weird or lazy for simply enjoying staying at home. Even if I was doing things, it wasn't good enough, because I wasn't "out." Well, guess what? I went out into the real world and it fucking sucked. People won't stop being horrible to each other and quite frankly, you don't know if you're going to make it home by the end of the day if at all. Coming to terms with "this is my life and I'm the one that's going to live it how I see fit" is a truly blessed thing. I enjoy my home and all the comfort it brings me. D and I have worked very hard to turn our house into our home and we've done an amazing job at it. I feel nothing but calmness wash over me whenever I walk inside. It's unorthodox to say the least, but then again, so are we. Our house screams "us" and there's a peacefulness about it that makes me smile. 

I stopped caring what other people thought I should be doing and started doing exactly what I wanted. D helped me with that. One day I was in tears, because I was frustrated and just didn't understand. He simply looked me dead ass in the eye and said "sweetheart, fuck em, we're living this life for us and each other, why would we care what other people have to say about it?" And guess what? That silver-tongued motherfucker was right. It didn't matter. At the end of the day, it really didn't. It affects no ones life other than our own if I choose to stay home and binge Stranger Things or rewatch episodes of It's Always Sunny for the umpteenth time. 

I don't like being in large crowds and my anxiety spikes everytime I think about having to be in one. Hell, the thought of going to the grocery store is sometimes overwhelming, so why add more to the problem? I quite literally go from home to work and the grocery store and that's it. Sure, there are exceptions like when I take one of our pups to the vet, have a dentist/doc appointment, or something like that. But for the most part, I keep it simple. I like love being home and I don't feel bad about that. I don't feel bad about not going out to events or on dates. My husband and I have our date nights in our house and I love it all the more. I finally accepted the only person that gets to decide if the way I live my life is good... is me.

If someone is nasty in my life, snip snip snippity snip, motherfucker: As you can probably guess at this point, I've evolved into not really caring for others opinions on me or the way I live my life. I've never cared all that much, but once depression and anxiety got ahold of me, it exacerbated the issue. I used to be a bit of a people pleaser. Not to the point of being a pushover (maybe some?), but I would go out of my way thinking that I was a bad person if I didn't live up to other expectations. And you know what? Fuck that. I had no problem cutting people out of my life in the past when they were horrible, so why start now? Or rather, why continue what a horrible event in my life started? 

I've come to terms with the person that I am and the person I'm continuing to become. I don't think any of us ever stop changing or growing. My opinions now might differ from what they did ten years ago. Honestly, at the end of the day, I was just tired of not living for me. 

I didn't like the way I thought... so I found a new way of looking at the things around me and my life in general. For all the bad that happened, there were so many beautiful things that I had right in front of me.

I didn't like the way I felt... so I changed things about myself and started doing things to improve my self worth. I started acknowledging that my feelings were valid and all consuming and there was nothing wrong with that.

I didn't like the way I looked... so I lost some weight and changed some habits and started to realize that it wasn't selfish of me to take care of myself. It was actually incredibly human of me.

I didn't like the person I had let myself become... so I decided to change it all. I do what I want, when I want, with who I want. I wear what I want, eat what I want, and speak my mind very freely. I hold nothing of myself back and give it my all always. 

So, there's my secret. 

The secret of how a girl fell into the deepest black void she never could have imagined and came out on the other side. Still damaged and with copious amounts more work to do, but accepting herself and living her life for her. Trying to find happiness in the everyday normal instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Trying to be optimistic, but still realistic with her never-ending parade of sarcasm. Making the decision for herself that her opinion is the one that matters on her life and if other people don't like that, they can kick rocks. Doing what needs to be done for her and her family to live a good life together. 

And trying, while sometimes seemingly failing but picking herself back up again and again, to be the strong and confident within her self woman that her Momma raised her to be and her husband knows she is.

It's been an exhausting week, but we totally got this.

This week has been exhausting. Nothing extensive has happened within our lives, but it's just one of those weeks. You know? Aside from the fact that I've been thoroughly freaked out, because there was a shooting at our local mall last Sunday (and the fact that D and I almost went to said mall that very day to pick up a backpack but decided to go to Walmart instead, because we felt lazy), nothing else has been out of the ordinary.

My MIL was supposed to be up this week, but because of my FIL's health, she's had to postpone her trip indefinitely. We would have loved to see her, but we completely understand the situation and why she felt like she needed to stay home. I myself would have made the exact same decision. Sometimes when something happens to your person, you have to put everything else on hold and deal with it the only way you can. However that may be.

We've been spending alot of time customizing D's new bike and I have to say that it's coming along rather nicely. He decided he wanted to go with a "Merica" theme and we definitely went with it. From the handlebars to the seat, we have customized it all. There's absolutely no way I can look at that bike and not see my husband in it. I've also taken to calling it "Mistress" and it makes D crack up every time.

Our pups are still my amazing little babies. Sparkles' ear has healed up all the way and he's still napping as often as the opportunity presents itself. Xur's anxiety is through the roof 24/7 even though we did have a handle on it, but he's still as lovable and cuddly as ever. And my little Tayderbug is chugging along and simply reminding me what a gift they all are to me every single day of our lives.

Can I just say how happy I am that its Friday? Like, forreal I'm so happy about this. All I want to do is stay in my house with my pups and hubby and let the weekend crawl by. Unfortunately, D has to work tomorrow so there will not be any sleeping in then, but maybe a chill day and a relaxing Sunday? One can hope for the best even if disaster is on the horizon.

Last night I really wanted cheesy steak fries.

And last night, I most definitely got the best and most delicious cheesy steak fries that ever existed. 

My husband tends to spoil me a bit. Ok, maybe a tad more than a bit. Last night about nine o'clock I got a serious craving for some cheese fries. And I didn't want just any ole canned cheese/bag fries combination, I wanted something utterly delicious. (Even though canned cheese and bag fries are delicious!)

So, what did my little angel do? Well, he made me homemade fries with steak and Cracker Barrell cheese.... which I didn't even know was a thing but was utterly delicious! I ate more than I probably should have, at least, if I go by how full my belly felt, but I have no regrets. They were SO delicious.

In fact, I think I may pick some stuff up this week so we can have them again soon, because we needs them in our lives immediately. And yes, I just said that in my best Gollum voice. **my precious**

It's about time someone did something cool around here.

For the few people that may not know, let me go ahead and tell you, I am OBSESSED with Stranger Things. I love the characters, plot, music.... just all of it. I binged it with Momma when it first came out and have continued the binge tradition with my husband with each new season.

While I'm sad the next season will be its last, I also get it. No one wants a fantastic show to get to the point where it feels like you're repeating everything and it diminished the quality. So I do, I get it. Doesn't mean I like it though.

With that being said, the fourth season that was released a (few weeks?) bit ago was EPIC. And my new favorite? Eddie Munson. And yes, I change my favorites from time to time. (Although I hated Steve Harrington in the first season, he quickly became a continuing favorite of mine from the end of season one (#baseballbat) and on). While I was sad about the SPOILER ALERT ending for Eddie, it didn't stop me from falling in absolute awe off him.

I mean, COME ON. Two words? Metallica, bro. That. Is. All.

Plus, he's so damn lovable and goofy. 

While Stranger Things is set in Indiana, I would be lying if I said cool shit like that happens around here. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I want the Upside Down to open up and swallow us whole in the real world. I meant more along the lines of we hear stories about doctors fertilizing eggs with his own "seed" without telling anyone, not get to hang out with the likes of Eddie Munson. And honestly, who wouldn't want to hang out with a dude like him? I think we would all be great friends.

And to prove that I'm not the only one with mad love for good ole EM, some dude here in Indy decided to dedicate his cornfield to him. Why? Because why in the hell not? Worth. It.

Do you ever have "one of those days" and have no clue why?

My drive on the way into work this morning was.... interesting.

Nothing happened and it was uneventful, really, but I don't know. The best way I know how to describe it is....

I don't know if I'm in a mood or if people are driving like assholes.

I know it could go either way, because honestly, I feel like I'm in some type of mood I can't quite put my finger on, but in my defense, this motherfucker was going 28 in a 40. Maybe that's not reason enough to lose your shit, but my shit was well lost by that point. I mean, that not unreasonable. I don't want you to speed. Ok fine, yes I do. BUT, I won't be a dick about it as long as you're driving at least the speed limit.

Eh, you win some, you lose some.

Let's go ahead and put it out there so people know and move on with their lives. *this is my opinion and you are more than welcome to walk away*

I have been asked more about my uterus in the last week and a half than I have my entire life. 

In fact, people are increasingly concerned about the decisions we (people that possess a uterus) make, guns, and somewhere in the back folks keep hollering about Jesus.

The only thing I have to say to that last one is if y'all don't think Jesus is rolling his eyes right about now, you're sorely mistaken. But, that's an argument that I have no desire to partake in. Also, I'm not exactly yearning to have a conversation about guns either. In fact, its ridiculous that I even have to say anything about any of this, because people can't quit acting a fool and mind their own fucking business.

Seriously, if people could just mind their own business, stop shooting/stabbing/raping/maiming/harming each other, and just get on a mutual level, life would be so much simpler.

Alas, that's not ever going to happen. Because who would want to live a peaceful life and be happy while doing it? People are too busy plotting how to hurt someone or screw them over and the rest of us have to deal with the repercussions. Assholes.

Remember a couple years ago when the pandemic first hit and we were all hunkered down in our houses, trying random TikTok hacks, binge-watching Netflix, experimenting with exercise (or in my case, drinking), not wearing pants, and honestly wanting everyone around us to be healthy, but also keep their distance? Can we please go back to that? 

Not the pandemic part, but the quarantine and generally trying not to be a terrible person part? Let's do that.

I say all that so I can respond to the constant questions that are on loop everywhere in our country (and I'm assuming with some instances, the world). Let's just jump right on in.

Do I believe in abortion? Medically, yes. Do I think it should be used as the first form of birth control? No. Do I think there are circumstances that call for abortion? Yes. Do I think every single person has the right to make a decision about their own body no matter their age, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or religious beliefs? Absolutely. Do I think it's ok for someone, whether it be politician or passerby to shame someone or make a decision for that person that has absolutely nothing to do with their life? Absolutely not. And also, fuck you.

I don't care where you stand with your religious beliefs. Honestly, I couldn't give less of a shit. I was raised smack dab in the middle of the Bible belt. I know scripture and I've been around "the gospel" my entire life. They drill that into you and if you don't believe everything exactly how they think you should, you are shamed for it. There is no understanding or discussion, it is simply you are shamed. Period. Every mistake you have ever made, every unfiltered thought you said out loud, all the most devastating moments and events in your life will be thrown in your face and there will be no remorse from them, because you don't fit into their belief system. As an adult, I would not say I'm religious at all. Spiritual? Yes. Religious? No. 

Basically, what I'm saying is, you can stand there and yell and scream at me until you are blue in the face about how I'm a sinner and going to hell, because I'm "pro-choice." Well, guess what? I wouldn't say I'm "pro-choice" or "pro-life." I would however say I am pro mind your own fucking business and quit thinking your beliefs are the only thing acceptable in the universe.

How about you keep your church out of my fucking vagina and I'll keep my vagina out of your church? Is that a deal that can be made? If so, sign me and about fourteen million other people the fuck up.

Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole. Honestly, it just comes natural. But, I'm having a real hard time with people right now.

I mean, the government decided to regulate my uterus and nicotine consumption within two days of each other and honestly, I feel like I might be treading in dangerous waters. Frankly, I picked the wrong year to stop drinking and taking crazy pills. And yes, I can say crazy pills, because I am not shaming anyone with mental health issues. I call them crazy pills, strictly for myself, because I felt as though they kept me from going crazy for awhile. So before you get pissed off about that, let me go ahead and stop you right there and say once again, you don't like it? I don't fucking care.

On the other side of Roe v. Wade being overturned, I've heard many people discussing gay marriage and how the right to that may be taken or re-evaluated as well. Where do I stand on that?

Well, first off, can we stop calling it gay marriage and call it what it is? 

Marriage. Just marriage. That's legitimately all it is. Just two people married to each other, making decisions, sharing bills, caring for each other, and never knowing where to go out to eat for the rest of their lives. 

I'm going to my little cousins wedding in a few weeks. When she sent me the invitation did she say, "Katiedid, would you like to come to my gay wedding?" Hell no. She simply asked, "Katiedid, would you like to come to my wedding?" That's all she needed to say, because its not a "gay wedding" it is just a fucking wedding. A wedding that she, her fiancé, and every single other person should have the fucking right to have if they so please.

I have a hard time with people having such a problem with this. Like, why in the actual fuck do you even care? I certainly wouldn't invite your opinion into my marriage and I'm fairly certain you're not taking your marital decisions to the polls to ask everyone else what they think. So again, why in the actual fuck do you even care? 

And before you answer that with the same thing I've heard a million times, remember, I don't give any shits where your religious beliefs lie. Again, I'll say it for the people in the back, YOUR RELIGIOUS BELIEFS SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO AFFECT THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU WITHIN THEIR OWN LIVES. 

Furthermore, if you feel so strongly about other peoples relationships or marriages (you know, the ones that quite literally have nothing to do with your life), where are you to help out all the people in abusive situations? Oh wait, let me guess! That's not your business. Why isn't it your business? Because it's not your relationship or marriage? Guess what? No relationship or marriage you're not an active participant in is your business.

You'll turn a blind eye to Steve beating the absolute dogshit out of Brenda, but Lord forbid Brad ask fucking Rick to Prom. I will never understand some people.

You believe what you believe, I'll believe what I believe, and we can still coexist without shoving our opinions down each others throats. We could probably even be friends. Because I actually have friends and we have different opinions about many things. And you know what? We're still friends even though we think about certain things differently. I don't try to get them to believe what I believe, they don't try to get me to believe what they believe. We actually just have adult conversations and continue on with our own lives. Fucking wild, right?

However, I cannot, and absolutely would not want, to be friends with someone who doesn't think every single person deserves their own basic fundamental rights. We can disagree on a whole lot of things and continue throughout our lives, but this is a hard limit for me. You think you have the right to tell someone else how to live their life, because your opinion and structured belief system is the only thing that matters? Seriously? 

Must be exhausting being so fucking entitled all the time.

Speaking of entitled.... guns. Look, I don't even want to get into this shit, because honestly, why would I want to? However, it seems ever prevalent in today's world, so I might as well just say what I'm gonna say since everyone seems to associate gun control with my uterus. 

2022 is fucking wild, dude.

Look, I am very much not anti-gun. I own guns and have been around and used guns my entire life. I was taught from a young age to handle and respect every single weapon as if it's loaded and the safety is off at all times. I've used them to hunt and I am a firm believer in the right to have weapons to protect your home, your family, and yourself. Not only that, but I understand gun collection/use as a hobby. And my stance on "the right to bare arms" holds firm.

However, if you think for one second that I'm perfectly fine with the amount of mass shootings that have occurred and continue to occur, you are sadly fucking mistaken. It is absolutely appalling to me that people have to live in constant fear every time they step in public. It makes me physically ill that everyday I watch people send their children to school and they have to consistently worry that it may be the last time that they see said child.

I was a kid when Columbine happened. I remember the absolute overwhelming fear and anxiety that I felt watching that unfold and then going back into school after it happened. I was absolutely petrified before my nine year old brain could really process exactly what I was so petrified of or even what I was feeling. I had no idea what those feelings were or how to deal with them. And now, that feeling is something that kids don't just have to deal with, but is such a common occurrence, have to actually prepare themselves for.

How fucking sad is that? No, not sad. Devastating. 

I've always been open about not wanting to have children. And while my stance on marriage has significantly changed, my decision on children has not. D and I are simply happy with it being just us and our pups. Don't get me wrong, we love children. We have many nieces, nephews, cousins, and friends with children. We just don't want any of our own.

The morning of Uvalde, TX, I quite literally cried in public. I couldn't fathom how something like this had happened yet again. Honestly, I was relieved to not be a parent. I've never wanted to be a parent, but it was the first time in my life that I was actually thankful I wasn't. Maybe that makes me sound cruel or something, but I honestly don't know how people do it. And I certainly didn't envy my brother, sister in laws, or brother in laws for having to wait for their children to get home that day and send them into school the next.

Do I think something more can be done about gun control and the violent situations arising? Yes. Do I think that taking peoples guns and outlawing a bunch of things is going to stop the problem? Absolutely not. Do I think we can somehow find a solution that works for everyone with some understanding and a little follow through? Yes. Just because something is going to be hard, or no one knows where to start, doesn't mean we shouldn't start somewhere. Something needs to be done. What? I don't have all the answers, I really don't. Maybe this is coming from a place of naivete, but I feel like there is a solution out there. We simply haven't found it yet. Doesn't mean we stop trying. 

The majority of responsible gun owners feel the exact same way I do. Just because you are ok with, like, or appreciate a weapon, does not automatically make you a criminal with some kind of agenda. Nor does it make you strange for having the interest.

With that being said.... Do I want to take anyone's guns? No. As I said, I own guns and have absolutely no problem with someone having them if they are responsible adults that have respect for the weapons around them. But, do I still want a solution to the horrible events happening in our country and justice for the victims? Abso-fucking-lutely. 

And before you say some stupid shit like, "making it harder for people to buy guns legally won't stop people, they'll just buy them on the street!" let me say, I am fully aware of that. I didn't say "punishing" innocent people was going to stop criminals. In fact, I didn't say I had any solutions or answers whatsoever. I simply stated the fact that this current situation needs a resolution of some kind. 

Before I move on from this topic, I feel it needs to be said, if you have somehow sought out to micro-manage my words and came to the conclusion of "she says she's sad about children losing their lives, but she's pro-abortion so what about those babies?" I would just like to say, you're a fucking bag of dicks and the exact problem with society. I don't have to explain my feelings or thought process to you. Just know, your opinion on my opinion means less to me than what your religious stance does. And trust me when I say, that's a whole lot of not giving even half a shit being accomplished.

Did I miss anything? I feel like I've covered all the topics that people are discussing right now.

I'll leave off with social media.

The only reason I felt the need to write anything on this is simply because I'm tired. I'm tired of people constantly asking and trying to justify themselves for thinking and doing horrible shit to other people. I'm tired of accepting people into my life that are more fitting to be a Disney villain. I'm tired of "letting shit roll off my shoulders" because it's uncomfortable or confrontational. It's simple really. I don't accept that kind of behavior from people in my everyday life and I'm not about to accept it on any form of social media. I simply delete and block. Childish? Maybe, but I honestly don't care. 

While watching this shit show implode social media you would not believe some of the nastiness coming from people. I dealt with this for about.... oh, I don't know.... fifteen minutes and came to the realization I don't care about any of those people enough to actually stay "friends" with them.

Seriously. I'm a thirty-two year old woman. Why the fuck would I care what my fourth grade teachers opinion of the way I "turned out" would be? I thought about it and realized I didn't. I didn't care at all. There were no fucks to be given. So.... delete-block. The guy who didn't even speak to me until we were well into our twenties even though we quite literally have known each other almost thirty years? Delete-block. The girl I met through an old friend of mine that was just kind of hanging out on my friends list even though we don't like each other? Delete-block. 

Social media has tricked us into thinking that we need the approval of other people and I simply don't agree. I have cut people out of my physical everyday life that have made me feel a certain way and my feelings towards social media are now no more different. I can't just continually cut people out of my life? Snip.... snip.... snippity snip, motherfuckers.

And you know what? That's fine. People are more than welcome to accept or remove me from their life as well. 

I don't crave approval. Not to mention, that's my entire point for this post.

What I'm saying is, this is my stance on these topics. I'm not asking for your opinion. I'm not demanding you accept mine. That's why this is my opinion. It's for me, myself, and I. Not only am I not asking your approval, but I'm outright telling you I don't care about it. Not that I don't need it, or I think I'm too good for it, or my mind can't possibly ever change about anything, I just honestly don't give a shit.

I am human. I am flawed and I make mistakes. I'm not the same person I've always been and my opinions at times contradict themselves. I'm not saying I'm a great person or that there are things about me that aren't unusual. I'm not even saying I'm right and you're wrong. 

I am simply saying, this is my opinion on it. We don't have to talk about it and the chances of me talking about it again are slim to none. Hence, the writing it out once and for all and letting sleeping dogs lie.

I am not going to fight or argue with you. I am not going to shame or get into some kind of grand debate with you. But, I am also not going to stand idly by and allow you to treat me or the people I care about like shit. Does it have to be confrontational? Am I threatening to fight you over it? No. I'm calmly telling you that's fine, we're adults, we can quite literally go our separate ways and never have to speak to each other again. Isn't that grand?

You spend your time with people you want to be around and make you feel good about yourself and I'll spend my time with the people I love and make me feel comfortable being the person that I truly am.

Because snip.... snip.... snippity snip, motherfuckers.

Today we picked up a bike for my little Gatorbaby.

And I have officially resorted to calling this little baby "mistress." Because damn, nothing can take your man's attention quite like a beautiful piece of machinery.... or COD. 

No worries though. I'm actually pretty fond of the bike and find that watching my husband ride on it develops some pretty ridiculous fantasies in my head. And if you didn't see that coming, you obviously have never seen your man on a bike of some sort, because damn. I don't even care what kind it is, my imagination gets the best of me and then next thing you know, I'm zoning off and he's wondering if I'm having some kind of mental break.

Don't fret, baby. No mental break.... well, in my head there is shit breaking, but in a very good way.

Say hello to the newest member of the Glisson family: Mistress Benalli.

Sounds like some Italian Mafia shit, right? Hot. **hahahahaheeheheheh**

😢 My pitiful little pitty baby had to go to the doctor. 😢

Last Tuesday evening, D and I noticed Sparkles had a giant hematoma on his left ear. He has a history with ear infections/problems and has had to take meds for it on and off since I've had him. I was actually giving him some meds for his ears, but apparently they were not strong enough. I've had pups my whole life and had to deal with many different illnesses/injuries, but I've never dealt with a pup hematoma. Human? Yes. Pup? Nope. I was at a loss.

Cut to that evening and calling our vet to get him in asap. They informed me that they couldn't see him for two-three weeks, but this was something that needed handled asap. Like, the fuck? My baby needs medical attention and you can't see him for that long? I know I sounded like a real pain in the ass, and I really try not to be "that person" but when it comes to my hubby or one of my babies, all bets are off. I'll quite literally sit there with my arm hanging off my shoulder by tendons, but I want the four of them handled as quickly as humanly possible. It's insane, but it's honestly just how I feel on the daily.

I continued to freak out and we decided to take him to an emergency vet. The first one we took him to informed us that there was an 8+ hour wait before someone would even be able to look at him. So.... off to the next emergency vet we go. Two hours later the vet tech informed us that while this was considered an "emergency" it was not considered a "life threatening emergency" so there would be an 8-10+ hour wait, but if someone came in after us that was more "serious" he would get bumped. I know they were just doing their job and everything they could with their current situation, but I was livid. I didn't take it out on them (as I said, there was nothing the vet tech could do about the situation), but I'm fairly certain I had steam coming out of my ears and nose. Probably looked like a psychotic bull of some sort.

I'm not even gonna lie, y'all. By the time we left that vet I was in tears. I honestly just wanted my baby to have some help and the fact that I knew he had to be in pain made it worse. We decided to go home, med him up and try again in the morning (because at that point it was past midnight and there were no other emergency vets open around us).

Wednesday I got up and came to work and proceeded to call and track down any and every vet around us that could possibly help. On my eighth (yes, eighth!) phone call a new vet (well, he's new to us, not a new vet) finally set an appointment for me for that morning at 9:30. I was so relieved that someone was going to help him that I was quite literally in tears.

Honestly, this entire process has had me in tears. Apparently, the older I get the more emotional I get? Fuck.

Once we were in the appointment and went through the rundown of his history and what was going on with him now, it came to the conclusion of he has a double inner ear infection and from shaking his head or something due to that he ruptured the blood vessels in his ear.... hence the hematoma. He was tested for allergies and heartworms (just in case) and they gave me six different meds that he has to take.

I was informed that while his ear would eventually reabsorb on its own (as with most hematomas) that it would take ten-twelve weeks and he would be in excruciating pain the entire time. After that, he would have "cauliflower ear" and it would just add to his excruciatingly long list of ear problems. I couldn't stand the thought of him being in so much pain for that amount of time, so it was decided that he would have surgery to repair the damage.

I dropped him off on Thursday morning for his surgery (and can I just say that having to leave my baby anywhere and the thought of him thinking I may have abandoned him made me break down? seriously, what is with all of these emotions?!) and got to pick him up that afternoon after work. He was completely out of it and the poor thing couldn't even sit up right or at all without help. I had to load him into Doug Judy and unload him and carry him in the house when we got home. 

We set him up on the futon and the poor thing was just so loopy. After carefully carrying him in and out about four times to use the bathroom (he's on steroids, so lots of peeing, but he couldn't get upright or stay stable long enough to go on his own without some assistance), I finally got some food, water, and meds down him and he passed out.

I stayed home with him on Friday and honestly, that was a really good idea. My poor buddy couldn't really do anything without some kind of help until Saturday afternoon. Apparently, he and anesthesia don't gee haw too well. 

He's still in recovery and has to wear a cone when someone's not home with him. Something that he is very unhappy about, might I add. He just can't seem to figure out that he has to hold his head up to hold the cone up and continues to trip and flip over it, or simply just sits down until you come to help him.

His stitches get removed on 7/15 and hopefully he is and will still be feeling a whole lot better. So.... one serious round of meds (spanning a week and a half) and one surgery (for a hematoma) later and our baby is plum wore out. 🥺

But, his brothers (and parents) are very happy to have him back home. (Side note: we've decided to switch to this vet full time, because we really like him and he's super nice and helpful.)