Three years.

It's been three years since I lost Momma. Three years since I walked into our house and my life was forever altered. It seems like it was a lifetime ago, but the feeling of losing her is still so fresh. How does that work anyways?

Feeling like something happened years ago and yet it still hurts as if it's the first day? I'm not sure if it will ever stop hurting, but I would assume not. I mean, it still hurts after three years and I don't see this feeling going anywhere anytime soon. Are we just not supposed to ever know how it works? 

I guess not. I think that's how grief is. You can't describe it, no matter how hard you try, and even when you're surrounded by people that love and support you, it still feels like they don't understand. I suppose that's how it works for most people. If not, maybe I'm just strange, but I have a hard time believing that no one else feels like this. 

Here, but not. Happy, but sad. Complete, but empty. No matter how fulfilled you are, there always seems to be a little piece nagging in the back of your head. Asking if you really deserve to be happy like this or if everything is going to come to a screeching halt and you're honestly just waiting for the next horrible thing to happen.

Paranoia. Anger. Pain. Confusion. And overwhelming sadness. 

It's all there and I feel it every single day. Sure, there are worse days than others and while I don't believe that it has gotten easier, I do believe that I have found a better way of dealing with it. I can go about my everyday life and I'm happy. I'm fulfilled with D and our pups. The life we've built and live together. But, I still miss Momma every single day and think about her so very often. Wondering if she would be proud or happy and how different life would look right now.

However, I refuse to be defined by my grief. I feel it and live it every damn day, but I will not be consumed by it. I've been devoured by it and had to scratch and crawl and fight my way out of the deepest, darkest, scariest pit of my life.

I'm not good. I'm not great. I'm not better and I'm definitely not the same person I was. I'm flawed and sad and have days where the thought of getting out of bed is physically, emotionally, and psychologically draining. I wish I could say that those days are rare, but not as rare as I would hope. Nevertheless, I still drag myself out of bed and even when I'm not having the best day, I still try. I try and try and I simply don't give up.

Maybe it's the wrong way to go about it. Then again, I don't think there is a right way. I'm human. And I've accepted that. Once I accepted that, things became a little easier to deal with. I understand now that it's ok to not be ok. And if I have a day where I simply can't make myself do something, I don't. There are days that my house doesn't get cleaned, laundry doesn't get done, dinner gets ordered instead of cooked, and once I get home from work I curl into a little ball and surround myself with my pups and husband. 

I used to feel guilty about that. I felt so much guilt that it consumed me and I felt it in every single area of my life whether it should have been there or not. Should I feel guilty for not cleaning my house for a day or two? Should I feel guilty about not keeping up on laundry or my house not looking like someone else thinks it should? Once I figured out that the answer to that was no, life became easier. I honestly just don't care anymore if someone else doesn't like it. They can simply stay away. And yeah, maybe that's harsh, but you know what? Life is hard and if we surround ourselves with support and love instead of negativity and judgment, it makes it a much better life to live.

That's where I am three years after losing Momma. Not good or "fixed" but very flawed and beautiful. And I don't mean physically beautiful. I mean trying to live a life that makes me happy and that she would be proud of. Everything out in the open. The good, the bad, and the devastating. Surviving on nicotine, caffeine, and spite. Trying to be a good person and be brave enough to accept that some things are out of my control, but still willing to put myself out there and be free and content.

Because my Momma might have raised a whole lot of things, but she certainly didn't raise a coward.

My pitiful little pitty baby is four today and he's just so handsome!!

I've never understood people who think that pitbulls are mean for absolutely no reason. They're not. A puppy is like every other being in life. It grows to become what the world around it and it's experiences have shaped it to be. Just like with people, we have to accept the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

This point could never be more proven than with our little Sparkles. The day I met him I just knew that he was a member of our family. He was Momma's pup in every sense of the word. But, we've always had a special bond. After she passed I would be lying if I said we didn't somehow become even closer.

Spart's my baby. Tayder's my baby. Xur's my baby. That's just how it is.

And today? Today our youngest baby turned four. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go have a good cry and be real dramatic about the fact that my babies are all growing up and I'm essentially getting old as dirt and they won't need me anymore. You know, real substantial mom stuff. I love you, buddy!!

The illness that is 2022. And yes, I'm talking about the whole year already. *dumpster fire*

Y'all, I try not to complain too much. Sure, I joke around about little inconvenient things here and there, but it's usually all in good fun and humor. However, to say that this year has already got me trying to cower in the corner and stay hidden somewhere would be an understatement. 

It's literally been whooping my ass. And we're only twenty-six days in.

Ouch.

The first thing to happen in 2022 was the fact I had to replace Ricardo. Don't get me wrong, I love Doug Judy. I do. And sure, it was probably time for me to update in the vehicle department, but damn! It would've been nice to be able to come to that decision with my husband instead of being forced into it.

Then, I lost a tooth. And not just a random back tooth. NO. My second front tooth on my left side? Gone. Nadda. Zilch. D and I were talking one night and then all of the sudden my tooth broke and I spit it out. I shit you not. The next day I had to go into the dentist and have him pull the remaining tooth so that it wouldn't break more. Did I get a partial yet? Nope. Apparently, the other five times that I've had my six front teeth fixed means absolutely nothing and they all need replaced. So for now, I'm rocking not having a front tooth. And yeah, I look like a Hilljack as much as I sound like one now.

Finally, (and I say finally, because please let this be the last thing bad to happen, I'm begging you!!) I have been so f*cking sick for the last few days that I honestly just wanted somebody to throw me in the trash. I'm a suffer in silence type of gal. When I'm sick I want to be left alone, take long showers, and talk to no one. This time though? Damn. D asked me on Monday night if he needed to take me to the ER and it was honestly the first time in my life where I almost said yes. It was horrible. Still don't know if it was food poisoning or Covid, but I'm being tested tomorrow and honestly, I don't care which it was as long as I don't get my hubby or pups (or anyone else!) sick too.

Also, it's zero degrees outside with a wind-chill of -20. You know your girl likes cold weather, hell sometimes downright frigid, but damn. I don't like having to see all my babies freeze every time they need to go outside. (D included).

So yeah, that's where I'm at twenty-six days into the new year. Just trying to get by and not make waves. I'm somewhere between paranoid and a nuclear mental break. Honestly? I just feel exhausted and want to curl up in the bed with my pups and hubs and stay there. And yeah, I've been doing that, because I'm sick, but I still don't feel 100% so I could still go for it.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

A shout out to my hubby on his birthday. Aging like fine wine and shit.

Happy Birthday baby, thank you for always being you and loving me. I love you.

Hey husband, I just wanted to give a quick thanks. To who? To you, silly.

Thank you for cuddling me whenever I'm freezing. Letting me lay my head on your shoulder to sleep when I finally give in. Always having my back no matter the circumstance and without question. Knowing exactly when I need to smile and making sure you do whatever it is you have to do to accomplish that. Never admitting how horrible my hair is when we first wake up in the mornings and disputing me when I say I'm chubby. 

Forever driving on our road trips to Florida.... even though we always say I'm going to.... but I don't.

Being protective, but never trying to take my independence. Believing in fairytales even when I don't and convincing me that they're still real. Succumbing to my fake cry face and giving tickle kisses on my neck. All the things that make you the man that makes me smile with every thought and laugh with every memory. 

Thank you for being you, loving me, and living this life together. I love you more than you'll ever know. #Cauliflower

Our middle child turned five and I just want to feed him cupcakes!

Our little boy, Xur, is about the cutest big ball of anxiety that you could ever come across. He thinks he's the size of little Tayder (he and Spart both do!), but all he wants is all the cuddles and love that the world has to offer. He's giant, but you would think he was a kitten with his gentle nature. 

I'm blessed to be able to call myself his momma and I wouldn't trade my little brown ball of fur for nothing. I mean, he is the epitome of a momma's boy and I love it! Happy Birthday, baby boy. And don't listen to what dad says, you can totally have all your birthday treats! I love you.

I love the fact that freezing weather still blows my hubby’s mind. 😂🥶❤️

My husband was born and bred in Florida. The man is a redneck if I've ever seen one (and that's saying something, because I come from a long line and life of hillbillies) and I swear we're like kindred spirits. You know, me being from the regular holler, him being from the swamp holler. 

It works. No one ever thought he would leave the state, but then he drove 1,000 miles to be with me and never looked back (his words, not mine). Even though that was over three years ago (what?!), the fact that he has not acclimated to the frigid weather up this way is still prevalent.

But, like the champ he is, he takes it all in stride and bundles up before going outside. And let's be honest, with it being as cold as it has been, layers are a gals (and guys) best friend! Says the woman wearing two pairs of socks today.... moving on. 

PB&J ride again! (And yes, I name all of my cars and they're all dudes).

I was sad to see Ricardo go, but it was time. Say hello to the newest (and shiniest) member of the Glisson family. His name is Doug Judy and he makes me feel like I'm driving a beast. I'm fairly comfortable driving him (it'll get better with time!) and he's big enough to be our family/roadtrip car AND my everyday vehicle. We're excited and can't wait to get this baby on the road!

I'm starting off the new year on an anxiety high.

And it's just about as much fun as it sounds. Let's see, what has happened so far to send me into an anxiety-induced twitch? 

Accidentally wore my house shoes to work this morning. Forgot to put my glasses on until I was halfway down the road and couldn't figure out why everything looked so blurry (also, my eyesight is getting worse!). Have a low tire on D's car. AND I know about his tire, because I'm currently driving his car for now, because I have to replace Ricardo.

NNNNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Also, I've decided to talk to my brother about our living arrangement (there needs to be some changes and things clarified) and to say that I know he's going to have a defensive and hostile reaction would be an understatement. I already know it's going to be an argument and I don't have the mental capacity to deal with it, but guess what? I'm going to deal with it anyways. Because it needs to be done.

Back to Ricardo. 

My poor little guy is having transmission and front end issues and he needs new tires and brakes. I can't even begin to describe how sad I am about having to replace Ricardo. He's my buddy and the first ever car I bought that was all mine. In fact, he's my first ever "big purchase" that was just all mine. I know it's silly, because it's just a car, but he's the first car that I drove after my extended period of non-driving. He was perfect, because he made me comfortable. And now, it feels like such a loss and sad day to see him go. I should be excited about getting a new car, but really, I'm depressed to see my current one go.

Oh, and our neighbor across the street decided to beat on our door hollering for me to call 911, because he was drunk sick.... TWICE. Let me explain. So, homie beats on my door when I'm home alone and as soon as I open it to ask what he needs, he walks into our living room and proceeds to lose his pants around his ankles. Too intoxicated to realize he's no longer wearing pants he keeps saying that he's sick and he needs an ambulance. I call 911 and they send out medics. I explain everything I know to the medics (which is basically that he drunk stumbled into my home and asked me to call 911, because he was sick) and they load up and head off. Not ten minutes later they're pulling back around and dropping dude off, because apparently he changed his mind? All over the fact they wouldn't take him to the hospital that he wanted and I'm all bro, it's not Uber, but whatever. Cut to an hour and a half later and he's beating on my door AGAIN (thankfully, D was home by this time) hollering for me to call the ambulance AGAIN. So, I had to call the medics ONCE MORE and explain to TWO separate people what was happening and they had to come out ONE MORE TIME. Now don't get me wrong, I have absolutely no problem helping people out and doing what I can if they need it, BUT COME ON.  

So yeah, that's where I'm at on this third day of the new year. Wearing slippers, looking for a new car (which is hard considering I'm blind as hell), drowning in sibling turmoil, trying to avoid my neighbors and essentially just wanting and desperately needing a compound in the middle of the woods in the country where no one can get to me unless I want them to.