What is it called when you're feeling Bittersweet and Jacked to Jesus?

It's officially here. Today is my last day at my current job. Come 3:30 this afternoon, I will no longer be employed with the company I have put my heart and soul into for going into fourteen years.

And it is... bittersweet. 

I wouldn't know and can't seem to find the correct words to describe what I'm feeling today. Sad for sure... but in a nostalgic kind of way. Yeah, I never planned on leaving and I love my job... but I'm here now and we have to part ways. 

Onwards and upwards and such... right? I don't know... I'm sad and overwhelmed... emotional to say the least. But... I'm also excited and nervous and... well... for lack of a better word... pumped. I'm sad to see this chapter of my life come to a close but I'm excited to see where it will take us.

A few people have asked me how I'm feeling and the closest thing I can come up with is it's like when you're a kid and you have to transfer schools. You're scared and nervous... maybe even a little upset it has to happen. But, then you accept that it does in fact have to happen and the emotions become overwhelming.

That's what it feels like... even though it's much more serious... though it feels equally as serious when you're a kid.

So yeah... feeling somewhere between Stand By Me and Mad Max. 

Honestly, I'm pretty sure I'm feeling the most sad about leaving Dani and losing my routine. I'm not gonna lie, at the end of the day and at the risk of sounding like I have emotions... I love her. She's done so much for me as a person and I'm gonna miss having that reassurance of her at my back. The good, the bad, and the ugly... throughout it all, we've been through it side by side for years. I hope we still have a relationship after I'm gone, but this life and change can't guarantee me anything. So hopeful, but resigned. Furthermore, I know this job, I can do this job, and I'm used to this job. I'm confident and capable when it comes down to it.

But after today and come Monday? I'm starting fresh. New. Somewhere completely different with a new atmosphere and a completely different team. It's a shock to the system to say the least. But... I'm excited. Sure, it's pretty likely I'm gonna have to look like a nerd when I go into the office (I can't wait to play that Clark Kent life- ha!) since it's a completely different environment, but it's a change and a challenge and I feel up to the task.

Do I feel like there's going to be a learning curve? Do I think it's gonna be hard and stressful and overwhelming? YES... to ALL of it. And then some. But... I'm also jittery about it. I've been itching for a life change for a very long time. To the point I can feel that shit under my skin. While this is very much not the way I envisioned making the change... I'm also not mad about it anymore.

It literally is what it is and we are moving forward with it.

At high speeds. Screeching tires. With music blared and the windows down. 

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if I'm gonna succeed or end up living under a bridge. I honestly just don't have answers right now. But, what I do have is an amazing husband and two wonderful furbabies that make life worth stumbling through and that depend on me. I have determination to see this through and find our way to the life we want to live. I have the will to be happy and peaceful and live a beautiful life surrounded by happiness.

I'm thankful for the time with my company. I've grown and learned and gave it my all. But now, it's time to say goodbye, set down my title, and walk away with some dignity and grace. 

So... no... I don't know how I'm feeling. Because I have all the feelings. But, I know that change is here and I'm bracing for impact with Dev, Sparkles, and Steve at my side. 

Because come this afternoon... LIFE IS DIFFERENT.

Life is looking a little crazy right now.

Let me start this by saying... I thought we all agreed that 2025 was going to be a better time. Like... just in general and away from all the tomfuckery that has managed to invade our lives the last... however long it's been. Are we all stuck in some crazy fever dream right now?

I digress. Because if not... well... it's been a long couple of weeks.

Dev and me have been in Florida for over a week now. And while that may sound like vacation fun for most, let me assure you, if this is your idea of a vacation, neither of us EVER want to go on vacation with any of you. NEVER EVER.

A few weeks ago, Dev's daddy had to be rushed to the ER. After a week in the hospital, he was diagnosed with pancreatitis, told he had a pocket of fluid above his pancreas/pushing on the back wall of his stomach, and needed his gallbladder removed. He was sent home to "manage the inflammation" until his doctor returned from vacation. 

Cut to the Friday before last...I get a call at work in the afternoon from Dev telling me his daddy's friend is taking him back to the ER because he's in so much pain. So I immediately call my boss, pack everything I need to work remote, and headed to the house. We loaded up the car and our babies and to Florida we came. It takes us approximately thirteen hours to make it to the part of Florida we need to be. Luckily... this isn't exactly our first f*cking rodeo.

Eleven hours after making it to the ER waiting room, my FIL was finally admitted... and he's been there ever since. I'm not usually one to complain about healthcare. I've worked it... I've lived it... I understand it... I KNOW things can only move so fast and you can only do so much.

But when I tell you this has to be the most frustrating hospital experience of my entire life, I'm not exaggerating. I dealt with a lot of crazy shit when it came to Momma's health... A LOT. But this? Come the f*ck on. He was in the hospital from Friday afternoon (admitted Saturday morning) and they literally did no testing on him until Wednesday. Which is when they did the CT scan... and determined the fluid pocket hadn't gotten better under their "supervision"... it had actually gotten worse... and there were two.

You know what that means? That means his Thursday gallbladder removal was cancelled, and a Friday endoscopy with drainage was scheduled. Should be fine, right? Cool... it happened... they drained, put a stint, had a look around. Cool. Informed us they had to go in and do it again on Monday. Ok... but they don't know if or when they'll be taking his gallbladder. Why? Because they want to see if the inflammation can be managed. You mean the inflammation that had increased by six because this wasn't handled three weeks ago? And then what?

Don't know. We've had three doctors... doctors... not nurses, techs, administrators, case managers, no... DOCTORS tell us THREE different things and while they all start the conversation with "I've conferred with my team of fellow doctors" not a damn one of them seems to have EVER talked with the other two. They're confused, unfocused, and quite frankly, I don't understand how my FIL thinks they're so fantastic when literally the ball has been dropped at every opportunity presented.

He gets a new tray each time there's a meal because they can't agree on which diet he should be on... he was told to tell them as soon as as he feels pressure in his spine because they need to manage his pain for the inflammation... and then proceed to get lost in route to their medcart. And before people get butthurt, YES, I know nursing is a stressful and strenuous job and things happen out of your control. Multiple patients, one of you. I get it and I empathize. You can't drop everything for one person and you're not at their beck and call. I get it. However, when your patient has strict instructions and you leave their room and say "I'll grab that and be right back" and then I have to track you down over two hours later because at this point he's in fetal position pain, that's a f*cking problem. I shouldn't have to find a completely different nurse, ask where she is, get the response "I have no clue where she is" and tell them to find her before I throw a temper tantrum level hissy fit that would make my ancestors raise up and be proud of my level of petty before they assist him and do what the orders say.

COME ON. 

Unless you are working the triage unit of the ER... why the f*ck are you not on your own floor taking care of the patients assigned to you?

I didn't pull this shit out of my hat... they're your rules and guidelines and you're not even f*cking following them? Over two hours later? If your time management skills are that shit, perhaps you should find a new career. This one? Not for you. And I say that holding alot of love for nurses in my heart... this isn't an attack on all nursing. This is calling out one situation that repeated itself more than once and they still can't manage to get a handle on it. 

The entire thing is frustrating because they seem as confused and unsure as the rest of us. Hey guys, it's literally y'alls thing to have a plan. That's the whole reason he came here. For the third time. With pancreatitis. That still hasn't been handled. Because it keeps getting put off. And no one can seem to agree on a f*cking game plan.

Fun fact: this is the third time he's been admitted to this exact hospital for pancreatitis (the first time was March 2020).

Fun times. Hopefully, we'll find out something after the second endoscopy/drainage tomorrow, but with this team of doctors and staff? I'm not holding my f*cking breath. Mostly because I don't trust a damn one of them to know how to get me breathing again once I pass out.

My FIL? Pissed... irritable... angry... all the adjectives that encompass being rude and shit to my husband. And yeah, I understand he's frustrated and at his wit's end and he wants to go home, but f*ck, Dev is literally the ONLY person trying to help and he's getting a f*cking flogging for it. My BIL? Fantastic at being completely unhelpful and self-victimization. So... that's fun. Everybody else? Has an opinion or excuse but no justified reasoning.

And my husband? Bless his sweet, big, amazing heart. He's trying his best and doing all he can. We've been to the hospital everyday to visit, get updates, and cleaned the house inside and out. Cleared land, cut trees, kept the pups on their schedule. And all he wants is to do all he can to help get his dad better... he's not asking for praise or anything else... but not making his life more difficult by fighting, arguing and treating him like shit would be much appreciated. He didn't put anybody in this situation, and he 's doing all he can to help, and somehow he's the bad guy?

Yeah... I'm f*cking over that. My husband has a heart condition and I can't in good conscience let his mental and physical health be determined by shitheads who want to act like children. So... something has to give. Or, I'm going to have to make it give.

Thinking maybe we'll just load up our babies and disappear into the mountains never to be seen or heard from again by any person we've ever come into contact with throughout life.

TBD.

💙My Uncle Wayne was a great man and I will truly miss him.💙💙

My Uncle Wayne was a good man... a fair man. Really... kind of a legend. Seriously, ask anyone that knew him well. He hasn't been in our industry for going on thirty years and we still have people ask about him to this day. That's how amazing and completely memorable he was. He was one of those men that even when you know death comes for everyone eventually, you kind of thought he might avoid it. At least, I kind of did. 

He always seemed so much bigger in life than what I could ever imagine. I've been blessed enough throughout my life that I got to spend time with him... from a child whose uncle made her dreams come true by showing up Christmas Eve with a Barbie dreamhouse... to a preteen who ate fried fish with sunburnt cheeks... to a teenager making his drinks and serving his supper... to an adult when I got to take my husband to his house and just visit and be. There are so many things I want to say and so many feelings I feel... but I don't know how to get them all out at once. Like with most things, I would think this is something I deal with bit by bit. Piece by piece. And manic cleaning and decluttering one step after the other.

I'm going to miss Uncle Wayne. In so many ways. I'm going to miss our random phone calls and how no matter what, he always had some advice and what felt like, my back. I truly hope he's now at peace and the people who were there at the end for their own selfishness, reap what they sow. I hope he can rest easy knowing he's reunited in spirit with Aunt Linda and the girls. And honestly? I hope he's proud of what he left behind. A life well lived and a legacy to rival that of anyone you come across. And maybe, just maybe, a little of me too. Because he was the kind of man you wanted to make proud. And I hope I do.

Harold Wayne Fullen, 79, of Astor Florida passed away on May 20, 2025. He was a loving son, husband, brother and friend. If help was needed, Wayne was there to offer a hand and an encouraging word.

Wayne was born in Clinchco, Virginia on November 29, 1945, to Charlie and Rebecca “Lucile” Fullen. The Fullens then relocated to Indianapolis, Indiana during Wayne’s childhood.

At the young age of 17 in 1962, Wayne joined the United States Marine Corps. He remained on active duty until August of 1965 as an MP whereupon he returned to Indianapolis to his family and friends.

On March 12, 1966, Wayne was married to Linda Lou (Blankenship) Fullen in Indianapolis, Indiana. They remained in Indiana until 2014 when they relocated to Astor, Florida. Wayne and Linda had 2 dogs, Leelee and Tina, who were their 4-legged children. Leelee and Tina were very well-loved. Wayne and Linda remained happily married until Linda’s passing in June of 2019.

Wayne was a member of the Scottish Rite, Northern Masonic Jurisdiction, 32° Freemasons and the Murat Shriners since 1974.

Wayne was a founding member of Superior Carpet Installers, Inc. in 1966 and later became owner and president of the company. Wayne will be remembered by many in the flooring industry for his hard work, grit and determination as well as his savvy business sense. He remained in control of the company until 1996 when he sold the company to the employees by creating an ESOP. Wayne then retired in 1998 after 32 years of owning and operating Superior Carpet Installers, Inc.

Wayne was an avid bass fisherman for many, many years. When relocating to Astor, Florida, Wayne and Linda lived on the St. John’s River where Wayne enjoyed fishing and boating for leisure. He is well known to all for this fishing – catching the fish and also hosting frequent fish fries to share his bounty with family and friends alike.

Wayne is preceded in death by his wife, his parents, brother Mitchell “Mickey” Fullen, brother James Fullen, brother Bobby Fullen, sister Patricia “Patty” Fullen and sister Peggy Austin. He leaves behind brother Russell “Rusty” Fullen, many nieces and nephews as well as many more great nieces and great nephews.

Wayne has requested that no service be held. In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to the Murat Shriners at https://www.muratshriners.com/jacoby.

Oh, how the cookie crumbles and gets set the f*ck on fire.🔥🍪🔥

While I initially thought things were smooth(ish) with my brother... I couldn't have been more wrong.

We talked through everything and Dev and I thought we were good to go... time to make changes and figure things out and move forward. I say this, because while my brother stayed at our house all last week, he acted like everything was fine. Mostly stayed in his room... but came and went as he pleased, joked around about things we were watching on the tv... he showed us a couple of houses he was looking into renting... things were a bit awkward (from the intensity of last weekend), but it felt like we were all on the right track.

Him and his BM were supposed to be at the house around one on Saturday to start packing his things. Dev and I were tootling around the house, business as usual and an hour before he was supposed to be there... I got a call from one of our aunts. Informing me that me, her, and my brother needed to have a sit down talk about some things because he "talked to a lawyer" about steps to stay in my house and he wanted to discuss it. I wasn't mad at my aunt... but I was livid at my f*cking brother. 

Why? Because not only has he shown more effort in the last week to STAY in MY house than he has in the last DECADE to move back in with HER... he also felt the need to pull our aunt in to try and "mommy" the situation because it didn't go his way last time. I should've seen it coming... I really should've... it's what he always did when we were growing up. He didn't get his way with me, so he would go to mom and the three of us would have a "talk" which basically broke down to give Katie a bunch of shit until she breaks and gives in.

I was trying to be as respectful to my aunt as possible (because again, not upset with her), but also get off the phone with her asap because I was feeling real disrespectful to my brother and didn't want her to catch any of that by accident (I word vomit when I'm angry... anxious... excited).

Because when I tell you I couldn't control my emotions and lost my ever-loving shit on my brother, it is not a joke. I called him damn near immediately when I got off the phone with my aunt and when his BM answered instead if him, I got real loud real quick.

We ended up screaming and yelling and arguing over the phone and then in person when he showed up. I'm not proud to say it... nor am I proud of myself for the way I acted... but I threw a straight up, 100% tantrum. There is simply no other way to describe it. While I had validity in the argument and made rational points and did well... it was also about 50% of a tantrum that was otherworldly.

And I was this level of angry because I was just so baffled and overwhelmed. I have done everything I could possibly think of and then some for my brother. For my entire life... not just when we were kids... my entire life. I have watched out for him, been there, and provided. Got him out of shit he shouldn't have been in and into shit he should've. Always made sure he had a place to go, food to eat, and had every basic essential I could. While he was off galivanting and shacking up with who knows how many girls, I was at the house taking care of our mother and providing the home he could always run back to. There has never been one time in my life to where my brother needed something and I wasn't there.

So for him to essentially tell me I've never done anything and I'm the worst sister on the planet for telling him to move... fine. I know better and he's being petty. Whatevs. But then, for him to basically lie and manipulate other people and the situation so he can essentially invoke his squatters rights in my home while he's living there, instead of just being an adult and figuring his life out... yes, I lost my shit.

He tried to backtrack and lie his way out... he tried to guilt and shame me into changing my mind... and then he listed all the reasons I'm the worst. Like bro, you're living here and having your shit sent here strictly based off my kindness and loving nature as a favor.

And quite frankly, I hate saying shit like that. I really do. I don't like doing something for someone, whether they ask or I offer, and then turning around and throwing that shit back up in their face. It's ridiculous and mean and nasty and I f*cking hate it. I don't help people or do for people so I can get something back. All I want in return is a little decency and respect. But no, I was forced to bring myself down to a level of petty that made me completely sick at my stomach. And if I didn't have reason enough, this right here would be it.

I'll say it loud and clear so everyone can hear and no mistakes are made... I do NOT want to be the person I was raised to be... I WANT to be the person I am and feel is my true self. And I can't do that when someone is constantly taking me back through levels of my life I have no desire to repeat. I just can't do it. I don't like it, it's not me, and the fact he took it there feels highly disrespectful to me.

Finally, we talked it through and came to some form of conclusion... I think. Basically, my mind hasn't changed, he's looking for a place to move into, and we're trying to move forward from this clusterf*ck that's been this process. 

I don't know if things are good now. I really don't. I hope they are. I would really like to continue moving on with our lives and hopefully have a loving and peaceful relationship moving forward. That's what I want and we can have that, but only time will tell. I can't make someone be someone they're not and I can't change myself for anyone else because I'm tired of not being me.

So, here we are... wish me luck.

Things look different and never to be the same.

When people ask me about things that have changed over the years, there are times it completely throws me off. You would think people would be asking about my married life, my pups, my job, my mental health, my house, basically any of the things people regularly deal with on the daily.

But nope, my physical appearance is the one people have zeroed in on and byGod they're holding true.

"You're so thin!" Happens when you go from a size sixteen to zero.
"How many tattoos do you even have now?" All of them and then some.
"That's not appropriate to wear out." I don't care, I'm f*cking wearing it.

I don't know when or why people started getting super comfortable with commenting on someone's appearance. It's happened for as long as I can remember, and while I've always tried to be the best person I can, I'm not perfect and I'm sure I'm guilty of it myself when I was younger. It's easy to get sucked in and worry yourself with other's opinions on your body... hair... clothes... appearance in general.

But, here I am as an ever-evolving growing woman and I'm saying it- it's NOT ok.

I expect that shit from a teenager... I don't like it and hope they too grow out of it... but y'all bitches out there in the universe are grown. Just walking around trying to passively aggressively tell someone you don't like how THEY look to YOU. 

F*cking kill yourself, Troy.

I used to really care about other people's opinions. So much so that my cousin likes to tell me I'm a "people pleaser" and she's not entirely wrong. I lived, looked like, worked, and talked a certain way for a very long time because I was worried about the perception of me that people would have. I didn't want whatever someone thought about me to reflect poorly on my mother. Honestly, I didn't want to see the disappointment in her eyes and other peoples opinions concerning that to hurt her in any kind of way. I wanted to be a shield. I mean, if I was good enough, and looked good enough, and if I did everything that was expected of me, surely no one could be negative, right?

I held this mindset for over thirty years.

And you know what I learned? I learned that no matter how hard I tried, or what I did, or how right I tried to make it, it was never enough.

Not good enough. Not sparkly enough. Not determined enough. Not complicit enough. Just never enough of anything.

It was exhausting and confusing and honestly, unnecessary. I was so concerned about what other people thought of me, I never stopped to consider if I liked me. I was never comfortable and I thought that was normal. It was easy to chalk it up to, "this is just me and how I am." 

Except it wasn't me and it wasn't mandatory I be that way. Any certain way really. Like an amazing epiphany (and countless talks with my husband) came all at once and one day I was ok being me. Whatever that meant.

If I thought it, I said it. If I felt it, I made it known. If I was comfortable in it, I wore it.

And if I didn't want to do it or it made me uncomfortable or it was too overwhelming? NOPE. Not for me. Thank you, come again next time.

I'm so happy being whole-heartedly and unapologetically me. That's all I've ever wanted out of life. I've never wanted fancy, or extravagant, or overwhelming. Just... simplistic happiness.

"Look how overgrown your grass is!" I f*cking like nature and don't want to be surrounded by manicures.
"You live like white trash!" Blame it all on my roots... I'm not even sorry.
"Pajamas are NOT appropriate public wear!" Says f*cking who?

Once I became comfortable with the fact not everyone, maybe even no one, was gonna agree with how I looked, acted, talked, approached life... it became easier to just keep going with it. I realized life is short and unpredictable and it was far too much to not live it the way I saw fit. No one was living their lives by my standards so why on earth was I taking opinions on the way I live mine into consideration? It had been that way for so long, why hadn't I questioned it?  In fact, I didn't even realize I was doing it. It was almost like I was conditioned a certain way and one day the f*cking levee just collapsed.

I used to be so good at compartmentalization. If I didn't want to deal with something, or feel something, I simply blocked it out and shoved it deep down in the pit of my stomach where it belonged. Out of sight, out of mind, right? If you ignore it, it will all go away. I had no issue with it. Life would sock me on the chin and I'd take the hit, shake it off, and proceed on. 

After Momma, that shit went right out the window. My mental health was so fragile, it felt like it took everything to keep myself any which way together. Even to this day, I can't control my emotions. My mental health is an ever-revolving door of anxiety and debilitating emotional trauma. Call me weak or dramatic all you want, but I truly cannot get a handle on it. If I feel it, I feel it right then and I feel it until I get it taken care of. There is no easy fix or shortcut. I can no longer compartmentalize and all those things I pushed down and away throughout my entire life? I get to feel and deal with them all. They all bubbled to the surface and now I get to fight the battles of my ten year old self at two in the morning for no f*cking reason. Good times.

"You need to do something about your crazy hair." I stopped using heat and like my lion mane.
"It's not very ladylike to be covered in tattoos." Yeah, well it's also not hard to be hit in the mouth with a brick.
"Do you really think that's a good look for you?" dO You REallY ThiNk thaT'S A gOOd LoOk FOR yoU?

When you break it down in that way, you realize all the little things like people's opinions are just that... their opinions. What they say or do or how they think of me, no more affects my life than my opinion does on theirs.

And even if they're somehow allowing my everyday life to affect them, that's not my issue. I did not agree to live my life by anybody else's set of rules or guidelines. I didn't agree to live for them and not myself. I didn't agree to listen to their rules and ideations and conform to their standards. Terms and Conditions, my ass.

"You always said you would never." Yeah, I talk alot of shit.

I know I'm different than I used to be. I had to be. I feel like my entire life has been a never-ending cycle of fight or flight and it's exhausting. The fact that my own mind can overwhelm me to the point of debilitating nothingness is frightening. So yes, I am different. Because I had to learn how to take the person I was and merge that with the person I became so that I could be whole again.

And here I am.

I look different, feel different, and treat people different.

I'm thirty-four years old... I lost the woman I had been closest to and taken care of at twenty-eight... I got married... I lost my pup of twenty years... my family and my husband's family went through a trial of losing many family members and friends in a short span of time... the world lived through a pandemic... I had all my teeth removed from my head and a plate put in... my husband had two surgeries within a year and has ongoing health issues... my two pups have health issues... I was in a carwreck... my husband and I were attacked by a hobo... did no one think change was inevitable? 

Everything about my life and my health and my appearance has changed. Dramatically, I'll give you that... but still, it's all changed.

I'm not the same me... but I am still Katie. The truest form of her. I say inappropriate things and make sarcastic jokes... I have the awfulest dance moves and a bum hip... my hair is wild and I'm covered in colorful tattoos... I work hard and play harder... and when I love, I love with everything I got.

So yeah... everything looks different because it is. There's no secret or trick. There's no game or conspiracy. Things simply just look different... well... because they are.

Five years.

This day seems to sneak up on me even though I always know it's coming. Honestly, it never fails. I always know when January is looming and know when it's headed towards its end and yet, somehow and someway, it still feels... surprising.

I reflected on where I am in life this past September (Momma's birthday), and I'd say I'm still there. Somewhere between acceptance and moving forward, while still having my moments of crushing guilt, despair, and confusion.

Today feels like every other day and like none of the other days at all. A not so friendly reminder that things are different and life has been altered. A day designed to disrupt my brain chemistry and throw my feelings into turmoil.

But then, I think of all the happy and the good and I try to counteract all the bad juju with the good memories and feelings of love. All the hope and love and life lessons that we're gifted to me throughout my life.

Is it foolproof? No. But does it help? Sometimes.

Because at the end of the day, we're all just human and trying our best. And sometimes all we need is a little grace, even if that grace needs to come from ourselves.

Catch up... not to be confused with ketchup.

Life has been... lately. Things seem to be moving at warp speed and slowly crawling all at once. If I'm being perfectly honest, it feels a little Twilight-zoney around these parts.

But I digress... mostly because I don't know where that potential ramble is headed off to.

Our days are basically filled with work (both me at the shop and D at the house) and spending all the rest of the time together when possible. 

We finally got a call about Dev's oral surgery... they can't fit him in until October 9th. I'm so frustrated with that but also just want it done so he can stop being in constant pain. Poor man literally just has a toothache round the clock and I feel miserable for him because I know he's miserable as hell. We're just waiting on all the calls from the hospital and labs to confirm appointments/etc. Hopefully, things will go streamlined from here... fingers crossed!

Dev took me to my "lady" doctor appointment a couple weeks ago and I go in tomorrow to have my Kyleena changed out (its due in September). Thankfully, my insurance still covers birth control (for now) so while I'm not looking forward to being poked and prodded, I am happy to have this taken care of on the quick and up.

We've been spending quite a bit of time with Mavis and the cutest little Bean on the planet. We've come to the conclusion that we can rock this whole Aunt/Uncle life. Kids might not be our forte (we're not having any of our own) but dog parents/auntie-uncle life? We got this. Along with spending so much time with Mavis comes the fact we all have many more tattoos than what we started with. Dev and I counted the other night and he's on like forty-five/six and I'm on thirteen, I think? We're basically just all walking canvases at this point. I ain't mad at it.

Dev, Greg, Gabby and I went on a nice long bike ride yesterday. We were gone about four hours and had a real nice time. We ended up riding down to Morgan and Dev and I talked about moving out there someday and finding our forever home. That would be hilarious, right? For me to move myself and my husband and our kids (pups but they count!) to the first ever town I remember living in. Talk about full circle.

Other than that, we've essentially just been living life and going about our business. Work for me has been insane and busy as all get out (though I'm not mad at it and prefer to stay steady busy instead of lagging around) and Dev has been doing lots of cleaning and reorganizing the house. 

I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my Tayderbug so damn bad. Honestly, I look for him everywhere and think about him constantly. I just want to hold and cuddle him and love on him after a long day. But I can't and that makes me so incredibly sad. I still go looking for him and listen for him every single day. Dev told me it wasn't a "habit" that I do this, it's just my natural instinct for almost two decades, so it's going to take some time to be ok. Because I am not ok with it. I mean, I'm "ok" but I'm not "ok." Ok? Ok.

At the end of the day though we're just doing what we can... we're dreaming and making plans and loving each other.

“It’s not the length of time we knew someone that makes them so special. It’s what they brought into our lives.” –Sandra Kring

This past week (10/12-10/18), D and I made a trip to Florida to help out with and attend my FIL's (Dennis) Celebration of Life. The week was full of tears, laughs, love, understanding, questioning, and acceptance. 

Dennis was an amazing guy. The kind of man that didn't show up out of the blue too often. He was as firm as he was caring and once he had his mind set there was no turning him back. He stood true to his convictions and never faltered when it came to understanding and loving his family.

I've never met a man in all my life that was as stubborn and accepting as him. I know that makes absolutely no sense, but that's really the only way to describe him. When he had a thought or belief he held true to that but he was also able to see other peoples sides and accept that. Didn't mean he changed his mind or agreed with you at all. In fact, he'd argue with you until he was blue in the face and you were so exasperated you wanted to jump off a bridge. However, he was able to accept that people were going to live their lives how they saw fit and there was nothing he could do except offer advice, knowledge, and love.

And trust me when I tell you the man had more love to offer than any of us knew what to do with. 

I was very fortunate when I married D. I had heard horror stories my entire life about people and their in-laws never getting along. Some of the things people would tell me sounded completely unbelievable.

I knew I would never have issue with my MIL, because I love the woman like a second mother. I've known her since I was fifteen years old and she has always treated me as one of her own. Momma and her were good friends and I feel a peace and calm surrounded by love when I'm around her. No one could ever replace Momma in my mind or heart, but she has a way of showing me motherly love without trying to take the place of. She's honestly just amazing like that. 

However, when we got together I had only met his dad once (briefly when we were teens) and had never met his stepdad. I was nervous... but I didn't need to be. I have a unique relationship with each of his parents. Not unique in a bad way, but actually, quite the opposite. I'm completely comfortable and myself around them all the time. I never feel the need to hide myself or have fear that I'll say the wrong thing. His family has always just accepted who I am as a person and we've rolled with it. 

That was never more true than with Dennis. His big personality sucked you right in and he was your friend before you even knew what hit you. While expecting not to have much of a relationship with either of my FIL's, I found myself pleasantly surprised to realize that they weren't just "in-laws" they were family. My family. 

And my family is devastated over this loss.

It may sound cliché, but this is a loss that not only had we never seen coming, but also completely annihilated us. It rocked everyone of us to our core and we all feel it. No one more so than his wife and children. Because D and his siblings were never "stepchildren" to Dennis. He treated, thought of, and loved them like they were his own. And he did the same with all of us that happened to marry his children. 

My MIL lost her husband, best friend and love of her life and we all lost a father.

This past week was about celebrating his life and starting to heal as a family. People came from all over the country to say their goodbyes or share their memories and to say that our family is humbled by the outpouring of love and support that has been shown to us throughout this time, would be an understatement.

It's been hard and it's going to continue to be hard. Learning that this is your new normal after such a big loss is an overwhelming feeling. But we'll continue to go on together, and I know he'll always be hanging around watching out for us and rolling his eyes at the fact that us "kids" can't seem to keep our shit together.

We miss you, Papi. We love and adore the shit out of you and there's a giant hole in our lives now that you're no longer here. We'll continue to take care of each other and we'll keep a special eye on your honey bunny. Thank you for being the dad we all needed when we didn't even know it.

P.s... I know when we were talking to Trish on the porch this last week the only thing you could do was throw up your hands and holler "YOU KIDS ARE KILLING ME!" But, we tease out of love.

Ich liebe dich Papi. Bis wir uns wieder treffen. Ich kümmere mich um sie. Das verspreche ich.

"I love you, Papi. Until we meet again. I'll take care of them. I promise."

This morning we received a call that we knew was coming, but had been dreading. My MIL called to let us know that my FIL had passed away at one o'clock this morning. 

He was a fantastic man that made me smile whenever he was around or would talk to me. I seriously could not have asked for a more loving and caring person to be my surrogate father and to say he took me in and loved me as his own would have been an understatement.

Because that's just the kind of man he was. He took you in and once he had you in one of those infamous bearhugs, you were a goner. A giant man whose heart was as broad as his shoulders that he felt the need to carry the weight of the world on. It didn't matter what was happening or if something negative was said, he could somehow turn it around and make you feel ok. More than ok... loved.

There are no words to describe what we're all feeling right now. Devastation. Loss. Grief. None of those seem to even touch what this is. Bafflement would be the one I would think would encompass us all the best. Mostly because none of us can quite believe that he's gone. 

Sometimes when something devastating like this happens, it almost feels selfish, because you have all these thoughts you can't seem to stop... and you're wondering if that makes you a bad person or if everyone thinks these things? Things like... How can he not be here to congratulate D and I on our second anniversary? How can he miss Christmas? Whose going to teach me random German phrases and how to cook authentic dishes from his home? Whose going to make sure my MIL is getting enough rest and tell her to calm down and take a load off? Whose going to let the kids climb all over him and laugh until he almost pees his pants? 

It's not that I think it's truly important to know all these things, it's just that I honestly don't know what to do... or think... or say.

How do I look my MIL in the eye and tell her I'm so sorry about her loss when I have my amazing husband standing next to me? How do I comfort not only her, but my husband and SIL and BIL? He was the most dad stepdad that I have ever seen in my life. Didn't matter that all of my MIL's kids were older when they got together. Didn't matter that he had never had kids in his life. Once he realized he loved her, he immediately loved her children as his own as well. And they all love him. You would honestly never know they're a blended family unless someone told you.

And now, it all feels kind of... empty. No more picking him up at the airport on work trips. No more getting random phone calls to help out with trying to surprise his wife with a special present. No more watching him cook while he tells me stories about Germany. It's just all... gone. Like that, in the blink of an eye.

My father-in-law loved not only his wife, sons, daughter, and grandchildren, but also genuinely loved me as a daughter. And quite frankly, that is a gift and feeling that can never be replaced. He can never be replaced.

I remember the first time I met him. He had flown to Indy for a work convention and D and I picked him up in the middle of the night so we could all hang out. It was not only the first time I was meeting him, but also the first time he would see our house, as he hadn't seen D since he moved to Indy. I was sitting there and a giant of a man walked over to the car. I would be lying if I said just from the sheer size of the man and his baritone voice... that I wasn't a bit intimidated. But then, he got in the car and smiled at me and I just knew it was all going to be good. He had that way... a way to make you feel at ease.

From that moment on he was family to me and I was family to him. He even made sure to wrangle as many people as he possibly could to get them here for our wedding. He did whatever he could for his family and nothing made him happier than seeing the people he truly adored be happy and taken care of. 

He was always the first one to ask me how I was doing and how work was going. He was quite essentially the father figure I never had. And while it should feel weird to say that, it feels more strange to not acknowledge it. Because it's the truth.

I can't imagine what it's going to be like moving forward without him at our side. Like with all things in life, and how he would want us to, we'll find a way to keep going, but it doesn't make the situation any less devastating and unfair. Of course, with moments like this it can all seem unfair. Because it is.

I will never understand why a good kind man had to go through something like this, and there are a million bad people out there living their lives like nothing affects them. I know you shouldn't question it, because you'll never truly find the answers you're searching for, but it doesn't make the feeling of defeat stop. Because when you lose someone you love that's exactly how you feel... defeated.

Then again, I've learned over the last three years that it doesn't really matter how much you question something, because that something is what you'll be searching for forever and never find. Therefore, while we all have a million questions, with the most prominent being "why?!" I choose to think of all the good things. It doesn't make it better, but if you're going to be thinking about it either way, you may as well remember the good instead of the terrible.

So, that's what we'll do. We'll remember and love and cherish and try. Because that's what he would've wanted. And I know that, because he made his feelings very clear.

I love you, Dennis. You're the best father-in-law a girl ever could've asked for and you will be missed more than I can ever say. You are so damn loved and I'm going to miss seeing that bright as all holy hell smile. You will never truly be gone, because your spirit and love will live on through all of us. We'll miss you and think of you always, and I truly hope you have found some form of peace. Whatever that may be. 

In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.

Country roads take me home... to the place... I BELLLOONNNGGGG!!!

We had to make a trip to good ole GA last Thursday for D's grandmas funeral. While it was a sad occasion, we decided to try and make the best of it. Sure, it was emotional and devastating for the family, but everyone came together to say their goodbyes and it was nice.

We even got to spend a little time with D's dad (Kerry Dale) and cousin (Travis). 

The funeral was in D's great grandad's hometown in GA, and when I tell you that the church/cemetery we laid Carol Ann to rest in was in BF GA, I am not exaggerating. We drove so far out that even I was like, umm... did we take a wrong turn somewhere? 

Damn, I miss living in the middle of nowhere.

We stayed at Little Ocmulgee and honestly, I so wanted to swipe the vanity mirror from that bathroom. Seriously, that thing was huge and had amazing lighting and if D hung it in our bathroom just right, I could have it for my entire body. He's probably not going for it, because then I'll be obsessed with staring at everything in HD and he'd rather not have to deal with that nonsense. 

*that seems fair to me, but also, I want that damned ole mirror*

On the way home, we decided to trail Travis so the three of us could spend some time together and hit up a few sites. We all agreed that the scenic route through TN was the way to go and I for one was super excited for D to see the places I got to grow up with and in.

It was nice to show my hubby where his wife came up and get to see the wonderment on his face while we were traveling through those mountains. I swear, there is nothing like home to me. Say what you will, but I wouldn't have wanted to be raised any other place and come retirement, God willing and the creeks don't rise, that's where our happy asses are planning retirement.

Because I want to go back to the peacefulness that is the country and spend the rest of my life with the person I love living a calm and utterly devoted to each other kind of life. 

Until then though, we're rolling with our Southside Indy lives and making the most of it. 

We stopped by Fall Creek Falls to do some hiking (that the pups LOVED by the way... even though they almost wiped me and D out on the side of a mountain) and you know we couldn't pass up the scenic overlook. 

There was even a suspension bridge that I crossed solo, because my hubby is petrified of heights and his cousin wasn't having any of it either.

Our trip ended up being about four extra hours, but it was worth it to make all those stops and get to spend that time and do those things with D. With everything happening within his side of the family, things are a little bit on edge and scary, so any time we get the chance to spend some quality time and I get him to relax, even for a little, is more than worth it to me. We even found out his cousin lives about 15-20 minutes from us and I think he'll get to finally have someone around from his side to hang out with. Which I know he is looking forward to (we stopped by his house after we got back to Indy to hang out).

So yeah, it was an extended weekend for horrible circumstances, but we tried to make the best of it. And any day that my hubby smiles is a damn good day to me.

My anxiety and ADHD are coexisting and causing chaos.

Please ignore the amount of crap behind me. That is all the stuff I use for crafting (ie: spray painting anything I can get my grubby little paws on) and yes, a fair amount of trash. Mostly cardboard, because we forgot to pull trash out for one week and somehow that broke down to having six weeks worth of it? I'm not sure, the math doesn't add up to me either.

Instead, focus on the behemoth that I'm holding in my hand.... in other words, our mint plant. Well, one of many. Pretty impressive, right?

NO?!!?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?!!?!

FINE. It was a nice little distraction though, right? The truth is, things have been a little chaotic lately. Not necessarily in my everyday life (except my little Tayder buddy hasn't got as much spring in his step as he used to and I'm worried about him constantly), but with everything going on in D's family right now. We're driving down to GA on Thursday for his Gma's funeral (that's on Friday morning) and that's not even a chip off the salt block. Honestly, I can't even go into the rest of it.

Because it's hard and sad and frustrating and about a million other conflicting emotions.

Instead, I have been doing any and all that I can to distract myself and keep my husband sane. That's the healthy way to deal with things, right? Truth be told, I'm still new to this whole accepting that I'm a human being that has feelings and that's perfectly ok thing. It's been a learning curve and to say that I struggle with my mental health every day would be an understatement.

Things can be going well or bad and the state of my mental health is always up for debate. At least, in my own head it is. And I don't mean I feel "crazy" or "sick" or something. I'm simply saying, I learn more things about myself every single day and it's a constant battle to keep up.

So, sometimes my house or yard looks like the inside of my head feels and you know what I've learned from that? It's ok. It really is. If I feel better painting my hubby's bike with him then I do folding six loads of laundry, then guess what's happening?

And if we're all just getting down to the real nitty gritty here? Whatever we do or how we live or choose to spend our time is our own fucking business. No one else's. So yeah, there's a million things happening and it feels like it's all piling up, but that's why we have each other. We'll find a way.... together.

But seriously, THAT MINT PLANT THOUGH.

😢 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.)

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.

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.

Christmas is over and somehow still feels like the week leading up to it?

Can we all just agree that the week between Christmas and New Years is a giant clusterf*ck? Like, everything is confusing and no one truly knows what day it is. Sometimes it's almost as if we forget what year it is as well. I know I'm guilty of it.

But, since we're already in it and there's no going back, I reckon we might as well keep trucking forward. Besides, it could be a really good week? We never know. I mean, if we went by the track record of the last three-four years that seems to be holding true then we would definitely have something to worry about. Alas, we've decided to stay as positive as possible.

And when I say we, I mean me. Because my anxiety has been debilitating lately and it's becoming such an issue that I'm beginning to have panic and/or anxiety attacks out of the blue. Completely unprovoked and unwarranted, I just can't seem to ease my mind and get it to turn off. D is, as always, my little rock that insists on helping any way that he can (including but not limited to acting as my own personal weighted blanket when the situation calls for it). Did I mention my husband is amazing?

Christmas was lowkey, but still pleasant. D's dad decided on 12/23 that he was coming up to spend Christmas with him and next thing you know he's showing up at our house on Christmas Eve. He had great timing too, because I had quite literally just gotten through with cleaning our house. We had a fun time and he left yesterday about 1:00pm. I was extremely sad that I didn't have Momma to spend Christmas with me, but I was happy that D got to spend it with his dad and talk to the rest of his family. My brother came back on Christmas and brought our nephew, but there was no festivities or anything like that.

So, we just all relaxed and watched a couple movies. We also talked/caught up and spent a good deal of time just hanging out, but it was nice. And that pulled pork that D made in our smoker? **drooling** Our pups really seemed to enjoy the company over the holiday, but were still a little put off by it. They're not used to other people or animals (D's dad brought his two dogs) in our house, so it took a little getting used to.

Well, for everyone except my little Tayderbug. He's a trooper that just goes with the flow. We've also started to put him in the bathroom with his bed/blanket/water with the baby gate up so that he can relax and nap and the big pups can't pounce on him. They don't mean to hurt him, but I don't think they realize how fragile he is with his age and everything. So, he takes his little naps and the big pups can still see him and check on him so it seems to be working out nice. He really seems to enjoy it.

What else? Oh, nothing really. Let's just get these next four days over with so that we can have another three days off with our babies at the house. Ready? And go.

It's already December 22nd and I left my mind somewhere in 2017.

Y'all, if my head wasn't attached, I'm pretty sure I would have misplaced or lost it by now (I got all the way to work this morning and realized I forgot my phone so I had to drive all the way back home just to pick it up and turn right around and come back). Between moving our company, the holidays rapidly approaching and everything in between, it's been a tiny bit.... stressful. Yeah, that's the word we'll go with. Stressful. Demanding. Trying. Nerve-racking. The list is eternal.

We accomplished moving our entire company this past Saturday and while we have the majority of it set up and can function like a legitimate business, there are still a million things to do and unpack. However, I now have more space in my office than I'll ever know what to do with and I LOVE it. I have issues with people being in my personal space, so the fact that I'm completely alone and people have to stand on one side with a counter in between us is my absolute dream. I don't much care for feeling like my back is open, but once we switched my desk around and I'm facing the other way with my back to the wall, it's much better. And I can roll my chair effortlessly across the floor. Score.

I lost a dear friend of mine this past Friday. In fact, he's the friend that I share the inside joke about the title of my blog with. I won't say much more about the subject, but I want everyone to know that I love this guy and he will forever be my little buddy and partner in crime. He may have only been two years younger than me, but he was the greatest little brother that I never had. I'll miss him terribly and can't even begin to imagine a world where he's not out there somewhere making inappropriate comments and sharing his hilariously honest opinions. I love you, JB.

As most people know (because I keep repeating it like it'll remind me and make treats magically appear), D and I decided to make our family/friends jerky and sweet treats for Christmas this year. His family always requests jerky and Momma and I used to have the tradition of making cookies/candies (aka "treats") every year, so we thought it might be nice. I haven't done anything like that since I lost Momma, but it really is one of my very favorite memories with her, so I have decided to keep it alive even if it is only for me. I'm all done with my portion of the presents (even though my BS balls didn't turn out right at all.... I'm going to try again another day!) and D is making his final batch of jerky tonight. When I go home today I'll get the people I work with (ie: Dani) together and then tomorrow I have to overnight D's family's packages out. Wish us luck.

What else happened this week? Oh, my brother almost cut his thumb off and between his two hands had to get twelve stitches. I told him to quit playing with those knives.... he didn't listen. My pups are still the most adorable thing on the planet and my entire world still revolves around my boys (husband + pups).

Oh! D and I figured out how much weight we've lost in the last year. While we weren't trying to lose weight, the fact that I most definitely needed to was ever prevalent. But, like the amazing husband he is, D doesn't care what size I am as long as I'm happy. He loves me regardless. I hadn't really put much thought into my weight loss, but people have been mentioning it to me a lot more and I found myself curious. When we got married I was 198 pounds (and yeah, at five foot that's ridiculous and I looked like a little pregnant mini-fridge. I attribute our wedding pictures to me looking like a walrus.) and now I am 152 pounds. For those of you that don't want to do the math, that's a 46 pound weight loss in a year. I don't know if that's good or not, but I feel better and I'm impressed with myself, so I'm taking it as a win.

Other than that, life has been regular and good, but also stressful and hectic. It's a balance that gets off tilter at times, but we manage and at the end of the day I get to curl up in my giant bed surrounded by my boys. So, life might be stressful, and at times incredibly sad, but it's also amazing and I'm so glad I get to do it with my soulmate.

Today, a good man was laid to rest and we will truly miss him.

Mark was an amazing guy. He was always funny and brutally honest. I don't know if the man ever met a stranger, because within the first three minutes of meeting him I was convinced that even I had known him longer. 

D met him through work and they became fast friends. Always hanging out and playing COD Mobile at every available opportunity. It was nice to go over to their house and just talk to him and Amy whenever the occasion presented itself. They truly are amazing people.

Even when he got ill, he still tried to use that to help other people. He truly cared what happened to the people and world around him. I know I've said it before, but it bares repeating, he was just a damn good man and will be truly missed. The world is less of a bright place without him in it.

Our hearts, love, condolences, and prayers are with his family. While I know that isn't necessarily a comforting thing during a time like this, I also know that sometimes its just nice to know that someone has your back. And I know you're not lacking in support, but Amy, if you need us, we're only a phone call away.

We loved him. We love you. And we're here.

"The comfort of having a friend may be taken away, but not that at having had one." -Seneca

Happy 57th Birthday to my forever angel in this life and the next.

Today would have been my beautiful Momma's 57th birthday. I never thought I'd see the day where I would be celebrating anything without her, let alone her special day. Sure, I knew that eventually something would happen and I'd probably lose her before I was ready (because I don't think anyone can ever prepare themselves for something like that), but I had no clue just how little time we had together. Twenty-eight years just wasn't long enough.

But, like every other day in my life, I try to move forward and push through, because I know that's really what she would have wanted. She would want me to be happy and remember all of the good things, not the bad. And sure, I still have those days where I doubt everything and can't seem to get out of my own head. I think about how things could have been different and wonder what life would look like right now if she were still here.

Unfortunately, no matter how much I truly wish it could happen, I know that I can't bring her back to me. And trust me, during the early days of it all, I tried to reason and bargain and essentially do any and every thing that I possibly could to make the pain go away. I always thought the "stages of grief" were something that people had made up to help themselves feel better, but I found them to be very true. Like she always said though, there are some things that you just can't change, no matter how much you want to.

Therefore, I try to live my life everyday to just be happy. Or, find happiness in every day. Sometimes it's an all encompassing thing and other days it's something small that I can't help but to smile at. And I know I have her to thank for that. I have a lot to thank her for, but could never come close to the amount of love and comfort that she always brought to my life. 

So today, and all of my other days, are for her. I go on about my life and try to live it the way that makes me the happiest, for her. Because my Momma was many things, and one of those things was a devoted mother that wanted nothing, but the best for her children. I truly believe that some people were born to be parents and others should probably calm down and not go down that path. But, there is no person on the planet that was more born to be a mother than mine. 

Maybe I'm biased. Maybe not. (I definitely am). But, to me, there is no mother out there that will ever compare or come close to mine. Even today, she is my rock and part of my soul. Whether she's walking next to me physically or I'm just carrying her in my heart. The fact of the matter is, she's always with me and I wouldn't be the person I am today without her.

Whether that's a good thing or not, I wouldn't know. But, I try to be a good person and someone that she could be proud of. And that's all I ever wanted was to make her proud. And she always told me how much she was, and that's good enough for me. Always has been, always will be. 

I miss her more than she will ever know, but while the pain is still in my heart, I'm trying. I love you. Damn, do I love and miss you. You're as much my angel today as you were yesterday and all of the days leading up to that. You're a bee charmer, that's what you are.... a regular ole bee charmer.

I love you, Momma. Happy Birthday.

Two years.

It's been two years since I lost Momma. Two years since the day I went home on my lunchbreak, walked into my house, and had my life forever altered. I'd be lying if I said that it hasn't been rough.

While there have been happy moments and I've been trying my hardest to get up and go, I often find myself in a state of contemplation. I zone out more often than I care to admit and the fact that certain moments or memories replay in my head is a given. It's like a constant loop in my brain that's forever ongoing.

Frankly, I tend to drive myself a little crazy replaying everything over and over again in my head, wondering what I could have done differently and thinking of all the things in the past that could have changed the outcome.

Sure, I know this is ridiculous, because lord knows you can't change the past, but that fact doesn't stop the wheels from turning and weighing me down. It's involuntary at this point and if I knew how to shut off my brain and stop the wheels in their tracks, I most definitely would.

I try to be happy and content and live my life exactly however I want, but that doesn't stop days like today from encroaching on me and demanding my grief, attention, a piece of my heart and soul.... and mentality.

But, like everyday in my life, I have to figure out how to move forward and pull myself through, because if I simply gave up, I would be a husk of my former self. And if there's one thing that my Momma didn't raise, it was a quitter.

Happy 56th Birthday, Momma. ❤️