The Aftermath

Today was a complete blessed waste of a day! I guess with the stresses of work, the holidays and plain old lack of sleep...today my body claimed its stake in sleep.  I woke up at 12 noon, staggered downstairs to find some form of nourishment, fed the animals and proceeded to sit on the couch. Sitting gave way to slouching and slouching gave way to laying and i was asleep before the end of iCarly episode that was on the TV.  My little Mango curled up on my hip and slept with me on the couch.

 My little Mango.  I haven't had a cat in years and now I remember the joy of living with a cat.  Ariel's cat, Oliver, will pretty much let her do anything to him and with him.God bless his little heart! LOL!  My Mango, on the other hand, is headstrong and independant and is my cat. He does what he wants and when he wants. He plainly doesn't like Ariel. When she is awake, Mango is not to be found or inaccessible.  He finds protection and security within my folds and body. He is my comfort. It makes me happy when he snuggles and sleeps in the bed with me at my head. I love to hear him purr.  Purring is a cat's happy sound.  Making people, or my pets, happy makes me happy.  I don't know why I haven't had a cat earlier than today, but I have no regrets.  Now I have the time, patience and attention span for a cat.  My cat's name is Mango Madness.

I never realized, until last night, how my mom and my childhood have shaped some of my behaviors and lifestyle.  The whole point of journaling or blogging is to have a sense of release. (for me at least. some people may have other views) In some aspects of my life I still feel "bottled up". At times, I want to sit down and just talk and cry, just because.  Maybe this will be the beginning of my book? Maybe this will be the start of me telling my story.  You can't make this shit up.  My childhood was a thriller novel.  It was the mold by which I was made.  There is no other mold in existance. Just me. What I endured, no other child should go through. I thnak god for my daughter every day. My miracle baby. With her, i will make all the wrongs that were done to me right.  She may be spoiled rotten, but I would rather her be spoiled than to live one day in my little shoes.

My mom said I would have a baby by anyone just to have someone love me.  Just because she gave birth to me, doesn't mean I have to love her. I don't have to like her. She never liked me. She never loved me.  I should have never been born.  She told me so. "There are parts of me that hate you." Those words will resinate in my heart and in my mind for the rest of my life. I would rather be called every cuss word and all kinds and breeds of bitches and cunts than to hear those words out load again.  It has been eight years since we had that "heart to heart" in the car over ice cream and it still stings. I don't know if that wound will ever heal? All I know is what my very own mother taught me, ironically. Hate is a very strong word. We may not like something but we do not hate.  For my mother to use that very word "hate", the very word I was taught never to use because of its power, used that word to describe me. I think that's what hurts the most.

I may not have any followers today. I may not have followers tomorrow but I believe this blog will help me.  Help me to let it all out.  Release me.  Help me heal. Its more of a commitment to myself to heal. Maybe it will help someone along the way. I hope it does. Even if our stories are completely different, maybe someone else will find the courage to let it all hang out. Air the dirty laundry. Clean out the skeletons in the closet. Start anew. This is my hope and my wish. Good night.