There’s a certain type of peace that I get when I visit Tony’s blog. I know this is going to sound a bit “stalker-ish” but I love his life. When I see his beautiful wife, children and places they’ve been, I imagine everything is right in the world. He and his family have a beautiful exciting happy life. It’s so sweet to watch Tony’s life in his blog and his images of the ocean, farm, his children and his wife and especially after I’ve just watched the news and how something has went horribly wrong in the world. Tony’s blog gives me hope and let’s me see the good in life. Please stop by and check it out, he is one of the nicest guys to talk to. He has great music lists as well!
My aunt is in her early fifties so she’s few years older than me. She’s one of my closest and best friends. She used to babysit me and likes to tell me stories about when I was a toddler and how I would blow snot bubbles out of my nose. She used to have to barricade herself from me with a baby gate to keep me away from her barbies. For some odd reason I liked ripping the heads off with my teeth. I guess I was a psychotic blonde blue eyed little cherub? Don’t single me out though…..come on, most toddlers are weird. When I see them they remind me of drunk people. They’re always stumbling around as if they don’t know where they live or where they’re going. They put their fingers up their nose and look dazed, confused and let’s face it, you can’t understand a word they’re saying can you? They’re slurred and drooling, are they not?
We went to visit my Aunt and Uncle a couple of weeks ago for a weekend trip. It consisted of drinking, swearing, listening to music, eating, shopping, repeat. We always have a blast with them.
She texts me yesterday….
“What does Cake By The Ocean mean? I like this song.”
Keep in mind my personality is a mix of Amy Schumer and Tina Fey. My Aunt believes anything I tell her. She’s such an easy target for me.
Me: “Anal sex on the beach with a broom handle. Cut that shit off. You’re listening to porn music!”
Aunt: “LOL, I thought it meant sex! Geez, I like that song. Guess I’ll have to find another song to run through my head!”
Me: “Just kidding, it’s sex on the beach.”
Aunt: “LOL! You had me fooled! I need to be more street/music savvy. You’ll understand when you’re in your 50’s.”
Me: “50’s ain’t shit! You still got it going on. You drink, listen to rap, hip hop, swear, have weed in your fridge and go to Sunday School…you’re the coolest people I know. I hope I’m like you when I’m 50!”
Aunt: “I told you about the weed?”
Me: “Yep, your drunk ass offered us some. Everything else you told me is a secret. My lips are sealed.”
Ha! God I love her so much. She didn’t tell me any deep dark secrets while she was drunk thank goodness but she could if she wanted to. I would take it to the grave with me. Of course, there’s always the exception here with posting it if it’s funny. But, that’s OK, I don’t use my real name or her name at all so it’s still safe. I adore her. She’s the one person in my family that I can be myself with and she loves me unconditionally. She would follow my blog if I told her about it. One day I might. Moments with her I cherish. She’s more like a big sister than an Aunt. I really wish we lived closer. I miss her.
Anyway, hoping all of you have an Aunt like mine that is accepting, non-judgemental, that you can confide in and be loved unconditionally.
If you’ve not listened to Cake By The Ocean by DNCE check it out below and why haven’t you heard it? They play the hell out of it on the radio? 🙂
Happy Friday Loves!
How many of you are the complete opposite to some of your immediate family members? There are differences, maybe of opinions, values, or just downright don’t like them possibly? But, we’re family. We’re there for each other no matter if we like them or not. Sure, you can be estranged from them but most of us ride or die for our family. It’s our nature. We run as a pack. We all have some dysfunctional members though don’t we? There’s just something a bit off?
I have a few in my inner circle….
A cousin, we’ll call her the Crazy K. She shows up at family functions smiling, sweet, and caring. She brings a casserole and flowers and even quotes bible scriptures. But, she’s a con-artist. She’ll slip into your purse while you’re having a conversation and take your cash. She’s taken credit cards and she’s been caught on camera before at a Target with one of my other cousins card. She’ll also raid the medicine cabinet of any prescription pills you might have. We’ve all contributed to her rehab and getting help financially too. We know her well enough now to put aspirin in the pill bottles that she takes from us. It’s a set up. We love her unconditionally and if she calls and needs rehab, we’ll all help her out. She’s family.
My beautiful, sweet and loving Mom. She’s my best friend. She’s my absolute everything. She was in labor with me over 20 hours and wiped my snotty nose, changed my diaper, let me move home anytime I needed to after a bad break up. Here’s the kicker though. She doesn’t truly know me. She’s extremely religious and conservative. I talk to her once a week on Sunday evenings on the phone. Well, basically she talks to me. I don’t get a word in. She does all of the talking. It’s usually a 2 hour conversation. She condemns people that cuss, drink, etc. Sinners are the devil. Although she’s not perfect either, she judges. If she knew I said fuck as much as I do she would think the devil had taken over my body. To her, I’m still the sweet white haired, blue eyed little girl that plays with dolls. She would be highly disappointed in me and completely embarrassed if she ever read my blog. Thus, why I am here on WP under an alias. I cannot take the chance of her finding me. She’s quite savvy on FB, Twitter, any social media. So, I’m in the WP protection plan here. Ha. She’s family.
My Dad, you’ve possibly read a post or two about my “Daddy Issues”….Well, he wasn’t around a lot growing up. When he was around he worked a lot and could be a mean mother fucker. He was a hunter and would shoot anything. From deer, wild hog, dogs, cats, anything just for the fun of it. He cut myself and my brother down to size many times because we weren’t as mean or as tough as he was. We didn’t live up to his standards because we didn’t like country music, camping or hunting. Two days later he’d tell you how much he loved you and offer you a hug. I swear I think he was or is bipolar. Too bad he doesn’t realize it or didn’t when we were kids so we could’ve had a better childhood. He calls every three months and will talk about his latest kill, about how much money he’s made, what he’s cooking for dinner, how much sex he’s having, etc. It’s all about him. Or he’s watched the Hallmark channel and something reminded him of me and starts crying telling me how much he loves me. I listen and tell him I love him too. I try to be the good daughter and just be there for him. He’s family.
My parents are divorced. They’re like night and day in comparison to each other. Mom being sweet, religious and conservative and Dad telling me about his sex life and cussing quite a bit. The difference in my parents is that I listen to them when they don’t listen to me. They don’t know me. You see, I’ve found myself, but they’ve never found me. And I’m OK with that. In all honesty, I can count only four people that KNOW me personally. They’re pretty fucking special to say the least. I married one of them. I’m not lovable or even likable sometimes but they get me and love me anyways.
And then, there you are. My beautiful followers that I cherish so so much. You allow me to be me by pouring this shit out onto this blog. Although you don’t see me physically and we don’t meet for coffee or dinner, you know me. You’re my diary of sorts, my sounding board. As always, I adore you and thank you for reading, commenting, sharing pieces of you with me.
I know you’re thinking “Why this deep shit today Lennon?” You can thank one of my four people that truly know me, Rhonnie. She encouraged me to write this. She inspires me and is my long legged muse. Keeping me grounded and encouraging me constantly. Most of all, she keeps me laughing.
Hoping each of you have a Rhonnie in your life. We all need a Rhonnie, that’s for sure.
This is a very heavyhearted subject for me to blog about. When I blog about family or my past it seems to take a lot out of me mentally and then I turn to mush for 24 hours.
Ever since I started my blog I’ve wanted to blog about him, My Bro. I think his story is despairing but also a bit of a mental survival story.
Since he was born, he was different in many ways. He had blonde white hair and looked so pure when he was a toddler. Almost cherub like? Growing up he said very little. If he did say anything it was a whisper or a mumble. He would mostly talk to me and my Mom. He and my Dad were two complete opposites. My Dad never spent any time with him. It was very sad. It was as if since my brother didn’t talk to him, my Dad thought “what’s the use?”
My little brother would follow me around as if I were his hero. We would play together with our stretchy incredible hulk, race dump trucks, and remote control cars. I had barbies but I preferred playing with the cool boy stuff that he always got for his birthday and Christmas. We would play Tweety bird and Sylvester the cat…chasing each other throughout the house and knocking things over.
As my parents went through their divorce it seemed to change my little brothers world. He started declining in his grades and getting into trouble at school. My Mom took him to see a psychiatrist and I’m not quite sure what they diagnosed him with at that time. When he got into his teens he would disappear for days and my Mom would call the cops or we would have to try and find him at a friends house. He went through the whole emo stage in the late 80’s listening to the punk rock and alternative music and wearing all black and eyeliner and shit.
He started hanging out with a punk little group of troubled teens. He would get drunk and break into our house at night because he lost his key, forget about knocking. He got in trouble for breaking into a hotel room because the guy in the hotel room owed him money or something. He got sent to a juvenile detention center. My Mom and I thought that might scare him straight, no such luck.
He got so drunk one time we called 911 when we found him passed out with blood on his face and puke all down his shirt. They pumped his stomach and sent him home. My Dad came to see him in the ER that day and said he was done with him. I remember saying to my Dad, “You were done with him when he was 3 years old, what’s different?” At that point my Mom was desperate for help and checked him into a youth mental hospital. They kept him about 30 days and diagnosed him to be mentally challenged, suicidal, and depressed. I remember him denying all of this to us when we brought him home. He said “They’re just typing of some bullshit to get your money Mom, there’s nothing wrong with me accept I like to drink and smoke weed.”
My Mom had done her best to try to raise him to know right from wrong. She had us in church three times a week even though we would fight her on going. But, she also had a lot of boyfriends and would leave myself and my brother alone for weeks from the time I was twelve to eighteen.
When he was 17 he joined the fair and quit school. We begged him not to quit and join the fair but he said there was nothing we could do and that we couldn’t stop him. I remember the next day after he left my Mom took off with a new guy. My Bro called a few months later and we went and picked him up. Shortly after that he was arrested for public intoxication.
He was in jail probably about a month. My Mom bailed him out. He had to do community service which was at the local animal shelter. From there he stole the animal shelter truck with a credit card in the glove box and picked up a few friends along the way and then headed to the beach. He had a blast I’m sure but got arrested there and was put in jail for several months. This time my Mom, Grandma, etc. refused to bail him out. I know what you’re thinking, good for them. Dude needed some tough love right?
At this point you’re probably thinking he’s a spoiled rotten, selfish, a disrespectful teenager. You see growing up he was in remedial classes at school. He struggled learning and kids would make fun of him. He was such a sweet kid but kids would bully him. I can’t tell you how many times I had to kick some bullies ass for fucking with my brother. He would never fight back. He was too shy, polite, and insecure. He wanted friends and he wanted to fit in. As he got to be 18 years old he began to grow into this handsome guy. He looked like a combination of Matthew Mcconaughey and Jared Leto. He had dirty blonde hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen on anyone. He always had a golden tan because he loved the outdoors. Chic’s were drawn to him for being mysterious and the quiet type. He always opened a door for a lady and could just look at you and melt your heart.
Now, back to him being in jail in the early 90’s I think it was. My Mom was off with a boyfriend, somewhere tropical and my Dad had pretty much disowned my brother. His thoughts were “I don’t have a son, I didn’t raise him to be a criminal, out of sight out of mind.” Not that my Dad EVER raised either of us. That’s a whole different blog in itself.
It was Christmas. I was 24 years old and my bro was 21 and in jail. I remember picking up some magazines and candy for him that morning on my way to visit him. As I waited for him to come to the glass window to take a seat and grab the phone I couldn’t help but feel brokenhearted that it had come to this. I was about to see my baby brother in jail on Christmas morning. He was all alone and I was alone. Our parents were busy with their own lives. This is where we were in life. I was somewhat successful working at a bank and living on my own in an apartment. I felt like I had failed my brother by allowing his life to turn out like this. There must have been something I could’ve done to protect him better.
As I saw him approach walking very slowly in the orange jumpsuit those big blue eyes were black, gray and purple. His nose was scabbed up and he looked helpless. Immediately I picked up the phone before he could even take a seat. I kept motioning for him to pick up the phone and when he did I said “What the fuck happened to your face?” He of course said “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” I argued back and forth with him pleading him to tell me what happened and he said he really couldn’t tell me because it would just cause trouble for him. He quickly told me to drop it and moved his eyes towards a guard behind him. It was like he was giving me a signal. I dropped it as he asked me to.
I wished him a Merry Christmas and when I did tears started streaming down his face. My bro had only cried once in front of me before which was when he burned his hand really bad shooting fireworks. Very rarely did this kid cry. I said “Are you OK? Why are you crying, are you in pain?” He said “I didn’t even know it was Christmas.” I then began crying. I knew right at that moment he knew he’d really fucked up this time in life. He asked me if Mom or Dad were coming to see him and I told him no. Even though he put himself in that jail my heart was breaking seeing him there on Christmas day with the tears streaming down his face. I can’t describe to you how badly I wanted to “save” him and take all of his pain away. But, I couldn’t.
Come to find out months later I found out through a guard that worked at his jail that two other guards had beat my brother up for accidentally falling asleep in the wrong cell. Again, my brother is special, was never good at school, has some learning disabilities and him falling asleep in the wrong cell is something he would definitely accidentally do. But to beat the living shit out of him for it, fuck that noise. He was kicked in the ribs, punched in the eyes, nose, and sent to confinement for a couple of days.
After my brother was released I had a couple of friends to check in on those guards at their favorite bar. Let’s just say Karma is a fucking bitch. My two friends were some big ass Hawaiian mother fuckers and they grew up with us and they handled it. Nothing wrong with having some friends in low places is there? Revenge is so sweet. My brother would never fight anyone. He’s too nice of a guy for that. Me, I’m vengeful and don’t fuck with my family or friends.
I’m happy to say after he got out of jail, my brother seemed to get his act together. No, he’s not “normal” if that’s a thing but he has his own place, he works as much as he can when he can find work. He has a good group of friends and lives a good life. He kayak’s as frequently as he can and is comfortable and seems happy. I honestly do think he suffers from depression and addiction. He won’t see a doctor or take anything for it but he manages. He’s extremely stubborn and hard headed. He fears doctors because of the past where the doctor’s told my Mom he was mentally challenged. In his eyes, there’s nothing wrong with him.
But, that’s OK, as long as he’s happy, I’m happy. He’s a fighter. He has a creative artsy side to him too. He makes art pieces like statues. He can turn junk into art. He can also rebuild an engine. Although he’s not book smart he is creative and very talented.
My Dad has tried to reconnect with my bro and my bro is polite and speaks with my Dad on the phone and sometimes we do family functions. But, My Dad seems to be trying to make up for lost time. My Dad hurt my brother tremendously throughout life by telling him he’d never amount to anything and how he was disowning him and so on. So, my bro is a bit stand-offish which I can’t blame him. “Out of sight, out of mind eh?” One of Dad’s favorite lines.
Although my bro has given me a lot of heartache and has made some mistakes throughout life…..I’m more than proud of him. Not once did I ever reject him or punish him for what he had done, I stood by him. But, he was rejected his entire life by others that supposedly loved him or cared about him. He beat the odds. He’s the come back kid in my eyes. No one believed in him. No one thought he would live to be 40 years old with his reckless ways years ago. He doesn’t need anyone’s approval to be happy. He’s a strong man. He’s a fighter.
So, if you have a sibling, friend, family member with addiction, depression, and has made some bad choices in life….Don’t count them out just yet.
I’ll leave you with my song for my bro, I remember listening to this on the way home from the jail that Christmas day. I’ll always stand by him and always be there for him no matter what…..
Questions I hear often….
1.) How many kids do you have?
2.) When are you going to have a baby?
3.) You can adopt!
4.) Why don’t you have kids?
5.) You were meant to breed.
6.) You’re going to hell because you didn’t reproduce. God made women so they could have children.
Yes, I’ve heard it all before and a lot more. You wouldn’t believe the things that come out of people’s mouths. It’s almost as if I’m not human or I’m some type of creature that they’ve never seen before.
I believe there are many people that choose to not have children. I don’t see anything wrong with that. I absolutely love children. I love spoiling them, taking them to the movies, buying them toys, clothes, etc. I have nieces and nephews that I completely adore. I would give my life for them.
But, my first marriage winded up being a fucking train wreck. That’s another blog later on. Why would I have a baby with a dysfunctional selfish prick? I remember a few people told me that if we’d have a baby that our marriage would survive and things would totally change. Seriously, they told me that. If I would’ve been stupid and naive enough to do that I would’ve had to look at his face the rest of my fucking life. Nope, I’ll pass.
Children are a gift by all means. I can imagine how magical it is to hold your new baby boy or baby girl in your arms after giving birth. But I can also imagine the tearing of your vagina, he or she screaming it’s head off and now having to teach that beautiful baby to suck your nipple to get milk. None of this appealed to me whatsoever. I just never had that yearning of having a baby, I mean EVER.
First reason why I have no children……
1.) I used to babysit when I was a teenager and I was keeping two little girls…ages probably 5 and 7 and they were adorable. They had cute little bows in their hair and were blonde and blue eyed. I played barbies with them and fixed them dinner. It was fun, UNTIL they both decided to pull butcher knives out of the kitchen drawers and chase me all over the fucking house screaming they were going to kill me. No joke, this is a true story. My Mom had dropped me off as I was around 13 years old and wasn’t driving yet. We lived about 2 miles down the road. I ran so fast home and when I got inside and explained what had happened to my Mom she immediately went to their house and filled in for me. Of course there were no knives and they were so cute and adorable and she saw no signs of demon children whatsoever. It was almost as if I had made the whole thing up.
2.) My Mom and Dad weren’t present a lot in mine or my brother’s childhood. They were divorced by the time I was 9 years old. My brother being 3 years younger than me. Once they divorced it was all about them. My Mom worked a lot. She had to provide for us. She would also slip away with her boyfriends for a few weeks on trips and leave us to fend for ourselves. My Dad, was a workaholic and had a few hobbies. One being women. So, I had to take care of my younger brother a lot. When we were teenagers he went off course a bit. Drinking, running away, juvenile homes, etc. I felt like I had failed as a “Parent” raising him and felt horrible that I didn’t take better care of him or discipline him enough. I blamed myself and still do to some extent.
3.) Life can be cruel. You can be handed a bad card at life that’s for sure. I worried that if I had a child that I might not be able to provide everything that I would want them to have. I also worried about my heart breaking if something should happen to them. I have a huge heart and thought if I had a child and anyone ever said one harsh thing to them or hurt them in any way that I would snap and lose it and kill someone over my child.
4.) A few years ago I had to have a hysterectomy due to medical issues so now I’m tapped out.
I often find it strange that someone that you hardly know just point blanks asks you how many kids do you have? Why don’t you have any? It’s like they’re asking “What’s wrong with you?” What if someone has been trying to have children for years and is unable to. That could really hurt them by hearing these questions. I just don’t understand why it’s anyone’s business if we have kids or not. It’s just like someone asking “Are you gay or straight?” How is that anyone’s business either? Would someone want me to ask them “Do you prefer doggy style or missionary style?” That’s such a private and personable question and why would you ever ask these things???
I’m lacking a filter in most cases of life with my mouth. What comes up normally comes out. But, when it comes to private and personal things that could hurt someone or make them feel uncomfortable or is none of my fucking business, I think before I ask or say things.
Those of you that have children hold them close and never take them for granted. Spend as much time as you can with them and tell them that you love them. It molds them and you are setting the example of how to be a parent. Their lives depend on you and depending on how this whole thing plays out determines on what type of parents they’ll be and if they even have children. I do think because of the way my parents handled us is the reason why I don’t have children.
But, on a positive note here, I turned out pretty damn good. I’m an excellent Aunt and I have a beautiful blessed life.
So there… 🙂