The tires squealed as I jerked the wheel. The slick pavement of the interstate fought against my instinct. Left…no right. Metal crushed loudly and for a moment, time stood still on that dark, rainy highway. “I don’t want to die.”
In the rear view mirror I saw death and it was a spotlight on the fact that I didn’t want to die. Not today. I’m not ready yet. Nevertheless, I’ve heard that voice inside my head tell me in fact I do want to die.
To some this may seem like a no brainer and a forethought conclusion. However, up until now I have struggled with depression and the dark thoughts it summons.
In all honesty, I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve thought of the easiest way to end it all. In fact, this car crash thing seemed like an option at one point. Yes, I’ve wanted to die. Or at least I thought I did.
It sounds dramatic and completely ridiculous when I say it out loud. It’s complicated and extremely exhausting when you fight these inner demons. After all, that inner voice sounds like my own.
Am I alone in this battle? It feels like. However, I know that millions of people suffer from depression and suicidal thoughts. Hell, I have 4 people in my house that have depression. Depression is everywhere, in every social economic situation, every race, gender, religion, and sexual orientation. It does not discriminate.
The want to live came for me in a car crash that with the opposite instinctual jerk of the wheel could’ve sent me to the morgue. The light shining in my tear view was a semi truck waiting to plow me straight into the ground.
All of this to say I want to live. Furthermore I want you to live. I don’t want that desire to live to be in a near fatal situation or in the last moment after it’s too late to choose. That voice isn’t you, it’s the enemy. We have to fight it and keep fighting it. Even when we feel like we have no fight left.
I know it’s easier said than done. I take my meds, I do the best I can too, but some days it feels like it’s all just too heavy. Let someone else take that wheel. Pick up the phone, send a text, hell, call me. Seriously.
If nothing else I want to document that I do, in fact, want to live. This way the next time my demons come to collect my desire to keep on keeping on I can remember that for whatever reason, or by chance that someone, somewhere took the wheel for me. Thanks mom. 😇 And, yes, I do want to live.
It’s happening! We are down to the final days. It’s so bittersweet, but it’s a completely welcomed change. We are so ready to move forward. I am hoping that this move will be exactly what we all need as we continue moving forward into the future that we deserve. I’ll admit it’s been an emotional roller coaster. Honestly, at times I still think I’m jumping head first into the future and forcing that forward motion before being truly ready to embrace it.
Ready or Not
It’s not easy deciding to move forward. I don’t want a new chapter in this dramatic comedy I have been living these past umpteen years. I want a new book. I want the great start, the clean slate and ready or not I’m going to get it. It’s about damn time!
I’m hesitant about this new start for all of us. Not only are we leaving my home town, we are moving out of state to a new town we have never lived in before. It means new schools, new neighborhoods, and new jobs. However, it also means new opportunities to build the future. It’s a chance and a challenge.
I’m embracing this challenge as one that is going to guide our family forward. We have had so much of our past hold us back for so long. This move is the first step into a future that frees us from that past prison.
This challenge allows us to start fresh. Our girls can begin writing their own narrative. They won’t be bound by hospitalizations that made them targets of their peers. They won’t be weighted with the daily reminders of abuse they suffered in their lives. In addition, they can be whichever version of themselves they choose to be. This challenge is one we all embrace.
I hope this move can help others to see that it’s possible. You can take the chances and accept the risk. You can make mommy moves and be the boss of your future! It’s not about running from the past. It’s about chasing our future. We know that mental illnesses will not be left in this home, but we do know that we can move forward with the right tools to manage our mental illnesses.
Never Give Up; Never Surrender
My dad was known to repeat the quote “never give up; never surrender” anytime the going got tough. Well, it’s still just as true now as it was when I was younger. We aren’t giving up and we aren’t surrendering. Our time is now. Ready or not. We are moving forward.
Good Morning! 😘 I am leaning on the My Threefold tribe of mommas to get a little advice on my plan of action! Maybe I can gain some insight from the opinions of you guys! My kids are breaking me! I’m not just broke trying to support my boogie little beauties, I am B-ROKE. I’m attempting to sell the B off from the remainder of the word, kind of b-roke. 🤣🤣 However, I have a plan. I just need some feedback!
It would seem that my children, like most, don’t have a concept of how much money they receive each week for these items. Somehow, it’s never enough. I get calls saying “Momma, I need ….” A text request for my drive home from work, and empty promises filled with cleaning fairy dust and the return of the bowls from the burial ground under the beds in their room. Girls, are gross too, my friends, so freaking gross! 🤢🤮🤢
I am scared to see the results, but for the next week I am going to track exactly how much my kids spend on “luxury” items. I’m not talking about toilet paper or laundry detergent I’m talking about extra lunch/snack money for school, the fast food, requests for makeup, spending money, etc. All the crap they think they need to live their lives to the fullest, like Spotify premium or the unlimited data with 5g LTE, wifi, and the other seemingly priceless items some magical money fairy bestowed on our family of freeloaders! 🙄🙄
Once I show them how much they spent on their personal requests, I intend to show them how much it requires to provide the basic necessities like shelter, electricity, and those 30 minute blood of the dragon showers. The umpteen rolls of toilet paper that I feel are wadded around their hands in cast like fashion to protect their hands from the germs down under. I mean we do have soap, and ya know after you go around twice with Charmin it’s just a blanket you are using to soak up the pee! 💩💩💩 have no doubt that their cost of living is no where near the number they believe it is. They think they don’t have enough, but I see excess and moreover, wastefulness. I’m sure they aren’t intentional in their lackadaisical attitude surrounding their spending habits, just oblivious teenagers. 😒😒
My next step will be to show them how many hours I must work to provide them each the lifestyle they have grown accustomed to living at home. It’s time they see that money isn’t just waiting around for good use. In fact, it is very much earned by my hardworking, blood, sweat, tears, and my time away from them.
I am NOT trying to shame my kids for wanting more, but teach them that the price of tea and fine china 🥄🥄🥄 come with more than just a price to my financial account, but also to my physical and emotional bank account. 🤪😴🤑 The intent is to instill the value of a dollar earned. As a result, I hope they learn to be grateful, less entitled and more appreciative of the work that I put in to meet all of their needs. I don’t ask for much on return. I want respect, both of myself as their sugar momma, and of the property in which I have worked to acquire. Honestly, I think cleaning your room, keeping your own messes cleaned up, and completing one task that contributes to the household per day isn’t a BIG request. 🤔
How do you handle/did you handle chores, allowance, and get the compliance of your family? I don’t like to fight, I won’t argue or beg. I’m to the point, do it or don’t, but when you come asking I’ll mirror what decision I saw you make when I asked for your help. 😤🥱😫Mommin’ aint easy, but together, me and you, we’ve got this! ☮️❤️😊~M #makeitcount #moneymoves #keepingupwiththejoneses #mybrokebougiebrats #helpamommaout #mythreefold #broke
What I wish my kids knew? Phew. A LOADED question for most moms, I think. Mommin’ ain’t easy and my crazy train is on the bipolar express, which makes our lives extra complicated. I’ve got a list, so I figured I share it with my tribe. Ready or not. Here are all the things I wish my kids knew about me, their momma.
I’m only human. I make mistakes. I mess up. I forget important stuff. I lose track of time. I am just a regular person who is imperfect like they are.
I am inspired, motivated, and intrigued by them. I am in awe of the masterpieces of these little creations.
They hurt my feelings. The mean words, the hurtful actions, or disrespectful behavior genuinely hurts me. They cut me the deepest.
I want to protect them. Sometimes from others, but sometimes from themselves. I hurt when they hurt.
I cry for them, I worry for them, and I obsess over every single decision that will affect them.
All of them are my favorite. Some days it’s my oldest, other days my middle or my youngest. Some days it’s all three. They all hung the moon in my eyes, so there are no trophies for “favorite”.
They make me better. I wouldn’t be who I am without them, individually or collectively. They have changed me in ways they will never recognize.
They’ve saved my life more times than I can count. I struggle with mental illness and I admit I have had many times where I wanted to give up. I’ve always fought through because of them.
I have trauma, too. I have a messy and complicated history. I’m damaged, broken, and haunted by my past. My struggle is just as difficult for me, however, I’m healing.
My life doesn’t revolve around being a mom. I am more than just that title. It’s not always about them. It can’t be.
My frustration is not their burden to carry.
Being the primary parent who is responsible for every aspect of three human lives is extremely difficult. I may not be “single”, but I am the main source of support emotionally, financially and physically.
I pray everyday for them.
I believe in them more than they will ever know. I don’t want to see them struggle. I try to ease that struggle each day.
I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right there for every moment until the day I die. Beyond that…it will be in the music.
I always love them, but sometimes I really don’t like them.
I’m sorry for every minute of pain, hurt, trauma, and horror they ever lived. My mom guilt is heavy, and I swear to never allow them to experience any more of that pain.
In My Feelings
I’m not crying! You’re crying! Shut up. <sniffle> Don’t look at me! My experience, their lives, and our family gets me in my feelings sometimes. Not to mention, this momma is exhausted in every way imaginable. Between hospital admissions for 2 and now 3. To the new baby on the way. My vehicle deciding that she has had enough of us, and working all the damn time, it gets very hard.
One day, when these babies have babies they’ll get that we weren’t joking when we said mommin’ ain’t easy! I’m sure you have a few to add to the list! Feel free to share your thoughts on what I missed or missed the mark on! In the meantime, we’ve got this, all of us! Because, that’s what we do! ☮️❤️😊~M
Holding back tears I asked, “DOES she have SOCKS?!” This was my BIG worry tonight as we walked through Walmart at 9:00pm on a rainy, random Wednesday night. College. My daughter is leaving for college…tomorrow and I’m worried about socks!? She is 18, dreams of being a psychologist, and the world is at her feet. Me, I’m the mom worried about if she will have socks as she goes out to show this world what striving for success and strength looks like!
I looked to the man who is my calm in the storm, casually walking a few steps ahead, he nonchalantly answers “yes.” I questioned him again. After all, I knew nearly every day, no matter how many pairs I buy, my girls are going to come steal my socks. In that moment he looked at me and calmly said “yes, your baby has socks.” I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
Why was I crying in Walmart over socks? I’m sure I looked and sounded ridiculous. I was irritated. I was emotional. I was thinking about 18 years of time that came and went far too fast. I was happy and I was scared. So I was worried about socks. Silly, I was a wreck…but why socks?
It’s ironic, that a little over 18 years ago I was in labor. In fact, I vividly recall getting “new mom” anxiety at the hospital about socks for my new baby girl. I was asking the same question then as I was this very night. Of all things I was worried my baby wouldn’t have socks!
My mom rushed out to buy socks for my sweet baby and her tiny feet. In addition, she bought clothes to fit her tiny frame. My first was so little. My beautiful red haired, blue eyed, baby girl was full term, but weighed 6’8 and measured 17 1/2” long. So small. My first baby girl of my threefold, and my first true love.
Looking on as moms do, I saw my oldest daughter, with her two little sisters bickering. I laughed and tried to let them do their typical back and forth banter. I played the pull mom every direction and make sure she pays attention to each child. I tried to remain patient and calm as I listened to each tell me their “needs” or “wants”. My anxiety was growing, but not due to worry about her or even the other two of my threefold. I was forgetting something. Had to be.
As the night passed on I noticed my emotional state was becoming so high that I was becoming overly anxious. All the needs, wants and reminders flying around for all three girls. Then the little fights. As my anxiety increased so did my oldest daughter’s. I could see her feeling like she was getting “more” than her younger siblings. In addition, I could see her insecurity surrounding money start to make her flustered. As a result, I saw firsthand, that she was feeling all the anxiety I was trying to push down. Instead of her knowing why, I saw her viewing herself as the cause of every bit of my increasing anxiety.
I got her nearly everything she has needed over these past couple of months. We only have a few last minute needs to tie up. Yet, she still felt like she was causing my anxiety. That wasn’t it. Not at all. I was proud and wanted nothing more than for her to feel confident as she began college. Yet, I felt like I was failing her as our anxiety climbed together.
What I didn’t tell my oldest is that I wasn’t anxious over buying what she needed, her sisters bickering, or even the growing list. I was missing something, but I couldn’t place what.
This feeling was unshakeable. Maybe I was just being a mom and scared. However, I’m not scared of her making the wrong choices, failing, or getting into trouble. I know her on a level that goes beyond a typical mother/daughter relationship. We talk about everything. Above all, even if I don’t want to hear the truth, she doesn’t lie to me in the way most teenagers do lie to their parents.
Finally it hit me, right in that Walmart aisle and with those socks sitting on sale. I didn’t forget to make sure her feet were covered in clean socks. She had her toothbrush and pj’s. This went beyond the superficial level of material needs. I was forgetting the person who once inhabited that tiny frame.
She was moving beyond her past. I no longer saw a scared girl with anxiety standing in the aisles going through the mental checklist she made a year ago of everything she needed. I saw the person who had worked hard to find her own voice again. I saw a woman who was funny, kind, and a genuinely good person standing worried about her abilities.
My daughter deserves all things good. I want this for her and every good thing in life. She has sacrificed more than many. Furthermore, my oldest daughter has been my coparent even if she didn’t ask for that responsibility. She endured the hardest circumstances in submissive silence to avoid making life harder for herself, her sisters and I when the abuse we all endured was aimed in her direction. She suffered and sacrificed her childhood, her teenage years, and her own blood, sweat and tears to help her younger sisters and I survive .
Her strength isn’t only in the survival it’s in the story she is writing in spite of the circumstances she was raised in. That strength is in her smile that is contagious. The confidence in her own abilities and the goals she has chased, regardless of the people along the way who tried to tell her every reason she would never reach them.
Her complete transparency, self awareness, genuine kindness, and inclusive nature all are part of the backbone of her identity. It’s takes bravery to walk through the fire, but it takes perseverance to walk through that fire and not allow your entire life to be consumed by the pain.
It’s takes courage to love with your entire heart and give of yourself to others, even though that love and gift has been taken advantage of since you were young. It takes commitment to make a plan and to speak it to others, but it’s the determination that carries you across the finish line. It takes fight to face your worst fears, but it takes ferocity to overcome those fears.
My daughter is just another girl to the world, but she is going to change the world of the people who have the honor to know her. My daughter is beautiful, smart, and talented. However, she is more than any pretty pictures or my bias words could convey. My oldest daughter is the smallest of my threefold. Nonetheless, at 4’11, the truth that she has learned is “dynamite comes in small packages…BOOM!” Get ready, because this girl of mine is about to blow up on your scene.
She is my daughter, my first love, and I’m so incredibly lucky she calls me mom. She definitely has more than just socks these days, she has a whole suit of armor that she forged in the fire of her past. That armor is her success story. The one she has written each day along the way and will continue to write until it reaches completion. I am just happy to be on the sidelines cheering her on and supporting her through this crazy train ride called life. To my threefold, to my first little love. You’ve got this! Together we’ve got each other, always. ☮️❤️😊~M