MPS-Part 13 I'm Not Dead Yet

As I slowly regained consciousness, I opened my eyes one at a time. I was so confused. What happened? Where am I? Am I still alive or am I dreaming? Then it dawned on me...those voices I heard...someone turned the tv on in the living room. That means he must be sitting on the couch watching something. I wonder if he thinks I'm dead? How long have I been unconscious? What...how the hell did I end up on the kitchen floor? And what is that sharp thing poking me in the back of my head?

The pain in my head and neck was excruciating. I tried to inch myself up off the floor so I could see what was broken, if I was bleeding and to ensure my 4-legged kids were ok. I prayed he hadn't killed them in his fit of blinding rage. Hopefully I was the only thing he beat the shit out of and tried to kill.

I scooted myself to the door frame so I could hold on and try to stand up. Whoa...this wasn't going to work - I'm dizzy as hell. Oh damn, that thing poking me in the back of my head was my (now) broken plastic hair clip. The teeth were sticking me in the back of my head where I landed on it on the cold, hard floor. Strange...the last thing I remembered was being on the far side of the living room and his hands choking the breath from my body. I have no idea how I ended up on the kitchen floor.

Normally Josh would apologize after he beat me, but this time he didn't say a word. I stumbled into the living room and attempted to make it to the couch before I fainted. My head was so heavy, I felt as if the sheer weight of it would make my neck snap. Oh I wanted to throw up - all movement, even breathing was making me sick to my stomach. I was seeing double, was dizzy and hurt like I'd been run over by a Peterbilt.

He was sitting on the couch watching some stupid cartoon while I stumbled around trying desperately to not let him know how badly he'd hurt me. Any sign of weakness on my part was another invitation for an ass kicking. I tried desperately, but just couldn't make it to the couch. The living room carpet looked so inviting, so I just collapsed right there for awhile. My mouth felt like it was full of marbles. Every time I tried to say something, I'd stutter or it just wouldn't come out right. I was so frustrated and scared. I knew I was hurt badly. I couldn't even think straight and that scared me even more. I was vulnerable, like a wounded bird.

My 4-legged kids were in hiding. I have no idea how long I stayed on the floor, but when it got dark, they came out of hiding so I could feed them. I managed to stumble around the kitchen and feed all my critters and let the puppy out to piddle. Poor kids, they were so scared that after they ate, they ran back to their respective hiding places, probably fearing that they were next.

We stayed up for a few hours and he pretended that nothing was wrong. I was in such dire pain. I wanted to go to the emergency room because I knew something was really wrong with me. Instead I walked down the hallway towards the bedroom, bouncing off the walls all the way down the hall. I fell into bed, hoping to get some sleep. I prayed I'd wake up and be ok. Oh shit...no...he's on top of me forcing me to have sex with him. I don't have the strength to fight him and every movement sends jarring shards of pain through my body. Oh God please let this end!

To be continued...

MPS-Part 12 The Fight Is On

I slowly backed away from him, my mind reeling, all the while trying to devise an escape route. Fear wrapped its long, cold fingers around my spine. My breathing was coming in short gasps, I was desperately trying not to panic or faint from sheer fright. If I wanted to survive this, I had to keep my wits about me and think straight.

The arguing got louder. Josh kept screaming at me like a crazed maniac, spittle being flung everywhere, his eyes wide and dark. He kept flexing his hands, making fists, waving his arms towards my head. He was enjoying watching me cower in fear and flinch every time he breathed. I kept backing away, but not quickly enough.

His arm shot out and he grabbed me. He wrapped his huge hand around my small neck. My mind went through numerous scenarios in the span of what seemed like minutes, although it could not have been more than a few seconds. I need to get out of his death grib on my throat. What if I ran for the back door...no, the deadbolt is locked and can only be opened with a key. What if I jumped through the front living room window...no, not enough clearance with the tv stand in the way. Maybe I could run for the front door, throw the deadbolt that isn't a keylock, open the screen door and run like hell.

I tried to scream and nothing came out. He had a steel-trap grip on my neck. He loosened his grip for a brief moment and I took advantage of the opportunity to scream bloody murder at the top of my lungs, twist out of his grasp while simultaneously lunging for the front door. I quickly threw the deadbolt, was opening the steel front door and still screaming for all I was worth. I was praying that I'd make it out the door in one piece, that someone would hear my tortured screams and finally call the police to help me.

Noooooo, he caught me! I was too damn slow! His arm flashed by my head and slammed the door shut, shaving the skin off the side of my right hand that was braced on the doorframe, almost catching my hand in the door. Oh shit, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead...he caught me! I kept screaming, crying, I was hysterical. I was begging my body to not panic. I was ready to try to jump through the living room window and land ten feet down in the shrubs. I was desperate beyond belief. I had to get away from him NOW!

Josh backed me up against the door, blocking any escape by throwing his big, stocky body in front of me. I couldn't move. It was if my feet were nailed to the floor and my legs had turned to stone. I was petrified, crying and begging him to not hurt me anymore. He was pissed off and about ready to explode because I dared to try and escape his wrath. He wanted to show me that I could not fight with him, yell at him, get in his face and win. I was supposed to be subservient to him and he would teach me once and for all.

He grabbed me by my throat, picked me up off the ground and drug me around the living room. My feet were dangling in the air and I was fighting for my life. He bounced me off the sofa, the coffee table, threw me across the room as I started to lose consciousness...he followed me and snatched me back up by my hair and started strangling me. I was struggling for air, I couldn't breathe, couldn't move my body. My blood was pounding so hard in my head that it hurt. My face was hot, my neck was in pain, everything in my body got white fire-hot. He had a death grip on my throat and I thought he was going to snap my neck, kill me and then go after my poor defenseless animals like he'd always threatened. My last conscious thought was of my animals' safety and who would call my Mom...

To be continued...

MPS-Part 11 The After Church Beatdown

The sun shone brightly as we made our way home from church. I was filled with a sense of hopefulness. The day was sunny and bright, Josh was in a good mood and smiling, the trees were beginning to bloom, new shrubs were sprouting little green tips just waiting to burst open with the promise of spring and the air smelled fresh and clean.

We arrived at the house and I proceeded to the bedroom to change my clothes. This was going to be a jeans and sweatshirt day - a day for relaxing, being happy and comfortable. I began to build a fire in the woodstove to take the slight chill out of the air. I was waiting for Josh to make suggestions as to what we could do with the rest of our day while I made a nice, cozy fire and orchestrated a small feast for lunch.

I finished starting the woodstove and sat down on the hearth for a moment to enjoy the scents of the burning newspaper and crackling wood. The heat felt wonderful as it touched my face and warmed my body. I closed the doors to the woodstove, turned the blower fan on medium and walked into the kitchen to see what Josh wanted for our little lunch feast.

He looked at me with a strange look in his eyes and told me he was going fishing with Gerald. His mood had just done a complete 180. A few minutes ago he was suggesting we spend the rest of the day together and suddenly he wanted to go fishing with Gerald. Oddly enough, it was a little too chilly to be fishing and getting wet. My inner antennae went up and I had the typical sense of foreboding that came with his sudden mood changes.

A trickle of defiance flowed through me and I stood up and told Josh I wanted to go fishing too. I wanted to call his bluff to see if he really was going to go someplace with Gerald or if he was lying to me yet again and was going to a clandestine meeting. Josh told me I could not go with him - he wanted to be alone, yet he wanted to go fishing with Gerald. His story was quickly falling apart and he knew by the look on my face that I had busted his ass wide open and seen through his bullshit. He was pissed.

Josh grabbed the phone with the pretense of calling Gerald. I reached up at the same time and snatched the phone out of his hand and said "...the fuck you ARE going without me! I don't think so. Why is it such a problem that I want to go fishing too? What are you really doing?" He screamed back at me "...it's none of your fucking business where I'm going or what I'm doing. I don't have to answer to you and I'll do whatever I want and come home when the fuck I want to..." and the fight was on.

He got closer to me, inching forward every time I scooted backward. He got in my face yelling, screaming, breathing irregularly, waving his hands and his face turned very red, angry and hideously ugly. My defiance immediately turned to intense fear as I realized he was over the edge and I was quite possibly going to die today because I dared stand up to him. My whole body was trembling as my brain raced to try and find an escape away from him before he grabbed me. My only hope was to get outside and scream at the top of my lungs for help. Lord knows, my screams inside the house were never heard by anyone outside before. I desperately tried to think of ways to get out of the house. My house...the house that I had made into a home may very well end up being my coffin.

To be continued...

MPS-Part 10 Crazy Churches

It was another chilly weekend and I fired up the wood stove. I have a knack for creating a spectacular fire in the fireplace that keeps the whole house warm. I turned the wood stove insert blower on medium and set up my living room to be a cozy haven for the weekend. If tensions ran high, I could always cuddle up on the pull out bed that is in my sofa and sleep there, away from Josh and his roaming hands.

Josh had a sixth sense that told him whenever the thought of him touching me made me physically ill. He would push the envelope, whisper sweet nothings to me, hug me, hold me, kiss me and try to force himself on me. He would make promises to me that I knew he had no intention of keeping...he wanted a way to get to me so he could take advantage of me yet again. I was past the point of no return. Nothing he could say or do to me would make me change my mind. I saw the demon inside and realized that Josh had to go before I wound up dead. The most difficult part of the facade was pretending that I still loved him and believed him. I should have been an actress. I played the part well. He never knew how much I truly hated him - with every living, breathing fiber of my being. And my mind had been made up long ago. I would survive this and he might not, but I'd make damn sure he'd never touch me again.

The weekend progressed with only a few hiccups. I kept him busy outside chopping wood frequently, as I didn't trust myself with the axe while he was there with me. You know, accidents DO happen more often at home...and my emotions were teetering between fear, trepidation and then I would be seething with anger that I had to skillfully hide from his ever watchful eyes.

Sunday arrived and I dared breathe a small sigh of relief. I only had to make it through one more day with him in close quarters, scrutinizing me, eavesdropping on my phone conversations. I had to watch everything I did so as not to arouse suspicion. We decided to go to church, which is something we had started doing months before. During one of our "discussions" where he said he would do anything to make "it" up to me, I said I wanted to go back to church. I also figured I might be able to get us into some sort of counseling, naively thinking it might help him with his anger issues.

Unfortunately, he drug me to every kind of church known to man-kind except for the only one I wanted to attend. I was raised Roman Catholic, he was raised Heathen. He forced me to attend services (I can't even call them churches) where the parishoners had wild eyed looks, spoke in tongues, fainted, rolled around on the floor, appeared to convulse...everything except for sacrificing animals and small children. Well, they may have done that too, but it wasn't on the day we went.

There was this other service we attended (right down the street from my house) where the female Pastor or whatever you call her, kept hitting on Josh right in front of me! She had the gall to do this every single week we went, which made me extremely uncomfortable in too many ways to describe. Of course, Josh thought his fat, uneducated ass was hot as hell and reveled in the attention, so when I protested and balked at the fact that the preacher was acting like a sexed-up whore and I didn't want to go back there EVER again, he got upset. Yes I caught hell for even suggesting that he'd cheat on me with that dime-store floozie. It's the first time in my life that I ever wanted to pop a preacher right in the freakin' mouth! The bitch had balls to do that right in front of me!

Eventually we proceeded to another place of worship, although not the Catholic Church I was pining to attend. This next place was right down the street, within walking distance, and the religion was close to Catholic...or so he said. The church itself was beautiful and I immediately took a liking to the new pastor. I didn't trust the old one who was thankfully on his way out the door. I decided to keep my comments to myself, especially since the old pastor had most of the folks snowed and they thought the sun rose and set on him. If I only knew then what I know now about this guy...I would've told everyone the truth and what a bold-faced liar this pastor was/is.

The new pastor was fantastic. He had a way with storytelling and his sermons were quite inspiring. He made you feel loved when you entered the church and again when you left. To this day, when I happen to pass the pastor in town, the man still remembers my name. How, I have NO idea, but I do still think the world of him! Unfortunately, his parishoners had a tendency to be quite pushy, nosy and a little too curious about my personal life, my job and how much money I made. Some people have no class but I didn't want to hold that against the pastor. I enjoyed his sermons immensely and looked forward to seeing and hearing him every Sunday.

That's why on this particular Sunday I really wanted to attend services and hear some uplifting words from the pastor. Plus I figured if I was in a public place and I was safe for the time being. Josh always behaved like the perfect gentleman when we were at church. He had everyone fooled. Although I'm not entirely sure he had the Pastor fooled - maybe someday I will have to be brave and ask him.

After the sermon, we socialized a bit with the other parishoners. Josh always had to make sure he spoke to folks and toot his own horn about how wonderfully he treated me, how in love we were and how we were going to get married in the next few years. Then we went back to the house afterward to eat lunch and tentatively discuss the rest of the day, as the weather had warmed significantly.

To be continued...

MPS-Part 9 After Valentine's Day

I wonder how far the human psyche can be pummeled before it cracks and shatters and the person being tortured goes postal? I wondered every day how much more of Josh's bullshit deviant behaviors I could possibly take before I had a nervous breakdown, committed suicide, killed him or stood up to him and took it "like a man". Lying down and being a doormat is not something I was raised to do. I had a big decision to make - one that needed to be made very, very soon before he killed me in one of his fits of rage.

The few days following the Valentine's Day fiasco were filled with apologies (on Josh's part), whispers and promises of commitments that were never to be fulfilled. I slowly, cautiously and carefully pretended to go along with his promises and plans of a better life together. I did not want to arouse his suspicions that I didn't believe one bloody word he said, or that I had other plans in store for MY future. The biggest lie was his promise to treat me like a Princess and never, ever raise his hands to me again. Also the promise that he would be faithful, that he would be a good father.

Wait...WHAT?! My brain began spinning, my blood pressure dropped, I felt faint. I desperately tried to maintain my composure and pretent that I was listening intently to every single piece of shit that spewed forth from his mouth. I smiled at him to coax him into a safe state of mind where he was under the forethought that I was going along with his sick, perverted plans for "our future". My conscious mind screamed at me "What do you mean a "good father"? I have absolutely NO intentions of becoming pregnant and carrying your demon seed child in this lifetime or the next.

I played the game, hoping that it would save my life until I could find a way to get Josh away from me and out of my life. I had to proceed silently, cautiously, plotting effective, foolproof plans to ensure he would not be able to hurt me, my animals or be allowed to carry out any of his previous threats. He always swore that he would never let me go, no matter what.

Now the weekend was approaching and once again, I was afraid of what those two days would bring. Most people look forward to the weekends as a time to regroup, spend time with family, pursue hobbies and activities and relax. I did not have the luxury of being one of those people. I feared the weekends. It meant I would most likely be alone with Josh and his mood swings brought on my drinking binges and drug use. Sometimes he would go out with his best friend, Gerald, and they would do God knows what for the entire weekend. I would never know where he was going, when he was coming back...all I knew is that I was thankful he was getting the hell out of my house for awhile so I could perfect my plans and have a few moments of clarity and sanity.

Unfortunately this weekend, he wanted to spend it with me. When he broke the news to me, I tried my best to coax a big smile to my lips so he would believe I was thrilled to have him spend time with me. Sure enough, as soon as he decided what he was going to do (and what I was NOT going to do), he began his routine of drinking...and it was only Friday afternoon. My instincts told me to be ready for anything. Especially since Josh was starting his alcoholic binging earlier than usual...anything could and probably would happen.

To be continued...

MPS-Part 8 Valentine's Day

I was holding my breath...seconds seemed to stretch forever. Time stood still for God only knows how long while Josh was standing in front of me with that maddening smile on his face. The smile he got before he began screwing with my head. Josh thrust the shotgun at me and I instinctively flinched, thinking he was going to hit me again. Instead he shoved the shotgun into my chest, then into my hands. He yelled at me to "hold it right dammit!" I had no idea if the shotgun was loaded or not and I thought this was it. He was going to kill me for sure this time. I cringed every time he yelled, flinched at his every movement. For some reason, he found humor in my fear and began to chuckle...a sickening, evil laugh which scared me even more. I was terrified.

He was still laughing and said "you want me dead? Well then, fucking shoot me bitch. Here's your chance. I even put it in your hands". I have no idea how long I stood there completely motionless, frozen in time with my finger on the trigger and his hand on the barrel jerking the shotgun every now and then. He was daring me to shoot him, trying to yank the shotgun hard enough for my finger to pull the trigger while he stood in front of the shotgun. All the while I was thinking about what would happen to my animals if I did shoot Josh...who would love them, feed them, take care of them if I were in jail. I knew the cops wouldn't believe me when I told them the truth. I knew, just KNEW in my heart that I'd be the one going to jail even though he'd abused me for so long already. He was certifiably insane. And honestly, I didn't care if he did die - I just didn't want to have to clean up the mess.

My animals were far too important for me to do what needed to be done. I chickened out and did not shoot the son-of-a-bitch. Later, I would regret that missed opportunity immensely.

Josh thought I didn't have the nerve (although he had no idea what stopped me). Little did he know that in that short span of time, I realized my life was far too important to throw it all away and put him where he belonged...6 feet under and on his way back through the Gates of Hell. He thought I stopped because I still loved him. If he only knew what was going through my mind, he would've run. That is, if he had any damned common sense.

He took the shotgun out of my hands and put it back in my shotgun rack next to my bed. I never knew if it was loaded or not. He came back into the weight room, grabbed my arm and walked me down the hallway towards the living room. We spent the evening sitting on the couch and I listened to him tell more stories about his life and why he is the way he is. I truly believe they were all lies and he lives in a fantasy-land of his own creation. A few hours later when he was feeling better about himself, he forced me to go to the bedroom and have sex with him.

I was so used to this, that I was a master at disassociating my brain from my body. He could do whatever he wanted to do to me and I wasn't there. My body may have been there, but my brain and soul were not. I had to protect myself somehow without provoking him yet again by saying "no, don't touch me". No matter how much the thought of him touching me disgusted me, no matter how many times I gagged, cringed and withdrew, I knew better than to show it outwardly. The last time I did that, he got very rough and almost broke a few of my bones. His 300 pound body was no match for my petite 120 pound frame. I was overpowered yet again.

To be continued...

MPS - Part 7

This continuation has taken a few days. I had to stop writing for a bit because of the horrible flashbacks and nightmares that have become more vivid and frequent. I am ready to go on now. As I stated before, this is part of what I live with on a daily basis due to what Josh has done to me.

Valentine's Day is one of those "almost" holidays that I don't always choose to celebrate. Normally I'm alone and not in a relationship, so why celebrate? This year I was with Josh and I was unsure if celebrating this abominable relationship was really such a fantastic idea. It was a curse, not a blessing to be with this evil, devil-spawn, son-of-a-bitch.

The day started out pretty much like all the rest. Josh was drinking to see just how drunk he could get before he passed out, I was doing the usual cleaning and other household chores while walking on eggshells. Nothing good was going to come out of his drinking and I was full aware of that, yet too scared to voice my objections for fear of the physical retribution that usually followed. The tension in the house was higher than usual, I was as jumpy as a frog in a blender and my puppy-dog was hiding in the back room. My poor Beagle...even she sensed what was coming. She too had been on the receiving end of Josh's constant tirades (unbeknownst to me at the time - he would beat her while I was at work).

How the whole argument started that afternoon, is a mystery to me. Josh got that look in his eyes - the dark, burn through your soul, evil, satanic stare and he began to watch every, single miniscule move I made. He criticized, ridiculed, poked fun at everything I said or did and kept it up all day. He went so far as to come knock on the bathroom door repeatedly if he thought I took too long. I had absolutely no privacy.

According to him, I should be there to serve him, get his beer, refill his glass with Early Times (or whatever cheap ass shit he was drinking), make him something to eat, sit down with him and keep him company, wait on him hand and foot, keep the house clean, all the while simultaneously being his source of amusement. I was a one woman cooking and cleaning crew, entertainment entourage...all the while trying to take care of my animals and doing my other work.

His mood darkened, there was a sense of foreboding...I became acutely aware of his every movement, his actions, his changing mannerisms and speech. I was borderline neurotic and paranoid - and his true-to-form self hadn't even manifested yet.

Josh started arguing with me. He got up and followed me around the house as I tried desperately to put distance between the two of us. Eventually he caught me, grabbing my arm and getting in my face so he could threaten me up close and personal. Something triggered his rage and he felt the need to share it with me.

The anxiety was building like a mountain in my chest. I was having trouble breathing, thinking, moving. Was this going to be the fight where he would finally kill me? Would anyone hear me if I screamed? What would happen to my animals if I died? Would he kill them too? As the merry-go-round of thoughts went round and round in my head, as he was getting in my face to rant and rave some more, I lost control and screamed "I HATE YOU - I wish you were dead"! I couldn't take it any more. I was drawing my line in the sand. I could NOT live like this anymore, being in fear constantly for my life, having no life outside of him, fear that he would kill my animals out of sheer spite...

Suddenly Josh got this strange look on his face and turned his back to me. He went storming down the hall and into the bedroom. He left me standing in my weight-room/library shaking and wondering what he was going to to do me now. He returned about one minute later (although it seemed like forever) with a loaded shotgun.

To be continued...

MPS - Part 6

The move to the new house was a time consuming task, as we only had my one pick-up truck and my small hatch-back car. Thankfully the new house was only a few streets away from the old, crappy, no running water, rotting house. And I moved furniture and boxes out of the old place like my ass was on fire. I could not get away from that place fast enough.

The new house was bright, happy, warm and inviting. It smelled clean, fresh and it gave me a renewed sense of life and hope. I would stand in the kitchen just to feel the warm rays of sunshine on my face that were beaming through the back door, drink in the soft scent of freshly washed curtains, while breathing a contented sigh. This time it would not be just a house, but a home. I could feel it in every fiber of my body. And it felt good.

One afternoon after unpacking some more boxes, Josh decided that he'd rather go out with Gerald than help me. Since that was nothing new, I just asked when he'd be home. Josh ignored my question, got a major attitude and stormed out of the house...taking the keys to MY car and driving off in a cloud of dust. That son-of-a-bitch did it again. We had the discussion months ago about him taking my car without asking and it was agreed that he'd ask from now on, as it was not HIS car to take. So much for that discussion. Yet another promise he'd made to me was broken, shattered like an eggshell that's been ravaged by a raccoon.

When he finally came back (early the next morning), he was so drunk he could barely walk. I have no clue how he drove my car home and didn't get into an accident or get pulled over by the cops. I was furious. Josh did whatever the f*ck he wanted to and I had to stay at home because according to his rules, I could not go out, have friends or leave the house without his permission. Well guess what...I've had enough of this shit. I don't care how big and violent his fat ass is...I'm putting my foot down and not tolerating this any more.

I'd had enough of his drinking. When we lived in the apartment, his drinking got worse and he was more open with it. Then when we moved to the rental house, he began drinking all the time and didn't give a rat's ass what I said about it. I got smacked if I said anything. Of course the stupid mother-f*cker always wanted to molest me when he was drunk as a fart. Wanna talk about gross? Being forced to have sex with a drunk, fat, stinky, abusive man...and on top of it all (no pun intended) he had a super small "member". I shit you not. When he'd lay down, the bitch would disappear in the mass of fat rolls. Are you feeling my pain now?

While still living in the apartment, one day he got so drunk before we were supposed to go to Laura & Gerald's for dinner, that I drove him to their house, dropped his ass off in front of their house and hauled ass back home. You should've seen the look on his face when he shut my truck door and I put her in gear and took off like a shot from a cannon! Of course he proceeded to call me every few minutes on my cell phone begging me to come get him, sniveling and telling me he'd stop drinking. I said "hell no, we're through, stay there and never, ever come back".

The next day after that incident, Laura called me and asked me to reconsider. She said Josh had been miserable all night, broke down crying at one point and then drunk so much that he passed out on her couch. Laura was my best friend and very persuasive. I trusted her and never thought she'd put me in danger. After speaking with her for quite a long time, I agreed to give the relationship one final try - but the drinking had to stop and he had to meet me halfway on things. Of course the backstabbing bitch didn't tell me that Josh had pissed, puked and shit all over her couch while he was passed out. I found that out much, much later.

Fast forward to the new house...about one or two months after we moved in...the old behaviors are resurfacing at break-neck speed. One minute I'm living with a nice, charming, handsome, caring man and the next...I turn around to find I'm sharing a house with a violent criminal who is also a psychopath. Josh is drinking again, going out, not telling me where he's going or when he's coming home, stealing my car, not going to work, lying about everything and threatening me when I continually catch him up to no good and breaking promises. By this time, I'm scared to death and try my damndest to not upset him for fear of him beating the immortal shit out of me for opening my mouth and questioning him. I had to be careful how I looked at him too...he had a hair trigger and anything I said, did or wore would set him off. If I was breathing funny and he was in a bad mood...it spelled trouble for me.

The tension in the house was palpable. I walked on eggshells. I made sure I left for work at the exact same time every morning, came home right on time, and only ran errands or went to Laura & Gerald's house when he gave permission...or he went with me. Even a 5 minute variation in my schedule would peak his curiosity and he'd start accusing me of cheating with someone...and from there, the fights would get ugly. I didn't even have to participate to engage his wrath. Then came Valentine's Day...

To be continued...

My Psycho Stalker - Part 5

After the black eye incident, I kept a permanent smile on my face so nobody would ever know that I was a victim of abuse. Again. I pushed most of my friends aside, mostly because he didn't allow me to socialize with anyone, including family.

A few months later, tempers escalated once again. He came home from work and as I went to kiss him, I noticed he smelled like pot. (I do not condone the use, and I forbid it in my house - plus I'm allergic to it. I have asthma attacks from the stench). I confronted him on the issue and first he lied and denied everything. I got mad and said "that's it, I'm through. This is the last straw. I do NOT cohabitate with druggies". You'd think that I would've learned to keep my mouth shut by now. Nope. We got into an argument, then he started threatening me and it got violent again.

The final straw was the house we were renting from his boss was a total piece of shit. I'm very allergic to mold...every time it rained, the roof leaked and the water ran down the roof supports to the ceiling and then to the bathroom door frame, all over the wood floor. That's a sound I will never forget...the sudden onset of rain INSIDE the house! No matter how much I cleaned, there was still mold. Plus the roof and supports were rotting. Needless to say, I could never breathe in the house and I was miserable. But I knew better than to complain.

Then the well ran dry. After no water for a few weeks, the slum lord finally had a new well drilled. Are you ready for this? All we got out of the faucet was black water. I shit you not...I spent so much money on Diamond Springs water, I should've bought stock in the company. And we had to shower at Josh's work after hours. That was creepy for me. Of course I got fed up with all the bullshit and we started arguing. I threatened to move out and leave him there, since he wanted to stay so badly. And then I accused him of being afraid to stand up to his boss and tell him his house is a fucking piece of shit and we weren't paying rent. I paid for those remarks, believe me.

I was thoroughly fed up, so I began looking for a house to buy. I was done with renting from assholes who didn't care that the roof was leaking or that there was NO water in the house. I finally found a house in the same area that I could afford on my own, that was close to my work (within walking distance!) and close to Josh's work (not quite walking distance for his fat ass, although I could have done it). I went through the "real estate dance" and eventually purchased the house.

The Sellers were so kind. I explained to them that I was living in a rented house and had been without water for months, etc. We struck up a deal whereby I would pay the Sellers rent for 2 weeks until we closed on the house. God bless them!! I hugged them both (husband and wife) and the realtor. I had a house with clean, running water!!

I bought the house just before Christmas - Merry Christmas to me!! It happens to be the house I still live in now. I had high hopes that we could work out our problems now and maybe go to counseling (for him) now that we had the stress of the shit-house off our backs and had a nice, new place to live. Yes with clean, running water and a roof that didn't leak!!

But alas...my dreams were short lived. To be continued...

My Psycho Stalker - Part 4

Like I said earlier...Josh's true colors were beginning to show. I had a great job with a local attorney and we were very close. Before I met Josh, my boss knew I lived alone, had no family in the state and pretty much kept to myself. He and his wife used to invite me over for dinner, picnics, holiday get-togethers, etc. with their two kids who were about ten years younger than me. We were all close and I was pretty much adopted by them. It was great.

About a month or so after moving into the new house, one evening Josh and I got into another one of our arguments. They were occuring more frequently than not. It seemed every little thing pissed him off, like me talking to what few friends I had, if I was a few minutes late coming home from work, if I left for work early, what I was doing at work, who I was talking to, etc. He was paranoid and obsessed.

This fight turned physical. His temper flared quickly - much more so than mine. After the argument escalated into a screaming match (because I don't like people getting in my face no matter how big they are), he shoved me into my desk, hard. After bouncing off the desk, I steadied myself and stood back up. Then he got really pissed off and hit me in the face. I was dazed and having flashbacks of my biological father (another piece of shit in my life) beating me and always hitting me in the head/face. If there was one lesson I learned as a small child, it was to shut the hell up when someone is beating the shit out of you and they have the upper hand, so to speak. Josh was blocking my escape from the room and had me cornered behind my desk. I stood there and tried my damndest not to cry, to no avail.

He suddenly became sorry and rushed over to hug me and tried to take a look at my face to see what damage he'd done. I didn't want the son-of-a-bitch touching me, so I turned away and tried to walk away. In hindsight, that was NOT a good move on my part. He grabbed my arm hard and made me face him so he could look at me. I think at this time he was trying to cover his ass because he knew I'd have marks on my face, arms, back and legs. Sure enough, I was going to have a beautiful black eye and swollen nose.

After the commotion and emotions calmed down, we sat in the living room and I barely said a word. I was afraid he'd go off the deep end again and attack me. We'd been together a few months now and I was slowly learning that he HAD to control me completely or else he'd freak out and accuse me of all kinds of weird shit. Of course, as we went to bed, he wanted to have sex. Oh gross...just what I want...the fat, f*cking asshole who beat me up touching me. Ok, I'd been through this before...my brain disassociated itself from my body and went someplace else until he was done (which didn't take long).

The next day at work, my very observant boss (did I tell you he was an attorney?) noticed that I was avoiding him and the other girl in the office. This was a small office and there were only four of us working there - me, my boss, the other girl and one other attorney. My boss finally cornered me and took one look at my face and yelled "what the hell happened to you?". Of course the other girl comes running and says "ah ha, I knew it. He hit you, didn't he?". Out of fear, I played the whole thing down and said I ran into a door...again. After about a half hour of my denying that Josh hit me, my boss took me in his office and told me "if I find out he put his hands on you...I'll kill him". WHOA, this out of my timid, respectable boss!

My boss and I had a long talk that day. There were tears shed by both parties and he warned me - if I ever got pregnant by this monster (Josh), he would be the first one to take me to a clinic for an abortion. There was NO way in hell he was going to allow me to have this monster's child if by chance I became pregnant. You see, I'd told him that I found out that Josh was messing with my birth control pills and I had to carry them with me 24/7 so he couldn't get to them. I was a nervous wreck.

To be continued...

My Psycho Stalker - Part 3

The next day after the cookout with Laura and Gerald, Josh and I got into a heated argument about his ex-wife. I was furious with him for not telling me all about that saga and he was not pleased with me for trying to go after her. Well you know what...too damn bad. She shouldn't have opened her big toothless mouth and called me a "f*cking c*nt". It would've served her right to get her ass kicked.

He stayed home with me that day and he had a few drinks. Little did I know, he had a drinking problem. Have you ever heard the old adage "instant asshole, add alcohol"? Yep...that was him. He got an attitude, I ignored him and we worked it out for the moment. Josh started telling me more and more of his background (which he did every now and then when he was drinking) and family. What is truth and what is fiction, I have no idea.

Cyndi Lauper sang the song "True Colors" a long time ago. I never realized how true those words were until I lived with this character for awhile. At the time, I had a small car and my truck. I'd purchased the truck for myself as a birthday present a year or two before (after saving for 10 years) and didn't want to get rid of my little car. You guessed it - Josh didn't have reliable transportation and asked if he could use my car to go back and forth to work if he couldn't find a ride. Since I got sick and tired of being the backup who took him to and from work, I said sure. That was a mistake. (Mind you, a big, fat guy in a little Isuzu I-Mark 2 door car). He was NOT allowed to touch my truck. Nobody touches my truck!

So me being the nice person that I am, I let him use the car - which soon became all the time. Every now and then he would put gas in it (how mighty white of him), I paid the insurance, taxes, registration and maintenance on the car.

Not too long after he moved in with me, we had to move. The mother-in-law apartment I was living in was too inconvenient. The downstairs neighbors were total jackasses, they were loud and I think they were selling drugs out of the house. They had visitors 24/7 who would always park in front of my vehicles so we could never leave. Also the landlord (slum lord) didn't separate the utilities for the two places, so I ended up paying more than my fair share of the bills. Yes, when you are renting two apartments out of one house, you are supposed to have two separate accounts/meters for the utilities. This jerk didn't do that. Too bad I didn't know that before I signed the lease agreement.

Anyway, we started looking for a place closer to where he worked because Josh wanted to walk to work. He told me he wanted to lose his extra weight and get back in shape. After looking for awhile, he said he could rent this little house that his boss owned. So we moved.

The house was adorable and there was a huge yard, which I loved. It was pretty much in the backyard of where he worked, so he could go back and forth easily without having to use my car. It was also closer to where I was working and I was saving commute time and gas money. Ahhh, life was grand.

Little did I know, this would be the "evil house". Not too long after we moved in, Josh began to have temper tantrums and when we got into arguments, he'd get physical. It began slowly with either a shove or him grabbing my arm or slamming a door in my face. But it soon escalated to much more than that.

To be continued...

My Psycho Stalker - Part 2

So...to recap from last time, Josh and I decided to move in together. Of course he moved in with me into my tiny mother-in-law type apartment. He lived two houses away from Laura and Gerald, but I didn't want to move into someone else's house "just in case". I've always been independent and that wasn't about to change now. Plus I didn't realize his ex-wife was still living there. Oh yea, this gets ugly.

I let him move in with me. We were invited to Laura and Gerald's for another dinner, which had become a tradition with the four of us. We would alternate houses for dinner about once every two weeks, schedules allowing. As usual, I bring dessert to the cookout and we are sitting in the backyard having a few drinks. Gerald was cooking on the grill, Laura was setting up the table in the backyard and I was sitting on Josh's lap enjoying being outdoors and relaxing. Suddenly this haggard looking, wrinkled up old bitch comes up to the fence between Laura and Gerald's property and the next door neighbor and starts yelling at me and Josh. I'm flabbergasted and have NO clue who this crazy woman is, nor why she is yelling obscenities at us.

Laura comes running out of the house just as I stand up and ask the old bitch what exactly her damn malfunction is and who the hell she thinks she is yelling at me like that when I have no clue who she is. It gets better, trust me! Laura is trying to drag me into the house quickly while Josh goes over to the fence and begins to argue with the old broad. As I'm walking/being drug up the back stairs to the house, I hear the old bitch call me a "f*cking c&nt". Really?! That's it, the bitch shall die tonight! I throw Laura off me, push Gerald out of the way and start running over to her to jump the fence and kick her sorry ass. NOBODY calls me that and gets away with it! Josh takes a few steps towards me trying to intercede, Gerald runs up behind me, grabs me and picks me up off the ground. Gerald then drags me into the house (my feet never touched the ground - he had me in the air) and tells Laura to keep me inside before I killed this crazy bitch and knocked the rest of her teeth out of her head.

I calmed down (for appearances only) and pretended to engage Laura in a meaningless conversation while I calmy and carefully took off all my jewelry, placed it on her coffee table in the living room, and took off my 4" stiletto heels. Well Laura thinks I'm calm enough for her to go into the kitchen and check the oven. I seize the moment and haul ass out the back door, fly down the stairs, hurling obscenities and threats at the old bitch...and am just about ready to vault over the fence when Gerald and Josh grab me, pick me up again (told you I was small) and drag me back into the house. They about handcuffed me to the post in the kitchen because I almost got away from Gerald again. I wasn't afraid of him and I used one of my "maneuvers" on him. I didn't hurt him. I stunned him. I was furious and wanted a f*cking explanation NOW.

Josh finished his shouting match with the old bitch and came into the house. I was furious and demanded he tell me who she was and what she was yelling at me for. He said "oh that's just my ex-wife who still lives two houses over. She saw us and wanted to know who I was and why I was with you. Then she yelled at me for a bunch of other shit", etc. WHAT?! You have an ex-wife? And she's more than 20 years older than you?! That ancient, raggly-ass, no toothed, shrieking, wrinkled-up old crazy bitch is your ex-wife?! Why did you not tell me this before? Then he tells me that their divorce is almost final. What the f*ck do you mean almost final? Oh hell no, I'm outta here. By this time, I've already gone past the point of being pissed off and I'm crying, which makes me even madder because I don't usually cry.

Laura and Gerald talk me into staying so we can all talk. Well, they ARE my best friends...ok, let's talk this out. And I'd better hear some damn good explanations or someone (Josh) is going to be looking for a new place to stay and a new girlfriend!

We talk for most of the night. I calm down after hearing why the divorce was delayed (her fault, of course...so he says) and after being reassured numerous times that he loves ME and he wants to be with me. Of course Gerald is laughing his ass off at how agile I am and how I almost got away from him. He said he was also shocked when I almost outmaneuvered him and almost got away. He and Laura were pretty impressed with my strength and agility...cat-like reflexes. Surprise! Don't underestimate me.

After dinner, we had a drink, watched a movie and Josh and I went home. I was assured that scene would not happen again because the old bitch was supposed to have moved already, and would definitely be moving shortly out of the neighborhood. She was supposed to move to Arizona to be with her daughter.

At my apartment, Josh is being just as nice as pie to me. He's being the perfect gentleman, going the whole 9 yards so to speak. It's late, so we go to bed without any further discussion. The next day, his true colors start to show. Little did I know what I had gotten myself into.

To be continued...

My Psycho Stalker - Part 1

Here's the story that quite a few folks have asked me to write about. It's painful, scary and it's a living hell for me. I have also changed the names to protect the GUILTY for fear of being sued by these assholes - or from having the 2 psychos come after me again. You'll see what I mean.

It all started about 12 years ago...my (then) best friend Laura and her boyfriend (also a nut-job) Gerald, introduced me to their neighbor/good friend (Josh). It was incidentally Gerald's best friend - go figure, right?

Laura was hosting an event through her work. We all decided it would be a good thing if I met Josh there, a public place. I don't do blind dates - did it once and it was horrible. So Laura introduces me to Josh. We meet, talk for a bit, and then I walk around to look at the different booths and my favorite NASCAR driver's car (Terry LaBonte). I had one of guys there take pictures of me standing next to the car while Josh walked around and began to imbibe far too much of the amber beverages.

I was in hog heaven admiring my favorite driver's car, asking the guy who was in charge a million questions, when Josh walks up and asks me to walk around with him so we can talk. No problem, that would be nice to talk and get to know him...after all he IS kinda cute and charming, even though he's a bit on the hefty side. That's when I realized he was totally shit-faced. Fan-f*cking-tastic! What a way to make a first impression.

I spotted Laura and broke away from Josh for a minute and asked her "what the hell are you doing? This guy is drunk as hell!" She assured me that it was ok and a fluke thing. She said Josh and Gerald had been out earlier fishing and drinking...and you know how boys get. Ok, I'll give him a chance - remember, I trusted Laura who was supposed to be my best friend. Laura and I were extremely close.

It gets better...after being there for a few hours, I decide to go home because I was still in my work clothes (this event was after work), it was starting to get dark and I was exhausted. Plus by this time, Josh is so f*cked up that he is becoming an embarassment and LOUD. I said good-bye to Laura and Josh walked me to my car. He tells me to wait a minute, walks between two cars and right in front of God and everyone...pisses into the street! WTF?! Oh hell no. I left right then and there. Later on I called Laura and asked her what the hell Josh's malfunction is and if he's nuts. She says no and apologizes profusely.

Laura calls me up a few days later and invites me to come over for a cookout. Sure, no problem, I'd love to go. Plus I wanted to spend some time with Laura anyway. I went there all the time for cookouts, to watch movies, or just hang out with Laura and Gerald (when he's there). I show up with dessert and guess who is sitting in the backyard with Gerald? Yeaaa you guessed it...Josh. Oh shit, talk about an awkward situation. And I can't leave because they've all already seen me. Ok, let's make the best of this.

Gerald walks up and gives me a big hug (as usual), then re-introduces me to Josh. Josh apologizes profusely for his abominable behavior at the event and swears he doesn't act like that - it was the alcohol. So we all sit down in the backyard and just talk about anything and everything. My, my, my Josh is quite the charmer. Who knew? Plus he did clean up well and looked smashing in his jeans and sleeveless shirt, which showed off his muscles and tattoos. Or maybe it was the brown hair and brown eyes that got me too...either way, I was intrigued.

Josh asked me out for a date and I accepted. Laura and Gerald were quite pleased with themselves for setting us up. The four of us had quite a bit of fun double dating, having more cookouts at Laura and Gerald's house, going canoeing (girls in one and guys in the other!) and fishing.

It was a great courtship and Josh seemed like a great guy. He was attentive, caring, protective and was an absolute gentleman (I know, hard to believe after that first impression). After a few months, we talked at great length with Laura and Gerald (just to get an outside opinion) about the two of us (me & Josh) moving in together. Oh my gosh...Laura and Gerald could not have been happier about our decision. They thought it was the best thing in the world. Hey, if my best friend is for it and she's happy...what can go wrong?

Part 2 - tomorrow...stay tuned and please sign up to "follow" me. If you'd like to leave comments, I'd be thrilled. It's nice to know that there are folks out there reading my life story.

My Screwed Up Life - Part 3

This will be my last posting on this subject for awhile. I don't want to depress or shock anyone - although I've been told by a few friends that I could've knocked them over with a feather after they read these.

If the support system is strong for the abused person, there is a very good chance that they will recover and be able to function normally. It doesn't matter if it's a close friend, family member, religious figure, teacher or psychiatrist - just so long as there is someone to listen and provide emotional support.

Truth be told, some family members will flat out deny that there was any abuse because they think there is a stigma attached and they don't want to be part of it. I know this from experience. Some of my family members think I lied about what happened. If they only knew the whole story...but I don't think they are mature enough or strong enough to handle it. Let them think what they want. I know the truth and so does my Mom. Sometimes you have to say "F*ck you, you weren't there, you don't know what happened and I don't care what you think" and move on with your life.

It sucks when your own family (some members, not all) deny the whole thing and then disown you! Yes...there are a few members of my family that to this day will NOT speak to me. You know what I think? F*ck them! They didn't take me to raise, I'm free and over 21. I've been on my own since I was 16 and don't need their approval for anything. I just thank God that my Mother knows I've told the truth - and I haven't told her everything either. I don't think she needs to know everything. She's got enough on her plate and I don't want to upset her. I love her too much.

It's all about survival. You have to muster up enough intestinal fortitude to decide to deal with the trauma, get help and rebuild your life. Abuse takes a hefty toll on the human body and mind. You have to be brave enough to reach out to someone, trust them (I know it's not easy to trust), confide in them and take it one step at a time. Recovery won't happen overnight.

I still have issues and I don't deny that. I have a very difficult time trusting people, I still have the nightmares, am controlling (that's how I cope), have OCD and I'm paranoid. At least I'm not a serial killer! I function like any other human being and on the outside, I'm just like you. On the inside...it's a different story, but I deal with it in a constructive manner.

I am very thankful for the few close friends that I do have and that have stuck with me over the years. They accept me even with the eccentric behavior and strange habits I have. Thank God I have them in my life. And I can't forget my Mother. She's been such a blessing - words can't describe how grateful I am to her. My step-father, whom I'm proud to call Dad, has been a blessing as well. Nobody knows he's my step-father and I don't allude to it - hell, we even look alike!

Maybe tomorrow I'll write about my long time stalker...maybe. If there are any topics you'd like me to write about, let me know. Also, you can click on the widget to follow my blog. I would really appreciate it. It means a lot knowing that people care enough to read my life story. Thank you.

My Screwed Up Life - Part 2

In my post yesterday, I said that even though I was an abused child (not by my Mother), it made me who I am today. Let me clarify by saying that I am NOT advocating or condoning abuse. On the contrary, I try to help prevent it and help those who have gone through it. I apologize if anyone thought otherwise.

As I stated in yesterday's post, some folks come out somewhat ok and some crack under the pressure of having to deal with the trauma. Nobody, but nobody gets out unscathed. As strong as I believe I am, even I did not come out unscathed. I'm not a violent person (if I was, I can bet you I wouldn't have gotten my ass kicked so many times!). Sometimes my mouth does over-ride my ass and I say things that the average person might take as a threat. But the people who know me, know I'm blowing off steam and mean no harm. There are a few folks I'd like to see disappear, but that's not my place to make that happen. Remember - Karma. I don't want any bad Karma following me! I can think it all I want...but I can't do it.

Even though I have dealt with most of my issues, I still have sleep disorders, have been diagnosed with PTSD and am anal-retentive and obsessive-compulsive. I'll admit it - I'm a bit controlling, but it's how I deal with things. And it's not just the childhood trauma I am still having to deal with. I was abused as an adult too - literally about beat to death by an ex-boyfriend because he was in a bad mood. And by the way, the cops never caught the guy - the fat bastard is still on the loose and every now and then he lets me know he's still out there. That's another story for another day.

I still have very vivid nightmares, I sleepwalk (husband says I check all the locks in the house), I fight in my sleep, I yell in my sleep and have woken myself up screaming and cussing at certain people. I still have flashbacks, hardly sleep and am always looking over my shoulder. But I don't let all that stop me from living my life. It was part of the reason I was so reserved when I began dating my husband. I didn't want him to find all this out about me without me warning/explaining it to him first. Can you imagine spending the night with your girlfriend and having her sleepwalk, yell, scream and fight in her sleep? Yea....FREAKIN PSYCHO! But we had a very serious talk and he understands, which is such a blessing I can't even begin to tell you.

Frustrating? That's an understatement! Yes I get frustrated, yes I'm slightly paranoid and I have no problem admitting that. If I wasn't paranoid, cautious and armed most of the time, I would have been dead a long time ago. That's a cold, hard fact! When I get frustrated or pissed off, I don't take it out on people. I get physical - chopping wood, throwing axes at my target in the wooded backyard, lifting weights, working on my truck, going for a walk with my dog and writing about things. I'm not a big talker when it comes to my traumas and personal issues. I'd rather write. I've always been a writer - it is so much easier for me. The point is I don't go out and beat the shit out of other people (even though some definitely deserve it). I find constructive ways to release my anger.

It's all in the mind. It's a choice. You either deal with your issues properly and ditch the "victim" mentality or you succumb to it and it eventually destroys you. I've seen it happen and it's very, very sad. After years of being a "victim", I chose to be a survivor. I gathered up my inner strength and decided to live again. Was that an easy decision to make? No it was not, but is anything that is truly worth doing "easy"?

To be continued.....

My Screwed Up Life - Part 1

Ha! I know y'all can relate to that title. This will be the first installment of many screwed up situations that come from my life. These stories are absolutely true with no embellishment whatsoever. Trust me...I don't need to embellish, the stories are freaky enough. I am putting all of these into a book as well. When it's done, I'll let you know.

Where to start...as a child, I had a father (and I use the term loosely) who was very abusive. I refer to him as the sperm donor. He does not deserve to be called father or dad or anything nice. I'll leave out here what he did to my Mother and just tell you what he did to me.

I learned at a very young age that children are supposed to be seen and not heard. If I didn't move fast enough or if I said something to the sperm donor's dislike, I got the shit beat out of me. My Mother would try her best to intervene. That would just piss him off even more and then he would attack her. His favorite thing was to hit me in the head. I was forever trying to hide bruises, I had horrible headaches, nightmares and flinched at every sound and every time someone moved quickly. Finally at the age of 5, my parents divorced. And that started a whole storm of violence, threats, terrorizing of the family. The sperm donor was and is crazy, psychotic and a very violent person. For that reason, I cannot go back to the state where I was born for fear of him killing me...as he so often promised he would.

My Mother and I had to move around frequently because he would always find us and the terror would start anew. It was a never ending cycle. He repeatedly threatened to kidnap me, kill me and my Mother, hurt members of our family (even my Grandmother!) and was always following us, watching us. When he wasn't available to stalk and threaten us, he had his friends from his motorcycle gang do it for him. I know, how sweet. I can't count the number of times we had scary men knocking on our doors at all hours of the day and night just to threaten my Mother.

I was a mere helpless child at the time. Unfortunately, my childhood was lost because he stole that from me. I had to grow up before my time so I could be big and strong and protect my Mommy. The things that bastard did to her...it makes me so enraged to even think about it now. He's damn lucky I believe in Karma or else I would've taken great pleasure in making his birth certificate a worthless f*cking document years ago.

To be continued tomorrow....

Parents, Step-Parents and Children

I was once married to a man who had a vindictive ex-wife. They had 2 children. I won't get into specifics here, but my point is that when families mesh, it is completely inappropriate for the ex-wife to put the kids in the middle of the divorce and play them against their non-custodial father.

We had visitation with the kids every other weekend. When the ex decided that it was ok with her schedule. There were many times we'd drive the hour to her house and she'd say "nope, can't have them. I have other plans." It was always a big drama scene having to deal with the ex-wife. She told the kids that they did NOT have to respect me, even though I was supporting their dad and they were staying at my house, eating my food and terrorizing my animals. Yes, and she even admitted that to me one day when we had a blowout over the phone. When we had the kids, she made it a point to call at least 3 times a day just to be a pain in the ass. Oh and she'd instruct them to misbehave, disrespect me and look through my stuff and call her back with information. Nosy bitch - I still hate her even after all these years. She caused trouble whenever she could. The bullshit finally broke up my marriage. I couldn't take any more.

Long story short, it made for a horrible marriage and it put the poor kids in the middle. And it also put me in a bind because I had to deal with the disrespect in MY house. Thankfully one of the kids was nice to me (the son). The daughter was another story. She was just like her mother and snooped through my house (as she was instructed by the mother), went through personal items in my bedroom, bathroom, office and looked through my bills. I know because I caught her numerous times. Of course the father would not discipline her because he was afraid of his ex-wife and of her withholding visitation. He had no backbone when it came to the ex. I finally put my foot down and said no more. I was not going to be treated like that in my home. I did not dislike the child, I disliked the behavior - let me make that clear!

People, please do not make this same mistake. I beg of you, do not put the children in the middle of a divorce, new marriage, whatever the situation may be. It's not fair to the kids, nor the new step-parent. Also, ex-husbands...have the balls to stand up to your ex-wife instead of being a door-mat and making your new wife deal with the drama and bullshit. It's totally unacceptable!

Needless to say, I divorced him. It took seven (7) long years, but I finally got the money to divorce him. The son-of-a-bitch had me pay for his first divorce, his ex-wife's car, his outstanding loans...to the total of over $50,000. He said he'd pay me back and the mother-f**ker never paid me a penny. The majority of our problems were because of his ex-wife meddling, the fact that he lived off me, stuck me with HIS and his ex-wife's bills, cheated on me, well I won't go on. I'll continue this in another blog.

As you can tell, I still have a lot of pent up anger regarding this. There is so much more and I will continue this in another blog. I need to get my blood pressure down to a respectable level right now and stop writing this. I can feel my face getting hot, my heart is pounding out of my chest and I'm mad as hell right now! I was such a sucker for so long. Yes I blame ME - it's called Personal Accountability. More people ought to practice it. He screwed me over, but I let him. I was stupid, trusting, thought that the marriage vows actually meant something. I was a f*cking fool! And now I'm broke...trying to dig myself out of this hole and it's years later.

Where is he, you ask? He moved away, got remarried - to a FAT chick that looks like me, but with an extra 75 pounds. That's just messed up on so many levels. Good luck with him Honey! He loves to live off women, gamble (which he hides well), buy stuff for himself, rack up bills and then run like hell. Watch out! He will probably cheat on you too - but he doesn't go far. Keep an eye on your male friends' girlfriends. I've been there and I'm speaking from experience.

To be continued.......hey if you have thoughts or suggestions, please put them on here. I'd love to read them. I'd feel better knowing I'm not the only sucker out there!

I Got Poked By A Ghost

This past weekend I went out of state to take a class at a very prestigious establishment. The campus is secured and is well maintained. The buildings are ancient and the architecture absolutely stunning. It was a wonderful experience and I can’t wait to go back for another class weekend.

About an hour after my arrival, I am being shown around the campus by my husband. He’s giving me the history and explaining what the different buildings are now and what they were way back when. Of course by this time, I’m hungry. What else is new – I can always eat! We wander around and eventually head toward the Mess Hall. That’s when he tells me that the building housing the Mess Hall was a former hospital in the Civil War. Hmmm, this gets better and better all the time.

The first words out of my mouth are, so maybe we can see some ghosts in there? Honestly it was an innocent statement. I say things like that all the time. I love ghosts and the supernatural. I have studied things of that nature since I was a very young child. I’ve always been fascinated with the supernatural and have even seen a few ghosts of my own in my time.

My husband and I are enjoying a hearty dinner and having a lively discussion with one of the professors who happened to join us at the table. Mind you, this is also the first time my husband and I have been alone for a few months! The conversation jumps from one topic to the next without skipping a beat. It’s a beautiful thing.

We finish our meal and are casually heading to the orientation meeting, still discussing the campus history and architecture and the sights to be seen while there. Suddenly out of the blue, I see something out of the corner of my eye and before I can duck, I’m hit! I put my hand to my head to see if I can feel what the hell just hit me and as I look at my hand, it appears to be covered in blood! I look at my husband and say “what the hell is this?!” He takes a tissue from my hand and wipes the mess out of my hair as best he can. Yea…it’s not coming out and the blood red stain is NOT coming off my hand! It’s a damn good thing I dyed my hair red a few weeks ago, let me tell you what.

He hands me the tissue with the offending material in it and I take a good long look. No, it’s not bird poop. It’s a single, solitary, very ripe poke berry. We have no clue where it came from, there were no birds in the immediate vicinity at the time and the squirrels were also across the lawn on the other side. He looked at me and said “ok NO MORE talk about ghosts!”.

Yes folks, that’s just my luck. I got beaned by a ghost with a blood red poke berry. I thought it was funny as hell, but my husband was a bit wary. You see, this kind of stuff happens to me all the time and I’m used to it, but he’s not. He’s getting used to it and doesn’t really find it as scary or odd as he used to.

It took two days to wash the berry out of my hair. Each time I dried my hair after my shower, there was a slight trade of red/purple on my towel. At least I scrubbed my hand hard enough to remove the traces there. That would sure have been interesting to try and explain that to my classmates!

People Really ARE That Ignorant!

Wow, unbelievable. I'm in the kitchen cooking dinner, thinking about the books I'm writing, gazing out the window contemplating life...and watching the deer that feast on my plants in the backyard. It's what I do when I need to relax. Where I live, you can't hunt anywhere in this area even though it's wooded. So I spend some time every night, when possible, to just watch the deer and relax.

Here's the amazing part. My trusty Beagle was outside "doing her thing" while I was cooking. Suddenly she starts baying and howling up a veritable storm like the devil is chasing her with a hot pronged pitch-fork all the way back to the gates of hell. I know she's not barking at the deer - she's used to them by now, plus she's too old to chase them. This tells me that somebody is around that should NOT be. The bark was more of a "hey get the hell off my land" than a "hey Daddy's home".

I don't see anyone when I look out my kitchen window (plus I'm too short to see next to the house). When I go towards the front of the house to open the front door, I see out my front living room window, a strange man with no shirt on walking out from the side of my house. Mind you, my land is next to the neighbor's land that I take care of and both lots are mostly blocked off and have numerous No Trespassing signs.

The nosy ass stranger had parked his truck right in front of my driveway (wish hubby had come home at that point with his "special" vehicle) and he was walking in my backyard. Why I have no freakin clue! By the time I grabbed my gun and threw open the front door, he jumped in his truck and took off. WTF?! I watched him go down the street and guess what...he lives 3 houses down from me. Yeaaa I thought the truck looked familiar.

The whole point of having the signs up is so folks will NOT come onto my property and invade my privacy. Of course if there is a true emergency, that would be different. What the hell is wrong with people? You don't just walk on up into someone else's property and take a tour. Things like that could potentially get you hurt...or killed. This just melts the frosting off my cake, burns my biscuits and makes me want to squash bugs.

My first thought was to fire a warning shot at his truck, but hell ammo is too expensive. Plus I don't have time to go to jail. My second thought was to call the local police and report yet ANOTHER trespasser. But then I remembered what a waste of time THAT would be. Hell my stalker is still on the loose (10 years later), do you really think they can do anything about trespassers? Yes the stalker is another story for another day. He's a true psycho, which is why I'm such a nervous person.

Do any of you have any ideas on how to legally stop people like that? I am out of ideas. I cannot afford a fence - thought about cattle gates, but figured they'd look tacky. So for now, I remain, a nervous wreck.

Seriously...Who Would've Thought?

I'm one of those folks people love to hate. My whole entire life has been planned out since I was about 5 years old...by me. I knew what I wanted to do, where I was going to go to school, how I was going to be happy, who I was going to marry, the whole kit-n-kaboodle. Well the marriage part was an option - the owning of many animals a non-negotiable factor. The odd part is now that I'm almost 40, yes go ahead and laugh - if you're not there you will be soon enough and you'll know what I mean, I have no clue as to what I want to do for a career.

Unemployment came as a mild shock in June of 2009. I had a feeling it was coming. Don't get me wrong - I was complimented almost daily on the job I did, but one or two of the "higher-ups" didn't like my personality. Oh and I didn't drive a new car, or have kids, or wear expensive jewelry, or go to the best parties or have the biggest house in the most expensive subdivision. You get the picture. I live in a small house that I made into a home, drive a well kept but older pickup truck, wear regular clothes (and hate shopping), volunteer my time for my community and am just down to earth.

I'm not sorry I lost my job either. I was "let go" and was told that my position was being eliminated. Which come to find out, it most certainly was not. They lied to me and to the other employees. But I decided to let it go since it's just not worth my time. I do not put up fronts or pretend I'm rich or try to fit in...I am ME. It's the way I was raised. I have a low tolerance for those who are "pretenders", liars, deceivers and all out fakes. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

The funny thing is here I am, contemplating the rest of my life in this topsy-turvy world, in a recession with a bad outlook for the job market. As I look back on my resume, I realize I have done a whole lot with my life and have many experiences with various companies. What I am doing is weeding through all that and trying to figure out when I was happiest. Yes - happiest, not the wealthiest.

I'm at the point in my life that I'm sick and tired of working with/for people who have the "what's in it for me" attitude. It's time for ME to be happy. Hell I never said I wanted to be rich, even when I was 5 years old and planning out my life. My main concern was being happy and being nice to those who needed help. All that without being a doormat (as my wonderful Dad used to always tell me).

Who would've thought that I would be at a crossroads right now and would need to take time for self-reflection, introspection, family and faith? I got quite a wake up call and I am glad. I've worked like a dog my whole life, usually 2 jobs at once and going to school, and what has it done to me? I realized that my Mom and Grandma were right. If I don't slow down soon, I'm going to miss life. Guess what? I have missed a hell of a lot. And for that, I am truly sorry.

The time is now. I am searching for work that makes me happy and will pay what few bills I have, not make me rich. I want to and need to spend time with my family before life goes by any faster. All of my grandparents are deceased (all 6 of them), I have no siblings, and my wonderful parents are not in the best health. Life's too short to be making everyone else happy and putting my needs aside as I've always done. I'm taking life one day at a time and I'm going to finally live!

I'd like to ask you out there - when is the last time you took stock of your life and realized it's not all about the money - or pleasing everyone else? Live life, be healthy, happy and treasure your family and friends. They will be gone sooner than you expect.

What The Hell?

First and foremost, let me apologize for not posting in a week. I had some issues to deal with, both with ill family members and friends. Let's just leave it as it's been a hell of a week. You can relate, can't you? And the best part of it all is I am getting used to a new computer with a touchy touch-pad and I deleted about 4 of my posts before I got them online. Angry? That's a major understatement.

Labor Day weekend is a busy time for most folks - people take the last of their summer vacations, people who have kids are getting them ready for school, and fire departments are collecting donations for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. It's called Fill The Boot for MDA and that's what I was doing all day Saturday and Sunday. Since I do not have children, I put all my efforts into collecting funds for other peoples' kids who need help. But that's another story for another post. It was a whole lot of fun!

The week before the yearly MDA drive has been busy. I was trying to coordinate the activities, with the grateful assistance of my husband, as we were going to collect in the large driveway and parking lot in front of our volunteer firehouse at the very end of the County. I spent more than a little bit of time attempting to coordinate the personnel to assist. And the back up personnel for those who said they'd show and whom I knew would eventually not show. Which leads me to the next subject.

There are very few things that really piss me off. Don't get me wrong, I have quite a few pet peeves, but that's different. I'm talking about things that make me mad enough to want to stomp bunnies. Liars top the list. If I ask you to come out and help with a fundraising activity, meeting, training, Station coverage, etc. and you tell me you will be there...you had BETTER be there. I've had my fill of people yessing me to death and then leaving me holding the bag and doing the job of 5 people. It flat out sucks. It's also not fair to those who are counting on the donations (MDA) or those who are counting on the assistance, i.e. planning events for the volunteer firehouse - our own fundraisers.

On the second day (Sunday)of collecting for MDA, there were a whopping total of 2 people collecting donations. My husband and I collected for a few hours before we finally wrangled 2 of our young members out of bed to come help us (at 1pm), as they'd promised to help the day before. Do you see where I'm going with this? Have y'all been in this predicament as well? I'm sure you have. Doesn't it just frost your damn cookies that folks can be so non-chalant, flippant and conveniently forgetful...well until they need something. Then I seem to be instantaneously on their speed dial.

This has become a part of daily life now, for everyone who is responsible. Damn, I said the big ole bad "r" word...responsible. Why is it that grown adults cannot seem to keep their word? I know it wasn't like this when I was growing up. If you gave someone your word or you committed to do something, you were there. If by some chance of ill-fated luck you could not, you at least called to alert the people that something had come up and you'd help them next time.

What the hell has happened? Some people (young and old) have completely forgotten about manners, being courteous, respectful, being responsible and have forgotten how to help others without expecting anything in return. It's digusting and it's a disgrace to humanity. Are parents not teaching their kids these virtues anymore? Are some folks really that self-absorbed that they can't go out of their way for a little bit and help others? Is it really too much to ask to get off your ass and help someone out who may be less fortunate than yourself?

Yes as you can see, this really irks me, frosts my cookies, burns my biscuits and makes me want to pull my hair out. I know I was not raised that way. Really folks, give me some feedback here because I'm at a loss. What the heck is going on in the world today that people can't help one another?

It Hurts So Good

Holy Crap! I can't believe I hurt this much...what the hell?! Let me start from the beginning...I'm an over-achiever. I'm also anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive, a perfectionista and I hate to lose. Those are some of my more endearing qualities too. Those of you who know me are probably losing control of your bodily functions reading this. It's an understatement, for sure.

Monday started out as a great day. I religiously did my workout (Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays) with my favorite dvd, in the comfort of my own home. I'll be damned if anyone outside of my home is going to see me in spandex or exercising with no shorts at all. Anyway...the workout went well. Afterward I was feeling extra froggy and decided to finally cut the grass at my house and my neighbors' house next door. They are elderly, so I do it for them all the time.

The forecast was calling for possible rain sprinkles, so I checked the radar before venturing outside. The radar was clear with the exception of a small spot miles west. Just my luck, I got a quarter of the way done with my lawn and it started to rain. Not sprinkle like the weatherman said, but a steady rain. Dammit! I get so angry when I can't finish a project I set out to do. It pisses me off to no end. I waited for about 20 minutes under the back of my camper shell in my truck for the rain to stop. Yeah...right. I gave up, went inside and took a shower.

Tuesday morning looked promising for finishing the lawn chores and yard cleanup. I got all psyched up to finish this project. Stupid me forgot that the town I live in turns into a swamp after ANY rain. That's what the town name means in Native American - swamp. No, I shit you not.

Five hours later - yes FIVE hours later, I finally finished fighting with the wet grass, dead tree limbs, underground bees nest (surprise!), mole holes and called it a day. I hadn't eaten anything and was starving. I was also tired as hell and was starting to get sore from having to fight with the push mower all day. See I forgot to replace the drive belt on my tractor, so I was forced to cut the grass with a push mower. That'll teach me to procrastinate.

Once I got out of the shower, the pain from hell set in. Now don't get me wrong, I'm no creampuff. I live with pain on a daily basis (thanks to my ex-boyfriend/stalker who repeatedly kicked the shit out of me) and function fairly well without complaining. All bets were off - I could barely move.

Today's Thursday and I'm still sore as hell. Yesterday I thought I was going to die. I swear I wanted to file a hit and run report on the truck that ran my little ass over and left like a scalded dog! All I can do is grit my teeth, smile and say "oh yea, bring on the pain. It hurts sooooo good". Yesssss, please pass the icepacks and my meds. I've got more work to do and can't stop now!

Stubborn...who...me? You bet your ass! I didn't get to where I am in life by lying down and playing dead, or whining, complaining, bitching, pissing, moaning about how unfair life is. Like I always say, suck it up and move on!

Speed Limits and Obnoxious People

Did you ever notice that during the summer months, people seem to forget how to read the speed limit signs in little, residential neighborhoods? I know I have noticed it on my street and I can't just blame other peoples' kids.

I was cutting the grass this morning when suddenly I got buzzed by a jerk speeding down the road. I was standing at the edge of my property getting ready to cut another stripe in my lawn. And yes I did look both ways continually as I approached the endge of the property. I turned around in time to catch the make, model and color the truck after I felt the strong breeze blow by my legs. By the way, the speed limit on my street is a mere 25 mph. Sure enough this asshole came screaming by again - guessing he was doing about 45 going into the curve - and I yelled at him to slow down. Guess what...it was an older guy, not an obnoxious kid driving! This time I caught the license plate and I recognized it. I'll have a civilized chat with this doorknob later. He doesn't even live in the neighborhood.

Not too long after that, I feel another car coming down the road. Yes feel, as in thump...thump...thump...of a car radio with way too much bass. I look to my left (mind you I'm wearing ear buds so I can listen to my music without disturbing my neighbors), and here comes this little black car with the windows shaking and some slouched down tool driving. Unbelievable. The stupidity and ignorance never stops.

I always wished I could get a paintball gun and shoot at these idiots as they fly down my street, endangering people and property. There are a lot of folks who go for walks at all hours of the day and evening and it's getting dangerous on these little residential streets. The same goes for the stereo-blasters of the universe. I'd like to tag their damn cars with the same paintball gun. Maybe a few pink dots on their vehicles will let them know that their speeding and radio blasting is not appreciated by the general public. If I want to hear rap music, I'll ask you!!

Spike strips would work well for the speeders. As they fly by breaking the space/time continuum, the spike strips would pop out and shred their tires. Do you think they'd get the hint then? You're right, probably not. All the laws in the world won't stop these morons. Especially when the laws are not enforced.

The local cops where I live aren't that much better either. There are a few who speed up and down the roads like they own them. Hell, one of the idiots almost ran me over while I was walking my dog one day! The son-of-a-bitch was driving towards me, yet he was so busy yakking on his cell phone that he didn't care to steer his vehicle to the left a little. We were walking right on the edge of the road so as not to be in the way, and facing traffic. At the last minute, I had to grab my dog and jump in the ditch on the side of the road. Yes I did flip the asshole off...did he notice...NO. He was still having a great time gabbing on the phone like a teenage girl. Un-freakin-believable.

You watch, I will probably get hassled because I am writing this. The paintball guns and spike strips are things I WISH I could do. At no time do I say "I will" or "I have". Please. With my luck, something bad would happen to me if I tried it such as the paintballs exploding in my face or the spike strips bouncing back and embedding themselves into my calves. That's the kind of luck I have. I can think about stuff all I want to, but I know better than to act upon it. For the most part. Happy motoring!

As this is being written, yet another yutz is speeding by in a white Ford Continental with spinners, tinted windows and the radio blaring the loud bass. It's sad when you can hear the cars before you see them. Inconsiderate morons!

No Trespassing - Violators Will Be Shot

Please tell me...why do I bother putting up No Trespassing signs on my property? Either people are really stupid, can't read or are just testing my hand/eye coordination. I don't get it. I own a small house on a small piece of land, and have had to post signs at the end of my driveway, on my front door and on the neighbor's property (which I maintain because they are elderly). Yet some idiots still feel the sudden urge to pull into my driveway, sit there for a minute looking around and then back out and go away. Either that or they feel the need to come walking up into my yard and ring the doorbell (where the 2nd huge freakin yellow sign is). The best ones are the folks who walk on up into the yard when I'm outside cutting grass or planting shrubs...these morons are the best. When I'm outside I'm always armed - usually a .45mm strapped to my thigh in my tactical thigh holster or a .38 in my shoulder holster. It depends on the season. These morons come walking up, past the signs and start asking me (usually) "is this house for sale" or "do you live here"? WTF? Are you trying to get shot and/or piss me off?

Does anyone else out there have this same problem? I've even gone so far as to call the local police because one particular jackass, who came to cut the grass for the guy across the street, pulled into my driveway, drove over my grass and into my neighbor's yard to use his driveway to exit. Mind you they are cutting the grass for the dude ACROSS the street. They killed my grass, rutted my yard and pissed me off. I told them once before, nicely, to stay off my property. This second time I wasn't so nice. I went outside and told them if they didn't get the f*ck off the property, they were going to be sorry. Yes the neighbor's house has No Trespassing signs all over the place too. I've now had to put up the neighbor's gates to block access to and from his driveway. Also since some other idiot backed into it, messing it up, I had to use my tie-down straps and some Fire Line Do Not Cross tape I happened to have to keep the gates up. What the hell is wrong with people? Are they just NOT getting the message that we want to be left alone?

Back to the police part. I called them, reported the damage and said if these assholes ever came on my property again, I'd handle it my way. The police went out and looked and called me back. They said there was nothing they could do unless I called when they were there and then they'd be cited for trespassing. Ooooh yea, that'll scare them! In other words, they are useless as teats on a boar hog. I will handle it myself, as usual.

I, personally, respect those signs. If someone has them posted, it means they don't want your stupid ass on the property. Duh. Some folks, like me, just don't want to be bothered when they are home. I like my privacy, peace and tranquility and if you're not invited and pull up in my driveway, don't be surprised when I answer the door with a gun strapped to my hip. Even my friends know, and my husband too, let me know if you are coming over or if you are coming home at an odd time. Otherwise, you stand a very good chance of getting hurt. I don't play anymore. Trespassers will be shot...survivors shot again!

How To Stay Sane

I know I'm not the only person out there with issues, but I need to share - not gripe! By nature I am an anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive perfectionist who is always trying to help others, even if it means I have to sacrifice something for myself. It's the way I was raised. (Thanks Mom!).

Mom raised me to be open to new experiences, practice the Golden Rule (do unto others), give without expecting anything in return - pretty much be a decent human being and be a joy to the world, not a burden. Well I have been giving a lot lately, mostly to help my friends and family but also to stay busy so I can ignore my issues. I'm not one to feel sorry for myself and I refuse to be a victim.

Let me explain briefly - my parents have been unwell lately on and off, they have been wishing that I'd come to visit them (they live about 800 miles away), one of my best friends has progressive MS and my neighbor and friend/mentor who is in her 70's is having health issues. For the past month I have been researching and learning about the internet, blogging, web pages, programming (a little), book publishing and it's a bit overwhelming. I was "let go" from my job in a few months ago and decided I didn't want to work in an office anymore. So the stress from embarking on a life-long dream is taking it's toll too. I always wanted to be a professional writer and I am working like hell to make that happen. Just a little bit of stress in my life, wouldn't you say?

Aside from that, as you can tell, I am always trying to take care of everyone else. Two of my friends (who are boyfriend and girlfriend) are going through seriously tough times right now as well. I have been where they are now and it's a very scary thing to be at rock bottom looking up and praying you see the light. I feel deeply for them and understand the fear, uncertainty and hopelessness they are feeling. Like I said, everyone is going through tough times right now.

As I see it, I have two choices. I can sit around all day and cry, bitch, piss and moan, yell, scream, blow snot bubbles, hold my breath, stomp my feet and be a drain on all those who are around me OR I can choose - read that again - CHOOSE to be positive. Trust me, it's not easy, but I choose to be positive. In life, I have usually chosen the road that is most difficult. Trust me, it is difficult to be positive in light of all that's going on in my life and in the world today. But I am doing it.

In order to keep my sanity, I pray (no it will not kill you to do that), stick to an exercise routine in order to get rid of my pent up frustration and anger, I write (you're reading it now) and talk to friends and my parents frequently. I also volunteer my time as a District Chief and firefighter. I attend (mostly free) classes to further my education and training in the fire service, thereby keeping my mind busy. I also read, spend lots of time with my 4-legged kids of which I have seven, and spend time with my husband. Gardening, landscaping and planting trees and shrubs helps get rid of frustrations too. You ought to see my yard!

You see you really have two choices in your life. You can either be a victim of circumstance (which is what most people do) or you can be strong willed, determined and brave and choose to be positive. Get a hobby, read a book, exercise, do something physical (be nice!) to get rid of the anger and frustration you are feeling (don't deny it) and become someone who is a joy to be around instead of a drag. It's a choice and it's yours to make.

This Chaps My A$$

I learned something today that seriously distresses me. People with jobs have to submit to drug screening at regular intervals (or random intervals). So do people who are applying for jobs, and if they fail, they either lose the current job or lose the opportunity to have valid employment. I understand that and I have no problem with that. To this day, I have never failed a drug test and am very proud of that.

The fact that distresses me is people who are receiving public assistance do NOT have to pass a drug test! First of all, let me clarify that not ALL people receiving assistance are deadbeats, lazy, incompetent morons. There is a percentage of people who legitimately need help to get through the rough times in life. I've been there, I know. It was a very, very long time ago and it was for a short time only. But I'm speaking of the people who decide to make this a "lifestyle" and think it's a right owed to them to be able to sit on their asses all day long, doing drugs, being a drag on society and sucking the funds out of the system that could be used by legitimate families. You know the ones. They sit around whining and complaining about how "the system" screwed them, they have no education of which to speak and they don't even try to find a job. They scream poverty at every step, yet drive luxury or tricked out cars. Does this make sense to you?

It's time to speak up and let our lawmakers hear our outrage at this blatant abuse of the system. I had no idea this situation had been going on for years and years. It's insane! There is no incentive to grow up, take responsibility for your circumstances, get a job, get an education and take care of your family. There needs to be some structure or a checks and balances system to keep this from recurring for the next 100 years.

I, for one, have written letters, e-mails and made phone calls to our local lawmakers and congressmen to let them know that I do not approve of this blatant abuse of the system. There are so many families that desperately need help now and to see others taking advantage and getting away with it really chaps my ass!