I have receipts. I have receipts for everything I write *before* it’s published. I am 100000% done with your antics.

I legit don’t fucking care about the ranting or the bitchy memes. I live in Indiana: the passive aggression capital of the universe. You are entirely entitled and able to post whatever you want directed at or about me.

The cyber security issues, drive by creeping and vandalism that always arrives at my doorstep after your ranting and bitchy memes fail to get a rise out of me? Yeah. No. I’m done with that bullshit.

When you can rant and post bitchy memes without my tires being slashed, my home being vandalized, my security system alerting me to someone creeping around, Apple alerting me to a failed log in attempt, I find a strange log in from Ohio on my personal FB account, or my FB page keeps getting liked/unliked by a reactivated account… I will stop looking you up.

My rants at you? Well they’re all logged here minus Checkmate. I still include it when giving the last 11 fucking years of my blog and other social media to law enforcement btw, I just don’t have it publicly available for you and your goons to obsess over.

Your effort to delete the most recent rant escapades is noted. No need to try and contact me to apologize or get closure or whatever the hell possesses you to try and contact me after my repeated requests to leave me alone.

You do you, honey. I don’t care as long as you doing you stays tf away from me and my kids. My parents are in the process of renovating their house to sell okay? They’re moving out of Cincinnati so we’ll never bump into one another again as long as you stop creeping.

It’s on you.


This came across my Facebook feed last night and it was just what I needed to rally my resolve and press forward through my recent PTSD challenges.

I’ve honestly never thought about it this way, but there is so much truth here. I love it. Abuse was and always will be a part of my life, but I control how I deal with it. I’m in charge of my pieces. I can wallow in self pity and anger, or I can rise above it, fighting for my pieces and gluing myself slowly toward a better future.

In a way it’s very similar to these fragmented pieces of memories I’ve been struggling against in recent weeks. I will get all of my available memories back. They are my pieces, and I will glue them back together no matter how long it takes, or how many obstacles get in my way.

Talk it Out

I’m still struggling with my PTSD. It’s actually not the least bit surprising considering that it’s been two years since the trauma of the break in and that’s when things started to unfold for me the first go around with a traumatic event. My brain is healing, the synapses are reconnecting and there is a fire of static in the mean time making me a general irritable mess.

I’m very thankful that I have a much stronger support system this go around and that I really don’t have to shout out into the void so much. Still, writing here is the best way to collect and decipher my thoughts in this transition, and it’s easy to keep track of on someone else’s server vs my own hard drive.

I’ve been going back and looking at dates and events that triggered my mood shift. I talked about Hubs cutting his hair which was a big part of it. There was also a local man arrested for breaking in to an apartment and attempting to kidnap a six year old girl, swearing she was his own. He was a junkie, high on a cocktail of illicit substances, and when I read the part of the article saying that this wasn’t his first break in/kidnapping event my heart jumped out of my chest.

Of course this all happened in the same weekend Hubs cut his hair, and my creeper decided to start her annual fight with me which just made me an angry, distraught, PTSD nightmare.

As I was scrolling through the article, hoping to see a picture of the guy my spirit soared and I realized that some part of me somewhere was still holding on to the hope that the Bad Man who broke into my own apartment was *not* my ex. Even after my daughter identified him, and even though my own foggy memories and circumstances of what happened while he was inside the apartment point directly to him (ie it was very personal) vs some random junkie on a bender.

The local man who was arrested, looked nothing like my ex, and my daughter had never seen him before. Hubs and I even asked her if it was the Bad Man and she looked at us like we were crazy before answered: “No, guys I told you the Bad Man is that other guy.”

So… then I emotionally crashed and my subconscious went haywire bringing up all of my partial memories from our own break in. I made it a little farther than I have in past recall attempts. There was someone else, a woman, in the apartment with my ex. I don’t know if my daughter ever saw her or not, but I remember some pretty vivid details. It was definitely a woman, but her identity either remains locked in my subconscious or I never learned it.

All I really remember is a voice, long dark hair, and her being in my bed after whatever else happened between the three of us. My daughter said she saw the Bad Man in our living room before she climbed into bed with me, and I distinctly remember punching someone in the back in my bed to move them out of the way so my daughter could climb in. Which either means there were two people in the apartment that didn’t belong there, or my daughter ran into the Bad Man a few times as he was just chillaxing in our apartment like he owned the place.

When I woke up the next morning I found several pillows stuffed behind my back. I briefly thought that maybe I had mistaken the pillows for a body, but the punch definitely connected with a body. There’s a noticeable difference between muscle mass and pillow fluff. Besides someone went “oof” when I punched. Pillows do not go “oof”. I distinctly remember mumble yelling my husband’s name and scolding them to move so my daughter could get in the bed because she had a bad dream.

I also remember the shit eating smirk on the Bad Man’s face while I was interacting with this woman. He was enjoying every damn second, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. At some point I also distinctly and very clearly remember thinking/saying: “That’s what they tell me. Great. We’re done. Now get the fuck out of my house.” While simultaneously feeling repulsed, angry, disgusted and sad.

I remember a few more details about the initial interaction with Bad Man too. I still very much thought he was my husband, complimented the way he cut his hair and changed his beard (he didn’t change a thing, my brain was like: this isn’t your husband, and I’m like YES IT IS STUPID BRAIN) so I complimented Bad Man, and asked where he got his jacket since it wasn’t something I recognized from my husband’s wardrobe. Like my conscious was SO CLOSE to realizing that Bad Man wasn’t my husband, but the dots just did not connect until I was choking/spitting/gagging on my bedroom floor.

*sigh* My memories will come around eventually. At least as many as I have after the trauma and double dose of Ativan that got dropped down my throat. I just wish my brain could heal without the emotional shit storm that comes with the healing synapses, because being stuck on an emotional roller coaster for no visible to the outside public reason sucks. It sucks hard.


My mood has been all over the fucking place the past few weeks and I couldn’t put my finger on the cause.

I was annoyed with my annual spat with my creeper, but it didn’t really bother me as much as it has in the past. We’ve been doing this for damn near 12 years. It’ll be weird if it ever stops. Lol. This is business as usual.

I started a new diet plan which drastically cut my carb in take and balanced out my blood sugar with an intermittent fasting schedule. That made me hangry for a few days as my body adjusted.

And still something was just bothering me and I couldn’t figure it out until last night. My Hubs cut his hair.

Which sounds stupid and selfish until I figured out why his haircut sent me for an emotional loop. Without his hair he looks entirely too much like my ex, which triggered a slew of flashbacks and memories of the break in two years ago.

Initially when my ex showed up in my apartment he was sort of hiding and trying not to be seen until I fell asleep. Somewhere between initially falling asleep and having pills shoved down my throat I broke my stream of consciousness and memories get really fuzzy. When a random man showed up in my apartment I originally believed him to be my husband arriving early for the weekend.

I remember commenting on how he trimmed his beard and cut off his hair, but for some reason (the pills) it just didn’t register that it wasn’t my husband at all but a totally different person at least until later during the event. At the first moment I realized someone was there I just commented on his beard, hair and jacket which I didn’t recognize as something from my husband’s wardrobe.

Fast forward two years when my Hubs got tired of the upkeep for his undercut and decided to shave his head all together for the Summer. Suddenly he wasn’t my Hubs at all, but a vague reminder of the man in my apartment. I was snippy and rude and generally uncomfortable to/around him and couldn’t figure out why.

Eventually after several flashback dreams and a new wave of memories surfaced I was able to put it together. PTSD is stupid. I hate it. There are a million physical differences between my Hubs and my ex. Hubs is a few inches shorter, 100lbs lighter, five years younger, he has glasses, hazel green eyes, his voice is two octaves lower and his hair is a slightly lighter shade of brown. His face isn’t littered with scars, only two from a spider bite in his teens and his lip piercing. Hubs is sinewy and lean muscle wise while my ex is bulky and athletic (somewhere under the extra pounds he’s packed on over the years) They are two entirely different people but some damn thing in my head decided to freak out over something as mundane and superficial as a change in hairstyle.

Thankfully, once I figured it out and discussed it with Hubs he was fairly understanding. He was disappointed that there wasn’t much he could do to resolve the issue since he can’t magically grow hair overnight, but he was generally understanding. He’s too good to me. I’m lucky to have him. 💕

Now to figure out how to get my brain to settle tf back down until he can change his hair back. *sigh*

Facepalm Forever

Me: *frustration rage flailing* “Why are your still creeping on me? There is zero reason for you to be here creeping on me at this point in time.”

Creeper: “haha I’m not creeping on you. Get over yourself.”

Okay… well first of all, if you weren’t creeping (or having someone else creep on your behalf which is more likely) how the hell did you know I frustration raged in your general direction? Why did you feel the need to reply if it didn’t have anything to do with you? And why did my hacking problems, and other social media shenanigans magically disappear when you deactivated your creeping profile?

How do I know you have a creeping profile? Every time you activate/deactivate it it shows up in my FB page stats as a like/unlike from a deactivated profile.

SO… since we do this literally every year, I decided to give you the attention you were hunting for vs ignoring you. Whyyyyyyyy? Because last year when I ignored you, you grabbed your girl gang and decided to try to creep by my house. Try being the appropriate word since I caught you as I was leaving the neighborhood taking my boys to get an ice cream treat. It’s been almost a year to the date actually since that escapade.

Anyway… Believe whatever it is that you need to believe about my blogging. Yes, it is contributing to the cycle. I’m aware. If it keeps you away from my kids I’d rather have you obsessing over and bickering at me in cyberspace.

It is what it is.


He can be sweet on rare occasions, he’s smart, witty and cute with his fuzzy face, and pudgey dad bod. He *could* be an amazing partner if he took the time to address his mental health and take responsibility for his mistakes, but… he’d rather not. That’s all fine and dandy if it works for you, but I’d rather not have that brand of toxicity in my life anymore.

For the 800th Millionty time: I’ll always love him, BUT we simply aren’t compatible. Being cute, witty, smart, and sometimes sweet doesn’t change the fact that he raped me. It doesn’t magically make me forget that he broke into my apartment and terrified my kid. The fact that I can look behind his shitty ass behaviors and empathize with his TBI struggle only serves to curb my toxic anger and illicit some compassion. The point of “us” is moot. The ship has sailed. We’ve made our choices.

Now for the love of God, STAHP making this a thing every year and getting everyone wound up and pissed off due to your own insecurities. He doesn’t want to be with me. I don’t want to be with him. The only person in the universe that can’t seem to grasp that fact is you. Change your meds or something because I’m fucking tired.

I haven’t even written anything new about him or us for almost three years now. You read the damn book. That’s literally all she wrote on our relationship. There is nothing left to dissect, analyze, or throw in his face at a later date.

I took my pages offline for my English final. It had nothing to do with you, but by God I just knew it would get you in a kerfuffle and since in the time span since I last ranted about this until now, my garage was broken into, and my AppleID was hacked TWICE all around the same time you began publicly posting I’m taking my time to acknowledge you so you can gloat about “being the bigger person” until the next time we do this dance.

We washed, we rinsed, let’s skip the repeat huh?

If you were genuinely happy, that’s one thing and I’m the asshole for being annoyed. The thing is, you’re not. Your smiles are fake, and your posts are strategic. I’ve been sharing my life publicly since 2010. Ups, downs and everything in between. You drop your posts in to get a rise out of people. Mostly me, but not only me. The only time you ever post anything in public is to lash out at people, and your sprees directed at me always come on the heels of hacking/messaging/vandalism. You can’t have it both ways.

If you want to be genuine and share no one is stopping you, if you’re going to be a dickbag trying to get a reaction: here you go. Have the reaction you wanted, and stay away from my kids. ✌🏻

Right in the Childhood

It’s fairly widely known in the US that the North and East sides of Dayton, Ohio were pretty much destroyed by several tornadoes overnight May 27th. The damage was widespread and significant impacting most of the surrounding counties. Thankfully, my family was pretty much spared any significant damages, and very few people sustained critical injuries. As of this writing at 9ish pm May 28th there has only been one fatality reported which in itself is a miracle.

Seeing the devastation on the news and hearing about so many places I spent the majority of my young adulthood and a significant portion of my childhood growing up in being leveled or damaged was exceptionally difficult. My relationship with my childhood is a tricky one after growing up in an abusive home. I cling hard and tight to even the most minute happy memories from growing up. A lot of the places associated with many of those memories are now in ruins which makes my emotions complicated to say the least.

Additionally, several of the hardest hit places are where I spent many happy moments of my young adulthood. I met/knew many people from the area through my ex, however after we split up I never took the time to foster any of those acquaintances into friendships. One because it was too emotionally hard on me. Two, there was the obvious distance factor after I moved to Indiana, and three my ex immediately set about turning all of his friends against me. I chose not to maintain contact with just about everyone from my past trying to avoid drama. It didn’t work, but hey… I gave it my best effort. The very few people I did keep in touch with ended up stabbing me in the back and giving personal information about me directly to my already pissed off ex. It was a mess, so I eventually cut all my ties and simply left everyone behind.

I was never super close to most of them anyway, but we did share many happy moments laughing together, hanging out, and getting into/out of stupid trouble that young adults get themselves into. My ex had a horrible habit of taking me places; then disappearing for hours engrossed in his own activities/conversations with other people. I got to know a lot of people beyond how he introduced his own relationship with them. I didn’t take the initiative to foster relationships with them but I do think fondly of them and I DO care that their neighborhoods and/or homes and/or jobs have been destroyed.

It puts me in another weird emotional limbo. I care about these people, but I haven’t spoken to any of them in over a decade. I can’t just randomly look them up and call to see if they’re okay. I doubt they would even remember the awkward quiet girl I used to be anyway. And yet, I’m still concerned for those distant ghosts in my past.

It’s not just people from my past either. A coworker of mine has a nephew stationed at the Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. He was on assignment elsewhere and they flew him home to be with his wife and kids immediately. They lost their home, with at least 100 other people living in base housing. When the military says: “Forget this assignment. Go home.” to an enlisted rank Airman… it’s not a great indication things are going very well.

Of course the entire extent of the damage to the base hasn’t and probably won’t be released to the public for obvious reasons, but it’s pretty messed up for a whole lot of people right now. Even townships and cities in the metro area not directly affected by the funnel clouds themselves are under water boil advisories, stuck without natural gas services and many are without electricity. The entire Dayton area is a big fucking mess and my heart just hurts.

After moving to Indiana I slowly realized that Dayton was the place I associated the most with the feeling of home. The majority of my happy childhood memories took place there and while physically I’m miles away this storm system still hit me right in the childhood.

Toddler Interview

I saw this come across my Facebook feed and had to give it a try. My baby boys are turning 3 1/2 in just a few weeks and on the cusp of exiting toddlerhood. It’s a happy sad moment really, saying goodbye to the toddler years. I’m thrilled to be done with diapers and infancy but toddlerhood holds a special place in my heart. I’m going to miss their gusto and innocence as the real world takes hold. This is a good way to remember them at their purest form of humanity.

What’s your name? Old MacDonald (Champ)

How old are you? Five or Three or Two

What’s your favorite color? Green

What’s your favorite food to eat? Dinner

Who’s your best friend? Crash

What’s your favorite song? Dance Party (???)

What do you like to watch on tv? Octonauts

What’s your favorite animal? Bear (a lion)

Where’s your favorite place to go? To Underwear

What do you want to be when you grow up? Fly Airplanes

How old is mommy? 3

What does mommy do all day? You have to teach me to fly airplanes

What do you love most? Airplanes!!!

Champ has a plan. He is going to fly airplanes if it’s the last thing he does, and apparently I’m the one who’s going to teach him. He’s not entirely wrong. Every time he does something reckless or dangerous I’ve been scolding him by explaining that he can’t fly airplanes if he loses an eye or breaks a leg. So I guess I kind of am teaching him what he needs to become a pilot someday.

What’s your name? Gigi (Crash)

How old are you? Crash!

What’s your favorite color? Blue Airplanes

What’s your favorite food to eat? Dinner

Who’s your best friend? Daddy

What’s your favorite song? Dance Party (???)

What do you like to watch on tv? Octonauts

What’s your favorite animal? Gigi (alligator)

Where’s your favorite place to go? Underwear (giggle)

What do you want to be when you grow up? Old MacDonald

How old is mommy? You Old.

What does mommy do all day? Dinner

What do you love most? Dinner!!

Crash… well I think Crash was just hungry lol or he really loves my cooking… one of the two. 💕

It’s been such a wonderful adventure raising my kiddos. I love watching them grow into their personalities and develop their individuality. I’m so blessed with these tiny humans in my life. I don’t know what I would do without them.