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My Puzzle Pieces, My Light

People can be part of fleeting moments within our lives. One-night stands, casual acquaintances, classmates, coworkers, mutual friends, or even some family members, any of these people can play a bit-part in our lives. Then come the big guns. This is where the old friends, ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends, ex-spouses, close family. the best friends, and the keepers fall into the plot. They are responsible for some of our core characteristics, quirks, habits, interests, and even our overall attitudes have been shaped. They have helped make us the person we are today, for better or worse.
If you are lucky, there comes a moment in your life where you find yourself with a connection with someone that was unexpected, welcome, intense, and gratifying. The world lights up in their presence. It’s indescribable. I have been lucky enough to find that. It was scary how much we had in common, down to having small scars next to our eyes from early childhood. Everything fit, though.
I have found myself at an insanely different point in my life than where I was a year ago, and through every up and seemingly bottomless lows, I have come out on top of it. I am grateful to be a part of some wonderful children’s lives. I get to help in caring for them and watch them grow. I live in a wonderful town and I attend college in an effing castle. I have a partner that cares for me tremendously and that never once allows me to go to sleep feeling unwanted.
If you had told me one year ago that I would be where I am today, I would have told you that you are delirious, and I most likely would have checked you for stroke symptoms.
The people in our lives should add to it, not detract from it. Friendship doesn’t require constant maintenance, or at least it shouldn’t. People are a part of our life because they want to be a part of it, not because they want something from you. I still have a couple of guys that I will always refer to as my best friends/ brothers. We can go months and sometimes years without talking much, but when we see each other, we pick up right where we left off, and neither of us think anything of it.
I dislike losing some people from my life, but it happens. It doesn’t negate the part they played in shaping the woman I am now. I don’t regret anything. Regret is pointless. I have learned from everything in my past, and I am using every part of that to grow, to be better, to never settle, and never give up on making the lives of people around me better. I thrive in an environment where I can nurture. I love to be able to wake up in the morning knowing that it has the potential to be even better than yesterday.
My appreciation for the pieces to the puzzle that are me is immeasurable. Whether they fall into the bit-player roles, or the love and knowledge that they are the core pieces of my heart, I am grateful for every one. The darkest moments can be illuminated, and I thank every person that has added to my light.



Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day is hard. It’s nearly impossible to keep dry eyes. I hoped it would get easier over the 7 years, but I have started to accept that it will never be easy. I’ve also started to realize that it’s  okay that I feel this way. Thank you for helping me get to that point.

Anyone that knows me is aware that I thrive when I am taking care of others. Whether it’s a friend or loved one, I adore cooking for them, taking care of them if they are sick, or just being there for them. It only seemed natural that I would eventually be a mom. For Christ’s sake, there were dozens of kids that had called me mom since high school.

When I found myself 7.5 months pregnant when I first went to a doctor, staring a fetus down on an ultrasound monitor, wondering where the fuck he came from, I never could have fathomed where I am at now. He deserved more than what I could give him. He deserved the best of everything.  He deserved stability and security that was out of my reach. I made sure he got that, and it was the hardest thing I have done in my life.

I have some incredible friends. Friends that make it a point every year to wish me a happy Mother’s Day. It makes me feel wonderful, in a way.  It reminds me that I did something. I gave life to a child, and gave him up for adoption to give him the opportunity that I knew he deserved. I gave him the parents I knew he deserved. I sacrificed for my child in a way unfathomable to those that haven’t done so. I am glad that it’s unfathomable to them. I would never wish the heart-wrenching sadness on anyone that it has caused.

Knowing I did what was best for my son doesn’t make it easier, unfortunately. The heart and mind still long for all the little things that are missed along the way. Whether it’s a skinned knee or a ballgame, those little things are something that I can’t replace or fill by some other means.

If you are reading this as a parent, please give your kids hugs more often. Smile at them and put down the smart phones. Cherish every second you have with them in your everyday life.

By no means do I think I speak for all birth mothers. On no level am I putting myself on some ranking in the mother system. I am speaking only as me. I am a birth mother. I will always be that. I am someone that has been torn apart by a logical, reasonable, and very much the right decision for both he and myself. Unfortunately, on days like Mother’s Day, logical brain isn’t always the side that wins out.

Love to all mothers this Mother’s Day. Adoptive mothers, step-mothers, birth mothers, grandmothers, and fur-baby mothers alike. Also special love goes to those mothers that have lost their babies, no one can fathom your loss.



Musical Madness and Nostalgia

Music has always been my release.  I become lost in my own thoughts and turn to music. I will sink into my chair or the couch and remember that tranquility.  When I am happy, I tend to bop around and sing along to whatever music is playing, whether anyone else can hear it or if it’s in my head. I have connected with people over music for as long as I can remember.  Even if it’s them asking why or how I could listen to what I do. This year I hope to return to that by attending more concerts and regaining that sense of self that could always be achieved when I attended.  The anxiety that I feel in most social situations, the discomfort around throngs of people, the peopley atmosphere that typically bothers me… none of it presents itself in the concert settings.  Whether the symphony, a jazz performance, a local punk show, a national metal performance, a festival, all of it brings me to a place of peace and happiness. This may seem a bit ridiculous for those that have been witness to me in a mosh pit, but that release is what soothes any turmoil in my mind.

I have never been someone quick to anger. I’m non-confrontational, almost to a fault. I have never felt very comfortable letting my guard down for any period of time. Allowing those walls to fall leaves parts of me vulnerable, and that is terrifying to me.  Vulnerability in an emotional sense is scarier than any wound, any broken bone, any illness, or even death to me.  If someone gets through to that part of me, they are treasured.

On that note, I am smiling again. I don’t feel so isolated. I don’t feel like I’m wandering alone. I’m beginning to feel like myself again. It’s an amazing feeling.












Now for something completely different!

I was feeling nostalgic today. Thinking back to my youth, my rebellious days, my days of anti-feminine qualities.  I was ridiculous.  No dresses, no skirts, no pink, no flowery stuff, no mani/pedis, no heels, no make-up, I was the anti-girly girl. I must say it’s hard to wrap my head around with some of my tendencies nowadays.  I am almost completely anti-pants, 95% of the time wearing dresses or skirts, occasionally with leggings of some variety. Pinks have made their way into my regular wardrobe, as have pretty much all the colors of the rainbow. Don’t get me wrong, I still have plenty of black/grey/white/red, but I’m not limited to that anymore.  My favorite dresses are outer space, exploding TARDIS, skulls and flowers, as well as dinosaur fossils. It’s pretty awesome.  I can rock my various chucks just as easily as I can my stilettos and hooker boots or ballet flats. My nail techs keep their shop open late just to get me worked in when I need my manicure. I don’t wear make-up often, but I do wear it, and I have learned how to do it relatively well, though I keep it interesting when I can. I wear pigtails in my hair at least a few days a week. I have embraced being a woman, and a woman that can appreciate the less stereotypical feminine things as well.

I will yell louder at the football game them you.  I will get pissed at the the missed power-play opportunities in the hockey games. I will rock my jersey with a skirt and tights or my jeans if I’m feeling ok with pants that day!  I will shoot you in the head in Halo, and teabag your body afterwards! I will binge watch Star Trek or Walking Dead or Doctor Who, and I will watch the goriest of horror flicks too!

Give me my versatility any day of the week. Give me my ability to be a chameleon in social situations, or to stand out if I feel so inclined. I can get along with anyone, even if I despise every ounce of their being! I’m grateful that there aren’t many that fall in that category. Hatred takes too much energy. Sadness takes too much energy. You know what does the opposite? What gives energy? What enthusiastically encourages overall well-being and growth? The right connection, the right encouragement, the right understanding, and people that don’t judge you based on what you are like at your lowest. I wouldn’t trade the worst pain I have been through for anything.  It makes me stronger in the long run. It makes me better. It has made me the woman that I am, and I am happy about that.  Yes, there is always plenty of room for improvement, but as long as I make strides towards that better me, I will be happy with me.




Tattoos, Tempers, and Trying Times













These past 6 months have had more change involved in them than any other period of my life. Being a person that treasures my stability and focus, it has destroyed me in many ways.  I feel like a shell.  I’ve resorted to wandering whether on foot or by vehicle. Risky behavior and retail therapy only make it worse. I get the tattoos I’ve wanted just to feel something and have something that reminds me I am still me, and not just empty and faking smiles to get through the day.

My anxiety has been notably worse as of late, which I hate with a passion. I don’t feel like I’m in danger, but I never feel safe completely. I rarely sleep soundly, and never for any healthy amount of time. I can’t sleep in my bed, I end up on the couch or in the recliner, sometimes the floor. I hate it. My personality is the same as it has been, but my less desirable aspects seem to be defining my actions as of late.

I miss my friends. I miss many people. I miss people I shouldn’t miss. I miss people that don’t care what comes of me. I won’t initiate hanging out with people due to the inherent fear that I am bothersome to them or that I will bring them down.  People have tried to get close to me and due to their style of communication or my own fear, I push them away and shut myself off for fear of getting hurt.  Very few people communicate with me regularly, or are able to understand and/or tolerate my strange tendencies, and those people mean the world to me.  I wish there was a way to not feel so alone in everything.

I can count the people that can get a real smile out of me on my fingers. I never used to consider it because I could typically smile even when I was having a tough time. I wish I could find that part of me again. I wish I could find the elusive girl that used to enjoy cooking elaborate meals and throwing ridiculous parties for those close to her.  I wish I felt wanted or desired in any way that was respectable.

I want to close my eyes and disappear at this point. I want to jump forward to another place and time and see if I ever feel like myself again. While I am an introvert at heart, I still value the connection I can make with people. While my empathy may ruin me on so many occasions, I don’t wish it away at all.  I just want to feel a connection to the world again. I want to not feel like a failure or a fuck-up, and I want to feel good enough again. Valued in the slightest would be awesome.  Feeling like I had a direction again would be spectacular.




I miss being loved, and expressing love, and having someone that I wanted to hold onto at night that wanted me there just as much. I miss feeling connected to someone. I miss feeling connected to the world.



The Loss of a good woman



My family is my world. It’s the only thing that has kept me in a city and state where I have never felt like I belonged. These pa Read the rest of this entry »



Every day people wake up with their own battle. Some people struggle with addiction, some struggle with disability, others struggle with time management, while still more struggle with interaction.

Mine is a struggle with depression and anxiety. I try to hide it every single day. Every moment that hopeless feeling strikes, I do my best to smile so that no one can see it. I can’t allow myself to bother anyone. No one needs to see the struggle.  Some people witness my self-deprecating humor and take it as their cue to reassure me or compliment me. Those people are fantastic, but it’s hard to explain to them that those comments often fall to the ground because they can’t penetrate the wall that depression has built.

There are days when all I want to do is stay in bed and not interact with anyone, with very very few exceptions. I can’t even bring myself to initiate contact with those exceptions, though, for fear of being a downer or a bother to them.

I feel awful as of late for my anti-social tendencies. I feel myself retreat from people and don’t know how to get back.  Going to Halloween parties has been a rare exception, but even then, I feel like a shell. I have fun, I meet people, but I’m still left feeling completely alone, even in a crowd of people.

Then comes the medication. I take that pill and it’s magical. It makes me feel less worthless to the world.  As long as I keep on the regiment and schedule. Since moving back in with my parents, that schedule doesn’t exist. I don’t have my own space. I don’t have my own retreat. I have reminders of awful times in my past that I wish I could forget. I don’t sleep consistently, some nights only sleeping 2-4 hours in fragments of half hours. Those nights I forget my medication lead to a day or more of struggle.  That silent kind of painful struggle that you can’t share with people. Lost and alone in a world full of people, I try to climb out of that hole. Sometimes it’s successful, other times it’s just not at all.

Depression often leaves me feeling broken as a human being. I feel less than everyone else. I feel unworthy of interaction, unworthy of  affection, and unworthy of friends. I feel like a black hole in many ways.

Writing this entry reminds me of the power depression can wield. I do everything I can to ignore it, to downplay it, but it’s a serious problem. I will have to go back to setting alarms for medication. As pathetic as it is, I don’t know how many more incidents like this I can do before I completely break down.

I have more baggage than an international airport.  I wish I felt like I had a home right now. I wish I felt comfortable in my own skin. I wish I felt like I was worth anything.

I wish I didn’t feel like a hippo was sitting on my chest.



Lost and Found

I am in a strange type of mode as of late.  Loneliness seems overwhelming, but at the same time, a necessary evil.  I am struggling being back home with my parents.  It makes one feel like a failure at life when nearing 29 years old, you are living in the room you grew up in from age 3.  I find myself sleepless and exhausted multiple nights a week. I’m home, but it’s not home anymore. I don’t belong here.

Future plans are coming to the front of my mind.  Thanks to some words from a Resident at the hospital, I am considering studying abroad next year.  I would want to look into pursuing my Speech Pathology path at Flinders University in Australia.  It will be expensive, but worth it for the experience that would come with it.  Who knows, maybe I’ll find my place there. Anyone that knows me also knows I have an affinity for a good accent.  Maybe I can have babies that will have some hybrid accent. Hah, I’m probably being ridiculous, but I just want to find my place in the world.  I’ve never felt like that place was here. I tried to think that my place was here, and it’s just not working.  I want to start a life. I’ve realized over the past few years that I know what I want out of life.  I want to help people.  I want to be a Speech Pathologist specializing in children. I want to be a wife and mother. I want to nurture and raise a family with someone that wants the same.  I want to be happy. I want to make others happy.

I am struggling right now, more than people know. I have to distract myself  with activity to keep from slipping into my abyss.  I am at a loss as to how to handle it.  I have had a few fantastic friends through all of this, but I still don’t know how to react to my own negativity towards myself.  I know people generally don’t care about other people’s issues, I think that’s why I am writing all of this here.  I have to get it out so it doesn’t fester. I have to get it out so I don’t scream.  I have to get it out so I don’t break.

Anxiety is a bitch. That gripping feeling in your chest when you feel like your heart is going pop.  The shaking and numbness and sweating that doesn’t make any sense.  You can’t talk about it when it’s happening. If you talk about it, you exacerbate it!  When you aren’t talking or able to talk, it makes working in a call center difficult.

Breathe, Mia… Breathe…

Okay, moving along, a couple of things has been awesome about being home.  First, I wake up to the sound of kids giggling and bickering thanks to my mother’s daycare. One morning I was pounced on as I slept. I loved it!  Those kids are always happy to see me. It’s adorable. Second, I have had the opportunity to go through HUGE amounts of stuff from my childhood and adolescence. Thanks to my mother’s inability to throw things away and my father’s obsessive need to organize, that took over the entire weekend with the move.  I found treasures! Hooker boots, stripper shoes, collars, clothing, fishnets, stuffed animals, get well gifts and COPIOUS amounts of photos.  So many people are in trouble when I decide to start sharing some throwbacks on Facebook.  Going through the entire basement and garage from my parents and my own belongings, we filled a 20 yard dumpster. It was like a purge of sorts.  It was a relief of sorts.

I will come back more often to my blog.  It will be my safe place. If no one reads, no one reads. Worse things could happen.