Foundational

 I have come face to face with yet another defining moment in my life.

I know it’s been some time since I updated. Many things have happened within the last 6 years.

To put it briefly – I was right. Being poor was the #1 cause of all my issues.

Things that have changed

1. I managed to get that web designer job I posted about in 2021, and it was the biggest opportunity of my career. I took that opportunity, learned everything I could, became indispensable, and became an expert.

2. I also battled burnout multiple times until I found balance in 2025.

3. My husband and I are still married – just celebrated 19 years together. He has grown a lot within the last 6 years, emotionally and as a person. A lot of the issues I struggled with in my marriage over the years have resolved and have not been issues since we moved away and gained stable careers and social circles.

4. We opened our marriage and now have a third person for 3 years now. She is an incredible addition to our life and fills a hole we didn’t know how to name.

5. We bought a house 3 years ago. It’s pretty much what my entire life goal culminated in. Since then, between buying the house and having a good career, I’ve been struggling with where do I go from here? I’m still working that out.

6. We lost our 14-year-old dog to cancer. We gained 3 new dogs.

7. I forever lost my ability to have children and have had to come to terms that motherhood will not happen for me.

8. I finally got medicated for my bipolar with a drug that works, and I’m 4 years stable.

All of these things I could make their own posts about, and maybe I will in the future. For now, I wanted to give an overview before I jump into what has brought me back to this writing.

I’m currently on a plane heading home to Oklahoma City after flying in to WV for my grandfather’s funeral.

My grandmother passed in 2021, FYI. I know I wrote about my feelings on that back in 2017. Since her passing, my grandfather pushed on for another year, but eventually he was forced to stop. He started suffering from dementia. My brother, uncle, and father have had to watch his slow decline over the last 4 years. While I was building a better life, they were watching the foundation – the patriarch – of our family slowly forget who he was, who they were, where he was. I know it’s been hard on all of them.

I have this thought that because I was not there, I for some reason don’t have the right to mourn this man. I know that’s a silly thought. Grief affects us all differently. As the oldest granddaughter, our relationship was different than all the others. I can accept that he’s no longer with us, and as an atheist, I don’t have the comfort of an afterlife. Which in times like these sucks real hard, but I am a realist, and I know we’re just an amalgamation of electrical impulses in a biological construct; eventually the construct and electrical system fails and we’re no more. It’s kind of morbid, kind of uncouth to view it this way, but I don’t need the comfort of an afterlife to know that living is what really matters. How a person lived, what they did, what impact they left.

That’s where I’m going with this – his impact & the life he led.

He was the defining person from whom my father’s and my own work ethic came. I grew up watching him get off work from his job at the railroad and go to his second job of barbering. 6 days a week for 40 years. A second job he did because he wanted to – it was his own shop. And then he also ran his farm, helped our neighbors, and in his later years, found religion and attended church almost daily. He did not stop. Between my grandparents, they managed to raise 2 sons and then took in my older brother and raised him. There are so many grandchildren and great-grandchildren now, it’s hard to keep count.

This man is the man whose name I bore until I was married. The name I still contemplate returning to – but that’s a different story for a different time. This man’s ancestors are my ancestors. They are the ones who fled Scotland in the 1570s to come to America. They were the ones who ventured west and settled a large portion of West Virginia.

I know I’m going round and round on some tangents, but bear with me. All I am saying is he was the foundation of our family. He is also one of the foundations of my personality. He was also one of the safe adults from my childhood. There are lots of memories in my head about following him around. He actually bought me a pony – ok, it was a horse. Not many granddaughters can say that. He was the only person I allowed in the hospital with me when I tried to commit suicide as a teenager. As I said, he was safe.

The most recent memory I have of him is one I knew when we were making it that it would be special. The day before I left to move to Oklahoma, he and I put together my niece’s playset in the front yard. Nothing crazy, no big fancy memories. Just us figuring out that we should probably read the instructions first.

A big takeaway from this week is that this is hard, and it will only get harder. Grief takes time and many forms. And this death has hit me hard and has shaken some of my sense of self. What do you do when one of the pillars of who you are is no longer there?

Job Hunting, 9 months now

 I’ve been unemployed so long that I now have anxiety about going back to work. *potentially*

I think I interviewed well for this web designer job, they asked for my references, my portfolio and writing samples. 

Then came back and asked for some marketing copy samples. Like everything I gave you and you still need more? 

Marketing copy takes me sooo long to write. Who knew 1-2 sentences were so hard? 

Anyway, I was like “uh let me see if I have some examples I can show you” and never sent any. 😅 (I don’t want to send my ads I’m currently running cause they’re actually not converting at all. Hard to sell your CRO skills when it’s 0%.) 

So two days pass and the CEO adds me on LinkedIn- I think so he could also check out my stuff that wasn’t listed on my resume.

And now, they want another interview on Monday.  

My classes start on Tuesday (online this semester) and this job is WFH until they decide to get a new office building/COVID is over/etc, so it’s not like I’ll be running all over OKC trying to fit this into my life. Oh and I’m trying to build my Etsy business again. 

Just going back to being an accountable, responsible adult seems sooo ugh. I don’t have the job yet, but it’s still making me all wiggle brained. I want the income. I want the challenge of designing websites for clients again. I want to finish my degree. I want to interact with people other than the lady at the Chinese restaurant. I’ve been designing websites since MySpace. I can do this. Imposter syndrome also plays a part in this as well. 

I’m going to put on some pants, maybe brush my hair, and see where this goes.

*Update: I sent some marketing samples from my Etsy store from email campaigns, facebook, instagram, and pinterest. They thought they were so *fun*.  They should see the crap I post on TikTok for my Esty. HAHA!  So moral of the story is: Anxiety sucks and uh interview Monday with HR and the main partner of this agency! I should probably review the code base and CRM tools they use before then. 

Still don't feel like brushing my hair.

My Children

Today is my favorite niece's sixth birthday.

While I can't be in person to celebrate with her, I did mail a present for her to enjoy.

Thinking of the plethora of nieces and nephews, make me think of my own lost opportunities to have children.

I think what if my babies has lived thoughts. How would my life be different? I very rarely think on the three lives that could have been - the three new people that could've been.

My children would have been 13, 11, and 7. If that doesn't make me sad and old at the same time, I don't know what else could.  In my mind, they were all boys. I would've had a house full of boys, complete with superheroes and gifts of earthworms and frogs.  My little Michael, Zed, and Alex. I heard each of their heartbeats. I held them within my body. I spent months with Michael and Zed. I only knew of Alex for a few short hours. Each one of them changed me. I processed their end and I grieved them at the time. I grieve them still.  While miscarriages and ectopic pregnancies only effect 1 in 4 pregnancies, why was I cursed with having all of my pregnancies end this way? 

The first, I was 19 years old. I was still a child. I was heartbroken, but knew I could try again.

The second, I bonded with the little grape. I was almost past the first trimester. That hurt my heart like a bitch. But, finally, I had answers. My next would survive because my doctors had found the reason my body kept murdering my babies. We could try again.

And then the third pregnancy happened and it ended within the same day of me finding out. I was 7 weeks along. No amount of pleading the doctor to "just move the baby to where it was supposed to be" would change what was medically possible.  The ultrasound nurse showed me the zygote, and I could hear his heartbeat.  And then it had to end. I could rupture at anytime. It was amazing I hadn't already with the amount of bleeding I was having. They ended my pregnancy, taking my Fallopian tube and decommissioning an ovary all in the space of a few hours. That was my only surgery ever, and I woke up, alone, and in pain. In pain physically and in my heart. 

And 8 years later, that one still hurts the most. 

In 2016, I found out I have fibroid tumors and they're blocking my remaining Fallopian tube. I never had insurance long enough to have anything done about them. I currently live in a state of absolute awful pain every month. In the 8 years since my last pregnancy, my husband I have never used contraceptives and we haven't conceived - not even a scare.

It's not a thing that's going to happen for me.

At 28 when I found out, it sucked, but we hoped maybe something would change and we'd revisit the idea of children later, in 10 years.

At 32, I occasionally hear my bio clock ticking. I'll have those urges for children. Then I remember the three I lost, and I'm not strong enough to lose a fourth.

I have to settle for being an aunt to some amazing niblings. I'll watch them grow up on via Facebook, and mail presents for birthdays and holidays. I'm the aunt that lives far away now.

Social Distancing

It's me, your neighborly depressed chick!

Today, I'd like to talk to you all about Social Distancing.

No, I'm not talking about caronavirus or COVID-19.

I'm talking about all those relationships that make up our lives. The important people, the unimportant people, the ones we love, the ones we hate.

I've come to the realization that I don't mean shit to many people.  And I don't care for a lot of others either. 

I say this as I realized today, I have not had a conversation with my sisters in years. Not even meaningless inconsequential small talk. 

I talk to my friends and family as much now as I did a year a ago. Moving 1,000 miles away hasn't lessened or increased the frequency of when I talk to my family.  My mother and two of my brothers are the only ones who check in. One brother to share pictures of his baby, and my mother to complain about the sister that has moved home. 

One day, I'd like someone to text me or call me and ask me how I'm doing. Just once. I'd like someone to genuinely have a conversation with me about me and what's going on.

I'm constantly shoved inside of who I am. Who fucking know me?  Can anyone even name my favorite color, or my favorite song?

Can I name anyone in my social circle's favorite color or song?

No.

What's the point?

Little Mico

Little Mico, Little Mico
Why so weepy?
Little Mico is sleepy.

Little Mico, Little Mico
Your pillow is a sock.
You cannot sleep on a rock.
I think not. I think not.

I'm a little sushi roll.
I will sleep in this hole.

Little Mico, Little Mico
A bear is not a blanket.
Your napping place is unfit.
I think not. I think not.

Me Again, Still in Oklahoma

It's months later, and I am still here, still here in Oklahoma.

This time I can say, that one thing has improved.  I now have a career of my own. I was working part time at a bank, while applying to web dev jobs.

I didn't exactly land a web dev job, but I got close.  I'm now an Event Marketing Manager. Yea. Fancy title right? Also fancy paycheck.  It's pretty much a perfect fit job.  I plan, marketing, time, and execute race and endurance events. My clients pay me to create create websites for their events, an online registration process, and produce live online race timing results in person.  I get to be techy, an event planner, a marketer, outside, and a little bit of traveling too. I've been with this new company for over a month now, and I feel like this may be the place for me here in Oklahoma. I miss park work, and being outside all the time. But, let's be realistic, without a college degree, that career path wasn't happening. Now my skills are being narrowed in a certain industry niche, so in the long run, I'll be able to demand a higher price tag, not that what I'm making right now isn't nice.

Also, let me be real about my new salary. This is the most money I've ever been paid in my life.  I do not know what to do with myself or how I should act.  We have struggled for so long with being poor, that like what the hell do I do with this money?  At first, there's things we have to buy and spend money on, just because now we're playing catch up. Like finally seeing a dentist to fix my tooth, or finally getting new clothes.  I bought a pack of underwear guiltfree this week. Like, WHAT THE HELL? So for the first few months, all this money we're now making will go to catch up, like pay off old debts, and new clothes, shoes without holes in them, a bed that's not on the floor, SOME MUTHAFUCKING POTS AND PANS, curtains - things that we have just gone without.
But in six months? At this point, we're kinda afraid to spend our salary.  I keep wanting to hoard it in savings. What if it goes away? What if my new awesome company decides that hate me suddenly. Just kidding, we don't want you.

So now, I've gained some of my self worth back with making money, I'm still depressed as hell. Miss home, and wonder what the am I doing in my marriage.

Here's the problem. I don't have an outside perspective or anyone to talk to about my marriage. I'm not allowed to. Any martial problems have to be discussed with my husband, and never with anyone else. I've always felt that was wrong, and a few times I have talked to others, I get yelled at and told our problems are not their business. I often wonder why we've lasted this long. I also wonder if I'm being mentally abused.  But, without anyone to talk to about it, I think I'm just being dramatic and making shit up.  Lately, I feel really uncomfortable with who I am married to.  It's things that are red flags. Things I read about other women have went through and call their exes abusers.  But, mine doesn't view what he is doing as wrong. he feels that he is normal and that I am the crazy one.  like right now, I feel that that everything I've written so far needs to be deleted and my questions hid from the world.  I know that if hubs read this, I'd be in for a good verbal shake down.  He's never been physically abusive, and I think this is where it's all messed up in my head.  Lately, he's been very insistent that I get "healthy".  I feel that every food choice I make is wrong. Because I'm not eating healthy. I'm chunky. I don't want to get up at 6am and do yoga.  He's lost 100lbs. I'm proud of him. But it's become unbearable.  I'm not physically good enough for him.  His favorite phrase is "I'm attracted to femininity".  I'm not a feminine woman. Never never have been. I'm not going to where dresses and tights and dress up for his fantasies.  We already only have sex once a month, and it's on his terms. It's my fault we don't have more sex because I "don't take care of myself" and I'm not feminine.

Even though both of us now make similar amounts of money. We both work full time, it's still my job to keep the house. He thinks that he does dishes once a week and that he cooks his meals He doesn't have to do anything else. We both work full time, yet after dinner and until bed time, he's watching youtube, and I'm cleaning. I do the laundry. I vacuum. I have just as much free time as he does, yet he can't be bothered to help more than the one day that I work and he doesn't? That's not really am I abused issues. That's more of a learning to live together thing, though.

I can't decide if I'm crazy or not.

I did a thing. A 1,000 mile thing.

The rumors and social media are true. I moved my ass halfway across the country this year! I went from living in the beautiful Appalachian Mountains, to living a a city with 1.4 million people right smack dab in the middle of the country, with not a damn mountain in sight.

So at last check in, I was working an off season job at the mall and my husband was once again unemployed.

Well, for some reason or other, he finally, after years and years, got his head out of his ass and decided he was tired of living life we were. He went out, got a good paying job that he was good at. He took that job, while also applying and interviewing with for his dream job. So he busted ass for 3 months, saved every penny. And I went back to school and learned more about computer coding. He landed his dream job, and my husband moved across the country on his own, with no furniture, no car and no me.  We lived 1,000 miles apart for two months. I finished up the first half my certificate program, dropped out, and I also had to sign over my thriving nonprofit I created last year, and I turned down my dream job of park director for my previous year's park, and I moved in with him in May.

So now, we're 1,000 miles away from my family, all my networking contacts, all my friends, my business. Everything. I hate it. I love that my husband has finally landed his dream job. I'm thrilled he's finally making good money. I love that we have our own place again, even if we are lacking some furniture, and are in desperate need of pots and pans. I love that I finally have some distance from my family's drama. What I hate is that I'm so isolated from everyone and everything I love, besides him.  I hate that I'm missing important events in my sibling's lives. I miss the birth of my baby brother's daughter. My grandmother is still deathly sick.  I am the one that's not a part of these things anymore.

I'm depressed as hell. I used to think that all our problems and my depression would be solved if we were no longer poor and were no longer living in the spare bedroom of my in-laws' house. Apparently, I'm never satisfied. We may be lacking essential furniture, but now we're making decent money, and are saving and are bettering our lives. My husband has health insurance and a retirement. Our bills are paid on time and in full. We're actively saving. So money didn't solve my mental health issues.

Those have morphed into a different type of depression. I now have the depression where I'll hide in my closet and cry after my husband's asleep. When he's not home and I am, I just sit on the couch and cry.  I don't call my family as much as I should. Hell, I'm balling just typing about how much this sucks.  I'm lonely. I'm homesick.

I often wonder if I'm one of those brainwashed mentally abused wives, and I'm too stupid to realize it.