tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64026957092759469312024-03-13T11:25:51.245-05:00The Original Hussy® Strikes AgainThis Crazy Life. My Rambling Mind.The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-52010880756251943952021-12-20T22:33:00.001-06:002021-12-20T22:33:55.932-06:00Love is a VerbI don't remember the exact moment that it happened, but I was sitting cross legged on my bed watching my cat sleep and realized that I have felt serene for quite some time now. <div><br></div><div>I can't remember the last time I felt an anxiety attack building. I haven't felt any overwhelming sadness or worry or excessive anger in more than 6 months, maybe longer. I don't seem to get frustrated or impatient like I used to. The voices in my head that used to tell me what a loser I was have all been eerily quiet lately. I don't get nervous in a crowd anymore. </div><div><br></div><div>Most days I feel upbeat and nothing really seems to eat at me. </div><div><br></div><div>I don't know when these changes started happening within me, but I'm pretty sure I know WHY they started happening.</div><div><br></div><div>I began being good to myself. I changed who and what I exposed myself to in life. I change what I expose myself to online. I started reading things that set my soul on fire. I began talking kindly to myself, on purpose. I began drinking more water and herbal tea, less coffee and soda. I began eating foods that are good for me. I started dancing and walking and stretching and moving on a regular basis. I opened my heart up and became vulnerable with people I care about. I made prayer a priority and added meditation time to my daily life. I started writing again. I began exploring my own darkness and shadow self. I learned how to hold my inner child and make her feel seen and protected. I learned how to let go. I learned how to forgive.</div><div><br></div><div>I may not ever know the exact moment that this feeling of inner peace began, but I know that I'm going to do everything within my power to make sure that I continue to flourish, continue to grow, continue to learn, and continue to thrive.</div><div><br></div><div>This happiness is what I've been looking for my whole life. It's always been mine. I just had to start giving it to myself instead of looking for it everywhere else. Somewhere along the way I began to have faith again, to believe again. To love, as a verb instead of a noun.</div>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-35059874645892495562021-12-19T00:34:00.001-06:002021-12-19T00:34:17.975-06:00A Year LaterIt's been a year since I dumped the piece of shit who worked so hard to ruin me and I'm so very grateful for therapy. I went from codependent and trauma bonded to self assured and full of love. Really, though, the dude was merely a blip in the grand scheme of things. We only dated six months, but the plethora of lessons I learned in those six months are going to serve me for many years to come, I'm sure of it. <div><br></div><div>My therapist suggested that I make a list of things I learned about myself from being in a relationship with a narcissist. I ran this idea by my Sponsor (I work a 12 Step program) and she agreed that it would be helpful to have it on paper for future reference. (She's old school and doesn't use the internet for writing like I do, but this is just as good as paper.)</div><div><br></div><div>1. My boundaries are for my protection and anyone who doesn't respect them doesn't deserve my time or energy. </div><div><br></div><div>2. I am allowed to have feelings, I'm allowed to express my feelings, and my feelings are valid.</div><div><br></div><div>3. No amount of gaslighting or manipulation will change me. Any changes I make are purely for my own good and I'm allowed to change and better myself at my own pace.</div><div><br></div><div>4. People who expect things from me that would damage my mental health or go against my values do not care about me.</div><div><br></div><div>5. Other people's bad behavior has nothing to do with me.</div><div><br></div><div>6. I am in no way obligated to tolerate other people's disrespect. </div><div><br></div><div>7. I do not have to be around people who have harmed me.</div><div><br></div><div>8. I am allowed to say when someone has hurt me.</div><div><br></div><div>9. I am in control of who touches my body and how my body is touched.</div><div><br></div><div>10. No one is entitled to make demands on me, my life, or what I spend my time and energy on.</div><div><br></div><div>These are the most important things I learned and have lived by over the past year. These lessons have simplified my life, brought me closer to the people who love and respect me, and helped me grow so much. Who knew that spending six months with a sniveling coward would strengthen me so much, but here I am...fucking crushing it!</div><div><br></div><div>As this year draws to a close I'm so excited to see what the next one brings. Changing my perspective has changed my whole life. And deciding to dump a fucking clown just put me back in the driver's seat of my own progress. I've been a whole year without anyone trying to harm me and it's because of my ability to be honest with myself, my willingness to reflect on and take accountability for my own behaviors, and my ability to be open and vulnerable with the people in my life who genuinely care about me.</div><div><br></div><div>Life is good today.</div><div>💛❤ Hussy Love ❤💛</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-38376121843629971012021-04-19T10:15:00.001-05:002021-04-19T10:15:29.636-05:00To My Online Stalker"The more I see the more I know I made the right decision to walk away permanently."<div><br></div><div>You didn't make a decision to walk away. You were dumped because you repeatedly manipulated me, disrespected me, and abused me.</div><div><br></div><div>The only contact I've had with you since I dusted your sorry ass was to tell you that your apology meant nothing to me and to ask you to stop stalking me online. </div><div><br></div><div>Get some help. </div>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-42523961928819260352021-02-01T14:19:00.003-06:002021-02-01T14:25:32.402-06:00Moving On<p> I've been given so much great advice from women I trust and admire through the years, but there's one piece of advice that has always proven to be true for me: Always trust your gut. </p><p>I remember the first day that I met my most recent ex boyfriend, Michael. (I'm using his real name because this is my truth.) I'm sure he'll try to scream 'SLANDER' when he reads this, and let's face it, he WILL read it. He basically stalks me online using fake accounts that I've had to block, he watches my Facebook page relentlessly, I don't even care. I mean, how many Michael's are there in the world? Only the people close to me will be able to know exactly which Michael I'm talking about here. The fact is, you can't slander the truth, and I literally have every single message we've ever exchanged to prove the story I'm about to share here beyond any shadow of a doubt.</p><p>The first day I met him was at a campout I attended with my Narcotics Anonymous family. He pulled up on a loud ass motorcycle that drew the attention of everyone in the campground. True to style, all eyes on him. It didn't take him long to make his way to where I was sitting and introduce himself with a huge air of confidence. Looking back on that first exchange I see how he strutted, like he was cock of the walk, and the only person impressed was me. After the first awkward hug hello I would be made to feel like the only woman that walked the Earth that day. I remember feeling so important, but trust me when I tell you that it didn't take long into the relationship until that importance faded into the background of this man's own inflated ego. Some of my friends have even remarked that they couldn't wait to get away from him that very day because all he seemed to talk about was himself, but the wool was sure pulled over my eyes because I was instantly enamored by him. One trick of the trade for a textbook narcissist is love-bombing, and this mother fucker was an expert at it. He would use this trick on me every single time he felt me seeing his true nature.</p><p>We talked into the late night hours that first meeting, exchanged numbers, kissed goodnight, and parted ways with plans for him to visit me at my house in the coming week. He sent me a beautiful text the next morning that had me swooning and asking myself how I got so lucky to find someone I'd been asking the Universe for. I even expressed to him the day before that I'd been manifesting a relationship that would be a friendship to me, someone who liked to do the things I liked to do, someone with a sense of humor, someone who was like minded politically, someone that enjoyed spending time with me. I told him how happy I was in life and that I was looking for someone to add joy and happiness to the life that I'd already created for myself. And in the beginning he did that.</p><p>It wasn't long before he brought chaos and discord, though. The first time he came to my house he began to manipulate me, but I was too blinded by what I thought was a gift from the Universe that I just didn't see it. I had it in my mind that this was to start out as a friendship and blossom into something bigger. I wanted to take things slowly and get to know each other on an emotional and intellectual level before anything physical happened. He immediately pushed that boundary. He was so physical that first night and every other time he came to my house that I very quickly felt like he just wanted someone to have sex with. He pushed my boundaries sexually, too. My ptsd fucked with me every single time I ever had sex with him. It was clear to me that he was happiest while performing sexually and that was my first mistake in the relationship. I reverted back to what I'd always known to do, fake orgasm to get him off me so we could go back to just spending time together. That's all I really wanted, was someone to spend time with, and he was fun to be around even if he had no idea how to please me sexually.</p><p>I'm going to do an awful lot of 'looking back' throughout this process because I've learned some hard lessons and some great things about myself from this dumpster fire of a relationship, so just bear with me. </p><p>Looking back I see my first mistake. I allowed my sexual urges to overpower my real desires here and put my true self second to a manipulative man. He wasn't the first, I'd been here many times throughout my life and it's always been one of my downfalls. Somehow I know that if you're still reading this, you know exactly how that feels. I allowed this man to have what he wanted in order for me to get what I wanted instead of the other way around. </p><p>Any time that I complained about feeling used he would turn it around on me, make me feel like my feelings regarding the matter were unfounded and without merit. People who care about each other make sacrifices and do things they don't like to do for each other, after all...for the relationship don't you know that? Nevermind that I'd actually been in a healthy and loving relationship where mutual respect was never once lost before...yes, I knew what a successful relationship was. I had one with my late husband, rest his soul. But Michael had me believing that I could show HIM what a healthy relationship looked like.</p><p>That was my second big mistake. When this man expressed to me that he had no idea how to be in a healthy relationship I should have ran. My stupid ass took it as a challenge. Even after my kids expressed that they didn't like this man, even after people that knew him told me I should cut my losses and run, even after my own eyes told me that this would never work...my heart told me that I could love him. And I did. I loved him with a fierceness. I saw his brokenness, his weaknesses, his flaws and faults, and loved him deeply, ON PURPOSE, with the intent of showing him what a healthy relationship could look like.</p><p>There came a point where petty arguments through text message became a cycle we would find ourselves in. Every few days there would be some dumb disagreement that left me feeling emotionally drained, depleted, and questioning my own worth. What was I doing to cause his displeasure? I began to feel like if I just kept my own emotions to myself and never explained how his manipulations, gaslighting, then love bombing made me feel maybe everything would go more smoothly. I could never make him understand that communicating about my emotions WAS healthy. At this point I felt like the only way he was happy was to be mindlessly pumping his penis in and out of me, because that was the only time I saw him happy...after the endless and furious ejaculation session he so desperately craved. He never once made love to me in a way that I needed, kept his eyes closed during his furious pumping toward his one sided release, and was always happy to do whatever I craved after he was done. I'm disgusted with myself for ever taking part in it and for allowing it to continue for as long as I did. </p><p>He worked insidiously to make me more and more insecure along the way, too. He would hint at other women wanting him, make comments about inappropriate message exchanges, and later I found out that he definitely did have inappropriate exchanges with other females every time we had a falling out, which was often. I never felt insecure before he acted this way. I had worked very hard to get to a place personally before meeting him that insecurity wasn't anything I struggled with. I loved myself and didn't feel any need to be in competition with other women before meeting him. I was on the road of being empowering to other women and lifting my sisters up. It's something I feel very strongly about and still practice today. For the short time that he had me believing that ANY of my sisters were my competition when it came to him really backfired. That was HIS downfall. </p><p>Looking back I see that's where he lost my respect. When he tried to make me feel like other women were my competition. It was all downhill from there. He never regained my respect, either. He tried to portray to me that he was some grand prize to be won in life, and at this point I knew exactly what he was. My own ego took over at this point and I was determined to hold hope for a relationship that would never be what I wanted. I wanted something free flowing, something beautiful. This was a fucking nightmare. This was two egos in battle and we were both bullies and bleeding. I'm trying to show him how to effectively communicate and him incessantly trying to prove how great he is. It was the most horrible thing I'd been through in many years, but the most eye opening and greatest learning experience of my lifetime.</p><p>I learned that I can't negotiate love with a narcissist. I can't force empathy onto a person who doesn't understand what empathy is. I'm grateful I was, and still am, currently seeing a therapist through this whole ordeal, because she has been able to point out things that I overlooked throughout the whole process. She told me early on that I was dealing with a narcissist and explained how it would play out. She was right on the mark in every prediction she made.</p><p>I broke up with him several times over his behavior. The way he treated me when I tried to express my feelings was unacceptable. He never could see that. Any apology he ever offered was broad and never offered any accountability for his actions, and never accompanied by any changed behavior. I wrote him letters expressing my concern regarding this, laying out what I expected, outlining my boundaries regarding how we should treat one another. He would acknowledge that everything in the letters were things he was willing to work on and that what I had written was the same things that he wanted out of the relationship, but never knew how to change his way of thinking to achieve those things. He could never accept any feelings I had that didn't glorify him. He could never compromise the fact that he always had to be right, and never apologized for it either. From the beginning of the relationship, until the day I was completely done with it...he was always right in his own eyes. </p><p>And even more so now. He's so right that suddenly he's the victim. Nevermind that my family saw him for what he was, my friends saw him for what he was, my therapist saw him for what he was. Nevermind that I apologized many times after I laid in bed crying, after he manipulated and gaslighted me, and made me feel like I was the one who was always at fault. How dare I ever have any feelings. How dare I ever point out any of his flaws. How dare I ever think that he's not perfect and beautiful and just the greatest thing to ever happen to me. FUCK THIS DUDE. Yes, it's true...I do not have once ounce of respect left for him at this point. Neither does anyone around me who has watched me go through any of this. I'm grateful I only wasted six months of my life here. It could have been worse if he would have been able to control himself long enough for us to get serious enough to move in together. At this point he was unable to hide what he was from me any longer. I have texts, voicemails and call logs showing just how he acts when he doesn't get his way. Showing just how entitled he thinks he is to someone else's time and energy. Showing just how childish he can be when he's told no. He showed me just how uncontrollable he can get when things don't go his way or when he feels like he is 'losing'. And goddamn, does this man-child forever despise losing. He comes unglued anytime I've ever seen him pushed to admit defeat. He will go to ANY lengths to prove he is right. It's almost comical if it wasn't so sad. He's losing anything that could be good for him simply because he doesn't know how to conquer his own fear of losing. He's so oblivious to his own weaknesses that his weaknesses ruin everything he touches. </p><p>The final straw that drove me away was right before New Year's. I'd been working really hard to allow him some grace and opportunity to be what he kept claiming he could be...a decent fucking person. The truth is I was just waiting for the shoe to drop again. At this point I was tired, really didn't believe he would make any changes, and probably just going through the motions to make a point to myself that I had given him enough chances and he was never going to be what he tried to portray to the world. We had plans to spend New Year's together and it would be our first New Year's kiss. For me it would be the first one I'd had from anyone since my husband died in 2016, for him it was supposedly going to be his first ever. I don't believe that, especially now. So my youngest daughter expressed to me, after Michael and I had already made our plans, that she wanted to come and spend the New Year with me. When I told her about my plans she expressed her disapproval, of course. She couldn't stand him. She wanted it to be just me and her. Every time she came to spend time with me it felt like he was there. She needed some alone time with her Mama. There was no way I was going to tell her no. She pulls rank over ANY man. PERIOD.</p><p>So the next day I am getting ready to go to my therapy appointment and remember the conversation with my daughter the night before and think to myself, "Shit. I need to let Michael know about the change of plans for New Years." I send him a text, head out for my therapy appointment, and while sitting in her office I get his response.</p><p>Screenshots of this conversation:</p><p><a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMLvzxXOPPwEYZQPwEZz53Wgj7_8_o5Fvi9l3nsCkZtKz8p3wYomCigkMPGXJJWPg/photo/AF1QipNSTJvEX0XQQylr8wfDCDgyrOKNcvoEc0PMAl8N?key=ZXpjcGZ0S0c4eWk4Q3VGQUx0TVRQbTFVSWFmTGV3">1</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMLvzxXOPPwEYZQPwEZz53Wgj7_8_o5Fvi9l3nsCkZtKz8p3wYomCigkMPGXJJWPg/photo/AF1QipOBYkEo8aaKoNu-kHx7ZRn3l1s-jpzU6Z6a2-nU?key=ZXpjcGZ0S0c4eWk4Q3VGQUx0TVRQbTFVSWFmTGV3">2</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMLvzxXOPPwEYZQPwEZz53Wgj7_8_o5Fvi9l3nsCkZtKz8p3wYomCigkMPGXJJWPg/photo/AF1QipMUdumUaVkW7vC5CImXXDz3ZtoNex0Cnhw_Olb4?key=ZXpjcGZ0S0c4eWk4Q3VGQUx0TVRQbTFVSWFmTGV3">3</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMLvzxXOPPwEYZQPwEZz53Wgj7_8_o5Fvi9l3nsCkZtKz8p3wYomCigkMPGXJJWPg/photo/AF1QipNayrqfhx5Bccx2Kx4ejO29GbfC9D2Jc2YmU40m?key=ZXpjcGZ0S0c4eWk4Q3VGQUx0TVRQbTFVSWFmTGV3">4</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMLvzxXOPPwEYZQPwEZz53Wgj7_8_o5Fvi9l3nsCkZtKz8p3wYomCigkMPGXJJWPg/photo/AF1QipPf0WmrbMFTU8ECarIM3-7Dl8gGOVKN-rJbCjZR?key=ZXpjcGZ0S0c4eWk4Q3VGQUx0TVRQbTFVSWFmTGV3">5</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMLvzxXOPPwEYZQPwEZz53Wgj7_8_o5Fvi9l3nsCkZtKz8p3wYomCigkMPGXJJWPg/photo/AF1QipMDc2wokorBYVqWHxFPXogRKNktKk2HE7Tc-nKD?key=ZXpjcGZ0S0c4eWk4Q3VGQUx0TVRQbTFVSWFmTGV3">6</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMLvzxXOPPwEYZQPwEZz53Wgj7_8_o5Fvi9l3nsCkZtKz8p3wYomCigkMPGXJJWPg/photo/AF1QipOYN6xdmS2z6dOdF_kx8mQUWGJhlDqtSwOI6JFn?key=ZXpjcGZ0S0c4eWk4Q3VGQUx0TVRQbTFVSWFmTGV3">7</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMLvzxXOPPwEYZQPwEZz53Wgj7_8_o5Fvi9l3nsCkZtKz8p3wYomCigkMPGXJJWPg/photo/AF1QipPmx1xp83Ymh-v5I7UkBAm0c0PkqbJF_LRML5Ht?key=ZXpjcGZ0S0c4eWk4Q3VGQUx0TVRQbTFVSWFmTGV3">8</a><br /></p><p>I told my therapist during our session that day that I wasn't surprised by his response, and she expressed that she wasn't either. She reminded me of how hard I'd worked to get to where I was at, of everything that I'd allowed from him up until this point, and how I was going to be okay no matter what he said or did. My daughter came for her visit and we discussed the break up. She was relieved by it, and I'm not gonna lie, so was I. </p><p>This man really felt like he was entitled to special consideration when it came to decisions I made regarding my children. He feigned concern and admiration for my family when he had never once shown the slightest interest or basic respect for any of them. So I'd finally had enough. I basically told him to get fucked, picked myself back up, and got my ass back on track just as quickly as I could.</p><p>Oh yeah, I almost forgot...there was a girl that he has regular contact with that was sending him nude pictures while we were broken up at one point. He made sure to let me know about how explicit they were when we decided to try to work things out for the last time. Turns out he spent New Year's with her, and wanted to rub it in my face by suggesting she post pictures of them together in a mutual Facebook group we were all members of. I saw the pictures on New Year's Day and immediately left the group. I've blocked every account that even remotely resembles him in any way. I have no desire to know anything about him today, but still have to explain to people that I don't want to know anything about him anymore. </p><p>I learned my lesson with this one. Anything that seems too good to be true probably is. A lion will never have to tell you he's a lion. When the first red flag appears, cut it loose. Real love requires little effort. If you're working to the point of lost peace, no joy, and exhaustion to try to make something work, it's just not worth it. </p><p>I'm so glad that there was someone in my life at one point who loved me properly, because he gave me such a gift. The knowledge that all men are not the same. The confidence to know my own worth. The ability to open my heart to people who deserve this love I have to offer. I'm grateful for the lessons I learned from this last ex, too. I know he's reading this. So, Michael, thank you for strengthening my ability to walk away from things not meant for me. I hope you find the ability to grow personally so no other women have to be harmed by your lack of self awareness. And I hope you get everything you deserve.</p><p>Peace.</p>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-85869033602291086712017-06-01T13:30:00.000-05:002017-06-01T13:28:52.292-05:00Dear Monster<div>
Dear Monster,</div>
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<br /></div>
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I confronted the monster who made me a monster. It didn't help. It didn't bring me peace. It didn't help make me a better person. It didn't validate me. </div>
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It reaffirmed my knowledge that the abuser never acknowledges the pain, that they won't apologize and beg for forgiveness, and that they will only deflect. They will tell you how strong of a person you are because of the things that they heaped upon you. They will explain that because of what they did to you, that you are a better person for having experienced it all. They will ask you if you need some extra abuse by telling you that they miss you. They will make you feel guilty because you decided to never subject yourself to that abuse again. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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I find myself being the same kind of monster that the monster was to me. I deflect and blame when I'm faced with my own bad decisions. I rationalize and construct alternative realities for the reality of my own person. I drink to hide the pain, and create more pain because I AM THE PROBLEM NOW. I desire better, I pray to be better, but I end up drunk and crying alone feeling sorry for myself and blame, blame, blame. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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This is how the monster who made me a monster won. This is his triumph. He has won this battle as long as I choose not to fight any longer. But, as resigned as I am today, who would I be fighting for? Myself? My child? You fucking right I will. I'll fight for me and for her, because I'm a goddamn warrior. I've never been afraid of anything, unless you count losing myself. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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This is my time. It's time I rise and it's time to stop victimizing who I am. It's time to stop feeding the monster. It's time to burn this mother fucker to the ground and do it with such ferocity that anyone watching will be afraid of the outcome. When I rise, I do it with grace. I do it in love. I do it for vengeance. Get ready monster, you're about to die.</div>
The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-78878650981713326222017-05-16T18:46:00.001-05:002017-05-16T18:46:18.428-05:00Prayer For BillBefore I pray for you, Mr. Bill, I have lit a yellow candle in reverence for my desire of unity.<br />
<br />
I come to you, Mother Earth and Father Sky, with a humble heart and a sincere desire to wish upon my brother, Mr. Bill, a sense of wholeness, a true heartfelt peace within his whole being. I pray for his faith, that he will know it and lean upon it as the true rock that only our faith can bestow upon us. I pray for his conviction to be turned toward the good will of all mankind. I pray for his soul to be kept free from harm, to be kept sacred among this universe and be used to turn people of his faith to goodness.<br />
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In all of your infinite wisdom, I pray these things in the name of The Mother and The Father to keep Mr. Bill Blessed among us.<br />
<br />
AmenThe Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-60387876144642958002016-10-10T18:29:00.001-05:002016-10-10T18:30:36.010-05:00The First Stage Of My Grief-The End Of My Happily Ever AfterI don't know how I can do this. How do I close my eyes and rest without you beside me? How do I learn to control my fears and anxieties that you always gently erased in me? How do I ease my frustrations without you here to just do the next right thing? As a matter of fact, how will I know what the next right thing to do even means?<br />
<br />
I've lost more than a husband. I've lost more than a best friend. I've lost more than a partner. I've lost so much more than any of these words could ever describe. Your soft, gentle touch. Your warmth, all around me, all of the time. Your special way of telling me that I'm being too much of an asshole while loving me anyway. Your attempt at sarcasm that always lightened my mood and my eyes. The look on your face when you were serious, angry, happy, afraid, ashamed, relaxed, relieved, felt love, proud. The special things that only you and I know. The secrets we share. Yes, I have the memories, but this pain is unbearable. You were my rock. <br />
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You not only loved me to my very core, you loved my daughters with such fierceness that can only be described as parental. You were a real DAD. It may have been a short time, but you loved us in a way that we had never felt, and will never even try to find again. For there was only one Scooter. There could never be another man who could ever show us the passionate love that you had for family. <br />
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The soft forehead kisses, the hard hungry kisses, the blown kisses. Please don't forget that I still need these from you. Even in my dreams.....please don't leave me. Please don't leave us. Tell me what I should do? I'll recognize your signs, Hunny. <br />
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This pain is too much. If you were here, you would hold me and soothe my hair as I sob uncontrollably into your warm chest. You would pull my face to yours, look me right in the eye, and promise that you would fix this or at least protect me from it. I need you. We all need you.The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-20291457608031033402015-08-22T23:01:00.000-05:002015-09-04T09:24:18.115-05:00Opinions. Everyone has an asshole.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">*DISCLAIMER: I'll be using the word 'opinion' about seventy-eleven times in this particular post. If you don't like other people's 'opinion' then you should probably exit stage left right now. This whole post is about ME and MY 'opinion', so please be aware that you've been properly warned. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now let me open a Miller Lite and get to it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've hurt people online with my opinions. I'm not sorry for that, because I had no intention of hurting anyone by not agreeing with them. I didn't attack anyone. I didn't offer anything other than my own opinion. I will never feel bad for feeling like I do on any given subject. I'm too old for that shit. I've had too many people in real life who tried to get me to conform to their ideas. Not gonna happen. I do what I want and say what I want. You don't agree with me, that's cool. I don't agree with you, and that should be cool with you.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one."</span></i></b><br />
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I don't have a lot of fucks to give these days. I'm busy with life. I don't wish anyone harm, and I don't wish anyone sadness. I don't like it when I see someone who's going through a hard time because I've been through a ton of hard times myself. I can promise you that if I give my opinion on any given subject it's because it's a very important subject to me. I have no underlying motive, either.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I believe in the things that I believe in, and you believe in the things that you believe in. That's cool with me. I don't give a shit. No matter what you say, or how many times you explain yourself, I won't be changing my stance on something if it's my own personal conviction. I'll listen and respect your take on any certain subject respectfully, but it's highly unlikely that a disagreement will change my mind. Internet trolls be damned. I feel this way for a fucking reason. You can explain yourself until you're blue in the face. You can play like my opinion hurts your feelings if you want. My opinion is MINE. My opinion is just as important as anyone else's. Yours is important to you and mine is important to me. Just because I have an opinion different from yours doesn't mean that you're being attacked or belittled. On the contrary. If you feel attacked or singled out by someone else's opinion then you should probably change shoes, as it doesn't have anything to do with me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>"If the shoe fits, wear it.</i></b><b><i>"</i></b></span><br />
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When someone posts something that not everyone agrees with, there are bound to be disagreements. Especially if it's something controversial. But looking at a certain person in a negative way just because they don't think exactly like you doesn't make you a victim. You're not a victim of internet bullying just because someone doesn't like what you said, or your grammar, or your parenting skills, or anything else you may claim. You can't pull the victim/bully card just because someone doesn't like you or they disagree with you. You don't have the power to change another person's mind. Maybe you saw that you could have been able to make more of an effort to better your own situation and got your feelings hurt. No one is responsible for your feelings or actions but you. What I do online is my business, just like what you do online is your business. When I ask for opinions, I expect a variety of opinions. I don't care if someone doesn't agree with me. I don't get angry when someone doesn't agree with me, either. When I share my opinion I'm just doing it where it's appropriate, where opinions of varying degree are welcomed or asked for. Unless I call your name then you're not the one I'm talking about. Get over yourself. You're not that important to me. I've got way too many things on my mind to be caring if you agree or not. If you don't agree, you're welcome to state your opinion just like I am and move on. That's how most grown ups do it, anyway.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Ain't nobody got time for that."</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>We all have busy lives with our own household to run. The 'poor me' attitude of someone who feels attacked by a difference of opinion is a thing of the past. I don't run around the internet trying to put other people down. I don't think I'm better than another person who I may or may not know. I don't discriminate against any soul that dwells on this Earth. We're all facing our own demons. I care about living and letting someone else live. I don't care what you're going through, I'll respect you until you disrespect me. You're no different than I am. We're all struggling to have a happy life no matter what circumstances we've been dealt. I feel empathy when I can, and sympathy for those that deserve it.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"We're all the same inside."</span></i></b><br />
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If I offer advice it's because I've been through some shit. It's because I know a little bit about the lessons I've learned in MY life. It's an opinion. You can take it. You can leave it. You can get your panties in a bunch and show your ass all over the interwebs, it doesn't matter to me. It doesn't matter to your audience, either. If you set out to hurt someone over YOUR butthurt, then you'll only be hurting yourself. You can't make people stick around and enjoy you if you're always dragging up shit that hurt your feelings. Doing that only makes people run away from you. If you want people to like you, then you should at least be likable. Most likeable people aren't whiny little pussies, in MY opinion.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Only the strong survive."</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>You could have a different opinion than I have about anything from the most comfortable socks or undies we wear, to religion and politics and parenting. I don't care what your opinion is, it still won't change mine. That doesn't mean that you have a license to pull the 'I'm being bullied' card. It means we don't agree, there's nothing wrong with not being in agreement with someone. Leave it as a disagreement, move on, and let shit go. If some people can agree to just disagree then those people are the ones who are taking the higher road. No harm, no foul. Disagreements should never be the reason for a shit-storm.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Let's just agree to disagree."</span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Time for this old Hussy to step outside of the crazy and maybe drink another beer. Who's with me?</span><br />
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<br />The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com0Dumas Gamefarm, MS, USA34.6403752 -88.843948234.5358597 -89.0053097 34.7448907 -88.6825867tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-52548542080021648212015-08-19T13:46:00.000-05:002015-09-04T09:23:50.222-05:00An Open Letter To The Absent Parent<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When thinking about the absent parent of my youngest daughter, I tend to fill with rage. I'm not normally an angry person, but the man makes me go straight up ape shit with his tactics and incompetence at being a decent human being. So, here's a few things I'd like to address just for him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Sperm Donor,</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you very much for the gift that is my child. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. My gratitude for you goes no farther than that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She is eleven years old. You've spent one Christmas with her in that eleven years. You've been to one of her birthday parties in that eleven years. You bought her one bag of diapers before I potty trained her. You have said for years that I kept her away from you, but in actuality it was you who kept her away from you. I told you several times that I would allow you to see her in a public place, like the Sheriff's department parking lot, and you never would go for that. Every time your family ever showed an interest in having anything to do with her, I allowed it. But the phone calls were very few and far between. In the divorce and child custody agreement you were ordered to pay $120 dollars a month and was granted no visitation order whatsoever. The judge left it up to me about visitation until you decided to seek your own visitation rights, which you never done, along with never paying any of her child support. You held cash jobs so that a legal order couldn't be brought against you to pay. You've never owned property, so no lien could be obtained if you didn't support her, and then you got disability and her case was dropped. When her child support was dropped, you owed me close to $8000.00 in child support. I've never seen a penny of that money. The disability part doesn't bother me, because you are truly disabled. What bothers me is that you didn't put the effort into paying into SSI your whole life to earn your disability money. Paying taxes for a couple of weeks every few years does not entitle you to a Social Security check, in my opinion. The people who truly deserve disability are the ones who pay into SSI with every single job they hold until the date they are no longer able to work, or until the age of retirement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then, after all of those years of abandoning your responsibilities as a parent, you had a brain aneurysm and I got a call from your sister asking me to pray for you. I did pray for you. I even felt bad for you. I rolled it over in my mind for a whole week after your surgery about whether I was being too harsh on you, was I holding a grudge, or was I just protecting my daughter from the person I knew so long ago. The man who never took responsibility for his own actions, the man who allowed me to pay his child support for his son so he wouldn't go to jail, the man that mentally crushed my spirit, the man who did drugs with me and then ridiculed me for not being the strong one, the man who would do great and be a good person for a few weeks to only go back to his old ways when he had everyone convinced that he's not ugly inside. I felt sorry for you. Surely the demons you face are purely internal and you have a heart in there. I had heartfelt talks with many of my family members and yours, I asked my child if she would like the chance to know you, all the while having a nagging feeling in my heart that she would only be hurt. I had an adult conversation with you about what I expected when it came to my daughter. There were rules. Don't allow her around drug addicts, don't put her in harm's way, and be regular with the time you have with her. I didn't want to let you back in her life if you were just going to disappear on her again. The three rules were simple. You didn't follow them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The biggest lesson here is that I am the constant parent. I am the one who has made lasting memories with her throughout her whole life, and will continue to make memories with her as long as I'm alive. I am the one who worries when she seems sad, and cares enough to let her know that she can talk to me about anything and trust me when she tells me things. I am the one who wipes her tears, holds her, kisses her, and hugs her. I am the one that makes sure that her needs are met in all aspects of her life. My daughter's physical, emotional, and spiritual well being has always been my job, and will be my job as long as I'm breathing. From clothing, to food, to school, to medical care.......It's always been me. I am constant. I've always done my job. You haven't. You failed her in many ways, and I still allowed you the opportunity to make it right. All you had to do was follow three simple rules to have what I have, this beautiful relationship with the most amazing person who has never harmed a soul, and you weren't man enough to do it. She's not missing out on a relationship with you. You're missing out on a relationship with her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You see, absent parent, I talk to my child. She trusts me with her hopes and dreams because I've always been a constant and unwavering supporter of hers in any way that she ever needed. Not to say that I've never made mistakes. I'm far from perfect, I fall from grace, and I'm very flawed in a lot of ways. But she never has any doubts when it comes to me. She told me just yesterday that she felt like I pushed her to have a relationship with you and she mainly went along with it out of curiosity, so she could see what she was missing. She also said that when someone doesn't even have time to pick the phone up to check on her or find out what's going on in her life it makes her sad for a minute, but then she's like, "hey I'm okay." I knew something was wrong when I would ask her, "Have you talked to your dad today?" and she would just tell me that she hadn't. I knew it was hitting rock bottom and that she was having second thoughts when I would ask her, "Why don't you call your dad anymore?" and she would just say she didn't feel like talking. She always feels like talking to me, so there had to be something wrong. I asked your family what was going on with you only to be stonewalled with silence and excuses and probably lies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not sure if the rumors I've heard about you are true or not, but I do know that running away to another state all of a sudden seems a bit suspicious to me. I also know that our divorce papers state that we must provide a physical address to the Chancery Court Clerk if we move out of state. I followed that rule when I moved to Ohio, and when I moved back to Mississippi. I've contacted the clerk, and you've never provided them with any other address other than the one of the date of filing. So now if I want to file legal proceedings against you, I have no way to serve you. It's just as well, though, because you'll always be a runner. You've ran away your whole life. Sounds kind of sad and exhausting to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, in closing, I'll just say this.....She doesn't really want anything to do with you after she got to know you, and there will be no more contact with her if I can help it. She is fine with that and wants me to protect her. I'm responsible for the well being of my child, and my devotion to her will never change. My conscience is clear. You had your chance. It's your fault. Not mine. Maybe one day you can look in the mirror like I did and say "I did this to myself, and I have no one left to blame," and try to do the next right thing. Until then, I wish you well. I won't poison myself any longer with your hate of years gone by. I've got a future here, and her name is Jacie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sincerely,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Mama Bear</span>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-5001404011813430152015-04-17T10:01:00.001-05:002015-09-04T09:23:23.500-05:00What Friendship Means To Me. #FriendshipRevolution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Alone At Dawn</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/aloneatdawn" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Alone At Dawn on Facebook</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When thinking of what I want or expect in a true friend, it's not very complicated. I have only a handful of real life friends that I actually spend physical time with, and I'm okay with that. I'm weird when it comes to spending time with people. I'm not very trusting when it comes to allowing people into my everyday life. I've been burned so many times by people that were supposed to be my friend that I eventually just shut out most people. I'm at a place in life where it doesn't really matter if someone visits me on a regular basis, if they like me or if they don't, or about trying to impress anyone. I love my true friends with a fierce passion and would go to the ends of the Earth to help them if I'm in a position to do so. When I see them or talk to them, nothing has changed in my eyes. We just pick up where we left off. No fuss. Simple.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">HunnyMan and I chillin' on a backroad</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My very best friend is my HunnyMan. He knows how I tick, and still makes fun of me, and still loves being around me, and doesn't give a fuck if I want to be quiet or want to be loud. He accepts me as I am in pretty much any situation and we have fun together. Whether we're messing around in the yard, just hanging out in our recliners, doing the dirty in the bedroom, or any mundane chore that must be done we love being together. Some nights he has to beg me to play Monopoly, (because that game sucks since they've figured out how to beat me) but we laugh. Being a friend that I can laugh with is awesome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have a close neighbor, who I can't name because she doesn't do the internet thing, who brings her kids over from time to time and we've gotten pretty close. We'll call her 'Suzy Q' just for kicks. She reminds me of a Suzy Q. So, her two girls are ten and seven. Lil Dump loves when they come over here or we go over there. HunnyMan is friends with Suzy Q's husband so it makes for a good match. We all win in this situation. Suzy Q and I get to hang out, the kids get to make memories, and the men even get some much needed man therapy. The thing about Suzy Q and I is that we are both on the same page when it comes to socializing. We keep our circle small because we're both total weirdo's. That's good for both of us. We always enjoy hanging out together. We have a lot in common. We're both country ass hicks who drink beer and mess around in the woods. We both wear boots and love riding around on ATV'S, and shit. We both make our kids mind and teach them the way we were taught. We both are total bitches and make fun of each other for being total bitches. See what I mean? Being a friend who has something in common with me is awesome.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rissa and I. This was a fun day!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've got a friend who I rarely see anymore. Not because we live too far apart, but because life gets in the way. She's my girl, she helps me look out for nonsense in the one group that I started years ago, and she's fucking amazing. She even helped me move some shit one time when I was down and out and had no one else. She's one of those friends who are loyal to the end of the world. She pretty much has it all. The laughs, the love, the common denominators, the loyalty, and she get's my sarcasm. I love you, Rissa!</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My 19 year old, Me, and Mama</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm friends with my Mama. No need to explain that one. She gives the best advice. I'm friends with my little Sister and Brother. We always have a lot of giggles when we're around each other. I'm friends with my 19 year old. I may ride her ass from time to time, but for the most part she's my friend now that she's grown. Being friends with my family feels pretty damn good. I also have family in Georgia that I still feel very close to thanks to social media. They may not be my blood relatives, but they're a part of me, nonetheless. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Speaking of social media and the sentiment of my family being part of my friendship circle brings me to my internet friends. I've met some extraordinary people online. Some of them know more about me than I know about myself. No, seriously, some of them do know more than I care to divulge anywhere else. Being part of a group brings you close to people who you wouldn't otherwise know in real life. I share in their happiness, sadness, accomplishments, and even failures. I share the same things with them. I've grown to love a multitude of different people thanks to the interwebs. They come from all walks of life. They are all different and all special in their own way. They play an important part in my life, whether they know it or not. When I'm unable to reach out physically to a loved one, I can always go to my close online buddies. They don't judge me, they don't hound me, they don't hate on me, but they ALWAYS know the right words to say when I need them. I may not get the response that I want, but they will tell me what I need to hear. Whether I agree with them or not, they're my friends. I respect an opinion shared without malicious intent. It's good for any grown person. I take what I need, use it if I can, and do my very best to be the same type of friend to them. I may fall short, but I try my best to be a good person, even when being a good person is hard for me to do.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9_k2DToF-iknoXANdy0K8D-BhxCR3g0e8BeZB09jCxqVdbQpc2N0BJANI_7UR0C4EzTvl4irUUUg8tKLgLEquv4fQ-R90WsJaybrSxTM2oldNgnzWywoJ8tLiiwUQcn8dmE9jr9DDySK/s1600/quotes-about-friendship_11654-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9_k2DToF-iknoXANdy0K8D-BhxCR3g0e8BeZB09jCxqVdbQpc2N0BJANI_7UR0C4EzTvl4irUUUg8tKLgLEquv4fQ-R90WsJaybrSxTM2oldNgnzWywoJ8tLiiwUQcn8dmE9jr9DDySK/s1600/quotes-about-friendship_11654-1.png" width="149" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I may not be everyone's friend, and that works for me since I'm such a weirdo. I don't need to be everyone's friend. I know that the things I expect from my friends are pretty much the same things that they're going to get from me. I need laughter, something in common, loyalty, an understanding that sarcasm will happen, and a feeling of belonging. It's a beautiful combination once we get to know each other.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">See? No fuss. Simple.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wanna go fishing?</span><br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82dDnv9zeLs" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">HELL YEAH!</span></a></div>
The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-26638496833254471802015-04-13T14:16:00.000-05:002015-09-04T09:22:59.495-05:00You're Different Than I Am, And That's Okay With Me<span style="font-size: large;">Some really hateful things happened all over the book of faces over this past week that had me angry for a spell. Some vile names were called. Some anonymity was broken. Some bitches started tripping. I was one of them. While I don't blog anonymously, I respect those who do. No matter how angry I got, or how much I disagree with someone, I would never disregard someone's desire for privacy. It's just not right.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now that we've got my opinion on the subject out there, let's move on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A very special friend of mine (I'd like to call her a friend, anyway) who is not a blogger, but a page owner, wrote something on her own book of faces page today about friendship. Her words made me look inside of myself and prompted me to write this today. This is a woman who I admire for her values, I respect her immensely, and I think the world of her. She's just awesome and she always knows how to calm a storm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Her thoughts on being a good friend opened my eyes to the fact that I may have been a bad friend. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bloggers are a tight knit community. When we see one of our fellow bloggers being attacked it's not pretty. People generally jump on one side or the other and then all hell breaks loose and people get their feelings hurt. I know that I got my feelings hurt. Not because someone disagreed with me, but because I saw someone being a bully while playing the victim of bullying. I think that we can all agree that at some point in our lives we have all been faced with ugly words and nastiness. A difference of opinion is not the same as being mean and hateful and spiteful. I'm guilty of jumping on the bandwagon of hate. I said ugly things about someone because they were being hateful and spiteful to my friend. For that, I'm sorry. When in the moment of feeling anger, it's so hard not to defend the one being picked on. It doesn't matter which side you pick, it's wrong to carry a sword in a fight that doesn't belong to you. Not my beagles, not my hunt. (Southern people will get that euphemism.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">While reading this friends thoughts on what a true friend is, though, I found wisdom. My heart felt heavy, but my mind was enlightened. There was wisdom in her words that nearly knocked me to my knees. Those are the best kind of friends. The ones who tell you the truth. The ones who hold nothing back and throw all the punches when you need a busted head. I don't know if her words were directed at me. It doesn't matter. I took something from them and made it my own. She felt something, wrote it, and I took what I needed and left the rest. I call her my friend because of this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">With that being said, today I am at peace. With myself, with my opinions (no matter who agrees or disagrees), and with my ability to be a friend. We all make mistakes, and I'm not scared to be the first to admit mine. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What are your thoughts on the makings of a good friend?</span>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-9204740383282672932015-01-17T11:02:00.000-06:002015-09-04T09:21:37.284-05:00Sometimes A Woman Starts Menopause. And It's Fucking Hard. <span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes a woman just needs to write. Sometimes she needs to get things out. Sometimes she needs a release. Sometimes she gets overwhelmed with life, and bills, and money problems, and what she's supposed to be doing, and whatever the fuck else it is that puts her in a dark place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For me it seems to be a reoccurrence of being without money, no stamina to accomplish things, pre-menopause creeping it's ugly head into my body, and depression that comes and goes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Some days are good. Some days are bad. My life is not bad, I just have this hormone thing going on and I can't seem to drag my body and mind together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It doesn't seem serious yet, physically. Aside of the night sweats and food cravings and being cold or hot sixty-eleventy times a day. Not to me, anyway. But my loved ones are noticing the changes. And that has set my mind in motion. My mind in motion is not a good thing. My mind can, and has, gotten me in deep shit throughout my lifetime. I'm a dark ass bitch. For real. (Dark minds think alike, am I right?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The thing is, I'm at a place in life where I know that everything is going to be okay. I don't have demons who are ready to pounce on me and put me under like other time periods, I've grown a lot in the last 7 to 10 years. I have a positive outlook and positive reinforcements. Those are things I've never really had years ago, or at least I didn't think I had them. Maybe I was just too busy pushing people away to realize they were positive to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My question is this: How long does this menopause shit last?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And one more question: Why the fuck am I starting it this early? I'm in my EARLY 40's, for fuck's sake!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Crazy Hussy. I'm totally gonna change my name to Crazy Hussy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This shit blows. And by blows I mean like a hurricane kind, not like a blowjob kind. </span>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-91636597084816469612014-12-07T12:45:00.000-06:002015-09-04T09:19:57.198-05:00A Letter To The Ones Who Hurt Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eOna-7kmeV1V_a-NQXJMhhWV_ThOuBA88S98Quapto9z5j6mAfF14oHixtIrq7W4WZFnfWVKHRxLnChPbd9HaM61HgbpJ0iRoCs56OtSDxMYDw5C9xRLiKdYOgntjSeRUvFNoahBfPGB/s1600/fuck-you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eOna-7kmeV1V_a-NQXJMhhWV_ThOuBA88S98Quapto9z5j6mAfF14oHixtIrq7W4WZFnfWVKHRxLnChPbd9HaM61HgbpJ0iRoCs56OtSDxMYDw5C9xRLiKdYOgntjSeRUvFNoahBfPGB/s1600/fuck-you.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Motherfuckers who harmed me, wronged me, took advantage of me, and ultimately made me stronger:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I beat you. I screwed you in the most awesome way you could ever imagine. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I found a happiness that you WILL NEVER FIND.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I became so strong because of you that no amount of sad or stupid will ever break me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I learned how to function in a world full of angry with a genuine smile on my face and in my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know what's important, and you aren't a part of that importance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sincerely,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This Hussy who has became so much better because of the lessons.</span>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-73834270317530401572014-12-04T08:02:00.002-06:002014-12-04T08:03:49.393-06:00Christmas 2014 Is Upon UsChristmas. I love this time of year. (Insert sarcasm with those last words.)<br />
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I despise the crowds. I despise the shopping. I despise the incessant music on every radio station while I drive. I despise the fact that I live on a fixed income and that I stress about money to the point that it makes me physically ill every single year. I despise the sadness I feel about both of my Grandmothers passing in the month of December. I'm normally not a negative person except for this time of year.<br />
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And then there is the beautiful side to all this negative. The wonderful things about Christmas time that I gently remind myself of. This is the month that I gave birth to my BabyBug, who will turn 19 this year. This is the month that my Apple Dumpling shows me, every year, that I've done such a great job teaching her what the most important things in life are. This is a month of magic. This is a month where people do such amazing things for others with love in their heart and no expectation for their actions in return.<br />
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Last year was the first Christmas that I had both of my daughters together in five years. It was magical. The smiles on their faces over nothing more than us being together was priceless. They knew I didn't have a lot of money, and it didn't seem to matter to them. We laughed over silly things and made fun of each other and just had an amazing time.<br />
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I've spent two Christmases with my HunnyMan and this year will make three. They've been the most wonderful ones of my life, aside of those from my childhood when the magic of Santa captivated me, and we don't even buy gifts for each other. His parents have shared in our joy, which made these Christmases even better. I could never ask for a better Mother and Father-in-Law. They're the kind of people that can just sit around and talk and you instantly feel comfortable, the kind of people who would give the shirt off their back if it would help someone in need. I love them so much for that.<br />
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So, in all of the things that make this time of year sad and unbearable for me, there are many things that remind me of how Blessed I am. I have amazing children, a loving and supportive family, a Husband that completes me, and memories that will forever fill my heart with happiness.<br />
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To all of you who took the time to read this, I wish you a wonderful and joyous Christmas filled with magic and love.<br />
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<br />The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-73323835479974031782014-09-19T13:47:00.000-05:002015-09-04T09:19:30.850-05:00A Love Letter To My Apple Dumpling<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Dump,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(I promise I will never call you that in public or around your friends.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've loved you since I found out that you were growing inside of me. I cried. I laughed. I was scared. I was proud. You made a difference in me that day, my birthday, when I found out the news that Mama was gonna be a Mama again. I had a lot of things that needed changing in me before you were born and those changes began on that birthday in 2003 when I was 30 years old. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward to April of the next year when you were born. The day you came along was one of the best days of my life. I don't think I've ever cried that much with happiness in my heart. And that's what you've given me in your ten years.....so much happiness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From the moment your feet hit the floor until you lay your pretty little strangy head down at night, you're happy. (You can thank me for that strangy hair, Miss Priss!) You've always looked at the bright side of life and found a way to leave the negative in file 13, where it belongs. (That's Military talk for the trash can, btw.) I've never been able to give you a lot of things that other children have because we live in the poverty level and you've never complained much about that. You've always been happy with the hugs and kisses and the little things like making muffins or brownies or clubhouses in the woods out of whatever junk you can drag up. That says a big whole bunch about your character. It says that you're a survivor. You're a lover. You're good. And yes, baby, YOU ARE SO GOOD! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Your passion for nature and animals is one of the greatest things about you. You get that from me, you know. We're nature lovers. Being outside is our thang! I always wanted to have a career helping animals or some type of scientist who studies bugs or frogs or something like that. You're so much like me! The way you talk when you play reminds me of how I used to do at your age and you didn't even know me back then. Wait, I didn't know you back then, either. It's like you're me, only without the nasty attitude! Now I'm not saying you're perfect because you have those days when you can smart-mouth your tail into making me totally lose my beans on ya! We both know that. What I'm saying is, I'm proud of you because you're like me......only better. You have a gift that is animals. I Pray that you find a way to do something with that gift that I wanted to do, but never got around to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I love you, Dump. More than you'll ever know. More than you'll ever be loved. You made me a better person, ya know. I was on a really bad path in life before you came along and having you in my life changed how I felt about everything. Especially how I felt about myself. You were my second chance. You were my reason and my motivation to do the right things and make the right choices. I had gone on long enough doing the wrong things and you made me realize that we all deserved a healthy Mama. A Mama who could and would do what's right for her family. Thank you for saving my life, baby. Because you truly did. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mama loves you. Muches and bunches. xo</span>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-10906229291534112172014-09-16T13:57:00.000-05:002015-09-04T09:18:58.372-05:00A Love Letter To The 18 Year Old<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Bug,</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You have brought so much joy to my life in the 18 years you've been in this cruel, but beautiful world. Carrying you for nine months and giving birth to you all natural were the hardest things I had ever done back then. At 22 years old, I didn't have the first clue about life, much less raising and caring for someone other than myself. I was scared of being a Mama, I admit it. I made a ton of mistakes, I admit that, too. I'm very ashamed of so many things that you had to go through all because I wasn't ready to be a parent. If I could go back and redo things, I would in a heartbeat. (I'm sure a lot of people say that from time to time.) So BabyBug, listen to this song right here and know that Mama loves you with all her heart. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ryo2T1AnBlE" target="_blank">A Lot Of Things Different for my Bug</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When you were a little baby, you were such a joy. You brought so many people happiness. You brought people together. We showed you off to many family members, many who aren't here anymore, and people would gather at family functions just for you. You were the first Grandchild, the Prodigy, the first of a new generation in MY family. You had the birthmark. You had the attitude. You were the next big thing. And with that you had big shoes to fill. Shoes that I was supposed to wear in my day, but never wanted to. People expect too much from you when you're the first, trust me I was a first, too. I didn't ask for it, but it followed me my whole life. So far, you've handled it with much more grace than I ever did. The pressure of being the first was too much for me and I did the exact opposite of what everyone expected. You've shined in the spotlight. You've lived your life, up to this point, with so much love in your heart. You have a love inside of you that, at your young age of 18, puts your Mama to shame. I was full of hatred at your age. And after all that you've been through, after all that you've survived, you have a love inside of you that I'm in awe of. I'm proud of you for that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now that you consider yourself a grown up, which you are, (I mean, let's face it, you HAD to grow up in the circumstances that you were dealt,) I have some Motherly advice for you. I also have a few things to tell you that may help in the rest of your journey through life. And I want you to know everything about you that makes me proud.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Please, Bug, whatever you do......always, always, always follow your heart. Even if it means your heart get's hurt or broken. Follow it. No matter what people say or think, it's your heart and no one else has your heart. No one else can live your life. No one else can bring you happiness. You are always responsible for your heart, so you follow it. While I'm over here giving advice and shit, let me tell you how important your dreams and ambitions are. I know how much you wanted to make a difference in the lives of children. Even if it's not in nursing like you planned, still follow that. There are so many ways that you can make a career out of helping children. Look at you now, making a difference to my little TurkeyButt. He doesn't have a Mama. He loves you as his Mama. No matter where his Mama is or what her future holds, look at what you're doing for him right now! Look how freaking amazing he is because of you! Look at the accomplishments he's reached because he had your help, your love, your attention, and your heart! YOU'VE DONE SOMETHING AMAZING ALREADY WITH THAT SWEET LITTLE BOY! Don't you give up your dreams and ambitions of wanting to be a help or to make a difference to children. You can do it. Set your mind to it, and just go for it, for fuck's sake! No one is stopping you but you. Make it happen. Don't be like me, 41 years old, wishing I would've done something. You've still got plenty of time. And I believe in you!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I tell you that I'm 40 years old and I know shit, I hope you're listening. The biggest thing I want you to know is that no one else can live YOUR life. It was given to YOU by me. It's yours to do with as you please. No one is responsible for your mistakes or your milestones but you. With that being said, never allow anything negative into your life. If it's not benefiting you, get rid of it. Never hang onto ANY FRICKING THING that brings you down. I promise, you'll always know true happiness if you always surround yourself with good. Even if it means starting over with nothing (and yes, that's hard to do) you have to always do what's best and good and true for your life and for your well being and for your happiness. I spent too many years trying to please someone else and the years I lost aren't worth it. Take it from a woman who has been through any and all things that are bad. I've suffered all the kinds of abuse known to man and being a survivor is all I have to show for it. Don't be the woman I am. Be the woman who took the advice from a broken, used up, hurt, abused woman who learned some hard mother fucking lessons. Don't ever put yourself in a position where you have to depend on someone else. That shit hurts. And when you're not able to fend for yourself, you get taken advantage of. Then you get thrown away. Don't be someone's trash. Be someone's hero. And always know that you're already my hero.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, let me tell you how proud of you I am, and why I'm proud of you.......Bug, you didn't ask for the life your Dad and I gave you. It wasn't your fault that we couldn't stay together. It wasn't in the cards of life. That's my fault. But you know what? I'm so proud that we gained you from that relationship. Even though neither one of us were ready to be parents, I'm so proud that God decided to give us the gift that is you. You truly were the greatest Blessing that came from that relationship. I'm so proud that you always did so well in whatever you were faced with. It shows that you have the ability to adapt to whatever circumstances are thrown your way. I'm proud that you left at 13 to live with your Dad because my time in Ohio is something that no person should ever have to go through. I'm sorry for that, but you were in the best place for you at the time. No matter what you think of your Dad, he was a good person then. He did the best he could. I trusted him to take care of you, and he did that. It's hard for me to say anything bad about him because he went through some rough shit with me and you never went without anything you NEEDED. So you call your Dad and tell him thank you, because he did some sacrificing back in the day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm proud that you came back to me at 17 with good intentions in your mind and heart. I didn't have anything at the time, but that was okay with you. I was different and you were, too. I'm proud that you recognized the changes I'd made and that you wanted to be close to me again. That meant so much to me. It also meant the world to your little sister. She adores you much more than you'll ever know. I'm proud of the young woman you've become. I'm proud that you're teaching a little boy what true love is. Even though he doesn't belong to you, he DOES belong to you. I'm so proud of you for that. Sometimes love is all it takes to make a difference in the life of a child. And that little boy loves you. You know it, your butthead of a boyfriend knows it, and TurkeyButt knows it. I just wish you knew how important that little threesome of a family you have means to me. Whether he knows it or not, I love your Butthead boyfriend and his sweetheart of a son. You guys mean the world to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And, in closing, here's you another song to listen to.......because life is a dance, and it's a beautiful dance if you choose for it to be. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMtuygBrDWA" target="_blank">Please Dance, BabyBug. You're worth it!</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I love you, more than you'll ever be loved in this lifetime. xo</span>The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-90960335900983839472014-09-14T13:35:00.001-05:002015-09-04T09:18:10.271-05:00Why I Am The Original Hussy® (Part 2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've been putting this off for far too long. I kind of know what I want to say here, but haven't been able to come up with the right words to say it. So, I'll start at the beginning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Back in the day, when the internet was dial up, I paid 20 bucks a month to have a place to go outside of my normal day-to-day life that I could be anyone I wanted to be. It was my way of escaping who I was and the life I was living. It was my way of NOT being who I actually was. You see, I didn't much care for me. I didn't like myself. You could even say that I hated me. I was my enemy. I was a drug addict with self esteem issues. I was a really messed up person. And I used the interwebs to be a better me. I used it to be a me that I wanted to be and hoped to be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After years of therapy, dozens of different medicine combinations, two drug rehabs, and countless life lessons, I learned that I couldn't find happiness outside of my skin. The interwebs couldn't cure me, the doctors couldn't cure me, the rehabs couldn't cure me. It was up to me to be happy on my own. And if I couldn't learn to be happy, then I would be dead. It was at this point in life that I knew that I was worth living for. I wanted to live. <i>REALLY LIVE!</i> And no one was going to save my life but me. So my true journey began.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I slowly started telling myself every single day, no matter how hard it was, that happiness starts within me. I deserved it. I was loveable. I was worthy. I love me. I know it sounds simple, but it's how I survived. All the rehabs, doctors, and medicine didn't help me. I helped me. I just woke up one morning and said to myself, "Self, you don't like your life and the way you live, the way you feel, it's up to you to turn it around and start liking it, for fuck's sake!" And after that morning I was a totally different person. Sure I had bad days. I had bad dreams. It wasn't easy. Not at first. Doubt crept in from time to time and tried to make me think that I'd never make it. But I kept at it. I kept reassuring myself that my happy is mine alone and no amount of negative could take it away from me unless I let it. And I wasn't about to let it. That was around 8 years ago. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now I'm not gonna say that life has been full of rainbows and shiny shit. I've had some bad times since then. I moved up to Ohio with a total asshat douchebag piece of shit motherfucker who drug me back down to darkness and stole everything I owned, but that was my bad. I won't blame him because all the red flags were waving before I took that big ole step, but my silly ass had to learn the hard way. Two broken ribs, one domestic violence shelter, and a charge of simple assault later and my ass was back home and back to telling myself that my happy was my damn happy again. Ya hear me?!?!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward to about 3 years ago......I was facebooking with a new found confidence. Getting back in touch with old friends from high school, connecting with family that had moved away from the area. Seeing my foster family in Georgia and how they had grown and had kids and went through hard times and happy times. I was a total freaking junkie for the book of faces! I made new friends. Saw a bunch of drama. Realized that sometimes your facebook profile is <i style="font-weight: bold;">not </i>the place to show how much of a dumbass you are. Facebook is <i style="font-weight: bold;">not </i>the place to blast your relationship problems. And facebook is <i style="font-weight: bold;">not </i>the place to run to when you're angry or emotional about something. It <i style="font-weight: bold;">can and will </i>cause you problems if you put your personal shit out there for everyone else to read. It taught me that if I have something to say to someone, I should take it directly to the person who should be hearing it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And with that, I needed a place to vent sometimes. A place to let off steam and a place to say things where only other women could read them. A place to ask for advice when I needed it. And so I created a private group called "Hussies Unite" and asked a few friends to join and they invited their friends to join and so I became <b>The Original Hussy® </b></span><br />
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The group has grown dormant since I started my own facebook page, but once in a while someone will come to the group just to vent, or share what's going on in their world. But mostly it's always quiet nowadays. It was a good thing for a while. And I'm somewhat sad that it's not very active anymore, but I have my page and my Tumblr and this. So I'm good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I'm happy. That was the whole point. My happiness. My self love. I found it with the help of others, my desire to love and be loved, and with sharing my nightmare of a life that turned into a life that is good. And by good, I mean I'm able to smile in most any situation because I know for a fact that I am worth much more than I thought I was back in the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks for reading and much <3 Hussy Love <3</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I've got a whole shit ton of it to pass around these days!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And if you're a woman who can keep a secret and need a place to vent or think you could help when someone else vents then please feel free to join the group, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/114812775278148/" target="_blank">Hussies Unite</a>!</span><br />
<br />The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402695709275946931.post-50630413850600236922014-08-15T14:12:00.000-05:002014-08-15T14:19:18.147-05:00Why I Am The Original Hussy® (part 1)<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i><u>Why I Am The Original Hussy® (part 1)</u></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i>Do you ever wonder to yourself, "Self, why for fuck's sake does that girl call herself The Original Hussy?" Well, no worries. The OH is here to tell you all about it.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i>Back when I was a little girl, I spent a lot of time listening to the grown ups talk and talk and talk. I wasn't allowed to talk with them, and I really wasn't supposed to be listening to them either. But my ass <b>DID </b>listen! I listened so hard that I learned some good stuff that I would take to school with me and share with all the other kids because I wanted to be a bad ass. I was raised an Army brat, and that meant moving about every four years. It also meant that every time I found some friends and began to fit in with some kids, it was time to say goodbye. I hated to say goodbye. It was agonizing for me. </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i>When my Dad spent a couple of years in Korea, I lived behind my Mamaw and Papaw with my Mama and sister. I was seven years old and my sister was two. It was nice to be around family all of the time. And there was <b>always </b>some family around at Mamaw and Papaw's house. There was also a ton of shenanigans because my Aunt and Uncle were teenagers back then and my Papaw was a heavy drinker. There was card games, cookouts, sleep-overs, porch swinging, shade tree settin', beer drinking in the back yard, (Not for me because I was too young back then, but we all know I love me some beer.) and there was always some shit going on. My Mamaw was a feisty lady and never held her tongue. If she thought it, it came out of her mouth. I think I get that from her. (Thanks Mamaw, you did me a solid on that one. And Rest In Peace you crazy, hard working, classy lady! I love and miss you a bushel and peck!)</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i>Now my Mamaw didn't cuss a whole bunch when I was a kid. It was considered 'unladylike' to cuss. But she could get fired up when something or someone crossed her, or anyone else in the family the wrong way. And her vocabulary could be quite colorful, to say the least. I remember one time when they had to go get someone out of jail because they were driving around drinking beer on backroads with some other woman besides their wife. Mamaw referred to these women as 'hussies' and I was so young that I didn't know what it meant. I found that word 'hussy' to be one of the funniest words I'd ever heard in my life. I'd call my barbies and my dolls 'hussy' because it sounded like the best word ever for a girl. When I got older I started putting two-and-two together and realized what she was talking about.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i>Now that old word doesn't mean something to be proud of. Nope. It means that woman gets around. She's loose. She's easy. Home wrecker. Mamaw used 'hussy' and 'floozy' to describe <b>any</b> woman who had found her way into the lives/hearts of the men in our family that weren't their wives or children.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i>I'm not any of those things, but the word still remains inside of me as something that I found appealing as a young girl. 'Hussy' didn't mean anything more than 'some woman who I've never met' back then. To this day, I still haven't been able to shake my attraction to the word. I know it doesn't describe <b>ME</b>, per se, but it brings back some very fond memories of my Mamaw and how I would listen to her conversations with people when she didn't know I was listening.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i>So now you know where I came up with the idea to call myself a Hussy. This story is far from over. There's a shit ton more to tell. Like how I became <b>The Original Hussy®. </b></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i>Stay tuned. When something strikes me then I'll be back with part 2.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><i><3 Hussy Love <3</i></span></div>
The Original Hussyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01556581759366014735noreply@blogger.com2Dumas, MS, USA34.6403752 -88.843948234.5358597 -89.0053097 34.7448907 -88.6825867