I B.S.

Literally, IBS. Its one of the most wonderful presents that either results from my shitty (no pun intended) gallbladder issues, or from my fibromyalgia. Supposedly, doc says its from fibro. I had no freaking idea or clue that your stomach could be affected by some strange invisible illness that makes you feel like you have the flu x 1000. For me, that’s one of my new perks. That any little thing could literally make me shit myself. I find it super challenging when I’m out or at work because quite frankly, I have a bathroom phobia. I hate public bathrooms, I feel like I need to douse in bleach and anti-septics just from walking in there. For me, I also have the I can’t take a shit when other people are around syndrome. So sometimes, I literally have to walk into the potty and walk myself out so that I can later come back and use it in peace.

I know that everyone uses the potty, but sometimes, I sound like a damn whoopee cushion sounding off because my stomach is just uncontrollable. I hate being that person, you know the one that blew up the potty but I can’t help it. At least I have the decency when I don’t have my poopouri to use and dash so that you don’t know whose assaulted your olfactory senses. To anyone out there dealing with IBS or fibro causing IBS. You’re not alone.




A necessary evil

You might think it’s cruel you might judge it as vicious. One of the main reasons I block shit out or check out emotionally is because it’s too difficult otherwise to sever a limb that’s the root of your problem. My relationship with my parents is strained to say the least. This is especially true with my father. While I was in New York I purposely maintained a distant relationship where he went through what he went through with miles between us. The reason is that I knew if he was closer he would bleed me financially dry. Even from a far we found ourselves sending money to help 400, 500 at time. Sometimes it wasn’t even my money but my significant others. My father came to live with us so that I could help him get back on his feet. This has been more than challenging causing arguments in my relationship because of his lack of efforts in the House. Although I never agree outright with my significant other because doing so would just put a battery in his back, he’s made undeniable claims. Take right now for example. I have clothes on the bathroom floor to take to laundry. I walk in the bathroom and it’s wet. I smell pee but I think I’m crazy right? I step on my shower rug and it’s wet, now I’m like what the hell. I ask my dad if he showered he’s all calm like oh no the toilet overflowed I’m like fuming now because he didn’t tell me. My clothes are then wet with toilet water.

I’m not pissed it happened I’m pissed he didn’t tell me. So now it’s 12:00 a.m. I have to work and I’m up doing laundry. He didn’t clean it up, he didn’t move the rug. Despite his health ailments the mans not handicap. This is the shit that infuriates my s/o. He leaves everything a mess. I understand not feeling well. But seriously, it’s not everyday that it’s a bad day. I’ve had moments where I’ve questioned his mental state. Because sometimes I feel like you have to be nuts. There’s no other explanation. The moral is this is why I emotionally check out because if I was emotionally invested in my parents all these years they would’ve bled me dry financially, emotionally and mentally trying to carry an anchor all my life. It sounds fucked up but that’s what it is. Supporting family can sometimes be like trying to run a 5k with a body tied to your ankle. You just can’t do it. You get nowhere fast. You’ll make it at some point but you ain’t making it today. So for me I choose to ignore shit and not let it bother me. I’m pissed now but I’ll get over it. At some point we need to part ways. You can over help someone even if they need the help. By all accounts I’m reaching my max.

Emotionally unavailable…

Do you have any idea what it means to be emotionally unavailable? Ding dong, no ones home, out to lunch … that about adequately describes my emotional state currently, although this is nothing new.

I often find it amusing when this one particular person in my life talks shit about everyone around him how dumb they are about their relationships and decisions etc while I stare blankly wondering how you can say that when everyone around you hates you? How does that pan out? They might be dumb but at least people don’t hate them including their significant other. I don’t know if it’s audacity, blindness or the desire to be better than others but I’d rather be dumb and have real friends than think I’m smarter than everyone else and have everyone in my path despise me. Although in my own defense whatever hate I earn I’m sure I’ve worked mighty hard for it and I’m likely to be perfectly okay with that.

I’ve never met a Sagittarius man that I could get along with. They just take everything to the complete left even though what I say is neutral they always have to run with my shit. It drives me bat shit insane. It doesn’t make you wiser just petty.

Long story short I heard a song that reminded me of well me.. technically single and emotionally unavailable.

These streets…

A few days ago I had a conversation with a friend about giving videos to the cops. The conversation was about the one time I decided to maybe help someone only to see something funny. The type of shit that could get you killed or shot at. So my point to her was basically unless it’s something serious I’m not talking. She said that was the street mentality, snitches get stitches. Well there’s some truth to that.

It actually made me reflect on my past. I talk about it often enough. I feel more comfortable in the worst neighborhoods than I do some uppity puppets. If you’ve read my blogs you can surmise I’m not an idiot nor am I uneducated, but the fact is the streets also were my own teacher. They taught me the shitty side of life the side where you lose everything start over 1000000 times over, they taught me hunger, but they also taught me to scrap literally and figuratively.

The main reflection I remembered because of her comments were the razors. I carried razors in my mouth in high school. Something I had forgotten about. I had learned to flip them around and everything. I was a black sheep amongst my surroundings. I’m fine with that, but it was life that showed me to never back down. I don’t regret it or resent it. That’s why now I’m a force to be reckoned with. You can take the girl out the streets but you can’t take the streets out this girl….


Today while I was showering I noticed hair falling out. Instead of growing now, my hair appears to be falling out severely. I won’t lie I freaked. So I did maybe the worst thing possible. I hit google. Is this the medication? Is this the Sjogrens? Basically, people who have this have mentioned everything I’m going through. Its hard not to fret and worry. Now that I’m home I couldn’t get up off the bed. I literally hobbled off the bed. Its a tough silent battle. Silent? because I haven’t really told everyone. Some of my friends know what I’m up against. There are days, I am ready to take the world by storm and days like today that between losing my statistics text book and my hair falling off, I’m ready to just lay in bed if I could. The meds make me sick, nauseous, sometimes, I just pass out in exhaustion.

I’ve thought about shaving my head before, maybe I can pull a Sinead. I feel bad for my daughter who will be 7. She saw me hobble off the bed and barely be able to take 3 steps and she rushed to rub my back, and help me up. I’m 34. Can I imagine at 60? at 50? People are worried about killing it physically, I went through that phase. I outgrew it fast. I had a body that was envied, and I hated it. I had so much more to offer intellectually that it was always overlooked. Now, I just want to be okay to make it through one more day. To run, to get to the point where I physically don’t “leave” for moments at a time from fatigue. As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep…

Do you need a lyft..

Like all things in my life everything is exaggerated. I can’t be normal. Maybe it’s my screws upstairs that are missing or that personality disorder is traits that I often talk about. My daughters birthday is coming up. I’m big on birthdays, or was. I would show up to work in a full on bling not plastic tiara for my birthday. My celebration lasted a month. I felt like life itself was a celebration, another year, another day, another chance to change things. 

For my daughters first birthday I celebrated with friends and family in New York and Florida. For her second birthday I did the same. Since my daughter is in camp I opted this year to buy a cake for the girls at camp. A friend of mine who’s motto is “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” comes to mind. I wanted to buy her a cute cake. Not a plain $20 cake. So I went with a unicorn cake. The problem? It’s massive. So much so that on a train during rush hour I would have pancake by the time I got to Harlem. 

So I decided to call a lyft. The problem is that my driver is nice but he’s giving me anxiety as I sit in the back. He’s taken routes that I’m like what? So here i sit wondering what exactly the bill will be since I’m still in Brooklyn and this trip said it would take 30 min has now become 42. I’m trying to take things in stride. Life is short. I won’t always be around with my daughter. She drives me nuts and I probably threaten to spank her at least 3 times a day. But these are the things that I do to make sure she has a great time. It’s the details, the memories. Kids don’t need much, this I know. But I want her to always remember that I always tried to make her feel special. 

Train train go away…

Lately I have been commuting by train about 4 hours a day. Why, do you ask? Simply because the children are out of school and I had to put my kid in summer camp. Like most parents maybe you were equally as appalled by the prices. I know I instantly had a stroke when I saw 4K price tags attached to camps for 2 months. Yearly tuition for a private school yes, I can justify that. 4K for two months worth of camp not a cold chance in hell. So I found an alternative that was based on income and worked. Catch 22? It’s closer to my job but I didn’t realize how far from my house. So yes it’s about 30-40 from my job, but I work about an hour away, so do the pencil. 
Taking my kid on the train everyday has been an adventure in itself. New York is quite vibrant and quite entertaining in and of itself. Things you’ve never seen I promise you, that here you will see. Case in point the first week commuting with the kid a homeless woman copped a squat in the tunnel on 14th and peed. Now I get and I’m not judging the need to go. But the fact she was bare assed in front of my kid was really something. The good thing is I used it as he moment I told her that’s exactly why I tell her if something falls it’s lost for life. You don’t pick it up. I don’t care what it is. Commuting is something for sure. Just a few days ago I was riding the train with Darth Vader. No seriously. I’m about 5’5 and this guy about 6″ was standing next to me. I don’t know if he had a nose issue or if he was just trying out for star wars but the entire ride to Harlem I felt and smelt his hot corn breath. 
The evil part of me wanted to say something but then I opted for my own response of silence. Normally my response to complainers is take private transport, uber it. But that’s not an option so I held my breath, literally.