I could just cry forever. My soul needs him to survive. I’m getting sicker…. I pushed away the only one would be at my side for the hard stuff.


In my soul I feel the agony right now. Today my entire world crashed before me. I was a pawn in a game he created and I fell at his feet. My heart will never feel whole again. I will never find anyone outside of my kids that will love me. I destroyed the only man who ever knew how. I knew from the very beginning I was not good enough for him. I brought drama into a life where there was none. In his bed I crawled with another man in my home beating my ass every time I returned. He was worth the beatings the drives to his house for a hug. I felt like his burden to bare. Every time a disaster or whirlwind of terrible things came tearing throw I turned to him. I never in my life had any trust in anyone but I trusted him with all I was. I am sure he put the same trust in me for me to burn it to the ground. I am the heartbreaker. I can offer him no explanation. I can’t speak and pour my heart out. I can have no further contact. The risk is far to great. How could I do this to the only man that loved me. I must be the most horrible human to walk the entire planet. I want to run back plead for forgiveness beg him to save me. The tears flowing are my own fault. I let someone control my every move my entire life and I just can’t break free from it. The black cloud follows me there is no escape from it. I punished myself and my children leaving far more than any other punishment I have ever beared. I’d rather be back in that camper rope to my wrist being raped again than this pain. How can I be this person. I knew I shouldn’t let him love me. I knew I was undeserving and yet I soaked it up till the last drop. Now I sit back on empty. Where Ill remain till the last day. I hope he finds a love that he deserves he is the greatest man I have ever had the privilege of meeting.

The venom and lies he still spews.

There are places I am restricted from going over the lies he tells. My ex husband is angry very angry. He has been paying the minimum required support for a very long time. In fact he took me to court to have it lowered with a doctor’s note saying he could do minimal hours and work. At the time having claims that he was going to get disability and was unable to work and support his kids for medical reasons.  His base support the amount that came to the kids being set at 88$ for 4 minor children. I left that be even after and I mean just a few weeks after Keith started a union overtime often job. No biggie really as the kids aren’t going without at the time. Recently Keith and his wife moved to my town. I myself encouraged it. I was sick and I mean very sick I was desperate for help with the teens him and I shared and welcomed it. I used my truck and I helped his wife move things from her storage to their new house. I loaned cigarette and gas money when they first moved in. Not a substantial amount or anything just 7-`10 bucks here and there. I provided rides where needed I just tried to be supportive and helpful. His wife called his paycheck card in mine and the kids presence pretty regularly to the point where I knew what he was making. The kids and I had several conversations about how much money that was to have so little and to never do anything for them. When the kids bdays rolled around and they got nothing but fake broken promises. While he wife bragged of the purchases for her and her kids it became clear of their intentions. Occasionally if Keith was asked directly on payday before the money was cleared out and depending how and for what was asked he may help. He put $50 on the $380 class ring Allen got. I still never filed to raise anything. It seemed that the battle for asking for more support even if it were the right thing would be more than I was willing to take on. Then things got progressively worse. As he would buy from fundraisers and never give the money. He would put bday money in their hands then pull it back to say he had to hold it and spend it on another child and flaunt that. It was a very sad situation. The battle in my head to raise support was always there. In my state it’s done by a formula if the amount he was paying was the amount he was able to afford then it would be left. I asked Keith for help many times that summer. It was my sickest moments. I truly needed the help. That summer my girls rape by the brother living in Keith’s home came to light. That summer I stood and watched in fear as Keith dragged Malachi from the home. In a vicious fight between the two. A screaming match between a father and son like I had never seen in my life. I watched Keith foolishly spend money that I knew my children could clearly benefit from. Our eldest son getting into a college program was a milestone. I was desperate to get him his license, a car , and a cell phone. Keith promised him a phone, his truck, and to pay half the license cost with me. Sadly for my son that was all lies. I begged for the 50$ money order for the drivers ed for a long time. Allen given many excuses for the phone and why he didn’t have one. Meantime the son who had raped our daughters got a cell phone. I thought maybe for Keith that taking care of the kids he seen daily and were in his house seemed priority, I am sure he held his own anger to the lack of bond he had with his first born. I have truly and honestly tried to foster that. Allen is 16 now his opinion of his father is formed only Keith can change that. Keith made plans to take Allen shopping for shoes. I thought that was the coolest plan yet… that was over a year and a half ago Allen is still waiting.  Sometimes Keith can appear and be the dad they love. He doesn’t even have to put in much effort honestly they simple want his time. Sometimes it’s like he comes around to hurt them like he is hurting from them. I wish he’d leave the wife and other kids and home and just pick up the four and soak up the time before it’s not there to soak up. Allen will turn 18 in no time and he will break that tie completely as I have my father. I went to court after the incident with the shoes and the money order for drivers ed. I had no idea how high the support would increase. Over 109% increase. Now he is slandering me as a gold digger all over town. How I take all the money he needs to survive. I want so badly to say are you kidding !!!??? Do you remember when I left you your wife your kids and your 9 dogs into my home!!!!!!! DO YOU!!!??? Do you remember the groceries I brought to your shawnee trailer, your hills haven trailer!!!! I bought you clothes,blankets, coffee, cigs. I raise your CHILDREN!!!!!~! I just don’t get it. Like how can you be so dishonest do you really think that I take child support to hurt you!?! It’s not about you it’s not about me. It’s about the kids deserving to be supported. They deserve to have the same financial obligations by us both. I have not once not been there for something him and his family needed. When they themselves were on hard times and they had to complete a program for michigan works to get state aide it was me that took their kids for that entire week. Both kids. One that was not even keith’s and one that was from and affair in our marriage. I took their kids to church, to easter egg hunts, their first time feeding the ducks was with me, first time trick or treating was with me! I took your kids to water parks I included your kids in my family and in return your slandering my name. It’s like a slap to the face that I expected and still forgot to duck. I was unwelcome somewhere last week because I am a gold digging evil baby mama…… hmmm I just can’t see it in the dark he sees. I wish I could say that if he called I’d hang up, not help, tell him where to shove it…. but truthfully nothing would change for me. I will be supportive I will buy groceries if that means his kids see him or the coffee he needs to deal with them. The cigs he needs to chain smoke to entertain them. Ill do whatever because it’s what is best for my kids. My heart still hurts at how he sees this and me. It hurts that people who have never meet me are now passing such ill judgement upon me. I wonder if the money was worth the insults. I wonder if the money even has a thing to do with it or if they would still be there just the same.

The Daycare Provider

I am 18 years old. I am a mother of 2 at the time with my third to be on the way. I have completed my high school education and I am feeling trapped by my abusive husband, my children, my life. I decided that I could go to college for free. I could easily get state aide to provide payment for the daycare and I could get a grant for college. I could do something with my life! What a plan. I worked diligently to put it in action. Let me tell you what understand dhs and the requirements to get into college, daycare paid, books bought, and I had no license at the time. So getting my license was a large task to complete as well to make this happen for me. I had my heart set I was so excited. I pulled off dot after dot on my to do list. I found what seemed like the perfect daycare. The home in a rich sub division. The nanny a young married woman with impeccable cleaning skills. She was licensed and made nutritious meals. I took so much pride in the achievements even though it went unnoticed to everyone else. I remember talking of buying the books to my grandma. I had put up a ad at the local grocery store to babysit and I had babysit with taking my kids to earn the cash for my school books. Well grams thought I was ridiculous. I’d never finish I was wasting my children’s money. As that is who it rightfully should be used for not books. So I didn’t share much of anything about the journey at Lmc that year. I thought the daycare provider was my friend. I think I have pretty much always had a need for that ” friend “. My husband had told me to invite her out one night. We went to karaoke at the sliver beach bar. I knew by the third drink his red headed ass drank I would not enjoy the night. I had no idea how much it would destroy me from the inside. They drank and I mean they drank heavily. I stayed sober of course I was pregnant. My pregnancies we always awful. I was very ill and I had preterm babies. I wasn’t able to have sex. My husband didn’t think waiting was in his duties. He took the daycare provider home that night. He took her to my bed. He repeatedly called me to the room when his drunken state left him unable to stay hard for her. Making me help erect his cock. I’d race from the room and retreat to the kitchen the furthest room from them hoping I could drawn out what they were doing from my mind. He’d call me in again her this time wanting me in there. 😦 I cried and I cried. I slammed the fridge in anger once after leaving the room and Keith ran out and grabbed my throat looking deep in my eyes and telling me not to do that again. I slept that night in my children’s bedroom floor under the crib. I sobbed and I sobbed. I never could feel good about being naked after. Not until I meet Marc. I couldn’t have confidence to be nude. The Daycare provider’s name was Megan. She and Keith would begin to see each other regularly. Even though she was married herself. She became pregnant in fact. Keith claims the child to be his although Michigan law made him her husband’s. In anger I tried to tell her husband. Keith eventually left me taking every possession I owned. The two of them making me into the monster who was crazy. I was biter and vindictive they would say. I think it changed friendship for me. I can’t trust. I can’t be open. She flaunted that she was better at everything a better wife took better care of the kids. She was his age she had the education and the time as a mom I hadn’t gotten yet. She stole it all from me for awhile. Later dropping it all like a bad habit. I am sure that was about the time she realized what that life she stole entailed.  I desperately wanted to ask her if it was worth it? If her son now is a constant reminder to the person she was to me and her own husband. The man that she had promised to love? I heard she later divorced, remarried, and moved away. I felt relieved knowing we wouldn’t bump into each other at some grocery store. Keith has showed the pictures of his son to myself and the kids. Bragging still of the time he had with her. They’re face book friendship and so fourth. It makes me sick to my stomach. It hurts that one day just as he and his mom did for his grandma and her children. My kids will search for the answers and siblings that they don’t know about and will hear of all these horrid tales. Of the children carelessly created and how they have no relationship or knowledge because their father never could figure out how to be a father. My heart breaks that my pain could be their’s one day.

Hard To Love

I meet a lady once. She lived in the opposite side of a duplex I was residing with my first husband. I was all of 18 years old. She had a young daughter and I had went to be the friendly neighbor and introduce myself. To my surprise when she answered my knock at the door she instantly wept and wrapped me in her arms. I had no recollection of her at all. She had been a roommate to my mother when I was the age my kids were then. (toddler years) She told me horrific childhood stories of her and my mother’s drug habits. Of the horrible choices that they had made. A story of me drawing on the walls and the beating I had gotten for it. How my eyelashes full of tears had tugged at her heart strings that day. I have no idea how much of it is true. I clearly have blocked out many memories because I don’t remember living with my mom much at all. I always remember being at some family members and even those are few and foggy until into teenage years and after moving out. I went to my mom and asked who this girl was and if the stories had any truth. She gave no answers. The girl’s daughter tried hard to share many memories of us and how our mothers were. I couldn’t even remember her. I wanted so badly to fill in the blanks but my mother offered none of the puzzle pieces that she held. Pretty much the only one who would speak to me of those days was my Grandma Dee and I could never decyfer her fables from facts. I tell my kids openly the mistakes I made drinking and losing them and not having the income I needed to provide and just not getting my shit together. I answer every single question honest and openly. I thank my mom for that really for the bond I have built with my kids is because of the one I lacked with her. I share my mistakes so that they can learn from them. So I can show them that I am human and will screw up as they will too as a parent as a child as a human…. We love each other even when we are hard to love. We give forgiveness and love through the mistakes. I think I hold anger for what I don’t know. For answers I wasn’t given. I wish I could let go. Forgiving would be far better for my heart…. It’s just I don’t think she even feels remorse. There I go again another excuse for why I can’t do something. Clearly she is not in control over my ability to forgive I am. I can’t ever imagine my kids being to hard to love. I always have felt to hard to love by everyone but them. I thought that the reason I wasn’t for them was that I taught them to love even through the hard. By sharing it with them and not pretending it wasn’t there. No brushing it under the rug in this family. I didn’t have custody because I wasn’t the best mom I could be. It’s a hard mistake to make and one I shall never make again.

Rustic Chicken With Gravy

I have not blogged in several days. That is usually a sure sign that I am either struggling emotionally or physically. This time it was physically. For days I haven’t felt like I was even able to pull my body from the bed. I got up to do what was mandatory of me to do and nothing more. Today hearing he was coming to aid me in a family meeting I thought I just simply must function today! Mind over matter right? So I decided a family meal was perfect for a family meeting night. I mustered up all my courage from deep within. Not just to get up and function but to interact with my family and hiding that I have spent the whole week wishing I could close my eyes forever! Let me tell you cancer is a evil bitch and she puts some horrible thoughts in your head. Remembering the pan set that had been sent to me this week to try out. I thought I’d try out a fellow bloggers meal while using them.


The Rustic Chicken With Garlic Gravy just made my mouth simply water upon seeing the recipe. I knew as soon as I came across the pin it was the one I must try.  https://www.pinterest.com/pin/330873903867634964/ I had all of the ingredients in house. This too a clear sign it was the dinner choice! It was a very simple recipe to follow. However I did change it a bit. I added bacon in my gravy using it’s grease to make my the gravy base. I also opted to use a frying pan to fry the chicken, bacon and mix my gravy but I transferred to a glass 13 by 9 for baking purposes. It was simply what I had on hand. The bacon in the gravy gave incredible flavor. The entire 4 lbs of chicken was all devoured. As the mash potatoes and cheddar rice and biscuits were too. For dessert I made a delicious homemade chocolate chip pound cake. It’s a real bummer I was unable to get more pictures while cooking as I had the help of 6 of my minions making the meal 🙂 Cooking with my kids is good for my soul!!!!!

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The Link Crisis Center

At 14 years old I was residing with my mother and stepfather. My mom finally had the tools she needed to be the parent she had always wanted to be. She was no longer alone. She no longer feared evictions and we stopped moving and planted roots. The problem being I already felt abandoned and the only people I had developed relationships with they were taking me away from. The phone bills I created were massive. I wanted so badly to go back to the life we had left. I resented my little brother as he seemed to have so much more love than I was able to gain. He was never in the trouble that I was in. He didn’t have to act out for time or attention. The begun to lock the phone away from me. Meaning now I had no one. I couldn’t hold a conversation with my mother that didn’t spin into a angry dispute. I couldn’t forgive what I was holding inside. I made calls myself to child protective services, the link crisis center and anyone who would listen and help me escape. I believe even the cops came when I checked myself into the crisis center. I can’t remember the finer details anymore. I remember being asked over and over are you sure this is what you want? You want to check yourself in? You don’t want to be home with your family? I was certain any life outside those four walls were better than in them. So off I went to St joe where the building was. Inside there were many other teenagers scattered about. None of them had sent themselves to the hell I had though. I wanted to stay on the bed I had been assigned but that wasn’t allowed. The room’s had 8-10 bunks in them and there was a community room with a pool table and some games and television. They held group therapies and cps came to speak to me. To be honest it really wasn’t to bad until it was time to eat. I just couldn’t bring myself to put a single bite in my mouth. It was a HUGE deal for them me not eating. They were ready to diagnose me with a eating disorder by day two. Thinking I was on some sort of strike. It was really nothing of the sort. I simply had food issues. Not weight issues not body image issues. It was the food itself the problem. It was how I was in control and at that age the only thing in my power to control. I became extremely picky I had issues with textures and food touching. The issues were very deep rooted. They begun making me sit at the same table I had fought to get away from. It opened floodgates of memories. I just couldn’t understand why everyone wanted me to sit at a table for my entire life. Why must they waste my time? It was my choice to eat I couldn’t understand why everyone felt the need to force it. Soon everything was dictated by the food issues. My restrictions racked up because if I couldn’t follow the rules on food then I couldn’t do anything but be made to stare at the food. I ran here for help and now I wanted nothing more then to run again. I can’t even remember now how long I was there. I can’t remember how I left or where I went from there. I can’t remember the people I meet I can remember the kitchen and dining area like the back of my hand. I can remember every single meal I was made to sit and stare at. I can remember the times they lifted the food to my mouth for me to clamp it shut and have no part in it. As a child how did no one reach out. How was I the one punished for not eating? The food issues have spilled into my adult life. Looking at a menu is overwhelming. I love to cook but hate to try what I cook. I sometimes gag while chewing thinking of someone winning by me swallowing it. Like I have given up the only control I ever had. Oh how silly this must sound. I am so damaged.

Bathroom Penetrations (ADULT ONLY POST!) Must be 18 to read :)

I slept in just a bit this morning normally waking around 7 today it was nearly 830 before I rolled out of the bed. I did my normal shower and blogging in bed. Letting the rest of the house sleep. This morning was my first morning to wake the birds on my own. I had planned in out so that I could make breakfast while the house was asleep. I woke the birds filled their food dishes. I made breakfast delivering it to him in bed. He seemed tickled and devoured his plate. We had the kids this weekend. That meant the need to be more creative and quiet. After finishing breakfast we got back into bed and cuddled. I drifted asleep waking up on his chest with those delightful princess kisses he showers my forehead in oh so often. I had gone to bed horny the night before. Passing out before he got out of the shower and missing my opportunity. The bedroom door was open. I begun to run my hands all over his body. In no time at all his member was standing at attention for me. I slowly and teasingly untied his pajama pant bottoms. Giving my hand the room it needs to get inside and touch him. I love light touches spinning my finger around the sensitivity ring on the head of his firm cock. Grasping at his balls and back to caresses that rock hard cock. He plays with my breast for a few moments kissing at my neck before jumping up from the bed. “where are you going?” I gasp. He grabs the lube from the head rest of our bed and heads for the bathroom. Holding open the door for me. As soon as he grabs the lube I know his intentions and happily prance behind him. Dropping my pants as soon as I enter the bathroom. The lights are all on he had turned up the tv and turned on the bathroom fan. He anticipated that even with my best efforts I may still need background noise to drown out the panting and moaning. I bend over the sink wearing just a skimpy tank top that doesn’t leave much for the imagination. He come up behind me and I hear him pop the top of that lube bottle. A tingle sensation takes over my cunt as soon as I hear it. He covers the head of his cock with the cold lubricant. He pulls me close to him hands firmly gripping at my hips. Running the cold wet head of his cock up and down my slat letting out his own giggle at my response before plunging into me. The first plunge sends me elbow deep into the sink. He gains speed and I never can seem to look up to the mirror to watch him. I cum quickly letting him know when I do. Oh my god does it just feel so incredible. My legs closed between his and in perfect rhythm till he explodes and fills me to the brim. After he gives me a few more thrust I wonder if he will go again as he sometimes does. He finally eases out and goes to the back of the toilet to the wet wipes. He hands me two and him two and we clean up ourselves. A quick peck and back to the cuddling. In bed I find my place back to his chest. We spend some time chatting and enjoying each others company before he finds himself right back to playing with my breast. I tell him he had better not tease me. He playfully tells me it’s my fault with the tank I am still in he can’t help himself. I grab the blanket and pull it over us. He starts making his already firm cock jump pressed against my leg it grabs my attention with a quickness. I press myself closer to him me on my back him on his side facing me. My left leg entwined with him and my right bent at the knee. Hiding what I was doing making a tent of the blanket. Even though we were alone in the room we were not alone in the house. Under the tent I had created I let my right hand wonder into my own pants. My left hand gripping at his cock. His hands grasping at my breast and tweaking at my nipples. I turned my head toward him playing more rapidly with my clit. He begun to kiss at my forehead. I was panting grinding my pussy into my hand. Holding onto his cock while I masterbated to orgasm for him to watch. He would peak under the blanket making me play faster. As I finished he kissed me again. “Did you just cum he murmured?” mmmmm hmmm My response got an immediate reaction. He leaped up from that bed and snatched the lube “come on let’s take care of this” Back in the bathroom I did just as I had before dropping my pants before him this time I pressed my bare ass into him when I bent forward. He grabbed it and gave it a bit of a squeeze. This time when I bent forward I put my legs much further back. Leaning at the edge of the sink. He lubed his head sliding about missing the hole a bit before entering me again. I could tell my muscles were tight after my fresh orgasm I had given myself. Within ten thrust I had cum for him. Making sure to tell him he had brought me to climax. I enjoy telling him I feel it relieves pressure for him as he always wishes to please me above himself. This time he told me as he was about to cum to. When he did I forced open my eyes and squeezed my vaginal walls around his member as tightly as I could. Watching in the mirror as he made that wrinkling nose face I just adore. It felt like a bursted hydrant inside me. My sex life is so delightful.

Being Branded…..

The day that I meet my first husband was also the day I meet the man I’d later let brand me. It was at a party at a dinging, dirty, disgusting trailer in the country side. The trailer was owned by my first husband’s mother and he was the only one residing in it. Living off mommies coat tails as I use to say. Jeff was the cousin I am not sure if there was an actual blood relation as Keith called many cousin’s who weren’t actually that. Jeff was tall and mysterious. He worked at the same job that I had at the time. When I moved in with Keith it was Jeff that was my protector. It was him who would hand me the Tylenol after the fights. I grew close to him and his family. Nicki his cousin and right hand becoming my very best friend. The only person I had trusted back then. I remember not knowing that shaving pubic region was a thing and Jeff chasing me around the house telling me I had a bush. He took pliers teasing he would pull them out. It was only a few months into living together that Keith’s jealousy ended Jeff residing in our home. Jeff got into trouble and he went on the run. It never stopped us from talking. Throughout years of being in opposite states and separate lives we always stayed in contact. Jeff eventually got picked up and sent to prison. Letter after letter I sent to him. Telling him all of my deepest secrets I held so close. Phone calls and letters continued throughout the years. We made plans of marriage of him whisking me away from all that was and us creating a life together. I am not sure any of the outside world knew how close we had grown. Of course I am not sure if that was only existing in my reality or if he shared such thoughts. It felt like a lifetime he was incarcerated and life carried on on the outside of those bars. From 0 to 8 kids I had gone. When he got out I wasn’t single but dropped everything to run to him. I left the man I was dating at his home to be picked up and taken to Jeff. I had no words to mouth to him. I was shocked he was here standing before me. This was the day my dreams were suppose to come true. This was suppose to be the time that my fairy tale would begin. Yet neither of us could speak to the other. We spent the majority of the day together like that. Barely speaking not having any words. I texted of my children and I am sure that was an overwhelming conversation. He had not planned to come home to a ready made family of the numbers mine had. Another girl was texting him too… One who was a friend of a friend or maybe she was suppose to be a friend too. The second that I heard I had held a vengeance and anger in my heart for her. Jeff teased to the house how she was speaking of blowing him and needing a ride there. Everything I had believed in was a lie. I just kind of distanced myself for awhile. My return to the group showed them now in a relationship. I tried not to think of the empty promises and of the lifetime of letters. The more time I was around the more Jeff made it clear he had a burning desire to sleep with me. He married….. It deterred nothing. He would ask me over with lies or claims to needing smoke or wanting to tat me and then take each opportunity to touch me he could. My mind went in two entirely different directions. One side thinking this man is playing you he is married who cares if he is unhappy your no ones second choice. The other side thinking that this man came home from prison and you had over a half a dozen kids. How could he not be overwhelmed can you blame him for not choosing you? Let him make things right it’s you he loves. I would cling to everything he said. The speaking of how awful his marriage was. How love less it was. I would hear his wife with the same complaints. The day he did the tattoo on my back the one that was suppose to be a tinker bell but who knows what the final outcome is cause I surely can’t tell. He kissed down my neck and confessed his love for me. Months went by like this. Text, calls, adultery.  I don’t even know who I became. I did every single thing he asked. I never questioned the pain I would cause when everything came to light. Why the hell should I feel guilty clearly she took him from me. He placed every doubt in their marriage I needed into my head. I told him I could not be in his bed unless he left her. That night when I left their home I thought it was over. I had refused sex and left him angry. I told him it was over I would no longer continue this lie of a life. By 7 am my phone had been ridden with calls of him leaving her. He had packed his things was at his mothers and waiting for me. My heart raced maybe he did love me. Maybe him being with her was a mistake and now he was going to right all the wrongs in my heart and be mine. I ran to him. Letting in drama and anger from every direction. I took off to the next state hiding in hotel rooms. Dreaming of a life with him. Laying on a bed one day he told me I was his and would be his till the day I died. I had conformed to being exactly what he wanted. I went to bat with my landlord to allow him to live in a home he was not legally able. I allowed cps into my life because of his background. The wife he had was biter and rightfully so as she too tried many avenues to ruin my life. Laying on that bed though everything seemed perfect. I mean he was with me telling me he loved me. That I was his. I laid back and he asked to brand me his. How my mind could think that this was a good idea I have no idea. The 26 year old me sure had a lot she needed to learn. I allowed him to tattoo his name all the way across my vagina and take pictures to share with the world. Can you imagine the backlash I got and the pride he took in branding me property. I truly believed I belonged to him. Belonged to a man as if I was property a married man. One that was not my husband. Things went down hill from the moment I allowed him to brand me. Everything I couldn’t see I can now. The selfishness that was Jeff. I had allowed myself to become someone that was a disgrace to my character. I can’t escape the memories as I am still branded. I am amazed by how much a man is able to change me and who I am. Bringing in one toxic man will destroy all that is good in your life. I can’t forgive myself for who I became while thinking I was in love with him. I can’t forget it as much as I wish I could. I want to forgive myself for the choices I made with a foggy mind. I wish I had known then what I know now. I wish I could take back the foul choices I made.

Part 2 of the 2nd baby daddy

So why stay in such a toxic place with him for 15 years… I believed honestly that no one else would or could love me. I thought that the emotions he showed were love. I would leave all the time and just to end up right back in the same spot. His tears of forgiveness and his words of “I’ll change” always played with my guilt. I would hear him say I don’t have anyone else and know to my core that was true. He has no one. So I’d stay and be miserable thinking if I didn’t maybe he would commit suicide. That would clearly be my fault if he had and how could I then face my daughter? I have watched my own children go toe to toe with the man they have known as their father their entire life to come to my defense. He does want to be a good father. He doesn’t beat his children or neglect them. He would without question give them his last dollar. He has given up his life to raise them. The truth is though our children deserved better than what they seen with us both in the same household. So now here is the tough part. I have paid my price for freedom and broke away from this man. But he is the father to my children. Even the ones he doesn’t share dna with the bond is there. Even through whatever anger the kids have right now the love is far greater. I want so badly to foster a relationship with him and the kids and make it a positive loving experience for them. I just do not know how. Chuck doesn’t know how to be loved or love. If your own mother is able to toss you across the room to your grandma in a argument with your father it is clearly hard to understand love. Our childhood stories are not the same. The pain we carry from them is. I have more understanding then most when it comes to Chuck and the damage he has to his soul. He blocks out many memories as I have. There are pieces that don’t make sense to him. I think he longs for clarity to some of his childhood without the knowledge of how to find it. He is a very selfish individual but again I think that plays back to the child hood trauma too. Or is this me again making a list of excuses for the men who beat and raped me my entire life? Is it me who is the pathetic one with my list of excuses for their behavior. For my need to fix those who took everything from me. I mean lets be honest every horrible event for the past 13 years can come back to this relationship. Yet I still worry and want to help him. I want to make him a better man for my kids. I very well may be a fool.