“The entire world is in my hands, and I have no idea what to do with it”

Today a complete stranger told me “You no longer have to be the pretty girl, covered in this muddy shit”. What does that mean? It means exactly that. I am around the corner from closing this really sad and tragic chapter of my life. And as I sit here 12 years from the time that chapter began, I have no idea who I am. Who I become now that all of my roles no the longer exist? I am no longer a military spouse, his wife, his best friend, part of a two parent household, the student working on her bachelor’s degree. I look back on days like today, and barely recognize that girl, so naive and hopeful and full of huge dreams. But she was also someone’s door mat, she always played second best, she gave and gave until she was on empty. And while that should be a relief, somehow it’s scary. Who do you become when everything you thought you were was attached to a role and that role ends? I’ve been spending days feeling lost, like I’m wandering this world with no clear destination, no map, and no plan. I am around the corner from throwing away the key to the door I locked up so long ago. The sale of one house away from being DONE with this chapter in my life. And when that chapter ends, I will probably still be standing there, clueless. I have no idea who I am, I have no idea who I become from here. But here is what I do know for sure:

I am stronger than I ever imagined. I am the mother of two boys, who I try to raise to be kind humans. I am intelligent. I am fucking worthy of being happy. And I am no longer permanently attached to the muddy shit that has been covering every part of my outside being for the last 3 years. I may not know who I am or who I will become. But I did learn who I am no longer! I am no longer weak, I am no longer the victim, I am no longer a door mat, I am no longer un-scarred. I am no longer un-damaged. I have felt love, and enough heartache to last me a life time. I have felt grief, real fucking grief, I have felt parts of my heart leave with them with every goodbye. I have been so weak I thought it would kill me, and it almost did. And I have been so fucking strong that my heart is now covered in scar tissue. But now it is the end of that, it is the end of that chapter. We all have chapters in life we don’t read out loud, for me this will be one of those. So who knows who I become in the future? But one thing is certain, I will never be who I used to be, that girl is a distant memory. I also won’t be who I’ve been for the last three years, because that chapter is over, and it’s time to wash the muddy shit off this pretty face. This leads me to believe one thing, the woman I become next will have no “role” attached to her. But she will be fucking amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!




“We cannot control the wind. But we can direct the sail”

Dear readers,

It’s been so so long, maybe I come and go with the seasons? I don’t really know. What I do know is that the sound of this keyboard makes me feel like I can breathe again. What is the purpose of my writing today? A recurring theme in my life and probably most of yours, Control. Lately I’ve been fed up with the cliché lines of “Take control of your own life!” “Take charge of your life” and the ever so pleasant “Don’t worry about things you can’t change or control” Well guess what? FUCK YOU! Don’t you think if it was that simple I’d be running around in my hippie dress, picking sunflowers, and dancing in the rain? Perhaps it’s my anxiety that requires me to have all things lined up and planned out, or perhaps it’s the pressure of wanting to do everything so right for the sake of my children. The next piece of advice I received sounded good: “write a list of the things you cannot control and another with the things you can control” easy enough.

What I cannot control:

-My ex becoming a shit dad

-My ex wanting to marry an alcoholic & drug addict

-My ex wanting to screw me out of 100k

What I can control:

-The way I react to all of the above…. (FALSE because anyone who has anxiety knows that controlling your own thoughts is like trying to stop the waves of the ocean)

So basically, I am fucked. Sometimes I stay up at night tossing and turning, crying into my pillow wondering what my kind of life my boys will have living with an alcoholic father and an alcoholic step-mother. So while I cannot control his shitty behavior and choices, I can try my best to not let it consume me. I did my part, I filed my paper work and I wait for our court date. And at night when I am alone, I let the thoughts of “what if” consume every part of my being. When I hear my kids laugh, I tell myself “at least they are happy, right now”. I wish I could shield them from everything, I wish I could control their every surrounding, but the reality is I can’t. The reality for most of us is we can’t control shit. I can’t control their future any more than I could control the deaths of my friend’s parents, the death of someone in my family, watching my best friends move to different states, or the fears that go on in my head. And neither can you. I guess this is where my uplifting message is supposed to come in, but I don’t really have one. Because not being in control is one of the shittiest feelings. What I can say is, get up and take control of the small bits that are in your range of reach. For me that was walking into the court house and literally saying to myself as I sat in the car and cried “You took ten years of my life away, and you have taken my kindness for weakness, but YOU WILL NOT do the same to my children.” So fix your face, and you walk back into that court house and demand what is yours and what is right! Because sometimes that’s all we have left. People say you have to “pick your battles” and this is true, I can’t deny that. What I will say is that YOU are worth every fucking battle! You are worth every part of what’s right and what’s fair. And that doesn’t mean that I am not scared, dear god I am terrified. But I chose to be brave. Because the universe listens to BRAVE!

Love you all,


“Three things I cannot change,

The past,

The truth,

And you.”


A penny for my thoughts?….nah, this ones on me.

Some days are harder to wake up than others. The feeling of defeat is at times overwhelming. I feel stupid, as if my kindness has always been taken for weakness. Getting up in the morning has been difficult lately. I find myself dwelling about where my life is, where it could be, where it SHOULD be. I hate you. Somewhere down to my core, I hate you. I despise what you have done to me, and most of all to my mind. See my heart can heal, it’s my brain that’s the problem. Our hearts are self-healing, time usually works wonders. But our brains, well that’s different. They hold the power to remember virtually anything. Forgive and forget, right? Well my heart can forgive. But lord knows my brain can do neither. So daily my sanity is toyed with, some days hurt so bad I become convinced I am a 31 year old woman having a heart attack. And other days, when I’m lucky, I feel nothing. It’s the numbness I crave, the silence in my brain, the void in my chest from where my heart once filled with happiness. You make me angry. Your lack of parenting skills make me sick. Your lack of compassion for what you have done to others makes me wish you dead. I know those thoughts make me a “bad mom” because what about my children and their suffering…. Well have you ever stopped to think how much suffering you have caused them to this date? You take two innocent little boys give them everything they want and need, and then rip it all away for a cheap piece of ass. You’re a pig. Something that deserves to be gutted as such. Why am I writing this out? Because if it sits in my brain any longer I will probably become just a sick in the head as you are. And the new cross eyed, dike looking woman, playing house in MY HOME. Well it’s just another reminder of the filthy pig I chose to play in the mud with once. If only you made rational decisions instead of this shit, how much easier would co-parenting be. Rage, today I feel rage. Guess I woke up on the wrong side of rock bottom.


– A

Running On Empty

Just because you don’t love someone the way they want you to love them doesn’t mean you don’t love them with everything you have. We all love different, we all love with whatever ability we have. For me, as painful as this is, I don’t really have much left to love with. I hoped that with time, I would regain the ability to give my heart away, and fall in love. The truth is, I can’t. I am not capable of this act. My cousin told me yesterday that her theory is that “It takes half the amount of time you were with someone to get over them, and be able to start a new positive relationship” Well shit! 3 years down, and 1 ½ left to go I suppose. To say that I haven’t made any progress would be a lie, but to say I have a long way to go would be an understatement. Perhaps my heart will never fully belong to a man, because the last one made sure he broke, stomped and shit all over it. He made sure that I would be so broken, I’d never have anything left to give someone. There is a part of me that is still so heavily wounded that when I think of the damage he caused me, I still feel my chest get tight. That familiar sting of pain followed by numbness still lives there. The old tape holding my inner dialogue hasn’t changed. I could be with a great man, and at the end of the night I tell myself “He’s just a piece of shit, it’s only a matter of time before he hurts you, cheats, and leaves you” and because this is a daily thought, it’s nearly impossible for a man to have the ability to change it. During my dark hours I sit and wonder if my life will be lonely forever, will I end up alone? Or is karma waiting for me to fall so head over heels in love, so it can then make me pay for the hurt I caused other men? Doubt that, because Karma already made me pay for something I didn’t do. So what the fuck is the plan for me then? I refuse to believe that a god that loves you unconditionally would allow me to feel such hurt for no reason. But I also know, that hardening my heart is def not what he calls for. And to add insult to injury, D has now moved on into a relationship with a woman he calls his gf. And while I don’t like her… and hope her insulin runs out as she needs it because she’s a diabetic, I also don’t care too much about her. See it’s the same script just a different cast. It’s only a matter of time before he does the same things he did to me to her. And lord knows I never want to relive that shit again! The part that stings is how can he move on and yet, I’m still so broken? I guess it’s probably because I didn’t cause him damage he caused me. That kind of damage changes a person. It makes you scared of the world. Cautions and suspicions of men. And then the day comes when you find one who loves you. Who over and over reclaims you are the only one for him that he would never search for someone else. And you don’t believe him. Why? Because once upon a time you heard those lines. And the next thing you know you’re on the floor of your bathroom crying so hard you almost pass out. Because everything was a lie. How does a human break another human so bad? I ask myself this often. I have many days where I hate myself, when I wish I would have taken the easy way out of this world. I walk around a broken shattered person, cutting every man that cares about me with my broken edges. As it stands today, I am not worthy of being loved and I am not capable of loving. And while I wish that by now I had it all figured out, I don’t. What I do know is that I don’t want to love or be loved. I don’t want to love someone so greatly they hold the ability to destroy my heart again. So I guess for now, I sit and wait. Wait for an answer, wait and wait. I guess that’s all I can do.


Love you all with the broken pieces I was left with,






It’s been a while since I wrote you all an empowering blog. And with all of these holidays, well many of us can use it. Holidays are hard, it seems like during these months all of our feelings are amplified. We find ourselves missing loved ones that have passed more than usual. We also seem to feel even lonelier if we haven’t found a significant other. Everyone gets engaged during the holidays, everyone seems to be having babies or making baby announcements. And if you are anything like me, you are watching this nonsense go down while in your bed, eating ice cream and wondering if you will ever be that happy again?

So how do you fix these holiday blues? Focus on WHAT YOU DO HAVE!! For all those who know my story, you know how much I have lost in the last years. So what does a jaded woman like me focus on? Sometimes it’s just the little things.

It’s the silence in my own apartment , the place I’ve learned to call home. The place where I pay for every bill, every everything. I take pride in being a single/co-parenting mother who can provide for her babies by herself. I focus on my boys, who are healthy and intelligent, and some serious smart-asses! You learn to find comfort in the family you do have. Because with time, as the family pictures get smaller you learn that god takes those people back one day. So you love them, you hold them tightly, and you tell yourself that you have more than some other people will ever have in their life. You learn to love the screaming of all the kids around you, because these are your babies, your nieces, your nephews, and you are blessed enough to watch them grow up right in front of you.

So forget the stupid engagements, baby announcements, and so on. Hold on to what you have in front of you. Because I can almost guarantee, those pictures being plastered on social media are just one second caught in time, every picture has a story behind it. And with that often times comes lies, truth, and heartache they don’t show us. So don’t compare your life to the stupid pictures you see on social media. Love your life because god has given you another day to love it. And he has also granted all the people you love another day to fill your heart with happiness.






Sample of Un-edited intro.

Loving you wasn’t hard; it also wasn’t something I had to think twice about. It was something that came naturally, like breathing. I’ve always loved broken things, ever since I was a child. If it wasn’t broken how could I fix it? Once I fixed it, it would be mine forever right? You were part of my broken collection. A young, handsome, damaged man. So broken his own mother didn’t want him, a product of foster care, drugs, and a fast life. You would be my biggest accomplishment, my greatest “fix” of all times. If love could have fixed your hurt, damage, and brokenness, I would have made you brand new within months. When I saw you; I saw forever, my entire life in one broken person. And like all little girls, I believed in fairy tales. Girl loves boy and boy loves girl, how much more complicated could it be? Well throw in a ton of daddy issues in a bag and call it baggage for the princess. Then throw on a Marine Corps uniform on the prince and BAM there you have it. No longer a love story, it’s more like a horror story now. But like all love stories, it didn’t start out bad, nop it never does. Let’s take a trip down memory lane shall we?
Like all good fairy tales mine also begins at a ball! But not the type of ball where the prince is there to find a princess. More like the drunken ball known as the Marine Corps Ball, yeah fancy right? Well there I am, wearing an uncomfortable dress, too much makeup curtesy of the makeup department at the mall and hair completely on point. Needless to say I was a sight for sore eyes if I do say so myself. And as I sat there with my boring date for the night, annoyed at his constant complaining about “chicken having skin on it” I began to zone him out. As he continued to complain about his food and his uniform, I began to get sidetracked by the constant laughter and excitement at a table nearby. Finally signs of LIFE! What I was able to see was a group of handsome guys, laughing, drinking and being much too loud for the quiet auditorium being bored to death by speeches. What did he just say? “Oh, thank god! Break time” A drink would be nice, but I’m only 19 years old so that’s not happening. As we walk into the crowded hallway of people my date decides he must go use the ladies room and asks me to wait. Like a good obedient lady, I wait. Next thing I know, there he is. The “loud one” from the opposite table, he’s smiling and walking well more like stumbling towards me. As he stops and stands right in front of me I can’t help but think how dang cute he is. And then he says it “Are you here alone?” Well handsome “loud one” why would a girl be at a ball alone? Anyways it doesn’t matter! The cute boy is talking to you! Focus Adriana focus. As I am about to reply, here comes my boring date; unaware I am ready to ditch him and this place with this fun, handsome, party boy right in front of me. Turns out, they know each other! Well FUCK! There goes that, but hey you can’t blame a girl for looking right? For the rest of the night there will be no dancing, no mingling, and more talk about the skin on the fucking chicken. Meanwhile behind me is a room full of handsome men, partying like its 1999! And while I am asked to take a few pictures of the cute boys in uniform, that basically sums up my night. As for this princess and her frog, well back to the hotel room we go.
The following day, I decide I am going to glance through all the photos I have taken of the night. There he is, the “cute one” smiling and being the life of the party. But wait… what is his name? and how am I supposed to get these photos to him? Well bring in good ol’ MySpace. Find the frog, look through the frogs friends and find the prince right? Sure enough “Dan”. And we have a winner, just a quick message, “Hey I have your photos from last night.” While I was hoping for “who the fuck are you? And why do you have pictures of me?” Instead I got “We should go to lunch and bring the pictures” ready and commence teenage girl high pitch screaming followed by jumping up and down and then a deep breath. “Ok, get ahold of yourself Adriana! God dammit, it’s a cute guy asking you to lunch, not to the alter. Calm your tits and focus” my reply was of course cool and collected “Sure, when?” his reply…. “Well whenever, but I don’t have a car or a license, so you will have to pick me up.” And so began the inner dialogue of a spoiled princess. “Ewww, gross! No car! No License! What kind of loser is he? That’s so gross!”
“So why don’t you have a license?” I ask.
“Dui’s, tickets, speeding, being reckless” he said.
Meanwhile in my stupid 19 year old brain, “Oh my gosh! He’s such a bad boy! And he’s sooo cute! I mean I can pick him up right? I mean there’s a first time for everything right? I mean he doesn’t have to be Mr.Right, just Mr.Right now.”
“Sure I can pick you up” I say.

At least 7 outfit changes later, I am ready to go pick up my bum prince charming. But where does a bad boy live? A place near the beach? A super cool bad boy house? Whomp whomp… The barracks, on base. Needless to say, he gets in my car. Queue in annoying teenage girl inner talk “OMG OMG he’s even cute sober, and out of uniform OMGGGGG!” yeah yeah, I annoy the shit out of myself. And so begins the drive.
“What kind of music do you like?” I ask.
“I like the hard shit” he says, in his deep bad boy voice.
“Like what I ask?” In my stupid, giddy spoiled brat voice.
“You know like, Slipknot, Marilyn Manson, shit like that” he states.
Queue inner teenager again “OMG he’s so hot! I wish I was like a total slut so I could sleep with him! But I’ve only been with two guys in my entire life. Shit I’m such a prude Ok just play it cool, PLAY IT COOL.”
“I love Marilyn Manson!” I say, excited. Only because I have his CD in my stereo as we speak! (Hey I said I was a princess, I never said was wasn’t fucking cool one!)
He looks at me shocked and surprised and responds with a simple “Hell yeah!”
Lunch is full of simple, easy conversation. I tell him I have a son who is 3 months old, something I will touch on a bit later in this book. We take a walk down to the beach, we laugh, things are easy and fun. He tells me he’s from the country, from a town I’d never heard of. A place where the population is greater in animals than people. I laugh, call him a hillbilly, and he replies with “So! You’re a dumb city girl” Oh no he’s so handsome….. slow down my heart. The next three months fly by with countless parties, drinking, and loads of fun. I have decided that he will remain in a special place called the “Friend zone” While he is more fun than anyone I’ve ever met; young, respectable, Mexican girls don’t date or settle down with crazy white boys. So in the process I keep him around, tell him everything, party with him, and try and hook him up with friends of mine. All of which he seems to reject. Bring in Murphy’s Law, one night during an all-night binger with friends of mine, a girl approaches me and asks “So what’s your deal with Dan? You guys together?”
“No, we aren’t together.” I state, almost insulted. How dare she!
Off she goes to make flirty conversation with him. And while for the last three months, I have kept a friendly, flirty, no-sex rule, relationship with him, how dare this bitch steal my non-boyfriend right in front of me. One more shot of Patron down, and I’m off to get me my man… or friend… shit whatever he is. I decide to rudely interrupt his conversation with her, and ask him if he wants to leave? He says “no, I’m good, unless you want to leave, you drove”
“Of course I drove you moron, you don’t even have a CAR! But I’ll be dammed if she’s next to drive you around.” I say to myself.
And about 30 seconds into that conversation, I decide to say screw it and I kiss him. And that right there people, was the beginning and end of everything. With that kiss, I would seal the deal to some of the happiest moments of my life, and also the lowest. From the birth of my second son and wonderful memories; to the day I sat in the master bedroom we shared for years and held a gun to my head, and swore I would never take another breath.

What’s new?

Blog readers! I’ve missed you all! I know, I disappeared on you all but I tend to do that from time to time. So what’s new? Well still haven’t found prince charming, haven’t killed my ex-husband, haven’t killed his new whore, basically not much HAHA! However; here is what is new! I have been working on a book! Yes readers, it’s happening. For 3 years now I have remained anonymous but with this, well I guess you will all know who I am. And while that scares me shitless, like I have said, this is ME! The good, the bad, and the hot-mess-express that I am. SO what will this book look like? Well fuck do I know! What I have done is begun to put the pieces of my life from the day it fell apart together and onto paper. As you can imagine, it’s hard on the soul. It’s like reliving the saddest parts of your life and wishing you could change your own script. As most of you know, we can’t change our old script, it already been written in stone. What we can do, is try and write our current script to the best of our liking. I can promise it still won’t turn out the way you want it to, BUT sometimes things can turn out better. I will post small previews of my book on here. None will be in order, because nothing is in damn order in my life! But it will allow for you all to take a glimpse into my story just a bit more. There has also been an executive decision made on my part, IF publishers who are looking into my writing, have a “different vision” for the book than what feels right for me, I WILL SELF PUBLISH. Foolish girl? Maybe. But this is my life, my script, my mess! The following post will be my book intro.





“Never have I dealt with anything more difficult than my OWN soul”

Anxiety…. Lets talk about it for a minute. I cannot count how many times people have bombarded me with questions regarding it. What does it feel like? Why does it happen? Whats stressing you out? did something happen? AAAAAHHHH fucking shit fuck! NO NO NO and NO!!! Nothing “happened”. No one “did anything to me” this is just the way my brain is wired. I bet you never thought about that did you? This is were biology confuses the ignorant people of the world. I’ve been diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) yes, its a biology thing. It’s not a “my boyfriend hurt my feelings thing” Its something out of my control. Here’s an example, when people tell me to “calm down, try and relax” its like telling someone who has epilepsy to STOP having a seizure! I cant you fucking idiot! Its a physical response my body is having. With that said, I do take daily medication to help control it. So what is it like? It sucks… It feels like the entire world is falling apart and everyone on this planet is going to die and you will somehow watch their slow deaths, with your hands tied behind your back, helpless. I know, sounds extreme right? but that’s what its like. For me, I cant sleep… Cant eat.. and when I do try to sleep I wake up every two hours. The dark scares me, silence scares me, being alone scares me. And its always around 3am when the feeling of “I am going crazy” begins to kick in. Or the most common one “what if this doesn’t go away” So what does it “FEEL” like. Ever walk down the stairs and miss a step? you know that sensation when your heart skips a beat and your stomach tightens and you feel like you cant breathe… Its like that but worse and it doesn’t end quickly. Its like putting a ton of weights on you chest and trying to breathe, better yet try and breathe under water. Your brain? well we have now entered fight or fight mode. And even tho you know, this will eventually pass, in those moments you feel as it never will. Anxiety for me is one of the hardest things I have ever dealt with in my life. It controls me, I cant control it. Usually after days of being beat down by it, I hit that dark place. Anyone who suffers from GAD knows where I am going with this. The moment when you cant breathe, you’re drowning in your own tears, and you just say out loud “I rather die than live like this forever” Its the moment when you look at that bottle full of pills and say… “hey there, can you solve all my problems, can you put me to sleep and grant me the wish of never waking up?” What can drive a human so crazy, make them so desperate, to the point where ending your life seems more appealing? Anxiety can. I know this first hand. So my dear readers, you are not alone…. Ive been there, hell I’m still there. So cheers to me, and to you for waking up every morning to fight the same fight, a fight we wont ever win. But do you even begin to understand how brave that is? How fucking brave you are? if you dont, well I know how brave you are!!

“You wake up every morning to fight the same demons that left you so tired the night before, AND THAT, MY LOVE, IS BRAVERY”





“She’s been though hell and came out an angel. You didn’t break her darling. You don’t OWN that kind of power!”

“How long are you going to not care about the people you hurt or leave in your wake?” “Why do you feel you have the right to hurt people with your words, and use the fact that you have been hurt as an excuse?”

These are the questions that I have been asked more times than I can count, usually my men who I have thrown away like yesterday’s garbage. Valid questions, but as many times before I have found them super annoying. Perhaps this is because I don’t even know how to answer them. How long will I continue to hurt people? How long will I not care about who I leave in my wake? Shit….. I don’t know. I guess that depends on how long it takes to heal the damage that has been caused. I recently made a decision to no longer be the person I claim my ex “turned me into”. This path is hard. It requires allowing myself to feel, be vulnerable, be accountable. As I sat there with my therapist and heard her say you are exhibiting “abusive behavior” I immediately thought…. Wow. Now I’m a piece of shit just like he was. I am no longer any different. I have let his actions turn me into a hateful, cold woman. A woman sometimes I don’t recognize in the mirror. My hatred for the male species is too real for most to comprehend. “Don’t chase them, replace them” has been my motto. Until him. He has somehow unlocked the box holds my emotions, lies, and my truth. Next to him I am able to feel hurt, loss, pain. It scares the shit out of me. Its during these times I want to run, not care who I hurt. Its too close for comfort here, hes too near to my heart. It is during these times when in my own twisted head I find myself saying things like “don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid. This is temporary. He’s only here until he finds something better.” Guess I talk myself out of every deal. So how long will I hurt other people? No clue. Ever heard the quote “Be careful when helping broken people, you might cut yourself on their broken pieces” maybe that’s all I am. Broken glass. Something not meant to be handled. I cut. Often too deep. Excuses. I can give you so many of them, why Ive become the way that I am, why I say the things that I do. BUT I will no longer do that. Instead I will hold my head high and take a step forward. Drop my guard, re-learn to be kind, loving, and compassionate. I don’t want to be shattered broken glass anymore. So while I cant answer the questions ive been asked before, I can say I will no longer be that woman you used to know. I guess hurt people tend to hurt other people, it’s  “misery loves company I suppose.” It’s the if” I can make you hurt then somehow I have gained a piece of what I lost with him back, power”  But like most things, it has eaten away at my soul, at my self worth…. to the point where I don’t even like myself anymore. For now, all I can say is I am a broken being, in search of the cure. And if in my road of darkness I have caused you pain, I apologize. But this is day one, day one of a new chapter…. No fuck that. This IS A NEW FUCKING BOOK!


Love you all


“I almost thanked you for teaching me about survival back there, but then I remembered, the ocean never handed me the gift of swimming. I gave it to myself.”




I like storms. They let me know that even the sky SCREAMS SOMETIMES!

Thank you for all the amazing feedback, shares, and emails about PTSD following my last blog.  I received the same questions multiple times “How did you keep calm? Did you ever feel angry? or just sad?” So here you go dear readers.

I WAS PISSED! Not always at my ex-husband, sometimes at life, god, the Marine Corps. So I’m gonna say what many of us women married to men who served in combat and struggle with PTSD find it hard to say. I was pissed off too! I felt cheated and resentful. Yes, wearing the uniform comes with a sacrifice, NOT SHIT! No one knows this more than the families, the ones left behind. But we did it, I did it. I watched him pack up his bags time after time, and each time I waited for the man I swore to stand beside. You know what the problem was with that? That the man I fell in love with 10 years prior was no longer that man, every time he came back he was different. It was like we were losing him each time a little more. With each day that passed, he became more detached…. more reckless… he drank more, he became angry all the time, irritable… paranoid. He looked like the man I fell in love with, he smelled like him, he smiled like him, and every now and then he would come back just long enough to remind me why I loved him. And as quickly as he came back to us, he was gone again. Mentally and emotionally gone… tortured. Anger, yes. That is what I felt. How dare you take a man who means the world to us and send him back like this! Empty and soulless… angry.  And after a while the anger consumes you too. How? simple you are no longer normal. You too are damaged, wounded, paranoid, scared. Your own fears become irrational. I recall one sunny afternoon the door bell rang, and when I opened the door to our brand new house there was a package with his name on it. The so called “problem with this package” was there was no return label on it. While most of us would open the box… life wasn’t that simple. Life was now scary and dangerous. I remember the sound of his voice, angry… “Get the fuck away from the box! Don’t fucking touch it!” I remember looking at him and saying “just open the box”. His response… “NO. stay inside the house!” after what seemed like ages, he carefully and meticulously opened the box. Inside it…. Brownies! from out Real Estate Agent along with a congratulations note. Brownies. It was a fucking baked good! His reaction to him was justified. “What if I didn’t burn my mail all the way and they have our address! What if they know who my family is?” Well dear ex-husband… WHO THE FUCK WERE THEY!!???!! And why are you so fucking crazy! God there were so many times when I wanted to shake him and say “Snap out of it! you are a fucking retard! there is nothing to be scared of”. And yet, I would silently stare at him and nod my head. I knew better than to ask questions about it, he’s been clear before. “I don’t want to think about the things I’ve seen, so why the hell would I tell you? why put those thoughts in your head”. They were his secrets. The secrets I longed so badly for, why couldn’t he fucking tell ME! and his friends or shall we call them “his brothers” they knew it all. I was envious, jealous, I began to dislike them. How do they know more about the man I married then I do? Why am I the one tortured and left with no answers? Great, you all have this club, you know everything about what you went through over there. But guess what? While you all had each other, I WAS ALONE!. Shit I’m still alone. See what happens is, as time goes by and he gets help…. he talks about the things he saw, he did, he lived though. But what about me? who helps me deal with thoughts and memories that weren’t even mine to begin with.I carry these, silently… like weights tied to my heart, engraved in every part of my soul. And there are times when I curse his fucking name, and I hate him for all he was put on me, for contaminating me with his world of shit, with his fucking sickness. And then there are times when I just cry, and mourn the man I married. I mourn the life of my best friend, the man I used to know…. a man who is now just an empty shell. An empty shell that once contained, life, laughter, promises, and so much love. The man that gave me a ring, and promised to be my everything. That man…. who is now just of shell, a shell that holds, broken dreams, hurt, loss, and a shit ton of anger. So readers, the answer is yes, Yes I have been angry, shit who am I kidding…. I’M STILL FUCKING PISSED.

Love you all