Well, here we are. I’m starting a blog. Why am I starting a blog (this is more a question for myself)…. honestly, I need extra money. I mean, we all need a side hustle, right?
So, I got to thinking about it. What the fuck do I blog about? I don’t have any special talents and am sure as fuck not the young beautiful woman that so many influencers are out there. The more I thought, I realized that maybe by sharing my story can help others. So, here’s my story. It’s raw and unedited, so just follow along the best you can…
I was raised an only child, but I do have a half-sister. She grew up with her mom in a different state, also as an only child. We share a dad. A dad who in all honesty was a prick. He suffered from many mental issues, which lead to alcoholism. My parents did a good job of hiding it, or I just am choosing not to remember (I actually don’t remember a lot in my life). My dad eventually stopped drinking, but then (which I didn’t realize until I was an adult) he replaced his addiction of alcohol with prescription meds. This lead to numerous strokes and a fucking weird dad.
He was not nice. He was abusive. He never touched me physically, but he abused both my mom and I emotionally and mentally. I hated my childhood. I don’t remember being happy, like at all. I also was sexually abused by a cousin’s now husband at the age of 12. Shit was hard. I didn’t realize it, but I had severe depression and anxiety and was MISERABLE.
Fast forward to my adult years. I was in and out of bad relationships. I still struggled with anxiety and depression. I tried medication, but I was also drinking heavily and working 3 jobs, so I didn’t do a great job at keeping on track with that…I was just coasting through life with no real purpose in life…. I still don’t feel like I have one, but that’s for another post.
Here’s where I’m 30. I wanted so badly to live the dream that every little girl dreams of – the white picket fence house, a loving husband and perfect kids. So, why wasn’t I finding that?? I know now (In my infinite knowledge as a 44 year old) that I need to be truly happy with myself in order to find “the right one”. I was still a hot mess. Partying and drinking every weekend (let’s be real, I was only sober like 1-2 days a week) and coasting through life. Fast forward to the summer of when I am 33 and I meet who I think is the man of my dreams…