“I can’t do this anymore.”



I looked over at him, knowing it would be that last time we would have this argument, fight this same fight.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I whispered to him.

He was angry, his jaw clenched and his fists tightened.

He wouldn’t look at me, he stood beside me, I felt the heat vibrating off his body, he would not turn to look at me. The low light coming from the master bath illuminated his body. I could see the muscle definition in his back, the way it flowed down and over his butt. It is not lack of attraction that is ending this, it’s more lack of respect.

I slipped my panties back on and attempted to position myself in front of him, reaching for his face, he pushed my hands away.

I was immediately filled with anger. This was not my doing, the fault was not to be placed on me. Yes, I was ending things but it was because of his lies, his deceit, all the bullshit he’d put me through. He emotionally manipulated me to stay and wait, to hold on.

“Have some faith in me, wait just a little bit longer.” He would plead.

I could hear his voice in my head; over and over the empty promises he made replaying, serving as a reminder, giving me the necessary courage.

I walked out of the bedroom and into the living room where the whole mess had begun. I knew when he said he wanted to talk that we would somehow end up naked. The heated conversation quickly turning into an argument that inevitably led us to the bedroom. Some how, we always ended up naked and in a bedroom, or closet, or jacuzzi.


It was there in the middle of our sexscapade that I broke down. Completely side swiping him, he had not expected me to react, to cry the way I did but I couldn’t contain myself anymore. He was watching me now as I began to dress, slipping my t-shirt on. I shoved my bra into my purse.

No need, no time. Just go before he convinces you otherwise.

As I reached for my jeans I felt him, his arms wrapped around my waist, he pulled me towards him, turning me to face him.

He received no resistance from me.

“Don’t do this.” The words he knew I wanted to hear, the words I knew would come,”Don’t end this.”

There we stood in the darkness, a darkness we once thrived in.

I cradled his face in my hands, “This was done a long time ago.”

The tears ran freely down my cheeks and I wasn’t angry anymore.  I wiped the tears away realizing his eyes were brimming with tears. I let him go, pulling away I slipped my jeans on, sliding my feet into my converse, no socks necessary, I shoved them into the purse with my bra.

I looked him over one last time, he was strong, built solid. I had loved that about him, he had made me feel so safe once upon a time but he didn’t offer that anymore.

I turned to walk out the front door.

“Jordan. If you leave, if you walk out that door, don’t you look for me again.” His words were mean and I hesitated for just a second before walking out the door.


Is it starting all over if it’s a new beginning?

BeginningsblogI had my first and only child when I was 15.

She is now 17.

17 years later and God has presented me an opportunity to begin again.

I have been with my boyfriend for 7 years and we are on the brink of marriage and babies.

The conversations and planning make me feel so excited…and nervous.


I changed diapers and did midnight feedings all by myself, the idea of starting all over makes me a little nervous.

I love my boyfriend and I cannot wait to be his wife, I also cannot wait to make him a father so why am I nervous about getting pregnant and having a baby!

We’ve talked about it and I know this time will not be like the first but I cannot help but feel nervous.

I also very much enjoy sleeping.

I’m selfish by nature, (it comes naturally) 😛 Having a baby means giving up sleep among other things.

I question my sanity at times and I wonder if I could start all over, then I ask myself, is it really starting all over if it’s a new beginning?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying the first time didn’t count but did it? I was a child, I was not married, we were not this happy little family. I went to school just 4 hours a day, I lived with my parents and I did not have bills.

I know, it must have been so hard. It was, emotionally it was the most difficult thing I’ve over come. Being a single teen mom is an emotional rollercoaster no girl should have to endure but we do. We mature and grow because that’s real life. I’m grateful that the only burden on my plate was emotional, I don’t know how things would have been had I had to financially support us as well.

I love my child and I chose to have her knowing I would be in it alone, hoping I wouldn’t be but knowing the man who fathered her would never really man up. It was not an easy situation but we survived it.

17 years later and I have a full-time job, a kid graduating from high school and bills!

I’m an adult.

I’m whining, I know. The point is, I’m a grown up now, so why such nerves?

“That’s real life.”    ⇐⇐⇐      this is my boyfriends reply.

Yes, I know, that’s how real grown ups adult.

Maybe the idea of being responsible for another life makes me super nervous, I mean, I’m not done being responsible for the 1st one. I guess as a mom, you’re never really done.

Maybe Im just a selfish asshole who’s only thinking about herself?

Babies, bills, a mortgage, college expenses, wife stuff. (Omg all the wife stuff.)

From the moment I met my boyfriend I wanted to wife him and get him pregnant so my question is, is it starting all over or is it just beginning?

Are my feelings normal?



Crystal Ball

I don’t wonder where you are or if you’re happy.

I don’t fill my head with nonsense, no wild scenarios of how your life turned out.


I log in and type your name in the search bar, there you are.


At least you seem happy.

It was too easy.

I watched the episode of Friends the other night, the one where Ross and Rachel break up, well the one where they take a “break “, she’s calling him, hoping he’s home and that he’ll answer. The agony of defeat on her face is horrible! I can’t imagine! Can you imagine? I mean, yeah when we were in high school or middle school you had to call a house phone but come on, even then we had pagers. (And for the sake of argument, it was not that serious then anyway!)

If you were old enough and really brave you just did a drive by when someone didn’t answer.

Those days are done, I mean, if you’re old school then those are just normal tools of the trade but the new generation, the younger generation has it much easier.

No need to wonder anymore.

No need to worry about where someone is or how you’re going to find them.

The smart phone is a tool, a modern crystal ball, not just for us crazies but everyone. You have this magical little tool in the palm of your hand.


“Who do you seek my dear?” asks the evil witch, Siri, Alexa, whatever, Your eyes are a glow with curiosity as you franticly type and search.


Good luck if your location is turned on! Lol

It’s a little too easy, it’s no fun anymore!



I can’t recall

I can’t recall, not one conversation with you.

The relationship, the bond made greater in my head then in reality.

I can’t recall, not one phone call that didn’t end in phone sex.

Did I imagine the whole thing?

I question my sanity.

I can’t recall an inside joke we may have shared.

I can’t recall a nickname you may have called me.

I can’t recall the reason you were there.

I can’t recall the reason you left…. and then came back.

Were you always an asshole?


I can’t recall.


To begin again doesn’t mean forgetting.

Hold onto the emotions that made you who you are.

Remember the people that broke you.

Hold onto the people that put you back together.


To remember brings you clarity.

Remember why you started your journey.

Remember why you moved.

Remember why you changed careers.

Remember who you were.

Remember who you aim to be.


Never forget, those memories fuel strength.

Regretting things won’t make them fade.

Remember those regrets and use them to be a better you.


Regrets are blessings in disguise. In some form, in some way, they build you and make you new.

Do you share your relationship past?


Your past is your past.

I don’t know about you but I don’t necessarily want to know what my man was doing before me.

When you are in a relationship and you share your life with someone, are you required to share about your past relationships?

I have shared very little; obviously he knows I wasn’t a saint because, hello, walking breathing, living proof in the form of a teen.

I, however, don’t want to share every dirty little detail with him. It’s not necessary. If he loves me for me why should how I became who I am matter?

I’ll be honest, we’ve been together for 7 years now and over the coarse of those years I’ve shared things here and there, in relevant moments, to make a point or tell a relatable story.

Am I ashamed of my past?

Yes and no.

Yes because I did dumb things and no because who hasn’t?

I have written all my life, mostly short stories. Therapeutic writing is a thing and it’s a thing I have always enjoyed.

I have put together a compilation of poems and truths, I like to call confessions truths, and I’m a little concerned as to how he might react.

It’s an insecurity and roadblock that I put up on myself.

I know he loves me but I’m scared he’ll judge me. Maybe I know he won’t judge me and I’m afraid the world will.

I ask myself how easy was it to put the pen to paper and recount these moments from my past? It was pretty easy. How can I be so willing to share with strangers and not the man I share my life with? You see this is the way my mind works.

It might just be self-doubt keeping me from moving forward on my dream to self publish.

I’m terrified but I love the feeling of expressing and sharing.

Where do you stand? Do you share?


Cafecito con chisme

It was how we spent our nights together.

Whether we were huddled at our neighborhood Starbucks or at each other’s casitas.

We had our routine get togethers where we caught each other up on all the shit we might have missed out on.

“When did this happen?” We would screech when one of us was unaware of the latest developments due to work or other obligations.

My tribe of women.

They were there in the good and the bad, the messy and the beautiful.

We stalked together and fought together.

We managed to lighten the heartbreak we endured on more than one occasion.

While the minor vandalism was fun, it was the moments that were not planned and not at all malicious that made things bearable and almost ok.

Names spelled out on cars with Barbie stickers to moments of karma coming back and blessing us in the best ways.

“They know each other!”

“Wow. You couldn’t have planned it out better if you’d tried.”

Laugh out loud moments shared by a group of women over coffee while people just stared.

It was not intentional, it was karma having her way and evening the playing field.

In other moments guilt had her way with me.

I would sit there and think to myself,

I’m not this person, laughing over someone else’s misery.

Yet there I was, coffee in hand, chisme free flowing from my potty mouth.

In life you get dealt a hand and that’s the hand you must play through the duration of your time here.

Some of us get dealt a shitty hand and we must make the best of it.

Some of us are blessed with a winning hand, in love, in money, in health and fitness.

The rest of us have to play with a poker face, fake it until we make it.

Do what you gotta do to stay in the game.

If that means nightly cafecito con chisme then have that coffee and talk that shit because life is short and that tribe of women, they make life bearable.

Mommy Dearest

When I was 15 years old I went and got myself pregnant.

Not really, obviously I didn’t get myself pregnant but that how it’s felt most of my life. (Literally most of my life, I’ve now been a mother for longer than not) Yikes.

This is not going to be a complaint rant I promise but if it is so what, my platform!

My sweet ray of sunshine will be 17 this weekend and I can’t get over it.

17 years ago I gave birth to my best friend.


Lets be real, while she is my nearest and dearest she is also a huge pain in my ass.

I have parented this child all by myself for 17 years!!

We have gone through a shit storm to get to where we are now and her life is only truly beginning!

Being a mom is so hard, especially when you have a selfish persona, like sharing my food is so hard….relax, she always has her own food when I don’t share.

I’m just saying, 17 years of life.

I was there when she took her first steps to the first time she got caught smoking weed.

We battled and we had break downs  but I love this girl more than life itself.

I might not always like her but I always love her.

Her dad is not a factor, never really has been. From the moment that fool found out about her he’s been a yoyo, back and forth. No stability in her life.

It wasn’t a shocker to me that when she was 8 years old and I decided to relocate us, he didn’t say shit.

I got the “You can’t take my daughter from me!”

“I’m gonna take you to court!”

Blah blah bullshit.

9 years later and life is good. 200 miles away and it couldn’t have been the wiser choice.

Sometimes, I’m exhausted, mentally, physically and even fuckin’ financially.

She has a radar because it’s in those moments that she likes to fuck with me, test me and push my buttons.

I hate arguing with her, she’s too big to spank, I would just hurt myself.

In those moments I don’t even want to see her face or hear her voice, too honest?

I’m  sorry, its feelings and emotions. Its reality, nothing is always peachy keen!

When I say something mean, because I do say mean things sometimes, I instantly feel horrible.

I wait and when she approaches me, again, I let her speak her truths.

I remind myself that while I grew up with a present father, she did not.

My mother was not a teen when she had me, her mother was.

Her life hasn’t been easy and she doesn’t always deserve for me to be an asshole.

Being a MOM is hard, being a single mom to a teen is even HARDER!

If you are a single mom, a former single mom, a former teen mom, a married mom with a lazy husband, keep going. Keep pushing.

Speak your truths and be you, the you that you have always been (before the kids) because we can only keep up the act for so long. We’re human, we’re women and we have fuckin’ emotions and limits.

Its better for these kids and their safety that they find out sooner than later. 😉

PS Your child(ren) are a reflection of you, isn’t mine absolutely gorgeous!?

Mother may I

PSS How do you cope with motherhood, besides wine?



You ever stalk a man?


For no apparent reason other then because you wanted to or you had an itch and urge that you couldn’t ignore? (Woman’s intuition.)

Have you ever been caught mid stalk?


By him and his girlfriend.

On more than one occasion by two different dudes, I know, WTF!

So first of all, it’s pretty common for us as women to jump to conclusions.

You know when a man doesn’t answer and you’ve gotten past the worry of it all. You know he’s not dead so now you just have to know why he’s not answering his damn phone!!

Phones are an extended body part so when a man doesn’t answer his phone, we jump!


Jump to conclusions…

Jump into our own conversations (arguments)…

Jump into our cars and drive…


Well, let me tell you about this one time.

I was angry and I wanted to hurt him.

When I drove by his house and her car was in the driveway, I damn near lost my mind.

What did I do next?

Well, let me tell you! I picked up my friends and we did some damage. (We egged it, to say the least)


Why not!

No, no in all seriousness her car got the brunt of it because his was in the garage.

We parked around the corner where we still had a good view of his house and waited.

We waited patiently for them to come outside and then they did.

We could have driven away, we could have laughed about it to ourselves but that wasn’t enough, not for an 18 year old with a broken heart and a bruised ego.

I called him and I watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at it, debating whether to answer or not.

“Hello?” He answered, phone against his face as he reached for the water hose.

“You busy?” I asked not trying very hard to contain my laughter.

I don’t remember what he said; all I remember is driving off.


That still wasn’t enough.

I had to go back for more.

When I drove back her car was gone and he was outside.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, his face so unsure and confused.

She pulled up not giving me a chance to answer…

Things took a serious shit after that.


Wanna know more? Let me know and I’ll share ♥