In the “write” place

I never planned for my life to go the way it has. 

In fact, I never really envisioned anything other than being happy. 

Is it careless to allow life to go as it should?

Should I have made sure that I had a clear and precise plan?

What I am sure of, is that everything has happened for a reason. Even when I have had doubts. 

With every step, each obstacle or victory or test or reward, has shaped my life the way it truly needed to go. 

I am not a religious person, but I understand why having something to believe in is so important. 

It gives you the hope to continue going when you don’t think you can. 

In my mindset, I have been through a lot. In each persons mind, their fight is unique and worse than anybody elses. 

Just remember that, and don’t try to down play their struggle. 

I believe my journey, no matter what I thought it was supposed to be, happened the way it was meant to. 

I have found that I have come almost full circle. 

I have found that “person” I was supposed to be with. 

I have learned about the importance of love and trust and family. 

I am coming back to that creative and unique chick I once was. 

All I can feel is that I feel more at home now in my skin, and I lost my way for a bit. 

I have always been driven by my desire to create, to make, to be a part of anything that pertained to art. Music, writing, drawing, painting, giving, creating….those are things that drive me and keep my heart alive. 

I always hoped that one day I would be “famous” so to speak for something that involved my talents. 

Things I had to learn, but things that I taught myself and had an abilty for. Things that made me happy to share with others. 

I have always loved to write. 

I have always loved being creative. Making floral arrangements, crocheting or coming up with my own ideas for something new and neat! 

I love photography and taking pictures of everything. Capturing moments and memories and beauty. 

I love to sing even though I am only so so. Music has always been fuel for me. 

I would love to show my girls to never give up on their dreams. 

I am almost 37 years old, and I feel like I have a whole hell of a lot to still offer.

Just want to find that thing that helps me to connect with the world. I want to make a difference! 

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Retail: Part Two

So, after I wrote the first retail post, I thought about the other side of it. 

Any job can be nasty. That is why it is a paying job, and not a hobby. 

But anyways, there are plenty of great things I got out of working retail. 

First and foremost, I learned a lot about myself. I was once the shy kid who wouldn’t raise my hand, even if I knew the answer. 

I was shy at first in the retail world, but then I just starting opening up and being myself. 

I was outgoing, and damn good at my job. And I liked that I was good at something. 

I made lasting friendships with some of the people I worked with. 

I learned about people and how they react, and I learned how to communicate with everyone. 

I got the fulfillment of meeting some of those truly special people who have respect and grace no matter who they come in contact with or what mood they are in. 

I got to participate in the holiday madness. Even though I dreaded it, it gave me a rush. I felt a part of something magical helping people select the perfect gift for someone. 

I learned to stand up for myself too. 

Some days I can’t imagine working a job like that again, and other times I truly miss it. 

I haven’t been good at much throughout my life. I used to be a quitter of everything. 

But, I was good at communicating with people. Being someone they went to for help. A familiar face. A friend. 

That feels like success to me. 

What’s in a name? 

I have been purging like crazy around the house. Gotta tell you, it is liberating. 

It is almost like a light suddenly went off in my head and I was free. 

Like I have said before, divorce is not easy. Regardless if you started it. Regardless if you are happy now.

So much comes with it. Even though I can look back and evaluate some of the events and feelings I had, and know that everything happens for a reason, the transition from what you know to the unknown is scary, stressful and new. 

There are times of adjustment. It has been nearly a year since the divorce was finalized. I feel so eager to move on. 

Bags of clothes, not worn in years. Why was I keeping them? I bought them because I thought they were cute, but not for me. I was trying to live somebody elses life. 

Seriously, this is how I felt when putting on dresses or pant suits…


But, I came across my wedding outfit. You see I ran off to Hawaii when I was 23 years old and married a Marine I met on online that I barely knew. 

I have always been bold. But, I think I took this journey because it was to teach me a lesson about life, family and love. 

So, after 13 years, I put that outfit on, was curious to see how it fit. The waist was a little loose. 


But, more importantly, that musty and dingy white outfit went into the trash pile. And it felt great. 

All over the house I was purging, ran out of garbage bags, boxes and energy, but I wanted to keep going. 

I found some things I no longer wanted or needed. I found some things I had forgotten about. 

I found a box of rubber stampers that I completely forgot existed. 

In the box of stampers was a bunch of dried out stamp pads and one stamper of my first name. 


I remember growing up, hating my name. Mellow yellow, mellon ball, smelly melly. 

I hated it. I wanted to change it, and to me the most logical name was “Jeremy”, because that was the popular song by Pearl Jam at the time. 

I was always so pissed that my name was never common enough to be on key rings, pencils and plastic cups. But, my mom found me this stamper. 

I didn’t change my name. The thought fleeted me after awhile I guess. I grew to understand my name better. Those who called me Mel, were close friends. Melanie was the formal name, and if you chose to call me Mel and I didn’t think we were close enough, I was usually offended. 

My name is mine. It fits me, and I no longer cringe when I hear it. 

Letting go of parts of my past one day at a time. I am completely ready for this new journey now. 

Growing up (long, but real)

So, here I was putting some of my Jamberry samples together and listening to Pandora. A song that I like from a band/singer I have never heard of came on.  The artist is “Plumb”, and the song is  called “Cut”. 

It had me travelling back through my childhood. All the shit that I have been through until now is pretty fucked up. Thinking about it actually started to rev up my anxiety. 

So, I decided to write. Some of this stuff was shared with very few people. Some of it, just Todd. 

I grew up in a very volatile environment like I had said before. Most of the times I thought it was the norm. I was young, trusting, and I didn’t know there was a difference. 

My thoughts are going to jump. As I think of the many instances that stand out, and not about the time and date.

I remember as a young kid, my mom had broken her arm. I never really pieced it together until I had gotten much older. But, my dad had pushed my mom and knocked her down, and she broke her arm. I never asked him about it, he has never confessed. 

Another time, I witnessed my dad flip over a recliner with my mom in it. I remember sitting on the livingroom floor when it happened. 

In general, there was fighting and arguing everyday, several times a day. 

My mom never slept in the bedroom with him. She slept on the couch as far back as I can remember. 

When I was 11 or 12 years old, my older neighbor that I grew up with as a babysitter and I guess friend, dated a guy who later moved in. I used to always go over there, bake cookies with her, play video games and other stuff. So, I never thought twice about going over there when just he was there. One summer, I was hanging out in the bedroom when he said he had something to do. Not thinking anything of it, I stayed. He then proceeded to lock the door and tell me not to tell anybody. He turned on some porn and began masturbating. I was definitely uncomfortable with both what was on the tv and what he was doing. I stared blankly at a newspaper until it was over and excused myself to go home. 

I went back a few more times, curiosity had me. But, after he started to ask me questions and want to include me, I felt it wasn’t right. I eventually told my mother who I made swear she wouldn’t say anything. I quit going over there, and she never told. And, this is the first time I am sharing all this openly. 

As I got older, and welcome the teen years, my family situation became more evident to me. 

If being a teen isn’t already bad enough with trying to find yourself, I had a whole lot of baggage that I carried with me. 

I dated a lot of assholes. I was lost and confused and wanted attention and love. I wanted someone who couldn’t resist me to pine for me and treat me like a queen. 

I never found it. 

The one guy I dated for 4 1/2 years was just as fucked up as I was. I learned how to cut from him. 

A lot of times it worked. For that moment, as tears streamed down my face, the edge of the razorblade numbed every feeling witnin. It is almost like a junkie shooting up. 

The creative being that I am, I would grab a paintbrush and paint with my blood. 

Again, super real here. I don’t hold anything back. 

Later down the line with him, he persuaded me into having a threesome with another girl. I was with a few different girls. Not always sexually. There were two that were more into me than him. There was one that destroyed me. 

He began to see her without me. I didn’t want to share that way. It eventually broke us up. My life began another downward spiral. 

Looking for approval and affection, I moved onto another relationship, that will go down in history for being the worst of all the assholes I dated. 

He was a drug addict. He stole money from me and others, he memorized all my personal info and was attempting to get credit cards in my name. He smacked me down to the ground. He was a lying, thieving cheater and Karma found his ass and did a fabulous job. 

His dad died on my birthday a few years later after battling colon cancer. He was incarcerated for some time for credit card fraud and identity theft. He found his mom slumped over dead in the livingroom a few years later, and last time I heard from him, which was a few years ago, he was battling liver disease and was on the donor list. 

KARMA, she is a real bitch. 

Anyways, after all that, I was just out of control. Drinking and partying and not giving two shits about much of anything. 

I met guys online. One time I passed out drunk and I woke up puking, and bleeding and sore. 

Then I met my ex. At that time in life, I needed somebody to reel me in. I didn’t consciously decide that, I think fate decided for me. 

Because, if I were ever to meet my soulmate, I needed to be alive and well. 

At that point in life, I was already shocked I wasn’t dead yet. Drugs, alcohol, risky behavior. 

I rode that train out until fate lead me to Todd. 

And here we are present day…Always obstacles and tests being put on my path. But, I overcome them every time. I refuse to allow my shitty childhood and bumpy past define me. I may be broken, but I am not unfixable. I may not be perfect, but I am unique. Exactly what I was voted my senior year of highschool. 

I am fine with my tattered edges and rustic style. I have been through a lot. I wear it all as my armor.