This needs to end.

With the latest regarding the Kavanaugh allegations, I’ve seen comments from men AND women, saying the allegations shouldn’t count because she didn’t report them soon enough. Let me show you what happens when you DO report as it happens.

At a previous job, I had a man whistle at me, followed by a “hey sexy” every time I walked past him. I was taught to tune it out, they give up if you don’t react. So I did. Let me tell you, the boy never gave up. No, instead he came to the said job, went to the back where he saw me working, and cornered me. Terrified, wanting to scream and cry, I swallowed my fear and told him “there’s only one way this will end. My knee is ball level. You will feel pain.”
He laughed and told me he likes a girl that plays hard. I was terrified. All I could do was scream “Get the FUCK away from me!” He backed off because he had heard other people come in the store. He KNEW he’d be caught. He then proceeded to go up to my coworker and tell them that I WAS FUCKING NUTS! That he was just saying hi to his favorite girl.
I went to my boss the next day and filled her in. I told her I REFUSE to be in that situation again, and that I need to be put on morning shifts where there are more than two people at all times. Her reply? “He doesn’t know any better. He thought you were flirting.”
I WAS DOING MY JOB. MY JOB INVOLVED WASHING DISHES. HOW THE HELL DOES WASHING DISHES COME OFF AS FLIRTING!?

Another job, I was taking care of various paperwork when a guest came up and told me his card wasn’t charged. I told him I could fix it for him and as I leaned over to encode it, I saw him staring down my shirt. I brushed it off as nothing, thinking I was just tired. He was there for four more nights. Every single night, he would come down and his card would be “disabled” and pull the whole, “maybe I’m not doing it right. Why don’t you come upstairs and show me what to do.” When I reported this to my manager and upper managers, they told me there’s not much they can do, and to stay at the desk. I asked if I could wear a sweater to COVER MYSELF UP, ya know, so he DIDN’T HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO LOOK AT MY BOOBS, and they told me I could for one night. That anything more was not considered professional. That man was a guest there for four more nights, and I worked in that area for FOUR MORE NIGHTS. I WAS A FUCKING WRECK. Each night he asked me to come up and show him “how it’s done”.

Or how about the ex I had that would literally HAVE SEX WITH ME while I was asleep. He would beg and beg for sex. Each time I said no. I was not in a good space at the time, and wanted nothing to do with him (long story short I did try to leave but he caught me and threatened to have me locked up in a nut house). He waited until I was asleep and took what he wanted. Yes, you read that correctly. He TOOK what he wanted after I told him NO. How would I know that? I woke up during! I would push him off me, cry, hit, do whatever it took for him to stop. He didn’t stop until he was finished. I WANTED TO DIE. I TOLD HIM NO. He also paid me to have sex with him once the act was finished. But only when I’d say yes. I WENT FROM BEING A GIRLFRIEND TO A GLORIFIED HOOKER. I told my therapist, my one moment of sanity during that fucked up relationship, and he told me to go to the police. MY EX WAS BEST FRIENDS WITH A LOT OF THE COPS. THAT ASSHOLE HAD THEM CONVINCED I WAS INSANE AND LOOKING FOR ATTENTION. None of them took me seriously. NONE. Each time I tried, they always replied: “it could be a misunderstanding”. WHAT IS SO HARD ABOUT YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER SAYING “NO I DON’T WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU”?

Tell me, why is it that people don’t report? We don’t report because NOBODY FUCKING LISTENS. I am STILL in therapy regarding my ex. I REPORTED AND WAS ACCUSED OF BEING MISUNDERSTOOD. So tell me, am I to be discredited? Are all the nightmares I have just…nothing? Because I did report, and my ex is NOT IN PRISON. I did report to managers and I was told I must remain professional, or that he didn’t know any better.

Advertisements

Free writing (WIP)

Hey everyone. I’ve been bouncing around some story ideas in my head and so far this one has stuck. Over the next couple weeks, I may just be adding on to this piece here. Please keep in mind, this is a rough draft. Some of the thoughts may wander, I’ll clean those up later!

Have a wonderful day
XOXO
Courtie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat in the cold office of the local therapist and sighed. I don’t need to be here, ain’t nothin’ wrong with my past that’s causin’ me such tizzies now. The therapist had to tend to something and decided to leave me by myself. “Thanks, Doc,” I murmured, half hoping to see him pop his head in the door.

We began covering my childhood, blurs of emotions and memories I’d just rather forget. The therapist said it’s good for me to conquer these demons I’m always carrying, I say he’s plain crazy himself. Oh well, no use fightin’ it now. I laid across the couch like I was at home. The cold leather made my skin tingle, and for a moment I was floating down the river on the raft my sister and I built. It was a wretched old thing, now that I think back on it, that could have damn near killed me. We strung together old planks that weren’t no good for nothing with very brittle twine. Paw said that twine been ’round longer than him, though I didn’t believe it. Boy was Paw mad when Mary came runnin’ up to him cuz I got caught on some rough waters. Thought he’d light her up some, lettin’ me do somethin’ stupid like that. But he knew we was kids then, and kids needed to be kids, ain’t no doubt about it. That’s a story for another time.

My childhood wasn’t always bad. For the first three years, it was as normal as everyone else’s. There was Maw and Paw, happy as the dickens and madly in love with each other. Maw was a pretty little thing, with her long, bone straight auburn hair dancing gracefully down the middle of her back. Paw said, that when he met her, her freckles sprinkled her face like stars sprinkle the sky. He told us that her eyes were the deepest blue known to God himself, and the sun had it’s time kissin’ her skin. Paw said that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
Paw was a rough lookin’ man, even in his younger years. He was a rough six foot tall, and the lankiest boy in his classroom. Paw would chuckle and tell us how Granny would load his plate up at dinner, just to put some meat on his bones. It never stuck, and eventually Granny gave up. Looking at Paw now, you woulda never guessed he had jet black hair, but he swears it was. His green eyes danced when he talked about Maw, and how excited he was when his first born came into the world. Course, he was happy with me too, but I was just meant to be the farmhand child. Never ended up that way, why Maw leavin’ us as she did. Poor Paw was left to the fields by himself while Mary and I kept to ourselves. Mary spent her time being a girl, and I spent my time reading books. I could get lost in them for days, meanwhile, Mary planned out her future.
“Oh, can’t you imagine it, Bea? I’ll be wearin’ white while Paw is walkin’ me down the aisle. I’ll have a bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s breath an–”
“Why you gonna make babies breathe on your flowers, Mary? You’re a strange one indeed!” I’d cut her off. How was she gonna carry babies to breathe on those sunflowers anyway? Ain’t gonna have me carry those squirmy things, no how.
Mary giggled, “Ya know Bea, for all that time you spend readin’ you sure are dumb! Babie’s breath is a flower!” Mary smiled down at me from the top bunk. She sighed a little before voicing her thought. “Bea, do you think Maw will be there? To see her baby get married?”
I scoffed. “I don’t care what that wretched woman is doin’ or what her excuse is. She ain’t been there for me, and I don’t wanna be there near her.” I could see Mary’s wince out of the corner of my eye.
“Aw c’mon Bea, you don’t mean that. Maw’s just havin’ one of them crisises things that you always talk about.”
I sighed while closing my book. This was about to be a war. “Mary, this ain’t no mid-life crisis. Maw was twenty-eight when she abandoned us. I was three years old, screamin’ my head off when she slammed that door. You ‘member that? You had to take care of me at five, Mary. That’s too young. Maw done gave up and left us.” That’s it, I was beyond consoling. Mary just better drop it and move right along.
Mary looked out the window and bit her cheek, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke. “Whatever you say, Bea. I still have faith, and I’m entitled to it. She’ll be there.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ain’t no use in tellin’ ya facts, is there Mare? Maw left us. She di’nt want the life Paw was makin’ for her. She hungered for that city life.” The only reply from my sister was another sigh, but that told me all I needed to hear. There wasn’t a point in trying to change her mind. To her, Maw was a queen, and she was her princess. I tossed my book to the floor and headed outside. My old shack was calling my name.

From the outside of the shack, you’d think Ol’ man Jebbers lived in it. The sign I had hung long ago was teetering on one hook. The door and it’s makeshift hinges looked about as weathered as my Paw. To the left of the door, the shattered remains of a window stood proud, having almost survived a flying pebble from yours truly. I didn’t know it then, but I had a pretty mean swing. Paw was supposed to teach me more on playing catch and running, but he never had the time.
A fine bed of hay that was “no good for my pony” from the neighbors lay in one corner, used as a makeshift bed. I found an old metal bucket that Paw used to carry for the stray cats sitting in the opposite corner. At one point, I was saving all the money I could to fix myself a garden in the back. Paw said no, that he didn’t have the time to tend anymore land, and that no daughter of his was to go hole up in some rickety shack for the rest of her life. I’m pretty sure I spit at him that day.

I kept all my favorite things out there, from clippings of Paw and his award-winning pies, to Mary and her bout with a runt calf that was fixin’ on the slaughterhouse. She raised that calf til he was good and ready to feed us, as he was in no shape to breed with our Mama Cow. That runt fed us good, and brought in a nice spot of money. Mary didn’t talk for a month. I can’t say I blame her. Suppose I didn’t help when I told her that her ol’ Henry fattened up towards the end. Paw gave me some good smacks for that one. I don’t think I sat right for a week.

My shack was my domain, and even the old sign was barely hanging on, everyone knew. Do not bother Bea when she’s in that shack, she’s come out for food when she’s darn ready.

Out with the old

My mom always told me that a clean room makes that room peaceful for you. At the time, I figured she was just saying this to get me to clean my room. I mean come on…that’s what moms do, tie a “benefits you” reason to do a task. I’m guilty of this with my kids.

I was discharged from the program on Friday, and when I got home I noticed I was avoiding my room. I chalked this up to healthy sleep hygiene but learned the real reason later that night.

The moment my head hit the pillow I felt this wave of uneasiness and anger. I was living in a pigstye! Half drank pop bottles riddled the wobbly and crammed TV tray stationed next to the head of my bed. Half packages of whatever snacks I decided to dine on in the wee hours of the morning were thrown haphazardly in between bottles and papers. Ugh. Just thinking about it gives me chills. I looked like a teenager living in a nearly 27-year-old body. No good.

Saturday I decided I had enough. No more filth, it’s time to erase the old. We went to Walmart and devised a plan. I got a stand for those fancy cloth drawers and went from there. I knew my son had an extra nightstand and dresser in his room that he no longer used for the intended purpose. I brought both upstairs and began the grueling task of tidying up.

Each area I kept asking myself, “why? why did I let myself get like this?”. Before I knew it, my room was finally cleared of the garbage and negative energy. My nightstand is cleared and I have a better feeling coming into my room. My diffuser is sitting next to my bed, inviting me into a good nights rest, and my overall attitude has improved greatly.

The clearing of trash felt like I was getting rid of the old me, the me that wallowed in self-pity and decided life is too hard and that naps were the way to go. The same me that would lay awake at night picking myself apart, letting the anxious thoughts consume me. I spent nights laying in the darkness crying, wondering why I couldn’t be _________ enough.

Now I lay in bed with my loving husband and realize I am ________ enough. I am beautiful, I am worthy of loving myself.

If I have any advice for you today, I’d say practice being mindful. Go into a room that makes you uncomfortable and begin changing it!

Remember this: you are worthy, you are _____ enough. YOU ARE ENOUGH.

Much love,
Courtie

 

Enough Excuses

Well, I’ve been off for a long time. To those who stuck around, hoping for a new post, I’m sorry. I’m back now if that makes a difference.

I think I should address the elephant in the room: yes, I stopped posting. I blamed it on things like “well I’ve got nothing positive happening, and nobody wants to read about a crappy day” or “I just can’t come up with a topic, nobody wants to read a blog that’s pointless”. Excuses. I’m calling it what it is, pointless excuses. I think I owe it to myself, and really anyone that’s out there reading this, the truth of the situation.

The reason I stopped posting is that I was withdrawing from the world around me. I didn’t think anyone would understand what I was feeling, hell half of the time even I couldn’t understand what I was feeling. The only thing I knew was just that; I was feeling some emotion, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. These emotions started causing me to stop doing things. First, it hit my writing (hence the hiatus), then it was the reading, then it hit me at work. That’s when everything started snowballing out of control. Tears would fall, meals would be missed, friends would be ignored. I was falling into myself with no signs of wanting to stop.

I decided enough was enough when I had a panic attack at work, all because I allowed my thoughts to get the better of me. I addressed an issue with my boss, we came up with a plan to fix said issue, and my co-workers retaliated. They were very passive-aggressive with their retaliation, but I picked up on the irritation, and suddenly my emotions got carried away and carried me to the parking lot out to my vehicle. The only thought I had was “GO! DRIVE AWAY RIGHT NOW AND DON’T LOOK BACK!” – lucky for me I left my keys in the office. I knew at that moment there was a problem, that if it was left unattended would spiral into so much worse. A friend came over and informed me of a program that I would benefit from, and I took the steps to get into it.

I’m not writing this looking for pity, nor am I writing this to make up an excuse. The truth of it is I learned some of the most important lessons that I could have ever learned. The point of this blog, at least in the beginning, was to share my lessons with anyone who stumbled upon an entry.

I learned many lessons so far, such as mental illness is a very real thing, and can be very frightening if left unnoticed and untreated.

Just because you have a mental illness does not mean it defines you. I suffer from severe depression with “anxious thoughts”, previously diagnosed as “generalized” anxiety disorder.  My personality consists of tendencies of withdrawing, paranoid and distrusting thoughts, and self-doubt. This is where the next lesson ties in, and I cannot possibly stress this one enough. These illnesses and traits DO NOT DEFINE ME. These are merely things that I have to learn to combat through healthy coping skills.

The third bit, and this has to be the most important; YOU MATTER. Work is tearing you apart, your husband is allowing the kids to tear around the house like animals, which makes you realize “my kids are animals”, and you feel like you’re about to snap, well that means it’s past time. It’s time to put you first, it’s time to learn healthy coping skills and use them, it’s time to start structuring yourself, simple things. At the end of the day, regardless if you are having a bad day or not, the world is marching on. You need to march on too. Let go of the bad, teach yourself good things, and remember YOU MATTER.

That’s the truth. I’ll be starting to schedule my posts more regularly, and I will try to stick to that schedule.
For those that stuck around, thank you. Thank you for believing in me when I didn’t want to believe in myself.
For those of you that are going through mental illness, you are not alone. Even if you feel like you are you aren’t. If anything, leave a comment or find a way to message me, I will listen. I believe in you.

Take time to learn something new today, but don’t forget the most important thing, love yourself.

XOXO – Courtie.

Random acts part I

With the world being it’s usual shitty and depressing self, I’ve decided to make little changes in a person’s day to make it better. But I’m not doing this everyday, as much as I want to, I just can’t.

I’ll be scoping out people around me, and even monitoring my Facebook for people. I’ll start off small, coworkers, past managers, anyone I can see that really needs a pick me up. Once I find that person, the game begins. I’ll figure out what I can do to make their day, even if it’s just THAT day, a better one.

I think I’ll log each journey and reaction so other people can be inspired to do the same thing. Let’s make this a happy year, and give back to the people who need it most. ❤️

Routines

These little things practically run your life. Get up for work, brush your teeth, get dressed, start your car, leave the house, and so on. Without routines, you’re a hectic person with no idea of what is going on.

About a week ago, I had a sudden burst of “become a better person” that was running through my head. In my last post, I stated that I’m now signed up for a certificate program through a community college, but I didn’t stop there.

That night I jumped in the soul sucking, false reality inducing app that is Pinterest (honestly though, I love this app…but it sucks me in every time) and started looking up workouts. The workout search turned into yoga poses, which led to meditation searches, and suddenly I have a folder on my phone named “healthy you”. I sat back and started thinking, “how can I make sure that I do this every day? I need some sort of routine“. I probably shouldn’t have been making promises to myself that I may or may not live up to, but I did, and here we are.

The notebook page is sitting on my nightstand, and the first line is wake up at 5:30 am. Whoa, past me. I know you want to do good but 5:30?! That’s prime pillow time for me.

The next line is to wash my face. Which I don’t mind, however, expecting me, barely awake at 5:30 am to handle liquid soap on the same area as my eyes is a bad idea.

Next is yoga, and honestly this is my favorite one. There’s the right amount of burn, and only 7 minutes needed.

Somewhere along the line I have to hydrate…and water and I don’t mix. So I’ve opted for a glass of water instead of a bottle.

After hydration, I have a short workout to do, which honestly isn’t too bad. I push through every push up, nearly cry during the crunches, and jiggle my way through the jumping jacks.

More hydration happens when I’m able to pull myself off the floor. So much for washing my face this morning, since now it’s currently covered in sweat and tears.

Breakfast time, I suppose. The problem with this, I don’t eat in the morning. Every time I do, I end up feeling really sick. I choke down some scrambled eggs and maybe a little toast.

Journal time, or in this case, finishing up the blog post. In the future, I’ll probably use some prompts from the soul sucking app so I can do better at posting on this. Sorry blog…you’ve been abandoned in the past, but I can do better.

Finally it’s time for coffee. Now I love coffee as much as the next person, so going from 5:30 to probably 6:30 is super hard. I have to learn to force myself to wake up AND get motivated to move around? Come on…….just a little sip…..

Sure, I poke fun at this routine. Heck there have been days where I wake up facing the notepad, then turn over like it’s not even there. I know there are things I need to work on, and this routine will start showing it’s benefits. I just have to look at it with an open mind…and half open sleepy eyes.

Until I get to that point, I’ll be at my kitchen table, poking fun at the thing and browsing pinterest while wondering why I feel so crappy. One day I’ll learn!

 

The Winds of Change

Yesterday when I woke up, I was barely content with my life. Yes, I have a job, my family is amazing, and there are good people around me that I’m lucky enough to call friends. However, there was so much I could do to just…be better.

It started with an email. I graduated from an adult education class in 2016, and during my time I met the most amazing instructor. When I had problems with my classwork, he was there ready to help. I knew I still had his email address saved somewhere, so I sent him the following.

Good morning Frank*,

I was curious to see if you had any typing classes at the lab. I’d also like to work on my phone and email communications.

That was it. I’m split between to departments at work, one relying heavily on the three skills I was hoping to work on. After about an hour, I got a reply from the new instructor stating; yes, the typing would be in the lab, while the communications could be covered under the online distance learning as “essentials of communications”. Funny enough, I had taken that course to get my high school diploma. I declined the offer of the class, but vowed to better my typing skills, and set a date to talk to my boss.

I could have left things where they were, realizing the only way to better my communication skills was through a course I already took. However, I have been known to be a stubborn individual, to the point of being considered a spaz.

So I did what I do best, I continued looking. I emailed the college in the city next to me about workshops, where I was directed to classes. I grew frustrated and gave up my hunt, and mentioned to a supervisor what I was looking for. She told me of the certificate programs that her son did at another college, and suggested I look into it. I decided I’d give it a try, and immediately started browsing the website.

Before I knew it, I was filling out an application for the community college’s fully online accountant clerk specialist program. Everything I had been looking for in a program that I seemed to find myself searching at other colleges.

I’m set to start classes in the fall, at which point I hope to have gained enough bravery to talk to my boss about my schedule.

 

Today’s lesson: Don’t ever stop.

Bad again?

Sometimes I’m asked “how do you know you’re getting bad again,” and I haven’t been sure how to answer until now.

As I am frantically searching for my Nintendo 2ds with cheery Christmas music playing in my ear, I feel the wave crush me. This wave is a good feeling though, it means I’m finally coming out of whatever funk had wrapped its talons around the weakness of my mind.

I see clean clothes piled in a basket. Clothes that had been left untouched because I was too busy slumming around in my pajamas. My bedside table is covered in pop bottles, all collected from my late night snacking because “I’m bored but I can’t be bothered to sleep”. The garbage can is overflowing with candy wrappers because sugar gave me an artificial hype for things that I had loved so much but now find boring.

The music playing through my headphones seem to be trying as hard as it possibly can to pull me from the depths of my own self loathing, and suddenly I’m filled with motivation. I suppose I should finish this and clean, perhaps share a picture to prove I actually did something.

Who knows, maybe I’ll let the mystery stay alive, and anyone reading this can wonder “did she decide to get her shit together,” because I’m just mean like that.

For anyone going through a slump, I promise you will claw your way out. Even if you claw your way out at 11:00 pm, you will do it. And when you do, I will be so proud of you.

 

Much love, all.

The question.

I was cleaning a room with one of the new girls when a commercial came on advertising Geico insurance. It’s the one where the kid is asking where babies came from, and the father choked up and fumbled out some silly answer. My coworker looked at me and said “I just don’t understand why it’s so hard to tell the kid, parents make such a big deal out of it.”

This got my mind going. Yeah, we do make a big deal out of where babies come from. I don’t think the explanation is what’s tripping us up, I think it’s the fact that our babies are wanting to know about…well, babies. The same babies we carried in our bodies and snuggled with when they were sick. The babies we held and cried with when they doctor gave them their shots, the ones who took their first step towards you (or in my son’s case, a $1 bill that sat in front of me), the ones who wanted to stay home with you instead of going to school.

I don’t think answering is what’s difficult. I think what’s most difficult is coming to terms with the fact that your baby is so much of a baby anymore. Your child, forever a baby in your eyes, is growing up while you are stuck in the passenger seat, watching them grow and make decisions. You helped your child learn right from wrong and taught them to accept others instead of hate.

So parents, we all know the day will come when your little darling comes up to you and asks you that dreaded question, and we know it’s going to be hard. Not because you don’t want them to know, because you don’t want them to grow up.

Let them talk

With the school year approaching soon, I can’t help but feel a little nervous for my son. Before I go on a tangent as to why, let me explain my son first.

This boy is a talker! From the moment he gets up all the way to bedtime, this boy is telling me story after story, dropping an “I love you, mommy,” or a million other things! I’ve looked, there’s no pause button. He even talks over people!

He also likes to wiggle around ALL the time. Swinging his legs, tapping pencils on the table, getting up to walk around. I know I know, it’s frustrating. The funny thing is, I do that same thing! I know what you’re thinking, “that’s what a fidget spinner is for,” let me tell you this now, no way in HELL will he ever have one of those. Oh but why? Read on.

The boy gets distracted far too easily. When he was in baseball, and we were practicing at home, I’d have to take that baseball from him to get him to listen! If a leaf falls outside he’s the first to see it!

Now, I love my son and each and every thing about him more than words can say. At home, we are working on the fidgeting and the interrupting and the focus. However, the one thing I refuse to silence is his voice.

Too many people live in this belief that children should be seen and not heard, and in some cases that does apply. But I have only a few years left until my kid silences himself to me. I don’t want to silence him now, because I’ll miss all the tall tales and short stories.

Back to my fear for the school year. I’ve had nothing but bad luck with schools. They try to push medications, trying to turn him into some mindless robot who one their every command. I’ve heard they changed their mindset, that if a kid is above average in one aspect they will be put in a group who is also above average. I’m still scared. I’ll always be my son voice, I’ll always be the one to battle the school if they push for medications. My son is a wild spirit, and in this moment, maybe that’s what he needs to be.