The Wall

I am getting divorced.  There, I said it and I’m still breathing.  I didn’t think that was possible for a very long time.  I didn’t think I could function alone even though I was already juggling so many things on my own. These fears were instilled in me many years ago. It was like a broken record only it wasn’t playing Prince. It was a loud, bad yelp review on loop.  

Now, I am building a wall.  I’m not talking about the wall one asks Mexico to pay for.  I am building a wall around myself.  My children will be on this side.  Occasionally, I will let down my hair for friends and family.  Besides the whole kidnapping, lying and betrayal thing… Rapunzel’s mother was on to something. Isolating yourself from negativity, abuse, etc. is a good thing.  Over here I won’t listen to anyone who tells me I am a not enough.  I will drown out the person who causes me to look in a mirror with disgust.  I allowed words like bitch, loser, pig, ugly, moron, whore, the word that starts with a “c” and ends with an “unt” to be said. I didn’t sign a slip, but by listening, believing or making excuses you are giving permission.  It took years of therapy to realize that sacrificing your happiness to protect someone else will slowly kill you.  

I lost myself.  Instead of being the confident girl who once rocked a mullet and wore a WHAM “Wake me up before you go, go.” shirt to school….I questioned everything I did.  My joke wasn’t funny enough.  I didn’t appreciate enough. I wasn’t smart enough. My family didn’t have enough money. I didn’t deserve to go places.  I was an embarrassment. I didn’t earn enough. Instead of marveling in the fact that three babies grew in this body I focused on the flaws pointed out to me. It took up so much space in my mind. It stole my joy. I tried to fight back. I have been known to tell a person or two to go where the sun doesn’t shine. Even strong women get tired.  I’m tired of fighting. From this moment forward, I’m putting down the gloves and walking away.  

This wall is going to block negative texts and social media posts used as a weapon. I am going to add those Facebook messages that read like chain letters to the list, too.  Nobody has time for that.  I need to do something I should have done a long time ago.  Honestly, it’s something Rapunzel should have done, too….  I’m going to save myself.

 

Slater Dance

I would like to thank my friend Luke for sharing this on Facebook.  You are doing God’s work.  There is nothing like a “Saved By the Bell” clip to brighten your day.   My older son doesn’t appreciate the quality acting in this classic TV series.  I know, I have no idea what’s wrong with him.  “This is the crap you watched in the 1980’s?” I will take Bayside High School over  zombies any day of the week.   Can you even imagine growing up without Screech?

 

Read more: CynicalMother.com

The Ultimate Obit

At least this guy was honest. More than I can say for some men. (and women) It’s kind of funny. Kind of gross. (His kids must be so proud.) But hey, I guess it was his life. I hope there are booze, guns and cars in Heaven for this fella.

 

Published in Denver Post on April 12, 2012

Michael “Flathead” Blanchard

| Visit Guest Book

Blanchard, Michael “Flathead”
1944 ~ 2012
A Celebration of the life of Michael “Flathead” Blanchard will be held on April 14th, 3 pm 8160 Rosemary St, Commerce City. Weary of reading obituaries noting someone’s courageous battle with death, Mike wanted it known that he died as a result of being stubborn, refusing to follow doctors’ orders and raising hell for more than six decades. He enjoyed booze, guns, cars and younger women until the day he died. Mike was born July 1944 in Colorado to Clyde and Ethel Blanchard. A community activist, he is noted for saving the Dr. Justina Ford house from demolition and defending those who could not defend themselves. He was a Republican delegate, life member of the NRA, founder and President of the Dead Cats MC. He loved music. Mike was preceded in death by Clyde and Ethel Blanchard, survived by his beloved sons Mike and Chopper, former wife Jane Transue, brother Stephen Blanchard (Susan), Uncle Don and Aunt Cynthia Blanchard(his favorite); Uncle Dill and Aunt Dot, cousins and nephews, Baba Yaga can kiss his butt. So many of his childhood friends that weren’t killed in Vietnam went on to become criminals, prostitutes and/or Democrats. He asks that you stop by and re-tell the stories he can no longer tell. As the Celebration will contain Adult material we respectfully ask that no children under 18 attend.