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Mother’s Day

May 9, 2021

It bothers me this common assumption that I have someone, and it bothers me when they assume I need or want someone. I don’t like being called independent, like what in the fuck am I supposed to do? What would you do? You have something to do and you do it. That doesn’t make you independent, and I find it such a souring word.

I don’t enjoy the weird sympathy about being alone. Oh what a shame. Oh you poor thing.

Is it though? Because i’ve not flourished as much as I have without a guy in my peripheral view. I wish I hadn’t met any of my ex boyfriends to be honest. The good ones or the nasty ones. I miss nothing, I was miserable within the stable ones and miserable within the abusive ones. I did have depression and anxiety for years and those fun demons never leave fully but I haven’t had hard issues with them in a couple years.

How much is taken raising my baby and I actually enjoy it and making myself dizzy learning and managing the ropes of online, the possibility of risking all of that for someone else seems like insanity. For how many times the sick twisted ones sabotaged me or tried to destroy me. For even the lovely ones, we were in two different realms I felt alone, but in the same room with someone.

To risk having someone to trust or not trust seems insane to me.

Mr baby won’t be young forever, which is also nice, as I enjoy how much more independent he becomes each day and more separate we become. You borrowed my womb for awhile, now time to learn to become your own little bird of paradise.

I wish I had been forced to be romantically alone a long time ago, not from a pandemic, given the consequences on everyone. I spent so long looking for something, someone that may never be in my cards and by choice. At least, this is how I feel currently. I wish I had had a baby way younger and I wish I had been healthy and strong enough to be capable of that as it would have been better for me. Not looking to change the past and hindsight is twenty twenty. I’m just comfortable.

I remember the last good boyfriend I had, six years ago, before all the back to back pricks, his dad would say you can’t access someone who doesn’t have some sort of void. If they are happy and content. I used to imagine this like honeycombs and people fill different holes within the comb for an individual’s needs or wants. This last year, I finally understand what he meant. I wanted to take care of someone, but not a fucking grown up. It was a huge vulnerability and blindspot of mine unethical predators exploited. Except, now that little comb is closed forever. I am alone in the adult sense, I don’t feel alone though. I love my baby, my pets, and my offline/online friends. And one day, when the little one is busier and around less, there are more things I can get to do, that don’t necessarily involve finding a boyfriend.

Single’s Awareness Day

February 16, 2021

I hope everyone had a good V day or galentine’s or single’s awareness day. The last few days have been wearing on me. Mr. Baby going through baby woes but screaming breaks my brain at times. He seems to be on the up and up later today. The snow makes me feel trapped, normally we go for a walk or two daily. Except, now I can’t. It’s hard to imagine the difficulty unless you are in the moment. Part of sidewalk clear then not clear then not. The furthest we can get is one building over, so I walked with him on foot to a smaller store near by than our usual grocery. It just upsets me, I am glad snow does not last long here but I feel unhinged feeling trapped. How ridiculous a small bit of snow creates such a huge change. Can’t navigate too many streets, and on babysitting days I work, not walk on my own.

Valentine’s day was slow and so was today, family day. Then the toilet clogged and I tried again to leave seeing rain had cleared some snow. Nope, still cannot get to the store. I tried. The plunger is draped inside the toilet, full of soap and whatever other stupid DIY online has told me works. I don’t know why this particular toilet is so difficult I had no issues with a plunger any other place I have lived. Something as simple as going to the store for draino is not a possibility at the moment. I will go on my own tomorrow, while I have babysitting, but just everything compounded the last couple days I feel foul.

Valentine’s day is one of my favourite holidays despite rarely having a valentine on one. Someone stole my lingerie delivered in my building in a boring black package and I cannot get over that. I was too excited and then someone fucking steals it. I am grateful those that buy me it from my fan web site, the package originally got delivered last Tuesday on the 9th and I still have not figured out who took it. However, Victoria’s Secret is amazing, sent out a replacement to arrive soon. I filed a police report, building is checking the camera. It just feels so violating. And there are packages left all the time for residents. Why that package. In a matter of three hours. I have been robbed before, in a house. It took me three days to really sink it in someone came in and took my laptop, and I had a roommate at the time, they stole her guitar. Each time I go downstairs here I see other packages. Why my package, why that package. I get things delivered often that are boring, diaper wipes. Others have packages big and small. I realized it isn’t a personal assault on me, it isn’t a personalized target, my diaper wipes did not get stolen. It just feels violating, bitter, and I normally run to get packages as I am excited. This time I did not, as I was working and figured would pick it up after picking up Mr. Baby and I regret not following my usual routine of grabbing something right away I am excited to receive.

Every faucet of these sour notes is kind of whatever on their own, but together I’m just really fucking sad, upset. The possibility of taking time off is not an option. I’m beginning to have anxiety again that I have managed well to rid of for many months. Not being able to eat until late late at night every moment full of screaming or feeling I am not doing enough online. It makes me angry when people have called me an independent woman. I am not of a belief a person truly asks to be independent. People are social creatures. It is not a choice of full contentment. My commitment to values or a commitment to keeping a non dramatic household is not a badge of independence honour. It just happens to be a side effect. If you have a choice between not having something or doing it yourself, what are you going to do? You try to fix the toilet yourself. You try to drag the stroller through this dumb snow that is no obstacle to many. The smallest thing is a huge thing to some. Wheel chairs, strollers, walkers. It makes me angry some people assume I have a boyfriend. It makes me angry some people assume someone takes my pictures. In a heartbeat my friends would go and drop what I need off if I asked. It isn’t like I am abandoned, alone in the supportive sense. I feel unravelled this last week and any navigation back to not feeling that is not working. I have nothing good to say here as all I feel is rage and sadness. Coupled with each other in a wild devilish dance. It is so rarely I unveil vulnerability of this type, bound by years of emotional snipers ready to capitalize on an emotional opportunity. I haven’t been around those girls since I left. Yet the poison still binds me. Stoic coldness or death. Down to earth or death. Polite indifference or death. I understand why so many working girls are not kind. I do not blame them, not even the slightest. I do not condone it either though. How much harder it is to be kind in the midst of those that drink up your soul from emotional warfare. What is normal vulnerability around square people is a portal to being destroyed. The only other people i’ve met that seem to understand that have been in the military.

I remember it snowed, too, Valentine’s day, 2019 and my last day forever there unknowing to all the girls except the managers. My mentor had picked up the day specifically to see me to say goodbye. The snow prevented her from coming to work. I never got to say goodbye. I think of this often. How we never got to have one last conversation. How guilty I felt keeping my pregnancy a secret from her. How I wish I could have said goodbye and the fucking snow prevented that. I never got to see her again. I never will. It isn’t like that in the working girl world of those types. I packed up my stuff and left as discreetly as possible. The girls there that day didn’t see me bringing more stuff than usual. They didn’t notice my empty locker. I was as quiet and discreet as possible. Me and my future Mr. Baby inside of me off to a different, quieter life.

2020 Valentine I actually don’t remember. Blacked out. A ex I kicked out in summertime would have been here with me. Except, I can’t remember. Majority of last year I don’t remember outside of Mr. Baby or things related to online. I remember things about you guys online, minute details, I remember many firsts of Mr. Baby. But other than that? Nothing. Blurs of scream crying most days and never knowing what day he would come home to rip me apart or Mr. Baby. How I wouldn’t know what he was up to. How I will never forgive him for how he treated my baby. How I will never forget the breach of trust on every level. How eternally grateful I am he was never his daddo. I can only imagine having a person like that, stuck as your co parent. Not remembering most of last year outside of working online or Mr. Baby doesn’t disturb me. It is just something realized and kind of it is what it is feeling.

Disassociation has always been my strong default, clearly. It is the main thing that has kept me upright despite any circumstance. A willful ignorance perhaps. Amnesia is a blessing.

I had a dream about baby daddy the other day that severely disturbed me. When I looked it up it talked about how I was onto thriving, no longer just surviving. How my subconscious was loving him to balance the hateful suffering of my conscious awareness. I’m not sure how to navigate that. Although I cut my ex off many months ago, I still have baby daddy in my peripheral, and thankfully we never dated. He told me how much of a cunt second baby mama is. Gee, hard to imagine why she acts a certain way towards him. I wonder what the other mamas think. I wonder about if my baby will ever meet his half-sisters, one is 25, the other is 6 weeks younger than Mr. Baby. He has met his half-brother, 10 years older, but it is always this weird orchestrated feeling event.

Regardless, the lingerie will arrive, Mr.Baby is fine already, the person of thievery will likely not be caught, people will be more active online, I will get draino. The ratchet snow will melt and I will be free to walk around again.

Writing it, thinking it logically just doesn’t erode the crushing sadness or anger. What’s more important is where does that energy go from here?

Loneliness

December 17, 2020

Yes, I am aware I used to be a serial monogamist. As to why, I think coping in having a narcissistic mother and the disassociated loss, while feeling lost you can feel while not realizing how long you have been gaslit by the supposed ultimate figure of unconditional love. Luckily, my daddy is very loving and amazing. Else, I think i’d likely be a sociopath.

My mother was mostly raised by her grandmother and never met her dad. I never, ever wanted to spread my DNA because it meant spreading my mother’s genetics. My parents didn’t know I had a baby as I moved to another province in my usual run away pattern, my friend’s mother took care of me. I moved back with Mr. Baby at two weeks old. The road trip sucked. My friend’s mother was surprised I was able to pack everything into the car. I wasn’t. I had done this before when I moved off the island several years ago last notice to work, school, friends, and family. Three months after coming back to BC, my parents accidentally found out I had a baby. My dad loves Mr. Baby, seeing him around him reminds me of my own childhood. Further solidifying I temporarily forgot what my childhood was like through the blur of chaos over the years. What did become even clearer was my mom’s narcissism and my ability to consciously navigate it without constantly being triggered.

I probably should have become a mother fairly young, like 21, but I resisted it. Instead, I complained how lonely I was. I found evaporating intimacy. Fake intimacy. Toxic intimacy. Fantasy intimacy. It took me many years to even unravel the surface of this. I was disciplined in taking my pill, getting an IUD, tracking my ovulation cycle and period cycle since 15. Until I let my guard down in vulnerability and trusted my now baby daddy to respect me instead of trusting my commitment to myself. Maybe if I hadn’t of resisted what I truly wanted in life it wouldn’t have unfolded in such a shitty sequence of events. That seems to be a thing.

Side note, guys if you choose to cum inside a girl unprotected you are choosing her to be a baby mama candidate. If you don’t want that, check the many other spots you can cum on versus a selfish three seconds of warmth inside of her. Also, if a girl tells you not to cum inside of her. They literally mean, do not cum inside. No. Means. No. A person half awake or half conscious is not consensual. Fuck you.

I wish I could have figured it out sooner. I found grown man children with no respect for me and their own mommy issues. I found stable loving men and left them.

Nothing scared me more in the world than pregnancy or giving birth. It still does.

It sucks to feel like a cliche in that I didn’t feel whole until having a baby, nor do I believe in maternal instinct is innate as backed by Anthropological research. My loneliness evaporated. While I also look forward to Mr. baby one day growing up, moving out, just the fact he exists is all I needed.

During my first trimester I had just signed a lease for a year of a place downtown for $2,500 a month. I would go to work part-time which took all my energy. I would go to the store for cravings alone. Baby daddy visited twice ten minutes once, twenty minutes another time. Last minute drop ins. I packed my place with some help from a friend and her husband. Went to my doctor appointments alone. Got my bloodwork done alone. The ultrasounds alone. That stupid 3 hour blood sugar blood test alone. Drove the uhaul to move four hours away alone. All my friends worked in the film industry or multiple jobs so I didn’t get to see them often. Got a nasty five week cold that left me so weak I could barely lift a bag of groceries. I walked home alone from work at 1am and counted the long minutes. Someone screamed at me one night I was a fucking cunt that should die after he asked me the time and I softly said, “I don’t know”. “But you’re holding your phone!!! You fucking cunt I hope you get hit by a car and die!!!” I was so focused on each breath of energy to walk home I didn’t notice I had even been holding my phone.

I moved my cat to a friend’s place as she was going nuts. She destroyed the furniture in my furnished place and I lost the pet deposit and deposit. I navigated harassment from my abusive ex I had run away from in the summertime. Luckily he never found out I was pregnant as a way to threaten me as I truly was vulnerable and weakened. I navigated all the people he tried to get to find me or message me. Now, winter time and cold rain steady each day, I began Pokemon Go again to walk more. I walked when I could, aware of my surroundings and his frequented neighbourhoods and what my own routines were he may be trying to track still. I listened to the drama at work and slept as much as I could. I avoided them even more than usual while trying not to arise gossip. The girls didn’t know. They found out after I quit what seemed unpredictable and unexpected. I watched many movies alone. Talked to myself, or well Mr. Baby. I cried most nights. In hysterics. Screaming. Sobbing. Hours of crying each night. I would sit in my bed scream crying as loud as I could wailing or pacing around my living room crying and dancing. I watched horror xmas films. I slept on a friend’s couch and took the four hour commute to my doctor appointments. I took slutty pictures to maybe sell one day as pregnancy might be a fetish. I bought a webcam. I spent hours and hours and hours looking at names. I spent just as much time looking for resources, free baby stuff and services. My chihuahua always slept beside my bump. Warm and protective.

I was alone during my first trimester in winter 2018 before moving into a friend’s place in my second trimester on the island with her husband and two children where I would take two buses 1-1.5 hour commute to work, and then another friend’s mom bought me food and my vitamins which felt like life and death importance to me was my commitment to take the natal vitamins. Then just before third trimester I moved to another province, to get away from stress because I strongly believe in calmness during pregnancy. I took welfare and my friend’s mom fed me very well. I used my air miles to take a plane with my dog to a place I never wanted to be. Lacombe. I spent my savings on baby clothes, bottles, the dozens of things you need or want for a baby. I got many many things free or cheap as Lacombe has tons of children. I spent a day in bible camp along the way in a trailer with crappy wifi. 12 hour drive. Then a break staying at someone’s house for two days. Four hour drive. Then a ferry. More driving. Home to where I am now. Unpacking for what felt like years. Going back to work six weeks postpartum.

I was the most alone I have ever been in the first trimester, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel alone. I have great sympathy for the loneliness many people feel during this pandemic. While I have not felt lonely during the pandemic, I can relate to when I was lonely and alone. 

I do believe certain people belong in each of our lives. Whether that person manifests as a best friend, soul mate, friend, boss, co-worker, partner, or in my case,

a baby boy.