I take no credit for this other then my fantastic scrolling on Pinterest. I found this and loved it. For all my single friends out there, if you needed a reason to love being single...here's 101 reasons to love and embrace the single life...
http://earlswynn.hubpages.com/hub/101-reasons-to-stay-single
xoxo,
Jill
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
The Best Drug Deal I Ever Made
My boyfriend had gone to work for the day. He had never really had a job before, besides hustling, so I told him I'd be okay to sell while he was gone. We had just re-copped two pounds of some sticky. I just had to de-seed it, break it down, and bag it.
The rule to selling was if I knew the person, I could sell to them. If I didn't know them, I wasn't to open the door.
I hadn't gotten half done de-seeding the weed when I heard a knock at the door. I knew the guy, Marc*. I went to junior high school with him; we had a few classes together. We occasionally spoke and had many common friends. I opened the door.
We had a little friendly conversation, he asked for a quarter, I told him to wait in the living room, I'd be right back. I went into the kitchen and weighed out the quarter bag, and exchanged $25 for the bag. He went on his way, I went back to the kitchen table to finish de-seeding.
I had left the storm door open with the screen door locked as it was an unusually warm winter day. Soon after I sat down to task at hand, I heard a knock on the screen door. It was Marc back again, this time with a friend.
"Man, Jill, that stuff looks and smells so good, my guy wants a dime for himself."
I told them to wait in the living room, and went back into the kitchen. I had put the weed and supplies back into the gallon size plastic bag and hid it in the kitchen cabinet before I had answered the door. As soon as I reached to open the cabinet door, I heard the rapid sound of feet pounding. I looked toward the commotion just in time to see a Glock 22 come crashing into the side of my head.
I'm not sure how long I was out for. When I awoke my head was throbbing; I was confused, scared, and cold. I knew I had been robbed but I wasn't sure if they were still in our two story apartment. I ran to grab my little pearl handle gun in the closet that obviously didn't do me much good moments ago. I grabbed the box it was in and ran to the couch and curled into fetal position. I wasn't going to go looking for them, but if they were going to get out by the front door, I'd be ready for them. I didn't want to confront them, but I couldn't think of any other logical options. I couldn't think period. I was in shock.
I'm not sure how long I waited there silently crying. Eventually I figured the coast was clear, and they must have left after the took what they wanted. I went to the bathroom to try to compose myself. The sight in the mirror was too much for me to take.
One side of my face was unrecognizable. My eye swollen shut. The shades of my face varied from red to blue. My head throbbed so much I couldn't think, see, or process much of anything. The cold bathroom floor soothed my face and became a river for my tears.
How had I gotten to this place?
How had I let this happen to me?
Who was I?
I didn't grow up in this kind of life; I actually chose it.
Day turned into night, and I finally got enough nerve to call my boyfriend. He of course blamed me for my poor choice of answering the door. I knew there would be wrath.
He called his boys. I was transferred to a friends house, and he and his army gathered wearing all black and carrying two pieces each.
I watched as they drove off in their Cadillacs and Lincolns to find the man that took what was his.
As night turned to early morning, the Cadillac I had been waiting for finally returned. In one piece.
I knew it was my turn to leave.
I packed up all my clothes, and my only piece of furniture, a huge Fisher stereo, and drove away. For good.
I drove, and I drove, and I drove.
I drove for hours. I talked to God for most of those hours. I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I let God lead me.
After maybe four hours, I stopped. I decided wherever I stopped would be where I stayed. I would start fresh. I would create a new life, a new identity, one where no one knew me, my past, and my many, many mistakes.
The funny thing is, after over four hours of driving, I ended up only an hour away from my hometown.
I planted roots. I started fresh.
That was almost 15 years. I've been here ever since.
Recently my past came back to haunt me. It does that from time to time. I've always been so ashamed of the things I've done that I rarely like to admit or acknowledge that time of my life.
But this time was different. This time I choose to reflect, not with embarrassment, not with shame, not with disgust, but with appreciation. I remembered the best drug deal I ever made. I remembered my past life with complete and utter appreciation for the life I live now.
The gun that struck me that day chipped off a piece of my upper cheek bone so when I smile there's an little indent. It's my favorite and most cherished beauty mark I have. It marks the day my smile and my life changed.
We are not our past mistakes. We are who we chose to be today.
*Name changed to protect me.
**If you are reading this and are a family member or law enforcement official (or the like), this story is completely fictional. ;)
The rule to selling was if I knew the person, I could sell to them. If I didn't know them, I wasn't to open the door.
I hadn't gotten half done de-seeding the weed when I heard a knock at the door. I knew the guy, Marc*. I went to junior high school with him; we had a few classes together. We occasionally spoke and had many common friends. I opened the door.
We had a little friendly conversation, he asked for a quarter, I told him to wait in the living room, I'd be right back. I went into the kitchen and weighed out the quarter bag, and exchanged $25 for the bag. He went on his way, I went back to the kitchen table to finish de-seeding.
I had left the storm door open with the screen door locked as it was an unusually warm winter day. Soon after I sat down to task at hand, I heard a knock on the screen door. It was Marc back again, this time with a friend.
"Man, Jill, that stuff looks and smells so good, my guy wants a dime for himself."
I told them to wait in the living room, and went back into the kitchen. I had put the weed and supplies back into the gallon size plastic bag and hid it in the kitchen cabinet before I had answered the door. As soon as I reached to open the cabinet door, I heard the rapid sound of feet pounding. I looked toward the commotion just in time to see a Glock 22 come crashing into the side of my head.
I'm not sure how long I was out for. When I awoke my head was throbbing; I was confused, scared, and cold. I knew I had been robbed but I wasn't sure if they were still in our two story apartment. I ran to grab my little pearl handle gun in the closet that obviously didn't do me much good moments ago. I grabbed the box it was in and ran to the couch and curled into fetal position. I wasn't going to go looking for them, but if they were going to get out by the front door, I'd be ready for them. I didn't want to confront them, but I couldn't think of any other logical options. I couldn't think period. I was in shock.
I'm not sure how long I waited there silently crying. Eventually I figured the coast was clear, and they must have left after the took what they wanted. I went to the bathroom to try to compose myself. The sight in the mirror was too much for me to take.
One side of my face was unrecognizable. My eye swollen shut. The shades of my face varied from red to blue. My head throbbed so much I couldn't think, see, or process much of anything. The cold bathroom floor soothed my face and became a river for my tears.
How had I gotten to this place?
How had I let this happen to me?
Who was I?
I didn't grow up in this kind of life; I actually chose it.
Day turned into night, and I finally got enough nerve to call my boyfriend. He of course blamed me for my poor choice of answering the door. I knew there would be wrath.
He called his boys. I was transferred to a friends house, and he and his army gathered wearing all black and carrying two pieces each.
I watched as they drove off in their Cadillacs and Lincolns to find the man that took what was his.
As night turned to early morning, the Cadillac I had been waiting for finally returned. In one piece.
I knew it was my turn to leave.
I packed up all my clothes, and my only piece of furniture, a huge Fisher stereo, and drove away. For good.
I drove, and I drove, and I drove.
I drove for hours. I talked to God for most of those hours. I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I let God lead me.
After maybe four hours, I stopped. I decided wherever I stopped would be where I stayed. I would start fresh. I would create a new life, a new identity, one where no one knew me, my past, and my many, many mistakes.
The funny thing is, after over four hours of driving, I ended up only an hour away from my hometown.
I planted roots. I started fresh.
That was almost 15 years. I've been here ever since.
Recently my past came back to haunt me. It does that from time to time. I've always been so ashamed of the things I've done that I rarely like to admit or acknowledge that time of my life.
But this time was different. This time I choose to reflect, not with embarrassment, not with shame, not with disgust, but with appreciation. I remembered the best drug deal I ever made. I remembered my past life with complete and utter appreciation for the life I live now.
The gun that struck me that day chipped off a piece of my upper cheek bone so when I smile there's an little indent. It's my favorite and most cherished beauty mark I have. It marks the day my smile and my life changed.
We are not our past mistakes. We are who we chose to be today.
*Name changed to protect me.
**If you are reading this and are a family member or law enforcement official (or the like), this story is completely fictional. ;)
Sunday, February 3, 2013
7 Lessons from a Single Mom
I had a meltdown yesterday. It was ugly. There was sobbing and anguish and complete and utter exhaustion.
I'm tired. Overly tired. My 3 year old doesn't sleep well. At all. So I don't get much sleep either. Pair that with the fact that I can never seem to get enough work done at the office so I end up bringing it home every night. I don't want to work after I leave work, but it's the way the cookie is crumbling right now. I have 2 kids that need, demand, and deserve a lot of attention. While I love them to pieces, they constantly fight with each other and whine without ceasing. It is driving me nutty. I have a home to take care of and a slight OCD compulsion toward cleaning. On top of that, I volunteer at least once, sometimes twice a week. And to seal the deal, I've forgotten to take care of me. I've abandoned my one and only sanity quencher of running and working out. My life does not feel like my own; it feels like I'm to fullfill everyone else but myself.
When I became a single mom I made the decision that I could do what any other married mom could do. I don't want my status as "single" to be a factor in the amount of things I can do or the successfulness of how I do them. Being a single mom is not a handicap.
I've been doing this single mom thing again for almost a year and a half now, and this is what I've realized:
(1) A single mom needs to say "no" to some things, and not feel bad about it.
(2) A single mom needs to say "yes" to herself more often than she's used to or comfortable with.
(3) A single mom needs to prioritize the people and things in her life more carefully than most.
(4) A single mom needs to be fed with love and support, and let go of those who cannot.
(5) A single mom needs to replace the guilt of not being able to do everything with pride of accomplishing much.
(6) A single mom needs to learn to reach out for help even when pride stands in her way.
(7) A single mom needs to be okay with rest. It doesn't come often, but when it does, she needs to grab it and run (or sleep).
I'm not good at following this advice, hence the meltdown. The meltdown wasn't pretty, but it was defintely beneficial. I reached out for help, I rested (without guilt), and said no to some things that I normally would have said yes to.
I'm not saying another meltdown won't happen in this lifetime, but I'm learning how to prevent them by taking my own advice.
What's your secret to preventing a mom meltdown? I could use a few more...
I'm tired. Overly tired. My 3 year old doesn't sleep well. At all. So I don't get much sleep either. Pair that with the fact that I can never seem to get enough work done at the office so I end up bringing it home every night. I don't want to work after I leave work, but it's the way the cookie is crumbling right now. I have 2 kids that need, demand, and deserve a lot of attention. While I love them to pieces, they constantly fight with each other and whine without ceasing. It is driving me nutty. I have a home to take care of and a slight OCD compulsion toward cleaning. On top of that, I volunteer at least once, sometimes twice a week. And to seal the deal, I've forgotten to take care of me. I've abandoned my one and only sanity quencher of running and working out. My life does not feel like my own; it feels like I'm to fullfill everyone else but myself.
When I became a single mom I made the decision that I could do what any other married mom could do. I don't want my status as "single" to be a factor in the amount of things I can do or the successfulness of how I do them. Being a single mom is not a handicap.
I've been doing this single mom thing again for almost a year and a half now, and this is what I've realized:
(1) A single mom needs to say "no" to some things, and not feel bad about it.
(2) A single mom needs to say "yes" to herself more often than she's used to or comfortable with.
(3) A single mom needs to prioritize the people and things in her life more carefully than most.
(4) A single mom needs to be fed with love and support, and let go of those who cannot.
(5) A single mom needs to replace the guilt of not being able to do everything with pride of accomplishing much.
(6) A single mom needs to learn to reach out for help even when pride stands in her way.
(7) A single mom needs to be okay with rest. It doesn't come often, but when it does, she needs to grab it and run (or sleep).
I'm not good at following this advice, hence the meltdown. The meltdown wasn't pretty, but it was defintely beneficial. I reached out for help, I rested (without guilt), and said no to some things that I normally would have said yes to.
I'm not saying another meltdown won't happen in this lifetime, but I'm learning how to prevent them by taking my own advice.
What's your secret to preventing a mom meltdown? I could use a few more...
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