🚨WordPress Exclusive: Mother Rose🚨

advice, depression, mental health, thoughts, trigger warning

This is going to be hard to write but my mom has been on my mind so I’m going to write about it. On top of that, 11/16/2020 would’ve been her 52nd birthday, RIP mother rose!

I’ll start from the beginning.

Thinking back to one of my first memories of her, she was beautiful and angry, but she always tried to keep us safe in her way.

Unfortunately my earliest memories of her are not happy. We were running. From what, I’ll never know. My sister is gone and my brother can’t remember much. I must’ve been 3 or so. I just remember being in an old brown impala or something like that, squeezed together in the back seat with my brother and sister, wrapped in a blanket that I dragged with me out of bed when I was rudely awaken. My mom had told us to grab blankets and some shoes and hurry up. She was mumbling to herself and reversing quickly, “Motherfucker”. I don’t know what she was pissed off at, but she was mad. I was exhausted and so were my siblings but we always did as we were told, so there we sat sleepily, with our blankets wrapped around us and our shoes barely hanging on our feet. I doze off and never knew what happened that night. We woke up the next day back at home. I don’t know where we ended up that night. I would like to say the neighbor’s trailer but I’m not positive on that one, I know we definitely made a pit stop there. Regardless, it wouldn’t be the last time we were running when we were with our mom.

A fonder memory was my mom watching Barney with me one morning, my brother and sister were off to school. I was upset that I couldn’t go with them but I remember her sitting there with me to watch TV, telling me to stop crying. I heard that a lot when she was around me. Suppress the cries, always.

The first time I remember getting in trouble by my mom was when I climbed out of my crib using a toy box because I wanted more milk. My mom was upset I didn’t go to sleep, so she yelled while giving me milk and sent me back to bed, telling me to figure out how to get back in the crib the same way I did to get out. I cried then too, but I figured it out.

As I’m writing, more of these memories are popping up. It’s crazy how many things we can lock away.

When I was 4 and in pre-k, my brother and I were riding our bikes one morning before the bus came. I didn’t tie my shoe and my shoe lace got caught in the chain. If I thought my mom was angry before this, I was wrong. She definitely screamed at me because the bus was waiting and the rhetorical questions started, why were we even on our bikes, nobody told us to do that. She cut my laces and told me to go, not changing my shoe or helping me tie it. I ran out of the house and ran for the bus as I silently cried. I struggled with trying to tie my shoe, but with one lace nearly gone, the long lace wouldn’t tie. The bus driver assistant eventually helped me tie my shoes and told me it was okay. I didn’t believe her but I sucked up my tears because I didn’t want her to see me cry. The bus finally drove away and I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears. It was time to go to school, my favorite place of all.

As I grew older the memories become more clear obviously. Like when my mom took us to Taco Bell to get food, and when we arrived at home, my dad was there unexpectedly. They were already split up so he shouldn’t have been there and the moment my mom saw his truck I heard that same “Motherfucker!” phrase I heard before. An insane fight broke out that landed my mom behind bars and my dad in the hospital.

When I say my mom was angry, I mean she was angry and acted like it. She was a fighter for sure! Not only did she hit my skinny ass dad in the head with a pan, she threw a hammer dead at his face. Thankfully, I saw the pan only and not the hammer. Once the fight got physical, my brother and I dipped out, I have no clue where my sister went. We ran to the back of the fields behind our house and my brother left me there to go back and check on what was happening. At the time, I was six and he was eight or nine but he was braver than I. I cowered in the field waiting for him to get back. Not much time had passed before he came running back and he didn’t stop at me, he was crying and running towards the neighbors across the half acre of land. I followed him foolishly and got lost as I couldn’t keep up. I decided to turn back and finally found my way through all of the trees to the fence line which I followed back to the gate. By the time I made it back, it was getting dark. I walked back to the house, joined my sister who was standing on the porch, and waited for my brother as I watched my mom going psycho. “Hide the beer!“. That’s all I remember doing, taking the beer and throwing it in the closet before going back outside. The sirens were nearing and my mom joined us on the porch. My brother was back and we were silent as ever. I watched my mom tell us sorry as she was handcuffed and put into the cop car. I heard the ambulance sirens rushing my dad to the hospital (turns out my mom threw a hammer at his face, which my brother and sister witnessed). That explained why my brother was running through the field, he later recounted that he heard dad tell my mom’s brother to take him to Shannon’s. We waited there with the police officers until my grandmother got there. I think my uncle waited there too. The ride to her house, I remember questioning myself, thinking the reason my mom was taken to jail was because I had told the cops where the beer was. I felt like I had failed her. She had tasked me with one thing and one thing only, hide the beer. I hid it in the hallway closet, but I couldn’t lie to the police. I was little, scared, and as I continued to think about it, I shut down.

So that’s how life started with my mom and that’s how it stayed.

It was forever a rollercoaster, who needed the adventure park when life was an adventure.

There were good times and bad times, but there was never a boring time.

Truth be told about my mom, she was abused as a child. Her mom was from Thailand, came to America by marrying my soldier grandfather, and spent her life drinking, smoking, and cheating. I don’t really know what to believe of the stories I’ve been told over the years, but I know what to believe based on what I’ve seen. I only knew my grandma Nan as the lady who we did not want to disturb when we went over and who sat and drank, smoked, and played lottery a lot. If that’s the same version my mom got as a child, I’m sure my grandma Nan did not put up with anything that would disturb the peace.

All I know based on my mom’s unaccountable stories of her as a child is that my grandmother beat her a lot and she spent a lot of time fighting in school. She’s also mentioned playing with monkeys and riding elephants before coming to America. That’s all I know about her childhood.

To say I don’t believe it would be a lie, I spent years watching my mom fuck people up! Mainly my stepdad but she was never scared! I went with her to a parking lot one time so she could pick up a gun. She got mad I kept asking where we were going, so she told me she’s getting a gun with silencer because she was tired of the neighbor’s keeping her dad up. I don’t know what she did after getting the gun, but she also could’ve used that as a cover to picking up drugs. I don’t know. I also saw my grandmother pull my mom by the hair once and it was the only time I’ve ever seen my mom cower as a grown adult. So it’s not hard to believe the stories my mom told as I did see her trauma when her mom was upset with her. I just believe there was plenty of variations to it.

Anyway, the years weren’t all bad but there’s never a good memory without a bad one. We spent summers going to the river and beaches. Outdoor activities were cheap and my mom loved fishing.

Those summers were fun. My sister left to Dallas with her dad at some point so most of the time it was my brother and I just roaming free with no parents! We survived and that’s kind of surprising. We learned to stay out of our mom’s hair. Some days she was patient and loving, she bought us things, we went out to eat, I could talk to her about stuff and she would listen, sometimes give me a little bit of knowledge, then be on her way.

As a kid and teenager, my mom really fucked with us. She told me my dad wasn’t my dad, she wanted to sign her rights over to my grandmother, always giving her legal guardianship when she felt too overwhelmed. She would go missing sometimes, but we had our grandma so we were fine. When she showed up around holidays, sometimes she was beat in the face, making excuses for one of her sorry ass boyfriends, I ran into a pole. Sometimes she looked absolutely amazing and I was proud of her. During those times, she would get us back from my grandma claiming to have changed and that she was ready and stable.

The stability lasted until my stepdad landed in jail. Until she couldn’t afford the bills alone again. Until we had to move, back to my grandma’s, until she was on her feet again.

By the time she got well, I was already gone. Obviously making poor choices of my own but never failing in life because of them. She had a good 1-2 year run where she had met a man and I hated him but he was good for her. Then drugs came back. She was gone again.

I learned to live pretty independently, only relying on people for things I absolutely needed to. Only trusting my brother and sister.

Even as an adult with my own kids, my mom’s patterns didn’t really change. In and out of jail and rehab. Jail charges for fraud, drugs, assault, burglary, etc. I had to find my own way without worrying about her.

My sister stopped talking to her for years before my sister got cancer and needed someone to help her. My mom did step up and take care of my sister while she was dying. They made peace with each other and my sister made me realize that I had to learn to forgive. If my sister could do that, surely I could. She fucked my sister up way more than the rest of us, although my sister told me that my mom wasn’t always this person. She told me that my mom used to be a PTA mom. I laughed so hard thinking of her as a PTA mom. She said that she used to show up for events at school and that she was there up until she was like 5. My mom was 15 when she had my sister. My grandma threw my sister out of a window of a car to my mom, to make my mom take care of her baby. My mom didn’t have a choice at 15 but to be a mom so she tried and that makes me feel a little better. She wanted to try.

Somewhere along the way, drugs took over and never left fully. Eventually, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, like my sister. She was diagnosed in November of 2017 and died in January 2019. Literally months before she died, I forgave her. She told me in December 2018, a month before she died, that she was proud of me and that I was a better mom than she ever was to us. It was in that moment that I realized my mom was just a broken person my entire life and that she did try her best with the resources she had. She made sure we had the basic needs and when she couldn’t do that, she found other places for us to go. If she couldn’t do that, we figured out our own ways because that was how we had to survive. We watched her survive, be innovative, creative, so we could do it too.

To this day, that’s what we do. We survive no matter what!

This is long and there’s so many more memories I could talk about. My mom was crazy. She was broken, but in the times she was okay, she showed us love in her own way. I can’t say I’m not grateful that she was my mom because I wouldn’t be half of the crazy person I am today without her.

I wish I would’ve forgiven my mom sooner and helped her a lot sooner instead of cutting her off. I can be glad she got right before she died. I know she’s somewhere with my grandpa, her dad, because he loved her so much and never gave up on her. I know the one thing my mom had to live with was not being able to tell her dad bye. My grandma wouldn’t let her in the house when he passed away and that’s because of my mom’s choices. She struggled with this but never talked about it.

Anyway, I guess my mom is still around and heavy on my mind lately. She was a strong woman who succumbed to addiction and mental illness. It can really affect a person and the people around them.

Make sure you take care of yourself everyone! Don’t let your mental health mess with your life so bad that the choices you make are regretted.

Forreal, speak up if you need help. There’s people out here who don’t judge and want to help you! I wish my mom would’ve done it sooner.

Rest In Peace Mother Rose! Thanks for always trying your best and accepting me always even when you yourself didn’t agree with my choices, how ironic.

-Dear Perception

*CW: I, Pedophile: My Thoughts on the Documentary

current events, Social Injustice, thoughts, trigger warning

First thing is first: This is an uncomfortable conversation.

Please read to the end. There’s an entire thought process I have going here and I would love for you to see it through and then provide feedback. I would love an open discussion because I am always open to hear how someone else thinks. I am not here for arguments so don’t start.

Second thing: I am in no way saying any of this is acceptable, I am in no way okay with the idea of adults harming a child. I have three beautiful daughters and I would go to jail for them if needed. So I don’t play around with any of this. This matter is highly serious and highly disturbing. I’m just saying, we all know that people like this exist and they aren’t going away unfortunately. We have to stop being uncomfortable talking about it. It’s real and it’s sick as hell but these people have serious problems!! Not an excuse, but as other people, we typically try to fix people with problems right?

Let’s talk about it!

I kept seeing angry people post about Amazon having this on their Prime selections. At first, I was skeptical, but I didn’t judge until I watched it. One note, this documentary was created in 2016. So for people to bring it up now that this is trending, that’s a slick move. However, if you had a problem with it, why didn’t you talk about it in 2016?

I want everyone to take the time (as I just did) to watch this if you haven’t. You must not watch this with a closed mind.

This documentary wasn’t created to normalize pedophilia as many people are saying. It was meant to bring awareness to the problem at hand to prevent this shit from happening in the first place. Normalizing something is like the fight for the LGBTQ community who continuously fight for their right to love who they want to love and society is finally accepting that because that’s not bad whatsoever. Who cares if it’s a male and male or female and female. It better not be a child though, that’s obviously extremely wrong. This documentary is not saying that pedophilia should be accepted in that form. This documentary is simply stating that there may be a way to stop these people from hurting their targets if we acknowledge the problem in the right ways. From what I can see, we all want to fix this problem we have right? We want pedophiles to stop fucking hurting our children! We want sick people to keep their thoughts in their heads, let alone even think them in the first place. We can’t stop someone’s thoughts though.

Therefore, if you are #saveourchildren and promoting this recent trend, which BTW, has been around forever, sex trafficking, children being molested and sexually abused, this has been a thing, I’m glad people are finally talking about it! It’s the same way #blacklivesmatter has been a thing but the hash tag dies out after a few months until the next time. Why is there always a next time?

Don’t jump on a bandwagon if you’re not about to actually try to make effective change or bring awareness to things that can prevent this from occurring.

Pedophilia is sick and twisted, absolutely. It would be easier to just kill these people instead of trying to help. However, our current systems in place isn’t the death penalty and how are you going to change that? Take it into your own hands? Sure, but even the victims who kill their abusers have to go to jail for a bit until a judge rules that it was justified…. what kind of system do we even have in place? Why do we have to ask if it was justified to kill someone who was hurting me?

Our current systems in place includes some jail time and a label for the pedophiles, sometimes the prisoners take things into their own hands behind the bars. That isn’t enough. These people who are potentially mentally ill (not an excuse) but they are going to act again because the value of acting upon their thoughts are higher than the effects of “punishment”. Repeat offenders are a thing because our justice system isn’t punishing shit. If they were, there wouldn’t be “repeat offenders” 🤯

Nothing is stopping this from happening. There are people as young as 14-17 , maybe younger, that figure out they like kids. That the 8 year old they liked when they were 8 years old, they still like the 8 year old even though they themselves are now 14-15 years of age. They are scared, because what can they do about it? They are realizing like oh shit, I have a problem, society is going to hate me, I don’t know what to do. Then before you know it, it’s too late.

True story, from the documentary, a 17 year old reached out for help because he realized he had a problem. He told someone, “if you don’t hear from me again, I’m contemplating suicide.” He killed himself at 17 and his parents may not even know why.

For the answer to the “what can I do?” I know there are obvious ones. Perhaps they should just change their thoughts, sure. Stop thinking like that, just go find someone who is their own age. Great advice! However, instead of instantly turning away from these people, let’s study them and figure out to see, can they do that and if so how? If we’re being honest, I’m not sure if you’ve ever tried to change your thoughts, it’s doable, but it’s difficult.

There are studies being conducted to show that the brain in pedophiles are actually different because the connections, connectivity tissue, something like this, and the white matter in the brain, are different than the males who find older females or females their age attractive. Literal evidence that the brain elicits the same response in a pedophile when they see a child or teen that are elicited in heterosexual males when they see a grown female. What do you do about that? Can you change it? We change the brain with therapy and medicine usually. Right?

There are people who try to get help before they act out but there’s no help because society fkn hates pedophiles and rightfully so. Again, I’m not agreeing with what these people do. I’m saying, how can we truly stop what’s happening? In our entire world, there are only 2 research groups working on this because that’s how uncomfortable we are with this concept.

Fact check: there are over 250,000 people who have pedophilic tendencies in Germany alone. In Canada, an estimated 160,000. What do you think the numbers are for our country? There are people who will never act on their tendencies or thoughts. There are people you don’t even know that are having these private thoughts and you are their friend, family member, coworker, etc. These sick people are around you and it’s not by your choice. Whether you want to acknowledge that or not.

If we can stop them from acting on these sick thoughts, we can decrease child sex trafficking and molestations that occur around our own city everyday.

There are some resources for people who need help to stop yourself from doing something regrettable and dumb.

This group aims to provide support for people who know that they have these thoughts but don’t want to act on it! Interesting Read.

There’s also a group called virtuous pedophiles which is a terrible name, they try to help each other not act on their tendencies as well, taking an oath to celibacy, I understand this entire shit is twisted, it’s uncomfortable as hell to even write about and to think about the judgment of this post. It’s terrifying actually because I know this can all get twisted and I know people are going to say, “They are trying to normalize it” and I understand how it looks like that and to some degree they are trying to normalize that this exists but they are not justifying these actions are correct. It’s not people saying, “It’s so normal for them to feel this way towards kids!”. I think it’s people saying, “There’s a way to prevent this from happening, let’s figure out how to do that!”

Here’s a story from a regular person who was a photographer I believe (not a pedophile) who joined the virtuous pedophiles group to get insight on it.

All I’m saying is, truly educate yourself. We can make a difference. We just have to figure out how to be a little uncomfortable to do so. So uncomfortable that I’ve been writing this post literally all day. Trying to find the best way to say this while being uncomfortable even saying it. Help these sick people, how could I think of that? I think of the bigger picture. The picture of taking the time to get uncomfortable to save innocent children from being touched inappropriately or even worse. If these current researchers have the foundation for potentially treating these sick thoughts, wouldn’t you agree that we should try to prevent them from acting on their thoughts. Or do you agree with our current system of pretending these people don’t exist and let’s act super fucking shocked when there is another news story about this.

Break the cycle.

Step out of your comfort zone, read and watch things to truly learn, and figure out how you can help the problem. If you want to push for these people to get help, push for that. If you want to push instant death penalty for them, then push that. If you want to take it upon yourself to handle these issues, figure something out. But do more proactive things than mindlessly sharing information because you read it on someone’s post.

There’s more that we can and should be doing, I’m going to try to figure that out.

The following projects are also out for catching pedophiles and you should support these people as well, as they are proactively fighting the war against sex trafficking and sexual abuse of a child or adolescent. So, if everyone can fight the war, one of the many wars we have in our country and world, then the world may be one step closer to finding the peace.

Live Chat for Human Trafficking Hotline

#SAVEOURCHILDREN

-Dear Perception

*CW: Nature vs. Nurture

advice, mental health, Parenting, thoughts, trigger warning

This argument, in all the years I’ve had to pick a side for an argumentative essay, I’ve never chosen a side.

Okay, before we start on today’s rant, let’s keep in mind this isn’t the typical debate. We’ve all had to learn about nature vs. nurture, and if you haven’t basically it’s about a person and the way they turn out as an adult, is it a product of nature (natural events such as genetics) or nurture (the way they were raised). There’s also something now called epigenetics which says that nurture can affect the genes. 🤯 Read More Here.

There’s definitely not a definitive answer to this question though.

The answer is both or all of it. 🤷‍♀️

People can develop their own ideas and constructs from anything. Look around at the world. All of the controversy is typically because of differing opinions, or misinterpretation, or a different perspective. Therefore, nature vs. nurture wise, you can become who you are based on both, depending on how you choose to interpret it.

Let me lay it out.

I’m a product of both.

My parents were drug addicts, in and out of jail, rehabs, multiple different people in their lives, domestic violence, check!

My mom suffered from schizo affect disorder and bipolar disorder. Risk factor for me, pretty high.

I moved over 15 times in the span of 13 years…. no military affiliation. I saw cocaine and needles at the age of 3. I saw physical fighting, hammers being thrown, hair being pulled, my mom smacking my dad upside the head with a frying pan, stepdad choking my mom out while she beat him upside the head with a cordless phone charger. I’ve seen some things, but I recognize it’s not as bad as some people still.

I’ve seen my mom purchase a gun with a silencer because she was tired of the neighbors partying. And I’m not saying she killed anybody, I’m just saying I never heard those neighbors party again, because they moved shortly after.

I’ve seen the cop car lights in the middle of the night, I’ve been unsure or where I was going to live. I’ve woken up with no electricity, literally gotten dressed in the dark. I’ve gone without eating and I’ve gone without basic things you would think all children have growing up, trust me. Again, I want to recognize that some children still have it worse. Let’s not forget #saveourchildren.

It’s easy to fall into the statistics with this background. Not to say I didn’t, because I most definitely did in some aspects.

I started partying at age 12. Drinking, smoking, acting wild. I did that. I smoked my first cigarette when I was 6. Wtf was I even doing? I stole from stores and hid drugs for people at the age of 7. I skipped school, I hung out with the gangbangers, I started a “gang”, high school shit, I’ve carved into my skin, the whole cutting phase was a thing, and I never backed down from anything or anyone, ready to fight at all times.

My dad kicked me out at age 16. I got pregnant at the age of 17. So yeah, to say I didn’t alter my life negatively in some ways, I won’t lie about. My first born was my savior though. She really doesn’t even understand.

I went through a rebellious kid phase that lasted from age 6-17/18 I guess. It was a crazy journey but I adapted to my surroundings as best as I could. That’s not me anymore, to an extent.

I graduated high school with a 3.95 GPA. I never failed a class. Only got suspended once, surprisingly. I graduated earlier than the rest of my class. I started college immediately after and went on to earn my Masters degree at the age of 26. Today I’m a behavior analyst managing a fucking clinic! I have a house, three kids now, and I’m hustling everyday to never go back to where I came from.

On the flip side, I’ll never forget where I came from. Would I say I made it? Absolutely but I still have more goals to accomplish.

One thing is for sure, my kids will never have to struggle but they will know about the struggle.

So nurture wise, it played its part, but nature wise, instinctively I was stronger. I mean, I have my weaknesses mentally, I’m not okay all of the time. Nurture wise, that did mess me up a little, but nature wise, I’m still stronger. I will still fight to ensure a better life for myself and my children.

So to the great debate, I say don’t let that determine who you become. Let it all play a part, but in the end make your own decisions! You do have control over your choices now, if you let some of that baggage that’s holding you down go. Don’t let the past define everything about you. It will affect you, it will be hard to overcome triggers, it will be difficult. That’s not sugar coated. It’s up to you to fight and not give up, even when it feels like life is crushing you, you can turn it around. Think outside of the box. Think survival. Because if there’s anything that is natural human instincts, survival is one of them!

You got this!

-Dear Perception

*CW: Fucked Upness

anxiety, black lives matter, Poetry, racism, Social Injustice, thoughts, trigger warning
Vectorstock.com

I used to think life was hard.

Until I became more aware.

I started looking around me

And I started to care.

Everyone I see

Is living with anxiety

Because that’s the way society

Would really like for us to be.

Fearful and scared.

Quivering in the corner.

Slap on your mask.

That’s governor’s orders.

Scroll through your newsfeed

In reality it’s all the same

Scroll by mindlessly.

Pandemic talk, did you hear? There’s a new plague

But wait….

What about Epstein?

Have you seen the latest news?

Sex trafficking is real.

The suspects look like me and you.

They may have money, what the fuck?

It may be the one you never thought would be the one.

Fucked upness doesn’t stop there.

Racism is alive and living ain’t fair.

The economy is crashing.

But let’s focus on the kids.

School is almost back in session.

Virtual or classroom, take a pick.

Another wave of stimulus checks.

Yay, that’ll pay another month’s rent.

But then… what’s next?

Landlords starting to evict.

Streets are crowding, filling up quick.

Where do people go now when they get sick?

Hospitals are full, fingers crossed you make it.

This is it?

This is life?

Black lives matter.

Wash your hands. 20 seconds no less.

Wear your mask.

Back the blue .

Help the needy. Do what you can do.

Save the kids.

Fuck Cancer.

Vaccines, abortions.

This is not another trend.

This is it?

This is life?

Do your best.

Survive.

*Note: I hope everyone is doing okay and I really hope this poem doesn’t affect you. It’s real life and if you’re going through any of this I wish there was a way to help. If anyone needs help I can share and publicize fundraisers and what not. I’m hoping for better days soon! Stay strong. We’re in the together! 💪

*CW: Blast From the Past

anxiety, mental health, thoughts, trigger warning

As I set my status to away before I left for the weekend. There were so many thoughts going through my head. We headed out regardless and I found myself excited for the weekend. I reassured myself countless times that everything was going to be okay.

It was as in nobody died while I was gone or while I was there.

My brother and I always took a trip with my mom and stepdad when we were kids. It was one of the few spots my mom would take us to. We did a lot of outdoor things because it was affordable and I am grateful for what we used to do on a budget.

When we were kids, my brother and I would run the entire river and hike the mountains (actual mountain in picture below, across from where we are standing).

We would steal paddle boats, jump off of the cliffs into the water.

We would play pick up games on the basketball courts, almost getting shot once when a game went wrong.

When it was time to sleep, we slept.

We slept in a kid’s tent through a thunderstorm that had winds so hard they knocked down a log branch and it damaged the van that my mom and stepdad were sleeping in.

I got stuck on the mountain one time and had to wait up there alone as my brother had to go first find my mom who was fishing somewhere and then get her to go up and help me down. She only had to tell me once for me to be able to have enough strength and courage to climb that mountain. I didn’t want to disturb her peace again. The next time we went, we made it to the top and I watched nervously as my brother dangled his feet over the edge of the cliff.

I was around ten years old when I drove my stepdad’s S10 around the park because he was completely wasted and went to find us after we weren’t at the campsite when they got back from fishing. I refused to let him drive and he fought me a little but eventually gave me the keys. Luckily, this wasn’t my first time driving. As we drove I listened to him slur his way through some rant about him and my mom arguing. That was enough information for me to dismiss myself immediately once we got back as I did not want to witness another argument. I tried to go to sleep fast.

The memories we have at that park are plenty good and plenty bad. I know we never got a shelter or a cabin and I would always stare at them as we passed them by. We always got a campsite next to the fishing spot and the mountain. We ate whatever there was, typically sandwiches, hotdogs, hamburgers, we snacked a ton, and we stayed out of my mom’s hair. That last one was rule number one.

That was the place my mom wanted us to throw her ashes. I have visited this park a couple times on a day trip, never overnight as an adult.

Until last year when we honored my mom’s wish.

We’ve made plenty of new memories. My brother with his family and me with mine. Our kids are loving it but I look at that mountain we used to hike and my heart rate increases. There is no way in hell you will catch my kids running fucking wild in that park. My brother and I spent time laughing at shit we used to do, trying to figure out how the fuck we actually survived.

Regardless of the reason we were there, we are now showing our kids completely different things than what we did and saw.

We stay with them for one. We rented a campsite last year and a screen shelter this year. Next year, we’re moving into cabins, which I never knew existed until I was older just FYI. I thought those were for super rich people, but I am grateful to be able to afford a campsite at the very least. It really isn’t that bad of a price because I am cheap myself.

We rent the paddle boats now instead of stealing them, that’s growth.

My kids are watched constantly and we are showing them how to survive as well. I want them to have the fun I did as a kid but my anxiety as an adult is interfering. This year was better and easier as we learned from our mistakes last year. Which means that next year should be even smoother and factoring in that all of the kids will be another year older!

My mom was busy with her own vices when I was little. She didn’t supervise anything but her fishing rod, beer, and cigarettes. However, my brother and I made some memories that some kids may never get.

When we were younger, we ran with the wolves. Free spirits, fitting in and adapting as needed.

Now that I am more aware of my surroundings, I am shocked by how much I didn’t know as a child. How naive I truly was because I was busy in my own world, chasing the next adrenaline rush and trying to fit in and impress my big brother.

Catch me taking pictures and sitting down now as I let my children jump off of the ropes, of course with my brother and my boyfriend close by just in case.

-Dear Perception

*CW: The Inevitable

advice, anxiety, depression, mental health, thoughts, trigger warning

My brain is doing the thing again, playing defense. Not allowing the emotions to creep into my mind because I’ve cried enough. It’s time to step the fuck up now.

My dad is dying and there’s nothing I can do about it. COVID won’t even allow him to have any visitors so he has to go through everything alone. His words today were, “I just don’t want to die in the hospital.”

I’ve lost my sister and my mom to cancer so this isn’t my first trip with this monster. However, this time is different. This time, I can’t support my dad through this. I can only help from a distance.

With that being said, my wall goes up. I’ve accepted fate, I have to deal with it, there’s nothing I can do and I must move on in life.

So I continue to work, parent, and pretend that there is nothing wrong.


This post was started a couple of weeks ago, I never finished because obviously the emotions rise up and I’m currently in the process of shutting them down.

However, I’m trying again, to acknowledge the fact that I’m going to be sad. My dad is not sounding too good via text anyway. He doesn’t want to talk on the phone. The signs are flashing in my face and I’m nervous as hell.

Is that the Grim Reaper appearing for the fifth time? Another victim of cancer to join the other souls who are battling COVID and cancer, and all sorts of other fatal illness. Not to mention for the people who die suddenly, when people aren’t even ready, by the hands of others sometimes.

Either way, death is sad AF for the people who are left behind to grieve.

So here’s a poem to release my current thoughts.


The room is black, but my eyes are open.

The light seems to be distant.

My heart is starting to fill its tank.

Preparing for the battle of what’s consistent.

The inevitable, the end of our time.

The time when we take our last breath.

Close your eyes now, truth be told.

It’s time to finally rest.

This life is hell, this life ruthless.

This life can end so soon.

This life is completely what you make it.

Until for you, there’s no more room.

This is dark.

I’m aware.

Let’s be fair.

Death isn’t bright.

Fuck all diseases, cancer, and COVID.

Fuck all the people who took other’s lives.

I’m terrified, I won’t be shy.

I’m scared as fuck to die.

My kids are young, they need me here.

But I don’t get to choose my time.


In summary, value your loved ones. Value those relationships you hold close with others. Accept what you can and can’t control. Death is coming either way, whether you or anybody else is ready and this is a touchy topic I’m aware. It makes me sad as fuck to talk about this. I would like to talk about it anyway, because it’s hard to process the inevitable sometimes. It helps me process that it’s real when I talk and write about it. Even though I’ve lost plenty of people, this is still a very hard topic for me and the underlying foundation of my anxiety. I’m not ready to die. So I’m at least leaving this behind in the event anything happens, but also videos and pictures. Videos are more important. If you’ve never lost someone close, take more videos. Get their voice, their laughs, everything. That is the closest thing you will have to them and I regret that I didn’t do that for my sister. I miss her the most and don’t have any videos of her really. I’m doing better with creating lasting memories of the loved ones that I have left. Cherish your time people!

-Dear Perception