Welcome to my own source of personal therapy.
This blog is an outlet for the inner workings of my mind, but is also a story of how you can make anything out of your life regardless of your upbringing or circumstances. You have to persevere and want more.
I made this life I have today, with a loving and ridiculous family who makes every trip around the sun an interesting one. With each step taking me closer to the type of success I dream about. I shouldn’t have what I have, but I do because I wasn’t willing to take less.
My blog is to share some of how I got here and how I keep going places. It’s a place to share struggles and realness. A place to share the absurdity that is being a mom.
Sometimes I overshare in my posts. I curse and give gory details about vaginas and grossness that comes with men and raising kids. But I also talk about spirituality, dealing with your babies not being babies anymore.
In here, I talk about what real life really is.
I’m not writing this blog, Raising the Curtins, to be popular or make boatloads of cash. That would be wonderful, but this blog has other purposes. To give me therapy so I stay somewhat sane, to leave a digital legacy for my children, and to share what’s real in life so others feel a connection through real life, not filters.
“I’m scared Mom.” When she followed up with those three words, it didn’t matter that this lockdown was out of an abundance of caution. It didn’t matter that there was no clear threat. I started to break a little. Maybe part of it was because I’m pregnant and my hormones are heightened. But I also think it was because, on this day, it became too much. It was too soon after seeing….
That video.
There are many things that I think about in my mind that I would never do. I think all minds are like that, right? If not, I suppose I have issues.
For example, kids constantly push you to your “limit.” And you have these split-second thoughts about THE MANY options you have. Seriously, there are so many things you COULD do. You could run away, chose violence, chose neglect, etc. You can think of some horrible options. But, while you think those thoughts, most of us out there CHOOSE the kind choice, the loving choice, the right choice. It doesn’t mean that, for a moment, your mind doesn’t go to a dark place.
At least, mine does. Not all the time. I’m not sitting here constantly thinking of horrible things. But I do occasionally have dark thoughts. Thoughts that I push away because I’m not that type of person. Thoughts I push away because I am not the one thinking those thoughts. I am the one hearing them. I’m hoping that’s totally common, and people just don’t talk about it because they are embarrassed that their minds go to that place.
This post isn’t about my kids, though. This dark thought moment is about my dog. My aging, one paw (maybe 2) on the rainbow bridge, dog.
We arrived at the doctor’s office. You know when you walk into a place, and you immediately feel like something is off? That’s how I felt. This place was bare bones. No frills. Not even a fake plant in the corner. No posters on the wall about smart skin care. Like they just popped up shop here temporarily and threw in the necessary office supplies. Maybe I was biased. Our prior derm also did plastic surgery in another wing of their building so when you walked into their office, you were slapped in the face with elegance. Tiled floors. High ceilings. Swanky furniture.
You were dropping money there…and it showed.
Not here. Oh no. This looked like a place you’d get Narcan.
I’d like to think I’m a pretty great mother. Especially compared to what I had growing up. But I have to admit, there is one part of being a parent …
Vince made stroganoff noodles as a side for dinner last night. Nothing fancy, just a $2.89 bag where you only need to add butter and milk. As we all gathered …
Gianna asked me what time it was yesterday after watching Evie for me. I think she was exhausted and wanted to know how much of her life she just spent …
If you love sarcasm, unfiltered motherhood stories, and the occasional chaos of my life (think: a mind that never stops over-analyzing everything. single. thing., parenting 4 daughters whose age ranges are ridiculous, and being married to an asshole)…you’re in luck.
Whether you're in the carline, folding laundry, or taking an extra long time on the toilet, throw on my audio files and pretend we're having a large glass of wine together and getting real. Because sometimes, you just need a voice in your ear telling you all the crazy shit about a middle aged woman and her family.
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