I Got Just One Life In A World That Keeps On Pushin’ Me Around But I’ll Stand My Ground

My Grandpa has been calling.

I haven’t answer the phone because, well because I didn’t want to talk to him. He first left a voicemail maybe 2 weeks ago now.

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But this morning when my phone rang, I didn’t recognize the number so I picked up. Turns out, he had got in touch with his friend and had managed to get his hands on a ‘package’ for me.

I guess he’s coming down this weekend for Thanksgiving but he was worried about how he was going to get it on the plane (good call). So he wanted to get my address from me.

I could tell he’d either been thinking it through or he’s done this before, because he was explaining how his post office has special packages he can use to wrap it and he’ll use a fake return address, all this detail. So I’m leaning towards this not being his first time doing  something along these lines.

He also said this one’s on him, and all I could think was it’s the least he could do. Well that and not expect me to offer to roll one with him… Ever.

That being said. I’ve been waffling back and forth between telling my sister R about what happened with my Grandpa. I don’t want to make a big deal about it for my sake, but I want to make her aware of it for her kids safety. I have 4 nieces, and I would be horrified if something happened to them that I could have prevented by letting R know. But on the other hand I don’t want to cause issues if this was a one-off situation… like I think to myself how far would he really go? My nieces are YOUNG!?!

So for now, I’m not officially decided, but since there’s been no talk of my nieces visiting him any time soon, I at least have some time to make the decision. Although if I find out my sister is considering sending them there for a visit without other adult supervision… like next summer for a vacation or something, then 100% I’m telling her.


-Tom Petty/I Won’t Back Down-

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What A Revelation It Was To Her, When She Realized That She Didn’t Need To Settle

So this Kelowna thing.

It’s affecting me deeper than I expected. My boss is trying so hard to find a way to make it work for everyone, but right now, the focus is on myself, mainly because of the financial aspect. Sure soon I’ll have to deal with the whole E/visitation part but that’s an entirely different ball game.

As it is right now, I am the sole owner of my house. No co-signer. No renting. I own it. Which on its own is something to be proud of considering a few years ago I was flying back from Kenya with a negative bank balance and embarking on a journey to becoming a single parent. So looking at it in that light, I’ve come a long way.

Just apparently not far enough.

I love my house, and I’m proud of it. It suits my family’s needs perfectly and I couldn’t have found something better if I had looked for years! One of the best aspects of my place? Is the fact that it’s not a mobile home.

I realize that I’ll probably sound arrogant and uppity during this post, but why should this post differ from any other in me just saying what I’m thinking?

I’ve worked HARD to get myself and my kids to where we are now, and although we don’t live in a million dollar house, we don’t live in a trailer park, and never have. Which is something I can say that, yes, I am proud of when I truly think of it. Which is why this Kelowna thing is messing with me.

It is DAMN expensive there. At least comparatively to where I am now. To purchase accommodations similar to what I have now, would run me $400,000-$475,000 deep. And let’s be honest, I just don’t have that kind of cash lying around. The money I do have? Enough for a mobile home in that area.

My boss is trying to make this move feasible for all of us in the office like I said. So he’s throwing out options like helping with the down payment or the company buying the place I choose, and then us arranging a lease to own type thing. But even with those options, there is a price cap, which would only put me in the “upper end” mobile homes (if that’s even a thing), or a really crappy/shady neighbourhood.

K, I totally appreciate the offer. I don’t want to seem ungrateful or anything. But this has gotten me so emotional.

I feel like I’ve worked so hard to get my family and myself where we are, that to me, moving until a mobile home would be a step back. I completely understand it’s probably because of the whole stigma with a trailer park etc, but why should I accept anything but the best for us? I’m not being forced into this move. I shouldn’t have to go unless I feel anything less than 100% about it right?

Sure. Except, my boss has made it clear that if I don’t go, the company doesn’t relocate.He doesn’t want to mess up the operations of the company and how smoothly it’s running now. So, no me? No move.  Which means that the house my boss and his wife have already contacted a Real Estate agent about? And are ready to put in an offer for? Gone. And I mean he is ready! I’ve been hearing him on the phone with his bank talking mortgages and down payments etc. It also means all the research my co-workers been doing on which new schools are best, day care costs, getting her husband on board even though HE doesn’t have a guaranteed job there once they move, will be for nothing.

All because I don’t want to live in a trailer park.

It’s not just the whole stigma of a trailer park though. It’s the whole mobile home. I like having an entirely empty floor between myself and the kids sometimes while they play in the basement and I’m ALL THE WAY upstairs in my room, as opposed to LITERALLY 2 feet away. I like that thick sound proof walls I have, and the nicely insulated walls, for both summer and winter. I like the full-sized hallways and space just for the sake of space. I like my foundation.

I also like the fact that I paid for it on my own. It’s been embarrassing at work to be the only person in this situation. Discussing finances with your boss is not the most comfortable thing. And it feels SUPER uncomfortable to just be expected to accept an offer for a house upgrade basically? It’s just yet another situation there’s no manual or How To book for. How many people, if asked the question has your company ever offered to buy you a house? Could genuinely say yes?

So maybe that’s why I’m so conflicted. Maybe this is way to good to be true. Maybe beggars can’t be choosers. Maybe Kharma does exist.


-Amy Rubin-

She Needs Wide Open Spaces Room To Make Her Big Mistakes She Needs New Faces She Knows The High Stakes

I know it’s been a week+ since I posted. I’ve been going back and working on editing my previous posts like I mentioned before.

But I had to write about today because again, I’ve been seriously asked by an employer if I would consider moving to Kelowna.

The first time was when I was 20, and I was working as a Nanny for this wonderful family. At this point I’d been their Nanny for around two years. They were good bosses and we got along well. Because of a new direction in the dads job, they were planning on moving to Kelowna. The mom would often show me houses they were looking at, and when they finally decided on a beautiful house, she explained in great detail all the fantastic stuff it came with. Starting with it being in a gated community, steps away from the lake… and it had a pool house in the back. And then she paused. I’m there waiting for more… like yeah ok?? Then she explained how they had taken into consideration me possibly moving with them when they were buying the house and if I were to come I would have my own little house in the back. So would I like to move to a new province with them?

Wow. I know I’m a good employee, but I did not see this coming. Up until that point, since I was working two jobs, I had just figured I would pick up more shifts at the restaurant for now until I figured out my next move. I asked her if I could have some time to think about it, and she said for sure and that was that.

I went home and thought about my life here and how at the time I was dating E, and I actually 100% truth, used him as my reason to stay. Well that and deep down I felt that if I moved with them now, I would feel obligated to be their Nanny forever. And I did not want to be a 40 year old Nanny. So after a couple days I told my boss that I was truly grateful for the offer, but I didn’t feel like I was ready to leave my life here, and that E and I were getting really serious so I didn’t want to jeopardize that.

Fast forward to today, and my current boss A asks me to step outside and brings up the possibility of us relocating to Kelowna if we are all on board with the idea. Like I said before, I work in a small office, where there are currently just the 3 of us actually in the office. We recruit people from all over Canada to work in remote areas up north, and most of the work is done over the phone/email. We don’t really have the guys we hire in office for anything so we can pretty much be based out of whatever city we want. And weather wise, Kelowna would be MUCH better than where I currently am, as well as so many other positives.

As far as attachments to my current city… I don’t have many. I’m easy going and as you know I’ve moved country’s before so a relocation to another province seems like a drop in the bucket to me. I mean at least we’d still be in Canada.

I mentioned it to my parents, and my mom felt like it would be good, although she told me she cried after the phone call, which I totally get. It was hard on them when I upped and moved to Africa with their grandkids. My dad straight up told me that he didn’t like it and I shouldn’t do it. Unless I was 30 years invested into the job and my pension was hinged on it, I should just get another job here in the city.

But the thing is, I really have no attachment to where I live. I hate the winters. I don’t like the big city feel. Among so many other factors.

So to be given the opportunity to move to a warmer, smaller town, where I have family already, AND have a job there? Why wouldn’t I jump at that?

Plus at this point having been asked by 3 different people (two bosses and also when K asked if I would consider living there) to move to the same city, kinda seems like maybe I should start listening to the hints the world is trying to send my way.

So for now, it’s just an idea that’s floating around the office, but maybe this is the big move number 3 that the psychic/palm reader was talking about lol.


-Dixie Chicks/Wide Open Spaces-

I Never Lose Nothing But Damn I Done Had It I Ain’t Never Strike Out They Can’t Average What I Batted No

So thanks to E constantly delaying the divorce, today is officially my eight year wedding anniversary. And I’ve spent 3.5 of those years trying to put E in my past. It’s a work in progress.

August 7th, 2009. The seventh day, of the eighth month, of the ninth year. E didn’t care when we got married but to me it was important and plus it looked aesthetically pleasing on the invitation. 07.08.09.

But now, 8 years later and it’s all a moot point. 8 years of life with him that, to be fair is almost done. The divorce papers (like I’m sure I’ve said before) are almost signed. We’re just waiting on E and hopefully he doesn’t find something else to comment on and ask to change last-minute again.
But that’s not the reason I’m writing today.

When I woke up this morning, on my ‘anniversary’ I found myself reflecting back at my life not so much during the past eight years, but more just the past 1 year, and at how much has changed, and I just wanted to do a recap. Mostly for myself. To remind myself, that yeah C, you continue to make shitty mistakes but you also are growing as an individual. And that’s what’s important.
So, without further ado, here’s my year in review.

  • I bought and moved into my very own house with only my name on the mortgage.
  • I quit a high stress job for an equal paying position but I work only 4 days a week now, receive bonuses and my boss is way cooler.
  • I tried marijuana for the first time this year and now take edibles almost daily. They’ve helped so much with the headaches I used to get from my seizures.
  • I got my empty birdcage tattoo to represent that there are no bars holding me back anymore as well as replaced two piercings (one on my wrist and one on my ankle) I had to remove a long time ago for an MRI..
  • I went to a shooting range and shot a gun for the first time, doing quite well at it.
  • I bought tickets for my first couple concerts. Jay Z in December, and also I’m taking my Dad to see Guns and Roses this month for his birthday… to be honest I’m actually most excited to see Our Lady Peace who’s opening for them lol, they were the first CD I ever bought and Innocent is my jam!
  • Had my Grandma pass away.
  • Stopped attending church to take some time and figure out what I truly believe.
  • Went to a psychic for the first time for a palm reading and chakra clearing.
  • Started my first official diet (Jenny Craig), that I chose to do on my own not because my mom was pressuring me to. And have lost 15 pounds on it so far (about 1.5 months).
  • Heck I even went on a couple of firsts ‘dates’!
  • Bought a guitar (I owned 2 as a teen but I sold one and the other was stolen when E and I had our house broken into) yesterday. I realized if music is my passion, and I love it so much, then do something about it again. Make a way to enjoy it more in my everyday life.
  • Started this blog 😎.

So maybe I am growing as a person. Maybe I have learned from some of my mistakes. Maybe I am becoming a better me. Oh trust me, I know I’m still making stupid choices. But maybe… just maybe, they are becoming fewer and farther between?

So for now, I’m for real going to go buy myself some “anniversary” roses. Because I can. And I need them. And I’m the only one whose gonna do it.


-Future Ft. Nicki Minaj/You Da Baddest-

No, I Don’t Want Your Number No, I Don’t Want To Give You Mine And No, I Don’t Want To Meet You Nowhere No, I Don’t Want None Of Your Time

Wow! Men are literally coming outta the woodwork.

I took a picture at work and posted it on the gram today (because I look amazing as I discussed yesterday lol) and my phones been going non-stop. I guess I should preface this by saying selfies for me used to be VERY rare. Like my whole Instagram feed has maybe 10 pictures of me, since the dawn of my page about 4 years ago, and probably 5 of them are within the last 6 months. But even those other few pictures never garnered this much response. So now I’ve posted a selfie… and these guys are all up in my DM and texting.

But for real all these guys keep dropping hints like they’re free tonight, or they’re only in town for a little while longer… but then nothing. I’m like, be a man, and ask me out. Don’t leave it to me. Make a plan. Follow through. I’m not impressed by your utter lack of effort. I’m not going to invite guys over to my place just cause it’s convenient for everyone. I want a date. And so either be willing to make that effort or I’m moving on… right fast.

I’m no longer worried about being ‘undatable’ or something. I’ve come to learn that I’m totally dating/marriage material, but men nowadays just don’t ask women on dates.

But I’m a patient woman. I can totally wait for the one that will.

In the meantime though I’m keeping this rant short and sweet since I’m at the park with my kiddos.

Which bring me to who, by the way, decided sand between your toes was an amazing feeling? It’s so annoying! It scratches your feet, rubs between your skin and sandals, and to top it off it’s a pain to walk in.


-TLC/No Scrubs-

I Am Just A Troubled Soul Who’s Weighted To The Ground. Give Me The Strength To Lay This Burden Down

So I went for it.

Today is officially day one of my new “lifestyle”

I stopped pussyfooting around regarding my weight loss and signed up for Jenny Craig. Now don’t laugh (I used to kinda inwardly laugh at people who choose this option, but hear me out). I choose it because after making my standard Pro/Con list in my head about all my different options, I came to realize that food prep is my downfall.

I know myself, I won’t track what I eat, so most “programs” i.e. Weight Watchers were out. I know I wouldn’t hold myself accountable to just a basic app on my phone to monitor my food intake, because common, I’m not that reliable when it comes to writing things down or tracking things, like I just last year starting tracking my period and I’ve had that for like 18 years! I know I won’t make time to go to the gym, because I basically hate it, all the changing/gym clothes/sweaty people/awful music, so that option was out.

Which lead me to Jenny. The go to for middle aged women everywhere lol. (seriously the lady on the phone kept making references to being a middle aged woman and making the choice for yourself after all so many years of failed attempts at other things.. I had to tell her I was only 29 and this was my first choice, and in my head tell myself I’m not going to fail) I choose this option because they prepare your food for you. They prep it for the week, can deliver it to your door, and make up a menu to explain what to eat and when. Seriously it’s the easiest thing for me. I don’t enjoy cooking at all, so after looking at all the options out there, it was a no brainer. I got my first week’s worth delivered last night and (after realizing I had limited freezer space and that it might be an issue from now on), I sorted out my meals for today and, as my kids would say, it was “easy peasy lemon squeasy” I actually felt accomplished and prepared for the day. I also felt a little shocked at the amount of food I’m expected to eat throughout the course of my day. I can 100% confidently say my problem in the past is not that I overeat. I pretty sure my issue is more along the lines of not choosing the “right” foods, as well as my digestion, which thanks to my Naturopath is ever so slowly getting better.

Either way, I’m determined and dedicated to do at least one month on the program, to see how it goes.  Then from there since I’m hoping it goes well, I’ll continue it until my Cruise this fall. (WOO cruise lol). Plus, if when I reach my goal weight on Jenny, they give you half your money back, so that’s a win win if I ever saw one.

But I just wanted to let y’all know I’m excited about this. It’s the first time I’ve ever consciously made a choice on my own to do anything positive/healthy long term for my body.

Although I don’t think I ever learned how to properly care for my body and eat super healthy growing up, I don’t blame anyone for my weight, it’s obviously my body, so it’s my responsibility to treat it properly. That being said, I do my best to silently watch what my kids eat, and teach them that food is used as a tool to give our body energy and fuel, the same way we put gas in a car, we put food in our bodies to keep them going. I remind them that when they are full they can stop, but also try to keep the balance so that they aren’t conveniently full when it comes to veggies lol. When they were younger, I used to serve veggie first, and once that was done, they could eat whatever else was for dinner. That way they got used to finishing their vegetables before anything else, and so far it’s been working good. My kids are both healthy and a very suitable weight for their age/height.

Another contribution to my attitude towards weight loss? I once lost a lot of weight… I looked good. Nope scratch that. I looked amazing. And that’s when I got raped ( I Don’t Ever Wanna Feel Like I Did That Day, Take Me to the Place I Love, Take Me All the Way ). So to say that instance also hasn’t made an impact in how much weight I carry now would be a lie. But I’m ready to move on.

From the fear of men using me.

From the fear of being the best me.

Because I’m going to let anything hold me back.


-Annie Lennox/Little Bird-

 

 

 

 



 

I Mean This Is Exhausting You Know We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

So today I was back at the airport for the first time since flying back from Kenya 3 years ago.

I felt like a deja vue kinda thing happening. I had to head out there for work to meet some of the guys we’d recruited for work and it was just a causal meet and greet before they headed for their shift up north, but just being in the airport was weird. The last 8 times I have walked through those doors I was either flying to or from Kenya.

People ask if I will ever go back, and I don’t think I’m strong enough for it. I love Africa, and yes I will go back someday. But not to Kakamega. Most likely not even to Kenya. I have a house there that I designed and paid for, every square inch, and I know people, but I can’t go there.  I’d love to travel to maybe Egypt to see the pyramids or something if it ever settles down in the area, or back to South Africa and Namibia again as far as Africa goes. But, no. I will not be going back to Kenya. There are too many memories I don’t want to have too deal with. Denial at its finest.

In the same way I will not be going back to E. He actually had the audacity to send me a text last week asking me to forgive him, and that we get the family back together.

UMMMM What?!??! Are you delusional? Ohhhh wait. Yes, you are. Here I am, just wanting this stupid divorce to be done with and finalized. It’s been over 3 years of back and forth and him. And now he wants to get back together. Like are you daft? It’s not the first time he’s asked me to get back with him, but I honestly can’t believe that after everything I went through, he would think I would want to go back.

E pic

So I texted him back and in the most polite and simple way (I’ve learned to use small words with E) explained that, I have forgiven him as best I can, but that doesn’t mean we will be getting back together.  A couple days later I got a call from him and I asked if he understood what I wrote. He said sort of, but he just thought we should be done with this divorce and move on. I told him this isn’t some sort of “phase” I’m going through. The only “moving on” I’m doing is without him. 3 years and he still thinks this is a joke or something.

So I asked him if he thought I enjoyed being his wife, if he thought it was nice for me. He actually said yes. So I asked him to name 3 times it was pleasant for me to be his wife. That’s less than one occasion per year of our marriage.

The phone was silent on his end. A good solid 30 seconds go by before he responds with “That’s a tricky question”

That’s the problem E. It shouldn’t be a tricky question. You can’t even think of ONE time where it was somewhat nice to be married to you. And you think I should do it again? This is your last ditch effort to win me back? Hell. No.

I’ve tasted freedom. And however hard and shitty and difficult and sad and lonely it may be sometimes… most times…It’s infinitely better then being with E.


-Taylor Swift/We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together-

Tell The World I’m Coming… Home Let The Rain Wash Away All The Pain Of Yesterday

I booked flights for about 10 days out. They were the right combination of cheapest and nearest in date. Well they weren’t cheap, but I just wanted out of there ASAP. Then, after I booked the flights and paid, I sent an email to my mom letting her know our itinerary and just an update on what was going on. I didn’t let anyone else know what was going on because I already felt I was being watched like a hawk with my in-laws visiting all the time, probably reporting back to E.  So I attempted to go about life as normal.

Until, I got a call from E. He apparently had been monitoring my email and had seen the email to my Mom. In reality, there was not much he himself could do about me leaving since he was back in Canada now, but that didn’t mean he made it enjoyable for me. He hacked my Facebook and made a single post saying “I’m divorcing E” My friends and family started reaching out to me before I had a chance to delete it. I’m never on FB so they all thought it was a little out of the ordinary and wanted to make sure things were OK.  Although the statement wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t how I wanted word to get out, for obvious reasons. So after changing all my passwords, I braced myself for what was to come next, while still trying to get over the fact that E had been keeping tabs on all my emails and social media without letting me know. Not that I had anything to hide until now, but still, pissed me off.

Visits from my in-laws increased ten-fold. In fact my mother in-law took it upon herself to just come and stay ALL day. No matter how many times I asked her to leave my house. She would come in the morning, and grab a chair and sit in the middle of MY living room, and order around my farm boy and whomever else had dropped in for the moment.

Calls from E were constant. To myself, to my farm boy, even to the neighbours. It became so overwhelming. To everyone.

So I decided to switch my flights. At this point I didn’t care how much money it cost to re-book them, but I had to get us out of there. I paid the $2000+ to change my current booking from a week out, to 2 days away. Then I started the packing. At this point everyone knew what was going on, so keeping it on the down low was pointless. I gave away most of the kids things to the neighbouring children. Clothes that had bee worn out by the Kenyan sun, toys that were replaceable, everything. I had very little to pack personally, since anything of mine that hadn’t fit in the 1 of 3 suitcases that fateful Sunday, E had taken upon himself to throw down the outhouse instead of burning like he had threatened leaving me with hardly anything.

I gave away our chickens to the farm boy and sent him on his way, thanking him for everything he’d done for me. We spent time with our neighbours, visiting and them crying, knowing in the back of my mind I was never going to return here.

Everyone was constantly telling me it wasn’t a big deal and I should forgive him. Which further cemented my belief that I HAD to get out. Now.

M had offered to help drive us to the airport which was in the town over after we pick little E up from school at lunch.  I had told her she could have our mattress which I had brought from Canada a few months ago. I felt it was the least I could do for them and everything they had done for us. Because finding a good mattress in Kenya? Is like me finding a good man.

The morning of the flights arrived, and lo and behold so did my mother-in-law. Whatever. What’s she gonna do to stop us? M arrived with her husband and 1 son to help with the luggage. They backed the van up to our back door and that’s when one of the most stressful days of my life started.

My M-I-L seriously thought she could singlehandedly stop us from leaving. She stood in the doorway and would refuse to move for anyone trying to get in or out with a suitcase. Everyone was super polite with her… “Excuse me, could you move please, I have to get out please,” then trying to squeeze past. Which wasn’t simple because my M-I-L isn’t a tiny lady. Then when she realized that her just standing in the way wasn’t working, she started grabbing the luggage out of the van. So M had to guard the van, while her husband and son brought the things out. But my M-I-L was still not impressed by that. She started grabbing things straight from M’s hands, which M was not having. My M-I-L even went so far as to push M away from some of my things, and then claim that M had beaten her!

I know, that in this moment I was not this most helpful person, but I honestly think I shut down. I couldn’t believe she was behaving like this. She started screaming and yelling and acting like we were the worst human beings in the world.

Then I saw my M-I-L walk towards the gate, so I rushed out the front door to get there first. I didn’t want her to close the gate and then sit in front of it or something ridiculous so that we couldn’t drive the van out. So I sat on the ground calmly in front of the gate holding I open with Z on my lap and watched her come towards me.

You could see the look in her eyes she was pissed. She knew that she was helpless in stopping me from leaving. She walked up to me and started on a huge rant. So I simply told her to fuck off. I know not kind or polite, but the situation called for it. Which I’ll always remember led to her saying “Yeah fuck me. Fuck me in the vagina” I hate to say I kinda chuckled at that. Then she grabbed her phone and called my father-in-law. She spoke in Swahili but I could tell she wasn’t happy. I also knew that what she was telling him was probably a lie. Seemed to run deep in that family.

M & D pulled up the van and then I got in with Z and we headed down the road. We got about 5 minutes down the road on our way into town to get little E from school, when I see my F-I-L racing towards us on a piki piki.

The piki piki pulls over and I see him pull a stone the size of Z’s head out of his bag. Which means at some point on his way to my house, he stopped on the side of the road and chose a rock specifically for this purpose. He stops in front of the van so D couldn’t drive. And then proceeds smashed the front of the window with the rock. M was yelling at D to drive past him but my F-I-L was standing right in front and D didn’t want to run him over. My F-I-L grabbed the rock again and slammed the front window again. By now, M is frantic, I can’t believe this is happening, and D starts slowly moving the van trying to get away.

I’m starting to panic. I have no idea what my in-laws are trying to achieve with all this, or what they are capable of. But D slowly starts to drive and my F-I-L moves out of the way. D speeds up and M is yelling at him to just drive! D can barely see out the window because it’s been smashed to bits by the rock, so he’s trying his best. But all of a sudden we see the piki piki pull up on my side of the van again with my F-I-L on the back. He hurls the rock again and it smashes through the front passenger side window shattering broken glass everywhere. M is covered in glass and yelling at D to drive faster. He’s doing his best to see through the broken window and navigate down the very rough dirt road that’s filled with pot holes. I was brushing glass off myself and Z, and all I could think about was little E.

At this point, I had no idea how far my in-laws would go to try and get me to stay. I was honestly worried that they would kidnap little E from school as like a hostage type thing. D drove off the main road to a friends house where they arranged to borrow a different vehicle for the remainder of the drive. You know, one without the windshield smashed in. I was the most frantic I’ve ever been. I just wanted to get my son and get the hell out of the country.

I called little E’s school and told them not to let little E outside at all. I asked them to please pack all his things and have him waiting in the classroom. I told the teachers to not let ANYONE else, under any circumstance, pick him up except his mzungu (white) mother. Not his grandfather, not his grandmother, no aunts, uncles. Nothing.

The new car arrived with a clear windshield and we switched the luggage. The car was smaller and so just M, and her son and I went in the new vehicle with Z. D stayed behind to deal with his smashed van. We got back on the road again when two minutes later, who pulls out in front of us? My F-I-L.  M’s son was driving so the rest of us ducked down so my F-I-L wouldn’t see us. We figured he wouldn’t notice the new car but we didn’t want to take any chances. And at this point I didn’t know what he was thinking or what he had spent the last 20 minutes doing/getting.

We sped as fast as we could into town but it still felt like too long. I called little E’s school twice more to make sure he was safe. We pulled up and I felt like it was a grab and go. I was on the phone with his teacher telling him when we would be pulling up and to get little E. The guard opened the gate and ushered little E out and we pealed out like we were filming the next installment of the Fast and the Furious.

Next, we had to make a stop at the police station to report what had happened to M’s van. I, myself just wanted to get out of town, but I realized this was M’s life and she wasn’t leaving the country. They still had to come back to this mess at the end of the day, so it should be dealt with properly. M filed her police report with a little input from me, and after about an hour we were back on the road.

The first airport was about 2 hours away and it was a stressful ride. So many crazy scenarios ran through my mind. Every ridiculous thing that could happen I thought would happen. I thought maybe my F-I-L might be at the airport when we got there. I thought he might make up all these absurd accusations that would affect me leaving the country for some reason. I’m pretty sure M could sense my paranoia. Her and her son offered to stay with me at the airport until I absolutely had to board the plane. But I was still so stressed out. I thought at any moment I would see the face of any one of my in-laws pop up from around a corner with who knows what to do any number of things. My mind was exploding with possibilities.

Imagination much?

It was finally time for my flight to Nairobi. I can’t even remember if I hugged M goodbye. I know I was so thankful for her and her family for everything they had done. I told her I would pay for the damage to her van. I knew as missionaries, they didn’t have extra cash to be throwing at things like that, and it was definitely not her fault. We would be keeping in touch for sure.

Once on the flight I had about an hour of peace. The kids were relatively good. I had told little E we were going to see Nanna and Nonno (my parents) so he was excited, and Z was only 6 months old so not much trouble there. Once in Nairobi though, I was paranoid again. I had more in-laws there, and I legitimately thought that one of them would show up at the airport. I also last minute realized that my 3 month visa had passed the expiry date, and I might have trouble with exit customs. Originally we were working on duel citizenship so I would have been fine, but now…. I grabbed a pen and altered my entry dates on my visa. I couldn’t handle any more issues, and I just wanted to get out of the country. I was desperate. Highly illegal yep, but this is how desperate I was.

I made it through customs by the help of my cute kids and talking about my Kenyan husband. No shame, because at this point I would do anything to get out. I finally relaxed a little once I was in the boarding area. It was the first time I think I took a full breathe all day. We made it to London without much trouble. Other then the normal perils of travelling with 2 small kids but not like I had a choice of travelling without them.

From London next was Toronto. Where I always get pulled over at customs. Every. Single. Time. This time though, I must’ve looked like a crack head. I’d been through a lot in the past few days and totally got it. But then they started asking little E questions like “”Who is this lady?” “What’s her name” and instead of saying mom he took it so literally and said what my actual name was. Which of course led to more questioning and a search of my bags. Like for real? Do you honestly think I want to be travelling with 2 little kids? Nobody in their right mind would do this for fun! Trust me, these tiny humans are mine and I am obligated to care for them! No human trafficking happening here.

We finally passed customs but had now missed our connecting flight to our final destination. I had to go through the hassle of rebooking (and paying extra for) the final flight a few hours later then the original. Then I grabbed some food for the kids and I and found a place to nap for a few hours until our flight. Once our boarding time came, little E was dead asleep on the floor. I had Z in a sling, also asleep and two carry-ons slung over my shoulder. I tried waking up little E but he was exhausted. No one was around to help so I had to try and pick up little E. I grabbed him as best I could by his arms and lifted him up to carry both kids. I ended up popping his elbow out. Not my best mothering moment, I know. Little E just wanted to sleep though, so even on the plane, he didn’t want me to touch his arm. I wrapped it in a blanket to keep it tight and still and little E slept the whole flight. Meanwhile, I was back and forth to the gallery making bottle’s for Z. During the last 2 days I had been so stressed that my body had entirely stopped producing milk for her. So even though I loved nursing my kids, Z was done at 6 months old, thanks to this stressful situation.

We got to my hometown a mess. Little E was holding his arm because I had popped his elbow out of place. Z was cranky because she wanted to nurse, and there was no milk for her only bottles. I was exhaushed and at my limit. I hadn’t slept in almost 50 hours, I had been through one of the most stressful ordeals ever, and I had no idea what was next.

But we were all alive and would be safe. And that was what was important.

M's pic

M’s van after the fact, posted with the following on FB:

“God never promised a problem free life but He does promise to never leave us. On Wed we were helping a friend leave Kenya when her family attacked our van. The father in law blocked the road and threw rocks at our windshield and then when we got away he came again to continue throwing another rock into my passenger window. God showed us a place to hide and many friends that came to help. We are bruised, cut and shaken up but very happy to be ok”


-Diddy&Dirty Money/Coming Home-

House Warming. It was Cold as F**k

After we’d been married about two months, I wanted to throw a little house warming/ gathering party at our new place. It would be the first time we’d had a group over and I thought it’d be fun. I asked E if he was okay with the idea and he said sure. I asked him if we should invite some of his rugby friends to make him feels more comfortable and he agreed. I arranged the party and called everyone up to invite them. It wasn’t going to be huge… maybe a dozen people or so. I knew by this point that E wasn’t a fan of big crowds.

Friday rolled around and I went for groceries for that night. The usual party snack, chips drinks etc. When E saw me come home with this stuff he got upset. Saying I should call everyone and tell them not to come. The party was supposed to start in about an hour and he wanted to cancel it. I didn’t understand what his problem was. I had asked him if he wanted to have people over. I had asked him who he was ok with having over. And now that it was actually happening he wasn’t good with it anymore. I said no. I’m not cancelling on these people. It’s not going to be a big deal. We’re just going to sit and eat, drink, chill and have fun. E wasn’t having it. 15 minutes before it was supposed to start, and he left the house. I still have no idea where to, probably off to the gym or something.  But people started coming and I had to say that E couldn’t make it. I had my first party/house warming as a “married couple”… on my own. I wasn’t pleased. I got drunk. I can think of only 3 time I’ve ever been this drunk in my entire life, since I’m really not a big drinker. But in that moment I just wanted to forget. Forget that I was entertaining E’s friends without him. Forget that we were supposed to be in this together, but I was alone. I got so drunk that by the end of the night I realized it was just myself and one of E’s friends left. I had been calling E all night to come home but he wasn’t answering. So when his friend said he was heading out to another friends birthday party, and asked if I wanted to go so I wasn’t alone, I agreed.

We drove to the other party and he went in for a few minutes while I puked out the side of the car. Then S came back to the car and I asked him to please just take me home. Instead he took me to his place. I remember trying to call E over and over and telling him where I was and to please come get me. At S’s house I went to the bathroom and while sitting on the toilet I remember throwing up in the tub… all while trying to push S away. He was sticking his hands down my pants. And I’m crying and calling out for E. I just wanted it all to stop. Then I remember seeing E standing at the bottom of the stairs while S is kneeling in front of me and I’m pushing him away crying. I screamed and yelled for E. I grabbed for the air. And I remember thinking “he came for me”. But then he just turned around and walked away. He just left me there screaming his name. S finally walked away and I somehow puled myself together enough and got to S’s car and he took me home then. But E was so mad at me. Part of me understands why… I think? But mostly I just think I needed him then. That whole night I needed him. And he wasn’t there for me.

Almost a month later when I found out I was pregnant, E didn’t believe the baby was his. He was sure it was S’s. In fact his exact  reaction was “oh shit” when I told him. Even after I told him time and time again there was no sex that night. He continually acted like I enjoyed what happened that night. Like I would call up S for fun to do it again. I don’t know if he ever trusted me? Or if it was just his paranoia, and that he couldn’t trust anyone. Needless to say, it put a damper on things and we didn’t have any get togethers after that, which E loved since he hated having people over, and I hated since I love having people over.

I’ve Got To Let It Go We Found Love in a Hopeless Place

I got married at 21. But that wasn’t my first mistake. Now don’t get me wrong, I think you can find your true love at any age… but I had not found it. I was marrying because I had found someone, anyone who would have me. But neither of us knew what we were doing and no one told us to stop. Although at that time, I probably wouldn’t had listened anyways.

My self-esteem was at an all-time low (At that point, little did I know it would get worse), and I was just grasping at straws. I thought that once I got married things in my life would settle down and just… get better.

I guess I should start at the beginning. I mean what could be so bad that I needed to marry someone I knew didn’t love me in an effort to escape?
I guess the question is how far back do I go? Who knows exactly when I broke, when I became someone I didn’t like when I looked in the mirror. Someone I didn’t think anyone else would like when they looked at me. Someone so desperate and needy that they MARRIED a man who they didn’t love and who didn’t love them back.

Did it start when my ex was suddenly killed and so I was just trying to find someone, any one to replace that connection?
Or did it start when I woke up in the hospital on morning at only 16 years old and was told basically I have a disorder that will require meds for life and there’s nothing they can do about my constant headaches and random seizures?
Or maybe the multiple suicide attempts should have been a huge indicator.
Or maybe before that when I was the token fat kid in my social group in school. You know, the hilarious and sarcastic one that everyone wants to chill with but no one wants to date.

But most likely it stems back even earlier than that. Probably rooted way back in the fact that my “Daddy issue’s” are deep. Like so deep. Like he cheated on my mom while she was pregnant with me. He didn’t want me from the get go.
So, yeah it might’ve started somewhere way back there.

In that mess at some point is where my life took a huge turn that I didn’t plan. One that I don’t like, and now it’s time to figure out how I got from there to here, and where to go next.


-Rihanna feat. Calvin Harris/We Found Love-