Who is it that keeps us going?

The rock.

The stone.

The glue that keeps the pieces together.

The beds would not be made,

Homework would not be done,

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Teeth would not be brushed, faces left unclean & eyes would never leave the screens.

Dishes might be done, but not put away-

Dinner would be made, but sit out for days and days.

Laundry might be clean, but not folded nor put in it’s right places…

If mom wasn’t here – there’s be so many empty spaces.

Coats and sheets would stay dirty,

So would the floors.

Never mind the shower- the toilet bowl would be a horror.

Love would still be given,

Love would still be felt,

But questions would be ignored & everything would melt…

Books would go unread and maybe things would go unsaid –

Like Mama keeps every household going – even when she’s no longer glowing.

Being in Recovery feels

Being in Recovery feels like someone took a Permanent Marker and drew all over your face and all over every important document with your name.

It feels like it’s a brand.

Sometimes.

Sometimes, in recovery- it feels as though things will never get better.

You might feel like your running up a hill– and every time you finally see the top, a big gust of fucks-with-your-life – blows you back to the bottom.

E v e r y time you feel hopeful; that gust blows you back to your place.

It can be so defeating.

There are days where you might ask yourself, “ Why do I bother? Why am I here?”. Or maybe your stuck in the, “why me?” Phase, again.

Some days you might find yourself blankly staring at walls, as if your reading a cheat sheet for life. Really your just staring emptily.

Hungry for something more.. but afraid you’ll have to eat it.

That could mean so many things.

You could be so many things.

This is just another test.

Everything is just a test, how can’t we always see that??

It’s all about knowing the right answer. It’s not about learning no- more . We did plenty of that before.

It doesn’t always come right away, and sometimes you won’t even notice.

Little by little good things will happen, you have to pay attention.

You can behave and be clean, be sober and walk the straight and narrow – but if your not making moves, you are not going to move any differently than you were.

You might sit and binge Netflix, Hulu or prime, you might wake up everyday for breakfast and not commit a single crime- but if your avoiding the things you shouldn’t, than your only wasting your own precious time.

I can say this because I know it, because I do it myself all the time.

And I “beat myself up” , while I’m ignoring my phones chime.

Than I feel like I’m doing something, because I’m sitting here Writing, and I know that I can rhyme.

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Any who; in recovery, life can be fine.

You were stuck in your ways that are hard to move on from .

It’s easy to change who you are when your doing nothing good and throwing your life away.

It’s not easy to change when you have to come back from that.

Did you know you’d never be able to go back to who you were before??

People say it, and you hear it but what do they know?

You can do anything; be anyone you want.

Until you can’t. Until you won’t.

Climb the ladder, no matter how tall. Don’t even worry about every time you fall.

Sometimes life will surprise you, it happened to me today.

I was accepted by someone important who gave me a leadership place.

She looked at me, not past me – she gave me so much of her time.

I cannot explain the feeling I had. My heart was jumping; I felt A rush of sadness and with tears brought such a smile. A light.

A laugh.

It’s not always rainbows and mostly it’s clouds … but sometimes the sun is only just behind a tree – you just need to move a little more and get a better line of site.

xO. truthmom

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TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN-

To whom this may concern,

Hello! I hope you were awoken by a beautiful insert season here , ( in my case autumn) day this morning😊 and that wherever this letter finds you, may you be well! I think you know my name and all that, so we can skip the formalities!! For the sake of purpose.

My purpose in writing to you tonight, is to make a few things clear and get a few crooked things straight!

First and foremost, I am not new.

Maybe that is the most relevant problem with our ‘situation’, maybe it’s the least. I don’t know.

I’m skipping a beat to take a beat and ease into this, but there is no way to really do that besides worming around, the Ins and outs. It doesn’t even matter today. No, not this time. This time was, in every single and possible way – different. This time I didn’t even know what just happened . it was a flash. A bomb.

Your a bomb. A tornado . A hurricane without a warning .

You make me talk to fast, and I second, third & even fourth guess every single word out of my mouth when I’m near you.

Your soul will be forever in debt to me for using the fuck outta me. And you did make a promise and you lied. Lied manipulated… drained. As if my life isn’t enough.

As if I don’t have my own shit. I’ll remember. My soul.. will remember.

My Everyday challenges

Things that should come easy, should be easy enough, that aren’t. That don’t. Mental health? Self care? I forgot the importance.

Sometimes , a lot of times… i feel super useless at staying home.
I cannot simply sit and play or run around playing pretend with my child all day, or I won’t get anything done around the house ( tried & true for over and throughout a decade , I swear 🤚🏻)
I can’t sit on the computer / laptop/ phone, all day trying to work on / set up & market my business and blogs , putting all my energy into an entry, or a design, a project. Because I do that. And when I do, I feel as though I’ve wasted another day and another dollar. Literally. And I feel rushed and awful by dinner.
I cannot run around the house cleaning up after my toddler, or my school age kids all day because I just DONT. Maybe I just don’t WANT to do that anymore…
Or run around washing, drying, folding, putting away, all the laundry, dishes, work tools, project , etc.
Cuz I don’t want to do that either ; even though I really really should –

I mainly walk around my house in in circles.
Going from one thing to another,
From creating a product and design to folding the mountain of laundry I’ve created.
I go from building my site online, to playing store with my toddler.
I go from vacuuming, to cleaning up a huge liquid spill, usually on a carpet in my living room, or all over a wall, and in all the hard to reach/ even harder to clean, cracks, crevices & corners. In between appliances, and down the sides of the oven.

I go from packing some products, listing them online, packing a shipment, and putting it all out there, to literally crawling around the living room floor with my toddler, a flashlight in one hand, and a grabber in the other, face pressed against the carpet , trying to reach all the toys that my toddler has lost in the depths of there whoever knows when, but now MUST have them.
I smoke a cigarette ( I need to quit, I have the patches , I’m quitting.) – and while I’m smoking have to run in to help in the potty, change the channel, look at a block creation, or to just “ watch this”.

God there is just stuff everywhere. I just want to be “in the moment” with my toddler while I still can.

I want to be less impatient. Less rushed.
More patient, more steady.
Slow it down, but keep up.

I just want y’all to know- that today, I do not know how to get there. Not yet.
But I’m working on it. I’m trying.

Bare with me.

I’m truly Sorry if you don’t like it, it’s only the truth.
I’m trying to be the best mother, maybe I am then.

Read more , the rest of this story NOW @
http://www.truthmommy.com

  • da truth mommy

The 4 sets of completely different, 100% unique, gorgeous, soul reaching, all seeing eyes that I have watching me constantly, think that I am the best. …. Well, most of the time.
My preteen who is going on 30, does but won’t admit it. She wants to hate me.Isn’t that what teenage girls eventually do?? Hate their moms for a minute?

Great. I cannot wait to go through that over and over and over again. What about boys?

Do boys always love their mamas? They say that- but it hasn’t rang true in my family. I have brothers. I’ve seen cycles, stages, phases… I’m terrified. 👀

No, but really though, my kids mostly think that I’m “da bomb dot com”. Yes, they for real say that. ✊🏻👊🏻🤞🏻

I just feel like I can do better. I want to do better. Of COURSE my kids will think that of me. I think I’d really have to be a MONSTER for them to think otherwise, right?

I don’t even want to deal right now- but I have to go take care of this.

I have to do all the things that I don’t want to do. I’m here. I am alive and well, and Im beyond blessed to have my super large, loving , happy, healthy family to take care of. It’s my why.

This is the truth today.

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An introduction of why I’m here.

Hi, I’m The Truth Mommy!! I’m trying to get out there and be known for giving , “the truth about momming”, and everything else I know or can tell you. I’m currently working on/towards a book.. I’m Here to journal my good days and bad days and everything in between. Hey, don’t blame me if you don’t like it, I’m just telling it like it is.
Telling it like it is, regardless of judgement. I am a recovering addict. My recovery Date is November 1- 2015. I didn’t do it without help, support, medical support, motivation, tears, sweat, pain, family support, and my amazing husband.
For years I thought I had it under control, and could get or just stay better (whether ‘better’ meant my sobriety, or my mental health depended on the time) for, my kids. Always trying to fight, for my kids. Doing everything I could, everything I was supposed to do, to bring my family home. Get better for them all, never for myself. It never seemed to be enough, but that wasn’t the case- the case was, I just wasn’t afraid enough, it wasn’t real enough, I didn’t care about me, or what happened to me anymore. No one else did, why should I? The 2 men in my life (baby daddies if you will), that were supposed to be a part of my support system, part of my family, had completely destroyed my self esteem. They both took advantage of my vulnerability, they fed off of it. I would move mountains for both of them, I’d jump when they said jump. HELL They had my children, what was I supposed to do?? That my friends, is a story for a different post. Not today Satan. This post is about ME. I can’t won’t distract myself with that type of pain, going back to that will ruin more than my entire day. I live with so many resentments. I cannot even begin.

So, here is where this story really begins, this is going to lead me to where I am today. The day I woke up, totally Naked, alone, head hanging over one corner of my bed, not even aware of the date or time, SO confused, my house completely ransacked, all of my hidden belongings, including my rent money, drugs, and jewelry were GONE. My dresser COVERED in confectionery sugar.
That was on Halloween, in 2015. Halloween is supposed to be a fun day, a special day, a day for trick or treating, dressing up silly, plowing candy, and it just so happens that it is one of my babies Birthday’s, 10/31. That was the day I knew I had had enough, I had to stop. I had to live. I was alive, and I had NO idea how. Eventually, that same day, I put the pieces together, looking through my phone, my laptop ( at the time my life line), making phone calls, frantically searching my house, wracking my brain. I remembered exactly what happened. I know exactly what happened. All I can say on here, with honesty, is that MY ANGEL was with me. He must have been because I was literally left in my apartment to die. People had been with me, people had used with me, and those same exact people had robbed me, and then left me. Those people, I grew up with. Those people, 1 of them, I had saved before with narcan. And they left me in my bed, thinking I was DEAD… to die. They were the ones who were always afraid and would run. At least 1 of them had been there for all 5 ODS that I had saved at my house. I never let or left anyone to die. F$#@ YOU for that. Later one that day, I got myself together, got myself “right”, and then made a bunch of important phone calls. I was retracing the steps I had taken the last time. The time I had 2 and a half fucking years of sobriety. The time I could say with what I thought to be my full honesty, I do not know how I EVER did that, I could NEVER EVER do it again. I could’ve sworn that I was afraid enough to never go back. That I had lost enough, to never want to go back. The 2.5 years had only come to an abrupt end earlier that year, I want to say May, is when I relapsed, but that wouldn’t be the full truth. I had relapsed long before I began using that way again. This time though, I was DONE. So here I am, more than 5 years sober. I won’t say I am cured, I will say, I wanted to live and be there for my children, and I AM.

I have more stories to tell than you could imagine. I’ve been to Prison, (not jail), multiple times, for petty things like probation violations etc. I’ll never forget how scared I was in the back of that van the very first time. My first 30 days. I never could have imaged how many more times I’d be in that same situation again, or that each stay would become longer and longer, and take more and more from me and my family. I had a baby in jail, and didn’t get to see my baby until a few months later. Can you imagine that? I held that baby for 2 days, no one was going to take that time from me, no matter how hard they tried. I am only human, not a monster. Humans should never treat others the way I was treated. Shackled to a bed being scorned and threatened for breast feeding my baby? It was inhumane.

If you’ve come this far, before you form any negative opinion of me personally, if that’s where your thoughts are, keep reading first, and you may just see things from a perspective you might think you’d never see, or even want to understand.

MIND YOU this; the day I was officially released , sometime in late November, My PO wanted me to go back to prison, she fought tooth and nail for me to finish up another 6 month bid, for NOTHING. Once my lawyer presented the LOADS and LOADS of paperwork she had accumulated and put together for my case; all of my negative tests, the meconium sample, and the inaccuracy proven of the quick cups they used, (the ONLY one that picked up a food grade of positive), once she finished her statement, The Judge, a different one from who sent me there, an understanding man with kind eyes, pretty much told my PO off, looked over to me, and with SUCH sincerity, apologized to me. he said I NEVER should have been forced to have my BABY in prison, and told my PO that holding me was completely inappropriate, and unnecessary , as I had IMMEDIATLY , willingly PAID FOR & took hair follicle test, multiple urine’s at multiple labs, and even the hospital records that showed my baby and I tested positive for NOTHING!!!!! OH AND!! This is great, my due date was 11/1/13, my one and only fail was on 10/12/13, I was sent back 10/18/13, ANDDD MY COURT DATE WAS 10/31/13 . So, yes, as you can probably imagine, at midnight on 10/31, I laid on my bottom bunk in my cell, praying to GOD to PLEASE not let me have this baby right then and there, PLEASE just get me to the courthouse tomorrow. 7 years later and I haven’t spoken of this, but I remember it all SO clearly right now, like it was MUCH more recently than that. I remember envisioning what would happen if I was in front of the judge and dramatically went into labor, or in the patty wagon on the long ride there. I was so afraid. I felt pain. Pain I did not remember, but yet I knew what was happening. So I started watching as the guards did their rounds… every 15 minutes. My contractions were 15 minutes apart. At 12:45, I gave in, while a C.O was rounding, I stood at my cell door’s tiny window waiting. When the flashlight hit my eyes, I said… ” ‘I’m in labor” , he replied, ” Are you pregnant?”, than, ” Are you sure its labor?”.

I spent 6 months in prison, pregnant. It was not my first rodeo BUT pregnant?? I went in February 23rd, and on April 20th, I was told I was pregnant. So that was fun.

After wrapping up those 6 months, I was released directly from there July 1, was out and happy , with a DCF worker and PO up my butt, I was doing everything right, everything they told me to do, I did it and more. Including calling a number for a color, ( pink), which was called for 2 random urine’s a week, AA/NA meetings, working on putting my family back together,and Let me just say – WE WERE KICKING ASS!! Hell we were on the road to getting our family back., AND add a 3rd addition. I’d been sober for 10 months, called my color super late one day as I was laying in bed stuffing my face with caramel apples and breakfast sandwiches. We had no car, but borrowed one, I did my thing, went to walk away and BAM I fail the quick cup. I seriously thought my PO was JOKING because we were just talking about how AMAZING everything was going!!

The following days and weeks were HORRIFIC. I was losing my mind. How the FUCK could this happen? How the FUCK did I fail this one urine? I went to the hospital and gave a supervised urine in the ER, and another an hour later at the lab. I even offered a hair follicle test in which my PO said I’d have to wait at least 7 days. So i did JUST that!! 8 days later, I went and paid $85 for a full panel hair follicle test. The results didn’t come in until I was gone, but it was ONLY the quick cup I failed. Anyways, after being tortured,tormented, and followed, by my PO with police, DCF, & just trying to prove myself innocent, for 2 weeks, I am sent back to prison, after I did everything possible to prove my innocence.

Listen, I’ve been pregnant multiple times, and not ONCE did I EVER use drugs while pregnant. NEVER. However, at my Wednesday night meeting, the night before that power monster of a day ,(10/12), I had devoured 3 everything bagels , and had 1 on the ride to do my urine. BRO, I WAS 8.5 MONTHS PREGNANT and HUNGRYYY!!! NOW LISTEN!! I WOULD NEVER EVER HAVE THOUGHT THAT what happened would happen!! I have always called it a myth, ALWAYS called bullshit on it.
It was actually the lab tech that did my hair follicle test who offered this information to me. Poppy seeds. Yep mmmhmm I KNOW!!

My PO wouldn’t ever believe that, she didn’t. My counselor, my doctor and my pysche , all came up with that same answer, with no persuasion or even HINTS…… Poppy seeds. Food Grade levels can show up on lab tests, they are very VERY small numbers because the food has minute traces, a quick cup can pick up the food grade levels, HOWEVER, it can NOT decipher the actual level/ amount ingested.

TELL ME, how could that whole situation NOT HAVE fucked me up mentally??
How could it not have destroyed me and made me and angry, violent, mean person?

How am I not one big walking ball of HATRED?


Well, it did for a while, and I was for a bit. SO that was that.

Now, here I am today, with my family..
“Stronger than ever, Beating all the odds that have been against me. ” As I suppose they say. There are so many times I dwell on my past, and my present. I always wonder…

Yes, there was a time where I was a bit of a shitbag, & I was living a bad life… making bad choices.
Yes I made the decision to use solely on my own at 19– I chose the places I went to and the people I hung out with. I made the decisions that I made on my own. I promise though, I never knew they would lead me to where I’ve been, and what I’ve gone though.
I never knew I would become so addicted. I never knew that drugs would eventually destroy my life, yet leave me here to suffer.
A lot of my most important friends and relationships, are dead. I’ve said goodbye to FAR too many people I love.

So theres that story. I’m ready to tell it and I want it to be heard, and known about. So share it. Tell me your thoughts. Does my story sound familiar, or are you reading this is complete awe, because you thought this sort of thing only happens on Netflix, HBO, only on TV.
A lot of people may blame me, call me a terrible person, shame shame shame – but today,
I can let that shit roll right off my shoulders. You could not walk a mile in my shoes at my age, and I probably couldn’t walk a mile in yours either.

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Flashbacks and more getting off track…

It was not very hard for many of us to say goodbye to 2020. I know a handful of people, some who have not stayed up to watch the ball drop in decades, yet this year they had to. They had to literally watch 2020 leave, open the door for it, and SO excitedly WAVE GOODBYE to 2020 and hugely welcome in 2021. There were no such theatrics in my home, not by me anyways. I won’t be so excited like that until I can get out of this damn house!

Today is the 4th day of 2021; January 4th, 2021. The last time there was any type of uninterrupted normalcy around these parts, was in March of 2020. Yes, I know that Covid started long before the date of March 12th 2020, (the last normal school day for my children&I), but only then is when we were personally affected by the global pandemic. As far as I can tell you. It all sort of brings me back, back to 9-11-01. To this day I can still remember exactly where I was,( 7th grade), the classroom I was in, (History on the yellow team), the teachers NAME (Mr. Goodell), and all the rest of what went down on that horrific, nightmare of a day, in the United States. I remember by the time I got home, I was so afraid. We lived in Boston Ma, not in New York, so why was I so scared?

I remember those 2 days, better than any thing else I can remember from that long ago. However, this is much Larger. This is a global wide pandemic. I think of it is as the Plague of our time.

Another event that I can clearly remember, was in the 4th grade. I lived in Rhode Island that year and that year only, Lincoln RI. I do not remember anything about the school I was in, what the classsrooms looked like, or even what a normal day in my life was like back then, but I do remember the very serious bomb threat that my school received on one very disgustingly hot, humid day. The caller had said that there was X amount of bombs hidden throughout the schools. I remember the weather because the entire school had to evacuate the building, along with 2 or 3 other schools in the area. We stood outside in the humid air for HOURS, waiting for the bomb squad, and my at the time best friend Natasha, actually nearly fainted due to the humidity, but the nurse said she collapsed and called it a day. Thinking back on it, they were creating some type of distraction, or other, by not only confusing US KIDS, but also our parents, relatives, and anyone else, by holding us outside, yet not yet telling any families of the going ons yet, and later that day, once we were released ( I want to say it was approaching nightfall at that point), they sent us all on random routes on random buses and drove us around for another hour or 3, shuffling us all over. To say that My mother was PISSED, would be a large understatement. She had no idea where I was for the majority of the day! Does anyone else remember this?? That day was not anywhere near as scary, traumatic, threatening, dangerous ETC- as this, no, but it does put into perspective the things we may remember into adulthood, and how we perceive these events as children.

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