What is love?

What is love?

Growing up I always had insecurities surrounding love. From the moment I was created I was told how no on truly wanted me. My mother battling her own demons at the time and my father addicted to drugs were incapable of being able to fully devote all love to me. When I was created my mother had found out that she had cancer. From what I’ve been told Melanoma is the only form of cancer that goes from mother to child and my mother prior to conceiving me spent 30 mins in a tanning bed for her first time and developed a 4-5 on her bottom. I don’t have memories of that time clearly with being an infant so I go off of the things I’ve been told through the years. My papa used to tell me he believes deep down my mother wanted to love me but guarded herself due to the fact that I wasn’t supposed to survive the cancer. My mother tells me she was the only one who loved me. The story I’ve been told and brow beat for years with is my mother father and great grandmother were the only ones who came to see me when I was born. My family, mostly Caucasian, didn’t want to accept a multiracial baby into the family. They had tried to convince her to have an abortion. That’s where my mother says her love for me came in. After a few days my family came around and I believe they grew to love me. But imagine the difficulty believing that you could ever be truly loved and accepted by someone hearing this story over and over again at a young age.

I remember falling into a dark and lonely place very often while growing up. I could be in the middle of doing something with my grandparents and randomly ask them, “do you love me?” They would always reply with a yes and list all the reasons of why.

That insecurity has followed me and has carried over into my relationships. I feel unworthy, not good enough, and unloved a majority of the time. No amount of therapy has been able to change that for me. I am very big on actions. Your voice can express to me a million times the love you share for me but what you do is what matters.

I had a partner who would tell me in this tone that he used only when expressing love that they loved me, but in the same breathe do things that weren’t love in my eyes. They would allow family members to degrade me, hit me, disrespect me and try to convince me that it was love. It takes my brain time to wrap itself around the idea that love isn’t a cookie cutter definition. It looks different to everyone. In his eyes maybe abuse was love. I could understand that. In another previous relationship I had paired love with abuse. He would hurt me and return with apologizes and flowers with cards that said I love you. Every hit combined with “I love you, why do you make me do this to you.” I had been convinced for 4 years that love was violence and fights. At the time it made sense to me. My father abused my mother, my mother abused me, my family degraded one another and they all claimed love.

The other night I was talking to a friend who referred to love in almost the same way. I think we learn love and it’s meaning very young. We see the people around us show love in their own ways and we are programmed that it’s how you demonstrate love. I know what love should resemble based on Disney and Romance movies, but that isn’t real life. So how do you truly know how to love if you’ve only seen it in forms of violence and half ass apologizes? How do you rewire years of trauma like that?

I look more and more to my grandparents. The way they interacted with one another is the type of love I yearn for. My Papa never forgot an anniversary or passed up an opportunity to make my Nana feel special. They had their arguments and tough times but when they looked at one another you could feel the electricity they shared. I try to rewire my brain to accept only love in a form as pure as that. The type of love you don’t have to water down. Love isn’t just in partners but love is in friendships as well. My friend tells me love is being your unapologetic self. It’s being able to be open and talk about the hard issues with one another. I look at her and wish to be as confident and secure.

I’m learning there’s no time constraint to heal that past trauma surrounding love. However; you shouldn’t demonstrate the false love you’ve been programmed to show on others and refer to it as such.

Sincerely,

Me

Finding My Way Back From OZ

Finding My Way Back From OZ

A mixture of lavender and over cooked corn tortilla shells was the scent I remember from that day. I can’t remember my thoughts before, the color of my shirt, the location of where I even found the pills, but I can remember the smell that filled the air. It’s ironic isn’t it. Lavender. The calming, stress reducing, essential oil. That’s what I smelt, yet there was no ounce of calm in my body the moment my mouth touched that orange pill bottle.

Reading my text messages from earlier that day nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Complaining to my boyfriend about what a stressful day I was having at work wasn’t off kilter seeing how everyday this year had been intensely overwhelming. I ate lunch with my usual lunch group, talked our usual talks, did my normal work routine. Yet my world went black at some point.

There are a number of things I told the doctors, but nothing after the fact that I can say was the true blue reason of why. I remember taking my father to the behavioral health center after a drug induced psychosis. One of the questions was, “why are you here?” My dad explained he felt like he was trapped in OZ like Dorothy and he needed help finding his way back. There are things that happen in your life that might not hit you right there in that moment. It might be days, weeks, even years later before you finally feel what you should have felt then. But sooner or later the pain you’ve pushed down catches up to you. I finally understood what my father meant by that. I’d clicked my heels a million times, but still couldn’t escape the confines of my own personal OZ.

“What triggered your breakdown?” I was asked. It could have been a number of things, but I do recall before leaving work a coworker stopped and told me that we would be losing our health insurance. Because our job has decided that we are not and I quote “their problem”. How lovely and compassionate. Before kaiser I had medi-cal. My kaiser OB reviewed my charts from my first pregnancy and came to the conclusion that it was indeed a viable pregnancy. Yet my medi-cal doctors didn’t have the time or education to figure out what was going on with my body causing me the pain. They just decided that the pregnancy needed to be terminated. So hearing that I might have to go back to these doctors broke me. I still hadn’t really dealt with the trauma of losing my angels. I just stuffed it deep down hoping it would disappear just ask quickly as they did. Driving home my mind started spinning, calling people to get comfort and understanding, but no one really knows how to comfort you when you cant explain to them what is making you feel the way you do. I have a tendency to have every bad thing that’s ever happened to me crash down upon me when I’m stressed out. It’s like I’m going through it all a new. No words were going to make me feel better. In that moment I had never felt more isolated and alone. I was sad, extremely tired of being this sad, and I just wanted it to stop.

Depression is an evil thing to live with. Most people don’t understand it or even try to grasp how you are feeling. In a room full of people you still can feel so alone. You can’t call into work on your weakest days with the reason being you are depressed without some snarky retort. It’s not an acceptable reason in their eyes. You can’t cancel plans with friends or family because you can’t stop crying without a cure all remark of “can’t you just be happy”. As if it were that easy.

Depression had consumed my souls once again and this time I was ready to let it have me.

I don’t remember much after that. I remember going upstairs to work on some shirts for a friend and that is about it. Bits and pieces of a heated conversation between my boyfriend and I. Then the blackness.

I don’t remember what happened after my world went dark, but I do remember coming too and calling my best friend to take me to the hospital. In that moment I knew I made a mistake. My heart began to race. Not from the pills, but from the thought of making a permanent solution to a temporary problem. My boyfriend tried to talk to me but I can’t recall a word he said. My mind was else where I thought of how if I were to die by my own hand that I wouldn’t go to heaven and see my babies I so desperately longed for every second of every day. I thought of my little rebellious ones and who was going to look after and fight for them if I wasn’t around. I thought of my best friends and how they would wonder why I didn’t talk to them more about the sadness in my soul. But most of all I thought of my Papa and how his heart couldn’t take another loss.

Regret set in around the same time as the nausea and foggy bits. They escorted me to a room with a guard where I waited to purge the poison I had ingested. With every heave I cried. Once again alone with my thoughts. For hours I tried to sleep but my nightmares consumed me.

I was given the option of inpatient or an outpatient program. I could do out patient if my friends agreed to sign saying they would ensure I wouldn’t hurt myself again. With the burden of my life being on my friends I knew I had to focus on getting my heart healthy. Over a month in a program called IOP and I was feeling better and ready to go back to work and be around the world again with all their harsh judgment and criticism. I had two more classes when I received a text saying I would be changing classrooms when I returned to work. Inside I was shattered. This would be the second time my job had decided to retaliate against me during a hard time in my life. But I just replied with excitement. Change is something people going through things can’t really handle. Those two more classes turned into another month in therapy.

Tip toeing through conversations. Every choice word well planned and thought out. I felt equipped to handle the world around me with my tool belt full of new knowledge and understanding of my emotional experiences with the stress of my job, the loss of my babies, and the broken ness of my family. “It is what it is” was my mind set returning to the real world. You can’t change people or situations…..but you can accept them and change the way you allow it to effect you. Catty remarks of “how nice of you to come back” were a great welcoming from a few. If they only could experience half the things I’ve had to maybe they would have a heart and not be so callous. But an overwhelming amount of love and support was also showered upon me from several people as well. For those people I am grateful. You never know what someone is going through so why not just be kind?

Life after a breakdown doesn’t feel like life at all. I feel as if I’m floating, just making it through everyday like a dream. I didn’t know how to quit interact with others. “What were they thinking of me?” “Do they think I’m weak?” So many thoughts creeping through my mind.

During these challenging times I’ve learned that I need to ask for help when I need it. My job is just that, a job. It’s not my whole life. If I need to take a day, a week, a month off to gain mental clarity then I need to do just that. Some people are cruel and I just avoid those people. Not everyone is going to understand what you are going through, but some are willing to try. I still look through my therapy notebook on trying days. I’m not fine, but I’m getting better. Stress management is definitely something I am working on. After the loss of my babies I was told often how strong I was. I didn’t feel very strong. I felt weak and bruised. With tears in my eyes and pain in my heart I urge you to hug your “strong friends”, Show people who seem distant a little more compassion then usual. You never really know what anyone is going through in life. The people with the biggest smiles and deepest laughs can be the ones hiding the most pain in their hearts.

Same Song and Dance

“Today is going to be o….” I began to type before deleting the message. Type, reword, delete, type, reword, delete….it’s a vicious cycle that you have put me in. Concocting novels to you used to be as simple as putting my fingers in motion, so why does a simple sentence feel like such a skill to grasp?

Towards the end of my last relationship I was talking to my best friend about how things were going. I remember telling him I could feel the coldness in the already rigid conversations. The lack of interest in each other’s lives being masked with “that’s cool” and on some days utter silence. “If you know it’s coming to an end why don’t you just say goodbye?” I’ve never been good at letting go. Goodbyes have always broken me. The idea of one night falling asleep with someone meaning the world to you, never imagining life without them, to waking up and having the feeling fled has always been so hard for me to navigate. It’s like you just wake up and no longer love a person. What brought you to this point?

Along this spiritual journey I have done many things to make “letting go” that much easier and less traumatic. I’ve taught myself that people, material objects, feelings they are nothing more than just “things” if you give them a special label and hold on to it tight it begins to romanticize it which makes it so hard to say goodbye, but if you cherish it minute by minute and tell yourself that it doesn’t belong to you it makes it that much easier when it’s time to relinquish it. Death is hard. It rattles every fiber in me, but I think having someone no longer want you in their life is harder. That slow distancing song and dance is heart wrenching. I have gotten better at letting go of things that are no longer doing me any good and draining my vibrations, But with you it’s different. You changed me and my coping mechanism way of thinking. I decided on you for an eternity of banter.

When I decide on someone I am choosing them for my whole life. Usually the good bits and the gory ones too. I don’t ever fathom the idea of distance or separation, but with a heart like mine that’s a dangerous thing. With every step backwards in opposing directions I feel a piece break off.

I slowly start to say goodbye to the thought of you and I. Each day creeping closer to the expiration date of who we used to be together. Pointed toes, fidgeting fingers, strung together with well thought out responses. What has gotten us here?

Keeping On

The taste of last nights antics still lingering on my tongue when I woke this morning. The memories and darkness come creeping in. My soul longing for my next drag and drink. Anything to keep the sadness at bay. Overwhelmed and overloaded. Filling my life with anything to distract me from the fact that my heart is in a dismay.

Weekdays full of work, school, working out. Any down time results in clouds and rain. Get up and go for round 2. Keep on keeping on meaning keep busy so you don’t lose sanity.

To speak my pain into words would mean that it was real and it happened. I won’t allow it. I can’t let this break me. Not again, I tell myself. There’s a dark cloud hanging over my heart.

When the tears begin to fall I know it’s time for another diversion. Anything to create some confusion within myself to make me forget and be filled with something to hide me from my own pain. Illusion after illusion. I jut really miss you.

My mother has decided I have a drinking problem. I’ve decided I have a remedy for an excessive amount of bullshit and pain being dumped on me at any given moment. Enduring pain that would bring grown men to their knees. 3 pregnancies lost in less than two years. A family in disarray. And a love for a father who’s trapped in OZ.

The same thing that can save me is the one thing I’m afraid will kill me. Wants, needs, and desperation. Refusing to open up the slightest afraid that no one will understand. “Cheer up” “You okay?” Stifled with a witty remark.

Attempting to save myself from myself. This was easy the first time around. A false and inaccurate use of the word, but easier compared to now. With every day I got a little bit stronger. I relish for that feeling again. Jealous of the person I was before. Proud for mustering up to courage to push on.

“How do people help you through it when you shut them out?” How hard is it to make yourself vulnerable just to be unheard and misunderstood. Mistakes you can’t allow yourself to make. So you long for the next interference in your heartache.

The weekends creep in and you pray someone calls to fill the next two days with amusement and engross your time until the busy week approaches once again. The two days others long for are the days you despise the most.

Monday comes and your hands are idle no longer.

Keep

On

Keeping

On………….

The Butterfly 

The Butterfly 


I look for signs in every part of my day. A beautiful humming bird is usually my Nana, a sweet dotted ladybug is your oldest sister Elowyn, those magical dragonflies are our sweet Jane, and yesterday when that butterfly entered our classroom…. I knew it was you. I wished and I prayed for you for a very long time. The short week I knew of you I loved you more than words could express. Pregnancy is a really interesting experience. You create this little miracle that you haven’t met yet, but you love it like your whole world depends on it and it alone. You want to protect it from anything that might cause it harm. Including yourself.
This time I was very proactive. I immediately contacted my doctor and began the pokes and the probes. With every prick of the needle I feared if this were the day I would hear that horrific word “ectopic”. I looked for every sign and symptom like the last. But nothing, until the bleeding came. I knew in that moment I had lost you. Shortly after I got the call from the doctor saying she was sorry, but my levels were fading and you were gone. I excused myself to the restroom and cried. “How could this be happening again?” ,I thought to myself, “How can God be so cruel?” I tried my best to compose myself deciding to stay and finish the rest of the day at work so I didn’t have to be at home alone. I went back to the class and began working trying to keep the tears at bay. And then there you were, a beautiful light green butterfly fluttering around our classroom. Looking for a quick way out as soon as you entered. How metaphorical to our situation. Just as quick as we said hello it was already time to say goodbye. I knew I had to be the one to set you free. I approached you and you did not fly away, i sent you all the love I had in my heart and I let you go. 
At the beginning of finding out I was pregnant with you my biggest fear was ectopic pregnancy again. I knew that this time I wouldn’t have the heart to be the one to end your fate. My soul wouldn’t allow it. My biggest regret till this day that eats at me every moment of every day is choosing my life over Elowyn and Janes. The soul person put here to protect them was the one who took them from this world. I knew it would kill me to do it again so I would have to risk it all with you. That’s the conundrum of this whole thing. Yes I am very sad and hear broken that I will not have you in my arms, but I’m relieved that I did everything in my power to protect you this time. You are not leaving at the hands of me.
So I will be seeing you my sweet girl. In every passing butterfly. Sending you love and hugs with every prayer at night. You were wanted and wished for. Created with love beyond this worlds ability to express. You were just to good for this Earth and God knew it. I’ll dream of you until we see each other in heaven.
Love you my little butterfly

Kindness is so gangster…..

Kindness is so gangster…..

The world can be a scary place to live. Especially when you’re in jr high school. In school I got bullied a lot. I was the quirky kid. I had “friends”, but they always picked on me for being weird. Weird to them wasn’t that I played with Yugioh cards or acted out Pokémon in the field like the rest of the kids they labeled “weird”. My weirdness was the fact that I was nice. They would tease me trying to get me to react in a volatile way. Always uping it a notch further. The last straw was when my mom bought me this cheerleading outfit from Limited Too. I was so excited to wear it the following Monday because it was sports theme for spirit week. My mom was hesitant about letting me wear it to school because she didn’t want me to ruin it. After hours of heavy persuading I finally convinced her I would take good care of it. That Monday I strutted into school feeling so cool. I couldn’t wait for my friends to see me. I told one of my friends about my moms fear of it getting messed up and she laughed. During lunch we are on the bleachers, there was a lot of whispering and more side conversations then usual. I started to notice that I wasn’t apart of them. I packed up my stuff and began to walk off the bleachers when one of the girls behind me called my name. As I turned around another girl behind me poured a cup of juice over my head. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was cry. I kept asking “why did you do that?” “Did you do it on purpose?” as I sobbed. No one answered, they just laughed. One of the girls began to call me names, “you’re so stupid”, she said. I felt the anger start to build. Without thinking I punched her in the face. She fell off the bleachers. I had never felt so horrible in my whole life. That’s what they wanted. They wanted to kill my kindness and I let them win. 
That weekend was my grandparents weekend to have me so I went over to visit. My Nana had heard how I was suspended and wanted to talk about what happened. I told her how the girls called me names and said I was too nice. That I was weird because I didn’t stick up for myself. I explained how I felt after they poured the juice on me and how cruel they were for laughing and calling me names after. I told her they had it coming. My Nana had never looked so disappointed. She said,” there will be times in your life when you get knocked down and you want to knock someone down with you, but don’t. You are a Cupples, your stronger then that” I knew that what I had done was wrong, but it felt good to make her pay for calling me names. “Don’t let the world change who you are. Only me, your papa, and you know who you really are and I love the Rissy you are. Don’t let it weaken you. Don’t let this world change that.” Since that talk with my Nana I have always tried to stay true to me. Never let the world or things that happen change who I am.
Struggling with trying to conceive a child and have it implant in the right location as changed me. It’s weakened me. I have been at rock bottom for a long time because of this. I find myself in this constant struggle of “fake it till you make it”. This whole ordeal has made me into a different person. At first I was trying to be so nice to people because I started to realize you never know what others might be going through so treat them with kindness. When I realized that was turning me into a doormat I began treating people the same way they treated me. Like total and utter shit. Ignoring them how they did me, giving them shit the same way they would, being very petty, lowering myself to their level. One day I took a hard look in the mirror and started to cry. I let the world change me. Every experience I tried to block and and keep strong I let in and make me into a person I am not. 
If I’ve said it once in these blogs I’ve said it a million times, “rock bottom became the very foundation I rebuilt myself on”. I’m not perfect, I’m learning everyday just like the rest of you. This spiritual journey hasn’t been easy. It’s a journey. But I try not to give up. I roll with the bunches…… sometimes I’m just rolling for longer then I expected. Things that shifted me before aren’t shifting me in this present time so I will have to keep tinkering with things till I find what works for me to have my spiritual enlightenment again. It’s a process and a journey, but I’m grateful for the people along for the ride. I kinda forgot how gangster it is to be kind to everyone know matter what.
Sincerely 

Me

You’re one of the good ones

“I’ll make you fear me, you know what I’m capable of! You should be afraid!” Words jabbed into my heart like a knife. This coming from the man I went to bat for a couple years ago. The look of hate and anger in his eyes showed me just how wrong I was to believe he would never put a hand on someone he loved. My Uncle knows that I am a victim of domestic violence; however this man is no longer my uncle. The cocktail of substances that he chooses to consume has taken over and he has lost who he was. My Uncle would never treat  me in such a way. He was gone and it was time to morn another loss.


This week has been a challenging one for me. My great uncle passed away after a long fight with hepatitis. It created liver cancer and he went out with his boots one. My uncle was a kind man. Such a gentle soul. He was the “Cupples” I strived to be like. Not like this monster before me spitting as he spoke in my face chest to chest. In previous blogs I wrote about going to court with my uncle and standing beside him as he told the judge he never layer a finger on my grandfather. Now I’m seeing first hand that this must have been a lie. I felt foolish in that moment. It was like the world around me got quiet as he was in my face trying to take up for a man who he weeks ago decided would be “dead to him”. I remembered how he used to be and recalled all the events and details up until this point. When did he stray? When did he become this man before me? Name calling, spewing violence during such a hard time. Something I’ve noticed is death causes people to act in such a hateful way. This day was not the time nor the place for him to get so out of control. 

I speak of forgiveness often. You must forgive people, not for them, but for yourself. What a load to carry with you. Hate and anger toward someone else for wronging you. You can choose to forgive them, not forget and allow them to do the same, but forgive them and move on with no burden or weight. But with my uncle it would be hard. I gave up so much for him because I believed him. With help of others along the years with brainwashing me against my family. Pitting me against certain people. I believed he was right and my papa must have lost his mind. My uncle could never do such a thing. But I’m sure now after these series of devastating events that I was wrong.

How do you forgive someone who has wronged you so bad? I’m not quit sure. I’m finding myself letting go of him. Lately when I’m wrong by someone so harshly It’s like my mind won’t allow me to see the wrong doing. Only to good memories. I feel as if they have passed to another side where I can no longer speak with them. And only the bad person that’s stolen their body remains. Their heart and soul is in a better place and I can speak to them as if I’m speaking to a lost loved one in heaven. I get the urge to call them during times I usually would but just like people in heaven you remember you can’t. It’s hard, but I think it’s my coping mechanism. 

Times like these make it hard for me. As most of you know I’m fighting bipolar depression everyday. I choose to do so with no medication. Is it recommended, no, but I have to do what I feel is right for myself. I’ve been having dark thoughts lately with all that is going on. But I have a great support system that keeps me going. You can’t stop the good fight. I believe I was put on this earth for a purpose. All of us were. We are divine creatures created to do good. Even when life gets rough don’t let it change who you are. My Nana used to tell me,”dont let the world turn your heart cold, you’re one of the good ones.” You’re must remember that during hard times. As much as I want to close everyone out, turn of my lights, and lock my doors I can’t. I’ve worked so hard these past years since beginning this spiritual journey to open up, branch out, and just love people with all I’ve got. If they don’t reciprocate it that’s fine, let them go. But don’t let it define your. Don’t let it turn your heart dark.

I suggest everyone blog, vlog, write, sing about their emotions. Just get it out. It’s the best medicine. If people wanted you to write highly of them, they should have behaved better.