A Letter To The Woman Supposed To Be My Mother.

Yesterday was my birthday, and I wanted more than anything to call you. To hear you tell me "happy birthday"

But you didn't call. 

I didn't expect you to. 

But this part, deep deep down in my heart wanted you to. 

We don't have a relationship, like normal people do. Because I chose to cut you out of my life. 

Most people ask me if it hurts, not talking to you. and it does. It's hurts like a knife in my throat. 

But let's be honest. You caused this. 

I have put myself through so much hell trying to save you. Hell trying to raise you, like I'm your mother. 

I have always been there for you. I have put my life on hold trying to rescue you. To save you from yourself. From your abusive husband. From the alcohol. 

I will always love you. But I have to love you from a far away distance. 

I have so many bad memories from my life with you. So many crazy things that a child should never have to go through. 

I could name all the shitty things you've said to me, or done to me. A list that some people would be appalled at. 

People say that you can't love someone else until you love yourself. And because of you, I've never loved myself. I've hurt myself trying to be someone worthy or your love. 

I've always thought that it's something I've done. Something I caused that made you choose alcohol or that man over me. 

The truth is, I've been carrying your burden on my shoulders. And it's too heavy for me anymore. I can't do it. I can't blame myself for your choices. Not anymore. 

I've tried convincing myself that someday you would realize that I'm worth you changing. But I can't make you change. I can't be the reason you get sober. Or leave him. I'm not the problem and I'm not perfect, and never will be. I can't be good enough for you. 

I have to be good enough for myself. 

I have to stop blaming myself. 

I have to stop carrying your burden. 

I have to move on. I have to work on myself and the life I want to have. 

For now that means I can't be around you. 

I do this thing, where I leave the door cracked open for you. For you to come back in to my life. 

But the door has been shut. Three locks on it. 

That doesn't mean that I don't love you. I always will. 

But the main thing I want to say to you is, I forgive you. For all the fucked up things you've done to me. For all the ways you've hurt me. I forgive you. 

Not for you. But for me. 

Because I have to, for me to move on with my life. 

An Open Letter To The Man Who Left Me Alone And Pregnant

I hate to admit it but, sometimes I think about you. Especially with Father's Day coming up. 

I wonder who you are. Who you've become. 

Did you ever tell your parents that you have a child?

Do you ever think about us?

But then I remember, you left us. 

You moved on. Without us. 

Do you know that she is the most beautiful thing in this world?

That she is all happiness and smiles? That she is loved and adored? 

That sometimes when she smiles, she looks like you? 

How about that she wiggles her eyebrows like me?

I don't think you do. 

Man are you missing out. 

I almost feel sorry for you. 

You walked away. Of sound body and mind. You chose this not me. 

And sometimes that hurts. Bad. 

But then I remember, even if you chose this, that she has a dad. 

One that will never walk away from her. He will never not want her. 

He is amazing. He holds her hand, and loves her more than life. Watching him with her, you know that even in the darkest times he will stand by her. You can see the love in his eyes. 

I understand that at that time, you made a decision for yourself. I accept that. 

And I forgive you. 

I wish you nothing but happiness. 

That is what I wanted to say. 

I forgive you. I hold no grudges. 

Sometimes Things Change

I always felt like a mother to my mother. At a young age, I went from feeling like a kid who was carefree, to a full grown adult. I remember too many times to count, putting my mother to bed and cleaning up the house. Throwing away the empty beer and liquor bottles. Cleaning up the spilt ones. 

I thought that it was okay. 

I thought that that was what I was supposed to do. 

I can remember the first time I felt like my family wasn't normal. A friend had asked me to stay the night, and I had to make up an excuse for why she couldn't. 

Funny how that one moment could lead to so many more excuses and strained friendships. 

My sister and I have always told each other that, we would never be like our mom. That we wouldn't repeat the mistakes she had made. 

I wanted to be the perfect mom. I wanted to always be there for my kids and never have to worry that they might think I didn't love them. 

Life never goes the way we want it to. NEVER. 

I tried. I really did. 

I thought I had had it all together. I was married and happy. Or so I thought. 

Then in a whirlwind everything changed. 

I've told people the story of how I chose adoption. But I told you the good side. The things that make me sound like a saint. 

But the truth is, I ain't a saint. 

I got pregnant by a guy I didn't even know. I made a drunken mistake with a guy who's last name I didn't know. 

What a mess I was. 

So I guess here's the truth. All of it. 

It started one sad lonely night. I was upset and had quite a bit to drink. I called a guy who's number I had. I slept with him. Wasn't careful. Didn't protect myself. And a few weeks later I realized that I hadn't started my period. I took three tests and they all came out positive. 

I bawled like a baby. 

I called my mom into the bathroom and showed her. She was shocked and didn't believe that I was actually pregnant. She asked me what I was going to do. I didn't know. I called the guy, let's call him joe. 

His number was disconnected. 

I freaked. 

What was I going to do??

So I did the only logical/stalker thing to do. I searched all over Facebook until I found his profile which had a number listed. I called the number and it went to voicemail. It was his. I sent him a text and told him we needed to talk. 

He told me if it was bad news he didn't want to hear it. 

So I told him I was pregnant. 

He responded and I quote, "get an abortion."

He said that to me. Literally the first thing he said to me. (What an asshole.)

He started calling me back to back. But I didn't answer. I couldn't. I didn't know what to think, much less what to say. 

So I ignored him. 

I thought about it all night. Was abortion really an option? I couldn't have a kid! I wasn't ready! I decided it was an option. So I made an appointment at a clinic. 

I went in. 

I sat in the room, by my self. 

I waited. So confused. 

And I got sick. Sitting there freaking out. 

I couldn't do it. I couldn't have an abortion. 

I got up and walked out. 

I went home and started thinking about my options. I looked up adoption. 

I found an agency's number and called them. They wanted to meet me and answer any questions I had. I agreed. 

When I told my mom I was thinking about it, she flipped. She cussed me out and told me what I was doing was wrong. She told me people aren't supposed to give up their kids. 

I was heartbroken. How was I supposed to go through with something I was already so hesitant about, if my own mom would disown me?

But I went to the meeting anyways. 

They picked me up, and took me to lunch. I asked a million questions and they answered every single one. (I had some bizarre questions, I assure you.)

I decided that it was what I was going to do. 

But I wrestled with it, so very often. 

Some days I wanted to just walk away and never look back. Some days I knew it was right. 

I fought myself every single day. 

When I had my first ultrasound, I cried. I went home and stared at her pictures and wondered how I could ever not be with her. 

It wasn't easy. 

Some days the only reason I was alive was because she was inside of me. 

I wanted to end it. I wanted to die. I wanted to never wake up again. 

I struggled with my depression and fought every day to try to push through. 

When I felt her move for the first time, my heart broke. 

Sometimes I wonder if I'm a terrible person because, in my darkest hours, I wish that I had never met joe. That we had never had a kid. And that I hadn't had to go through all of it. 

I went through it by myself. My mom kicked me out. She didn't want to talk to me. My family basically abandoned me. And joe was nowhere to be found. 

I had no one. 

Sure, I had an adoption caseworker. But at the time I didn't know if she actually cared about me, or if she just wanted me to go through with the adoption. I was skeptical about trusting anyone. 

I had major trust issues. 

But I guess the point of this was, to just say I'm not a saint. 

I made decisions that could've altered everything. 

I have thoughts that no one should ever hear. 

And yes sometimes I wish it hadn't happened. 

But I wouldn't change it. I love my daughter. I wouldn't change her at all. She is amazing, and is the light of my life. She makes my heart happy, and makes her parents so happy. She is the greatest thing I have ever done. 

But sometimes in the darkest times, in the darkest part of my mind, I wish things had been different. 

A Little Love

It's amazing to me of the things that I have survived.

Looking back at everything, my childhood, my teenager years, and even what little of my adulthood that I've lived, it never ceases to amaze me of the fact that I SURVIVED.

Today I started thinking of the difficult times that I've had and was and still am, amazed that I haven't just quit. That even though I've been at my breaking point SO MANY times, I've pushed through and made it to be 23.

I'm 23 years old.

Damn.

I have been told by so many people that I would never make it, I would never be anything. And my favorite, I'd never be good for anything except laying on my back.

I've watched people I've grown up with, go back into the cycle that they swore they'd break.

I have been beaten down and broken so many times.

And you know what? I'm still here. I'm still fighting.

Would you ever guess just from a first glance at me, that I've tried to kill myself more times than I can even remember?

That a little more than a year ago I almost killed myself with pain pills?

I don't think you would.

I can remember the first time I cut myself, almost as if it's currently happening.

It was my birthday. They terminated my mom's rights that morning. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried. I cried until I couldn't breathe. And then I grabbed my shaving razor and took it apart. I wanted it to end. Right there on the bathroom floor. So I cut my leg. And for some crazy fucked up reason, I felt relieved. I felt like I was in control of one thing. And that made me feel better. So every time I felt like I just couldn't handle it anymore, like everything was out of control, I'd cut. A few times on my leg. And then I started on my wrist.

I wanted someone to see it. I wanted them to say something. I was drowning, screaming for help, but there was no hand out of it.

Eventually I learned to cope a little better. But I still sometimes get to that point. A year ago, after I tried to kill myself unsuccessfully, I cut. Three times on my wrist.

And then I met Bryce. And I had to explain to this man, how fucked up I was. This man who had only been on a few dates with me.

I still don't know why he didn't just run.

I would have.

But somehow, I got lucky.

This man has seen the worst sides of me. He has seen me so broken, and depressed. He has seen me after two surgeries. He has seen me angry, hangry, sad, stressed, emotional, irrational, tired, drunk, happy, and drugged up.

And for some crazy, illogical reason he still loves me.

He has held me while I cried, and  watched me vomit until I couldn't breathe. He has driven all over a town somewhere in New Mexico looking for a place that had ice cream, because I was pms-ing and cried just because I wanted ice cream.

I'm not the skinniest girl in the world. And I'm definitely not the prettiest either. I weigh more now, than I did when I was 10 months pregnant. I have stretch marks, a c-section scar, and scars from my life. And you know what?

He calls me beautiful like it's my name.

There has never been a time in our relationship, where He made me feel ugly. He has never made me feel fat. He has never, ever, made me feel like I wasn't enough.

Let me paint a picture for you,
Me, drugged up after having my appendix removed, slurring my words and talking about how I am convinced that the big cut inside my mouth is because the doctor drugged me up and mouth fucked me. And then proceeding to ride a motorized scooter from the parking lot into walmart, to get my prescriptions. Still occasionally saying/slurring some pretty fucked up stuff.

Not a pretty picture, right?

He laughed.

He didn't get embarrassed, or tell me to wait in the car while he went in so he wouldn't be seen with me.

He proudly walked beside me, and laughed at my stupidity.

This man. Oh god, I wish I could describe the feeling I have for this man.

Most men are afraid to get into a relationship with a woman who has a kid. Now imagine getting into one with a woman who placed her kid for adoption.

Uncharted territory.

Not only has this man been so supportive of my decisions, he has met my daughter.

Let me repeat that for you.

THE MAN HAS MET MY DAUGHTER.

He was right there beside me when they came to visit. Do you realize what a feat that is? That not only have I found a man strong enough to handle my crazy ass, but also a man who is supportive of my decisions enough that he has met both sets of my new parents and my daughter.

Fuck, man.

This man can read my mind. And I mean that figuratively, you weirdo.

He knows what I am thinking, and can read me like a book. He knows when I want something, when something's bothering me, when I'm thinking too hard, or when I'm stressed.

Today as I was discussing with him, the way I feel about the things I've survived, we discussed the thought of children. Not really a deep discussion, where we talked about when we want to try or anything like that. Just a brief mention of kids.

And I started thinking.

What would our kids think of us? Would we be the parents that gross out our kids while kissing in the kitchen? Would we be the parents who NEVER miss a game/competition? Would we be the strict parents, or the laid back ones?

While I don't know what the future holds, I can say one thing, if we have kids they will know that their dad is in love with their mom.

I Swear To Tell The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Nothing But The Truth.

Today I realized something as I stood at the sink washing dishes. And it hit me like a brick.

My life is so completely different than I thought it would be.

Not in a bad way.

A year ago, I was pregnant and lost. I had no idea what I was going to do, I knew that I wanted to do adoption but, I also knew it was going to be hard as hell.

I had lost so many people. My sister and I had fought and weren't on speaking terms. My mother has basically disowned me, and kicked me out of the house for choosing adoption. I had lost my ex husband, (although looking back, it's not a bad thing. Lol.) and I had lost control and didn't know what I was doing.

I fought myself every single day.

One day I was going through with the adoption. The next I didn't think I could do it.

But you know what? I fought. I fought really fucking hard. Through the pain. The depression. The kidney stones and month of on and off labor.

And I fucking did it.

I made the right choice and I put my daughter first before any single thing in my life, including myself.

I'm not sure about my beliefs anymore. But I do know, that I have been rewarded with so much in the process.

I have depression and anxiety, and I fight it every day. I have good days, weeks and even months. But I also have bad days, and weeks. I'm a mess and I'm not afraid to admit it.

I've had a hell of a month. I lost my aunt, and almost lost my mom.

But through it all, I have gained more than I could've ever imagined. So I just want to take this time to say thank you to the people who have helped me and supported me.

To my daughter Penelope,
Thank you for being the reason that I'm here and alive. For being the reason that I want to be so much more. For being the best thing that ever happened to me. You are and will always be the best thing I have ever done/made. You are beautiful and worth so much to me. I will and have always loved you.

To Kat and Lance,
Thank you, for raising our girl to be strong and independent. For accepting me as your own, and loving me more than I could've ever imagined. For being there when she was born, and loving her with all of your hearts.

To Kirsten,
Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for encouraging me. You are such an amazing woman, and I am so glad that you're in my life. Thank you for answering my late night texts and phone calls, when I just needed you. Thank you for spending last Christmas with me and your favorite niece. And thank you for being in the room with me when she was born. I am so glad that I shared that experience with you.

To Kelly,
Thank you for opening your home up and sharing your wife with me. I know I took her away a lot. Thank you for sharing your Christmas with my family. You don't know how much it means to me.

To Sarah and Rikky
Sarah thank you for being my bestest friend. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for worrying about my mom, and me. Thank you for always being there, and helping me search for my cats. Haha. Thank you for putting me in check when I need it. Thank you for answering your phone, when my power goes out and I'm scared. Thank you for distracting me while Bryce sets up a surprise party. And thank you for spending so much time with me, I have grown to love you both so much. I am so thankful that I have y'all in my life.

To Alexis,
Thank you for being My friend when I didn't have anyone. Thank you for taking me shopping with you. Thank you for being supportive of me placing P for adoption. Thank you for coming to the hospital She. She was born and seeing us, even though I was drugged up. You are a beautiful woman inside and out. Dj is so incredibly lucky to have you as a mom. I love you.

To Gina,
Thank you for being there for me in the middle of the night when I needed to go to labor and delivery. Thank you for being such a great friend to me, even when I didn't deserve it. Thank you for loving me, even when I didn't love myself. I could never express how thankful I am to have you. I love you.

And last but, definitely not least,
To my Bryce,
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for supporting me, even when I'm trying to push you away. Thank you for loving me when I'm cranky, and hangry. Thank you for holding me up when I didn't feel like I could stand. You are my rock. Thank you for loving me even with all of my baggage. You surprise me every day. Thank you for throwing me such an awesome birthday party. I love you more than words can express. I could go on and on about how much I love you. Thank you babe, I love you crocodile. 😘

All the things I don't want to be.

Never in my life did I think at 22 I'd have a failed marriage. That I'd be the girl who couldn't even stay married for a year. That I'd marry a guy that I wouldn't end up spending the rest of my life with.

Never did I think that at 22 I'd have a daughter with a guy that didn't care about me or her. Or that I'd go on to place her for adoption.

Never did I think that I'd watch my daughter grow up through a series of pictures, videos, and seldom Skype calls.

Never did I think that I'd reach the low that I have.

I never wanted to be that girl who couldn't take care of herself. The girl who craves attention at 1 o'clock in the morning, because the demons in her head won't shut up.

I don't want to be that girl.

But I am.

I'm everything that I never wanted.

That I swore I'd never be.

I told myself that I'd have a happy family by the time I was 23. And here I am a month away from my birthday, with no connection to my blood family. A daughter who's life is in Georgia. A boyfriend who somehow manages to deal with my craziness, an ex husband, and college on hold.

How have I become this girl?

How have I managed to let these demons control me?

Lately I've been feeling like I'm drowning. Like I can't pull my head above the water.

Sometimes I feel like, maybe I don't even exist.

Maybe it's all a figment of my imagination and in the morning I'll wake up and be 18 again.

But I won't.

It's real.

I swore I'd never be anything like my mother. But lately I've been depending on my boyfriend more and more to feel like I have worth. Just like my mother does.

I stepped on the scale the other day and I am at my heaviest. I weigh more than I did at 10 months pregnant.

I look in the mirror and am disgusted with myself.

I'm not even sure that I love myself anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I love my boyfriend and love that he loves me no matter what I look like.

But as I've been told, how can I love someone else when I don't love myself?

Maybe I just need to fix me.

But maybe I'm too broken.

The Name Changing Game

Everyone has a point in their life where they figure out that either they're not happy, or they're not letting go of one thing that can make or break their happiness.

Mine just so happened to be a couple days ago.

I've gone through life craving one thing that I feel like I was never given enough of. LOVE.

Most of you know my story. I lived with my mom and stepfather until I was 13, at which time my sister and I were removed from their custody and placed in the Baptist Children's Home. My stepfather was abusive in every way. To me, to my sister, and especially my mother.

I fought for a long time, pushing away people who truly loved me, thinking that there was only one definition of love. The one I grew up knowing, and seeing. And so I fought for THAT love.

But as I've gotten older, I've seen things from a different point of view.

I know now that THAT version of love is toxic. And will poison anyone who let's it.

I've fought for so long, just for my mother to love me. To feel like she loved me. I've tried to rescue her from my stepfather. Many times. But as many people I love have told me, you can't save someone who won't save themselves. And I can't spend the rest of my life trying to save her from herself. I have a daughter who will hopefully one day look up to me. I want her to be proud of me. And any future children I have as well. I can't let them grow up watching grandma come over with black eyes and bruises everywhere. I can't let them think THAT is okay.

Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. And I always will. But there's a point where  you have to start living your own life. Instead of trying to fix someone else's.

So I'm done. I'm not fighting for something that she doesn't want. I'm done wasting my life trying to fix someone.

Many of you are wondering, I'm sure, why I have changed my name on Facebook. The truth is, that in being done with the drama and nonsense of my mother I've realised that I can't just let her go, not without making major changes to myself, and my name. So this is me, changing for the better. I'm changing my name to Isabeau Kristine Oliver. Or Beau for short. And honestly if you have negative things to say, I don't want to hear it.

In me changing my name, I'm trying to change a lot of things. I'm trying to find myself and discover who I am without the pain and stress that I've been dealing with lately and pretty much all of my life.

So, so far here's what I know is true.

I'm 22, I'll be 23 in November.
I have a daughter who is the love of my life, and has the most amazing adoptive parents in the world.
I have a boyfriend who is the most supportive, loving, and all around amazing guy I've ever met.
I have a job, that I sometimes like. Haha.
I have a new car. That I love. (:
Friends whom I adore, and are my family.

Things I love:
My daughter Penelope LeeAnn Salome Frances.
My boyfriend Bryce.
My awesome amazing two sets of adoptive parents/best friends, Kirsten and Kelly, and Kat and Lance.
My cats, Murphy and Cat.
Burgers.
Bacon.
Ice cream.
Movies.
Special Education.
Hard work.
Monsters. (only the green ones.)
Dr Pepper
The color Green.

Things I hate:
Spicy foods.
Being treated like a child.
School.
People who put other people down all the time.
School.
Alcoholics.
Abusers.
School.
Mornings.
People who are rude to servers.
School.

I guess to me, changing my name to something I have chosen, is like cutting that final tie to my mom.
That I can finally start my life living for ME. And so that's why I'm changing it.