Because I suck at this. I mean, can you believe that I haven’t written anything in six months? Of course you can if you’ve been following me for a while.


So the last six months have been…interesting. Honestly I don’t even know where to begin and half of it is a blur so who knows if I’ll even remotely get everything down. Somewhere near my last post I started staying with Brad pretty much full time. Mostly because I can’t stand my mother or her house, but also because I’m a wimp and couldn’t really stay away from him. Around that time his mother got all upset thinking her mother was going to die for whatever reason and we spent the night drinking. Her quite heavily. So much so that she ended up with alcohol poisoning and Brad and I ended up calling an ambulance to take her to the hospital where she decided to assault many a staff member (once she finally came to from being in a comatose state) only to be strapped down for safety reasons. Eventually she was released after a couple hours and we all went home together. In the morning she told Brad to get the fuck out of her house and gave him a two week deadline. All because we made her go to the hospital. Later, she told us next time to just let her die on the floor. Anyway. We had already been applying to housing before, but the paperwork and approval was slow to come. We got kicked out of the house after the two weeks. We stayed at my grandma’s house for a few days, then he at a friend’s house while I at my parent’s house for a weekend, then both at my parent’s house for a little over a week until we were finally able to move into an apartment approved by the assistance program we were in. During that time, however, I found out I was pregnant. Having been on birth control the entire time I was completely shocked. Brad was upset and I was upset that he was upset and everything sucked. I told my parents separately. My mom first, who thought I was joking and then had a really long conversation about how we were irresponsible and awful and good luck. Then my dad who had already assumed I was and was also very upset. And then we had to tell the kids because my mom couldn’t keep her mouth shut and Tasselin cried because she didn’t want a baby brother (we didn’t know the gender) and why did we even tell her. And then when we went to tell Brad’s mom, when picking up the last of our stuff, she told us she knew because our assistance program told her already. It was quite a rough experience. Back to the apartment (well, duplex): it happened to be a three bedroom, one bathroom, a living room, kitchen and basement. Less room than our last apartment living wise, but the basement provided extra storage. It didn’t come with a stove or fridge, but the landlord lent us a stove and we used our tax return to buy a fridge (and car because mine got repossessed earlier, and movers to move all the crap in since I shouldn’t be lifting anything too heavy, and the moving truck). My parents decided to give us their old washer because they bought a new one (which we still don’t have because we didn’t have time or space for the movers to get it and Brad hasn’t asked anyone to help him get it) and bought us a dryer since the place has hookups. To this day we still have half our shit in boxes, which I am growing increasingly and exponentially tired of. Around this time Brad got a job at the local Pizza Hut as a manager. He makes about a dollar above minimum wage and they only schedule him maybe three nights a week. About a month after, they offered me a job as a server which I took. [I stopped camming after we left Brad’s mom’s house because we didn’t have a place to do it initially and then once in the new house it wasn’t set up enough to do it there either so we were definitely hurting for the money]. After my first week of working, I ended up off for about a month because I was constantly in the hospital for vomiting and extreme pain. I was told I had a stomach virus, then gastroenteritis, then I pulled the muscles in my stomach from puking so much and was dehydrated. Eventually all went back to being well and I started working again. I made serving minimum wage, which I think was like $2.23/hr or some bullshit because I had the potential to get tips and was usually only scheduled about twelve hours a week (part of which I was usually sent home early for because we weren’t busy enough). After a while they offered me driving shifts, which I took, which was minimum wage plus tips but was only scheduled for maybe one shift a week. I quit shortly after that. Partly because of the shitty pay and shitty hours and had already been looking for a new job but also because the managers gave me shit if I called off (even with doctor’s excuses, because I’m pregnant and was still constantly in and out of the office and hospital) and were wanting to fire me. I got a job with my old company, MedSave, but with a raise from the last time I worked there (now making $12/hr, woo hoo) and was excited to start. I want to say that was around the end of March, but I’m really not sure. Come April, I ask my parents what we’re doing for Easter. They forgot to tell me they were leaving for vacation over Easter and we therefore wouldn’t be doing anything and then completely overlooked my birthday. Which sucked. We had a party for Tasselin and gave her a few gifts we had saved up for (a couple outfits, hair chalk, sand art), but I couldn’t eat much thanks to the morning sickness and we ended up not staying very long. At the beginning of May I announced my pregnancy on various social media platforms and at the end of May we had a gender reveal party (we had the technician write the gender on a notecard and then put it in an envelope which we gave to our mom who had a cake made with the color to match the gender) which revealed we were having a girl (much to the surprise of Brad and myself because we were for sure it was going to be a boy) and then which I also announced via various social media. During the time of that party, and for an entire week (which was sprung on us, asking us to come over and do it the night before she needed to leave), Brad and I were staying at my parent’s house to watch all the kids (all five of them) while my mom was in Texas due to some family emergency involving my grandparents. It was the worst week. Nothing for Brad and I to do, kids to who want to be entertained all day, long nights and early mornings, trying to deal with all five of them plus morning sickness still was a nightmare. We couldn’t wait to get home. Not a lot happened last month, it was pretty chill. Brad and I took the kids out individually (Blake to a movie, Tasselin to Chuck E Cheese, Chris to a movie). My mom and dad helped us get out all the old baby stuff (from when Tasselin was a baby and some other foster kids we had) from their storage unit so we could start getting the baby’s room ready. Went to a birthday party for a friend. I got my actual baby bump (I look like I’m smuggling a watermelon now). We worked. We hung out. We did a little bit of work on the house. So far this month has been pretty tame too. Mostly just working and trying to spend time with Tasselin and slowly getting the house together (hopefully we can complete this soon).

I’m sure I’m missing plenty of stuff, but oh well. I started going back to therapist this month after this six month break. I’m up to going to the OB/GYN office every two weeks (partially because I’m 28 weeks now, partially because they’re worried about me delivering early because I delivered early with Tasselin, and partially because I’m constantly in pain {back, hips, sciatic, abdomen} and they want to keep an eye on it). We go weekly now to a charity that is giving us free diapers, wipes, and baby clothes. I go every couple months to WIC for check ups and food and breastfeeding tips. We just got on SNAP for food and healthcare, though it’s next to nothing until the baby comes (because Tasselin isn’t included since she’s not living here full time, or even most the time, yet). We go monthly for visits to the assistance program we’re in for the house to keep them up to date on our finances and bills and whatever else. That’s about where we are at. Brad and I work opposite shifts, he goes out every Wednesday to hang out with his friends, and we got to appointments. It’s quite dull.

I’m worried about when the baby comes, you know. What that means for our relationship, if we can handle it, if Brad can adjust to being a full time father (my biggest concern), if I’ll be a good mother, what we’re going to do financially, what we’re going to do when it comes to childcare, how Tasselin is going to adjust to being a big sister, if I’ll be able to be stable enough to handle it, will I end up with postpartum depression on top of everything else, trying to get back on medication, if this baby will be able to breastfeed, if she’ll be healthy, if the insurance is going to cover all or at least most of the bills. If we’ll be okay.

I guess that’s everything. I’ll try to keep this updated without so long of a stretch, but you know me. We’ll see.


Dr. Matta had put me on this new medication called Seroquil XR which helps Bipolar depression (and yes, they offically diagnosed me with Bipolar 1, yay me-sarcasm-). He gave me a starter pack he had in office to ease me into the medication and get me started. Well Saturday night I went to the pharmacy to get the refill and the lady at the counter asks if I had any secondary insurance. I’m a little confused, but I tell her not anymore, why? She looks me dead in the eye and says, well sweetie this medication is going to cost you $500 to pick up.

What. The. Fuck.

I swear my heart stopped for a minute and I couldn’t breathe. $500? Are you fucking kidding me?!

Of course I tell her thanks but I can’t afford to pick up the medicine because I don’t have that kind of money. Medication, that by the way, is literally keeping me alive. But do the pharmaceutical and insurance companies care? No, they don’t. Because apparently mental illnesses are still a terrible thing to talk about. They’re still stigmatized out the ass. Apparently people aren’t allowed to be sick in the head, a literal chemical imbalance that we can’t control and don’t want. Someone with a heart condition is not allowed to go without their medication because it’s keeping them alive. Why should something like this be any different? When I’m off medication I’m either so risky I’ll probably accidentally kill myself or I’m so depressed I will intentionally do so. Save me too.

There’s nothing I can do about it right now. I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday with Shelby and I guess I’ll ask her what we need to do. Either there’s a generic I can be put on that doesn’t cost much or we have to start over, again, and try something else that won’t kill me in costs and hope to god it works.

I literally can’t afford to be happy right now and that’s depressing as hell.

Visiting Shiloh

So last Sunday and Monday I went and spent some time with my little brother in Pittsburgh. He wanted me to come down and smoke because he thought it would help me. Apparently he’s been doing it for a while and he said he’s now a changed man. So Sunday I went down, made it there by like 11:30. Shiloh was sleeping so I hung out and eventually took a nap myself. He had to go to work so I hung out with his roommate Steve and his friend Alan. After he got home from work Alan, him, and I started smoking. I didn’t feel anything until the third time we did it close to 4am. We talked a lot. Alan and I played Rummy and I kicked his ass. We went to bed around 6am after seeing Steve off for work. I got up again around 11am and spent some time on my computer until the boys got up. We all hung out, I watched some Netflix and Alan played on the PS4 the new Final Fantasy game. I went to go take a nap and ended up crying for like two hours because I felt worse that day than I did the day before. I decided smoking wasn’t for me because I didn’t want to have to do it all the fucking time to feel anything and when it was out of my system I didn’t want the crash that went with it. Shiloh got called into work and I dropped him off. On the way back to their house I stopped and picked up some rum and got myself wasted pretty quickly. I ended up spilling my guts to Steve who told Shiloh I was breaking down who told Steve to take away my alcohol, which he did. I went to bed after probably scarring Steve with my stories, but he was nice enough to give me his number and tell me whenever I needed him to text. I had been talking to Brad the entire time too and venting and probably scarring him as well. I also ended up sending Cam- I forgot to mention we’ve been talking again for a while now and he’s yet another person I’m still in love with which if you’re counting brings the total up to three, but he’s a bit special because not only does he give me the attention Brad doesn’t like Tom there has always been the ‘what if’ factor with our past history and he loves me too- a message about how our conversations have grown stale and did he really want to talk to me anymore because I still loved him but if he didn’t want to talk to me I would respect that because I just wanted him to be happy. He of course in turn wrote back that he loved me very much and yes he wanted to talk to me and hopefully our relationship could grow back into a solid friendship. Anyway, Steve helped put me to bed and when Shiloh got home later he tried to convince me to come downstairs and smoke and party but I was out of it and told him maybe later. He didn’t push it.

I had to leave the next morning because I had a therapy appointment with Abby I couldn’t miss. So I bid Shiloh farewell and drove back and went to the appointment. Abby and I had the best talk we’ve had since I started seeing and I like her even more now.

The two days I was there were crazy but I think they helped. Just in a different way than Shiloh had hoped, but I’m okay with that.


Hooray! I graduated from partial!

Working Girl

And I mean that title quite literally.

I started camming to make money. Not that that’s a terrible thing. It’s kind of fun and hopefully I make a decent amount of money. I do it solo and Brad and I have a couple account too. If anyone is interested in seeing we’re on Chaturbate. My solo is FallenAngelShi and our joint one is FallenSparrow13. I have a calendar up on my solo of days I’ll be on but you can follow me on Twitter at FallenVixen13 to keep up with the scheduled times.

But saying that, I’ve had a couple offers for more. You know what I mean. And at first I thought I would because the money is decent and why shouldn’t I? But then Tom reminded me not to let this new job get to me or degrade my ethics and I thought, holy shit, I don’t have any ethics/morals right now. I’m so in a state of depression that I’m literally throwing my ethics and morals out the window for a little bit of cash.

What the fuck.

Seriously. I should be better than this. What has happened to me?

I’m not gonna even go down that road.

What I am going to do is end this before it starts. I won’t be that person.



I’m upset at myself. Truly.

So of course I’m terrible on my own and I need an escape from my house so I totally lied to my mom telling her that I went to Morgan’s house when I went and stayed with Brad three nights in a row. Because I suck at life apparently. Because I hate being by myself. Because I can’t stand my parent’s house. Because I don’t want to be alone. I mean, I love him, I do. But goddamn. I couldn’t even go a week without talking to him or seeing him. Jesus fuck.

I can’t stand it.

And of course it doesn’t help with the whole Tom thing. I can’t believe myself. I’m a terrible person, I know it. I don’t know what to do.

I don’t even know what to say.

I met this guy online whom I’ve been talking to for nearly a year. His name is Tom. He loves me he says. He’s twice my age. He lives in California. He wants to whisk me away there. He wants to protect me, to love me, to have me, to keep me safe. He’s stable. He has money. He’s mature. He’s not super cute but he’s definitely great with words. He calls me every day. He pays attention to me, unlike Brad. I told him I loved him back. I do love him. But I love Brad too and I don’t want to hurt him.

I don’t know what to do.

I’m seriously messed up, I swear.