Sasquatch’s Daughter

I want to tell you about a funny experience I had today. For weeks, months, okay let’s be serious for years, people have been on me to get my eyebrows done.

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<——-   Look here is a picture of me with my eyebrows taken before bed last night. (Shhhh don’t let the no – makeup scare you)

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Here is another taken earlier in the week.  They aren’t bad are they?  Okay, I do not really want you to answer that. Hahahaha I’ve just never had them done. ——–>

I was petrified to have them done.

What if they come out uneven?

What if the girl who takes them off, takes them all off and I have to draw them on? Will I have magic marker eyebrows?

There are many horrifying eyebrows out there…. Were mine really that bad? Was I truly the daughter of Sasquatch?

After some encouragement from the women I work with I decided I would  have them done. My boss said, “DON’T get them threaded. That hurts like hell. I had mine threaded once and I cried.” Did she not get that I was already terrified?

One young girl told me who to ask for when I got to the eyebrow place. She said if this woman did my eyebrows they would be fleek…. ???? On fleek… ???? some kind of fleek…. ?????I don’t know what she said… but I think fleek meant good….. I hoped it did because I was prepared to ask for this woman whose name I could not pronounce.

Nervously I left the store and walked three stores down to the eyebrow place. I stood outside for a minute. Could I do this? Did I truly want to do this? Was it going to hurt?

I took a deep breath. I wanted them waxed. I wanted Flavilouslylooyanah to do them. (Yeah did I mention I couldn’t pronounce her name? Why would I think I could even attempt to spell it? Hahahaha)

So I walked inside. A tiny woman who spoke broken English jumped up from a chair and looked at me horrified. “YOU SIT IN CHAIR”

I was like, Emrah and Lyvette from (blank department store) sent me here I work with them and….

She sternly looked at me and pointed at the chair again. “You sit in chair. You sit NOW. Shhh sit!”

Did I mention the look of horror on this tiny woman’s face. You would think i was about to go in for maxillofacial surgery.

Were my eyebrows that bad? How bad were these things? Did they have their own zip code? Were they alive?

I felt like a child being scolded as she stressed the word NOW! She cleared her throat and sternly pointed at the chair again. “Get in chair! You sit now!”

I climbed in the chair and said I never had my eyebrows done and I like them waxed… and….

But she wouldn’t let me talk.  She whipped out her thread and started threading them. Did she not hear me say I said waxed….. so I gripped the chair arms just like I do when the dentist starts digging in my mouth. I was prepared for this excruciating tear-jerking experience that was about to come my way.

You know what? It really did not hurt. Maybe just a little sting at the far corner of my eyebrows but honestly it was not bad at all.

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I think they look sexy….. Oh and when I went to pay her I asked her name… it was Flavilouslylooyanah. So I guess they are “On Fleek..”

I conquered a fear today! What do you think??  Were they horrifying? Do they look better now? Did I use the term on Fleek properly hahahah

Thanks for letting me babble! Love you!

Rest in Peace

12177886_1008676545822346_183081699_nI want to forewarn you this blog is going to be heavy.  It will cover the loss of a loved one, suicide, and domestic violence.  Please stop reading if you are not in an emotional place to handle this. I have been fervently hiding from dealing with the death of a friend for months. Today I feel strong enough and ready to explore my feelings, my thoughts, and my grief; however, I respect that not everyone will be able to walk through this with me.

I started a group over a year ago on Facebook called Don’t Be Silent. It was a safe place for men and women to discuss past and current traumas and support each other through the healing process. Many of my friends joined the group, some were going through some serious stuff, but others were just there to be an advocate, a voice, and an ear.

One member had been a friend of mine for years.  I met her in Nashville. To protect her privacy, we will call her “Beth”.  She was an amazing singer. She had eyes that smiled and a laugh that was contagious.  One of my all-time favorite memories with “Beth” was at one of my birthday parties. We had been drinking. We had drunk a lot. I don’t recall how much tequila I had, I stopped counting around the 12th shot, but there was a lot of alcohol. We were sitting at a table in a bar that was hidden beneath a strip club.

(Yeah, you wouldn’t expect that from me would you? I am a Gemini and adventurous)

Okay….. back to the birthday party…..

Don Thomason was on stage singing about cornbread and biscuits. “Beth” and I were sitting at a table right in front of the stage. Something funny was said and I laughed. I tossed my head back and then forward.  In the process, my hair became tangled in my necklace, and my face went straight into my boobs. I couldn’t lift my head. I was drunk and my hair/necklace had my head locked in place. I was strangling / smothering myself. It is funny to think about today… death by boobies. I am very well endowed, but at that moment it was terrifying.  “Beth” was laughing hysterically until she realized I was turning blue and purple.  She jumped up and ripped my hair out of my necklace freeing my face from suffocation.  Once she got my color back we laughed and laughed about it. She saved my life.

“Beth” had demons. Who doesn’t? But we shared a great deal in common, and I think over the years we bonded because of it. We were both raised in the most horrific abusive situations.  Our childhood was pure torture. We were both creative individuals and understood each other on a level not many can relate to.

I miss her.

I miss her laugh.

I miss her smile.

I miss her kind words.

I miss her encouragement when I am scared.

I miss the strength that our friendship had.

“Beth” died last January. She was only my age.

About a week before her passing she had sent me an enormous package of Godiva White Chocolate Hot cocoa because I had been complaining about how cold Florida was.  She knew my love for white chocolate. We had been planning to get together. Her husband traveled all over the United States for work, and she would get to travel with him and stay at beautiful hotels. She was going to be in Florida and we were finally going to get together again, but she never made that trip. She got sick. It was an upper respiratory kind of thing. She was happy. She was making plans with me. She was sending me jokes. She was “Beth”. The “Beth” I knew; the “Beth” I loved like a sister.

My heart fell when I saw a post on Facebook in her account from her husband saying that she had passed away.

How could this be?

Why?

She was young?

She was vibrant.

She was happy…

well sort of….

Maybe….

not really…..

12179181_1008676555822345_1116071832_nMy mind raced through all the conversations we had.  I re-read her posts…. Her emails… her messages…

My heart stopped….

Countless times she said things like…. If anything ever happens to me, he did it….

She told me once about her barricading herself in her bedroom hiding from him. She told me about him taking a knife and missing her and stabbing the mattress and that her mattress had a huge gash in it.

She told me about him injuring her arm so bad that she needed to have surgery and that after surgery and before it healed he grabbed her by the arm and ripped it so hard that it pulled out all the work the doctor had done.

She posted in my group Don’t Be Silent.  We heard her. We supported her. We talked with her. We tried to give advice and encouragement to leave him.

I didn’t force her hard enough. She was scared. I understand fear. I understand being scared. I was there.  How could I force her to go, if I was too afraid to walk myself.

I wish I could go back in time. I wish I had the strength to show her how strong she was… how strong we were… how together we could have pulled through this.

“Beth” died of an overdose. Was it suicide? She had tried to kill herself years earlier, but we were making plans, and she had been happy in those last messages.

Was it something more devious that she had forewarned? I’ll never know. No one will ever know.

Was it a combo of pain medication for her arm and the cold medication? Maybe?

I don’t know what it was or why she left and that makes me sad and it scares me.

My adult daughter took me out after “Beth’s” death and we went drinking. I had a few drinks and got a little buzzed. Those were my last drinks.

I didn’t want “Beth’s” death to be in vain. I have not had a drink in 38 weeks. It has been 38 weeks since “Beth” passed.  I want my head to be clear. I want my mind to be fresh. I want to have nothing ever stop me from attaining the freedom and life that  my children and I deserve. I will not be controlled, by any substance or any human being. I will not let her death be in vain. I will forever cherish and carry her memory with me. It gives me the strength that we had when we were together.

I take solace in knowing that she is no longer in pain and that she is at peace. I just wish that she was here today or that I could hug her or talk with her one last time.

Rest in Peace…. You will always be in my heart.

The Clown

104fI need to share today with you. My oldest child has not been feeling very well, and I wanted to do something special for and with her. I took her to one of the places where I work.  I asked one of my co-workers to give her a makeover, and he did. He did an AMAZING job. Lexi squealed out loud with delight when he was through. People in the store all turned to look at why she was excited, and I was so happy for her.  It made me feel good to see the smile on her face again.

104gWhile she was having her makeover another co-worker of mine pulled me aside and helped me with two areas I don’t really like about me, my eye lashes and my lips. I did not have a full makeover, but we played and I was really happy and feeling very good about myself and the way I looked. I loved the lipstick she chose for me. It’s bold and daring and sooooo me! She made me feel good about myself and the way I look.  I don’t always feel very good about that.  I guess if you read my blog often, you know that.

104hI have realized that I have been feeling better about myself for a while now. The more I work outside the house, the more I get away and the more interaction I have with people outside my home, the happier I am, and I feel more confident, smarter, stronger…. whole. Does that make sense?

It really didn’t to me, until this afternoon. When Lexi and I were done we went to meet her father who was watching the two youngest. He told her how beautiful she looked and then told me I looked like a clown. He tried to back track, but once it came out… it was out.

I thought I had looked beautiful, but I looked like a clown. It hurt, and I have been fighting back tears since he said it.

Words can be so powerful…..

Words can be so cruel…..

Words can hurt so bad…..

Did it slip out? Was it intentional to hurt me? Did he really mean the lipstick didn’t go with the shirt?

I don’t really care. All I know is that it hurt very badly and still hurts.

It wasn’t very nice at all.

I am so over feeling this way. No, I am so over allowing someones words to have so much power over me to make me feel this way.