Walking into Kroger’s that day, I can remember the bitterness on my mind. Men everywhere buying last minute flowers. I thought to myself, bastards didn’t even call JScotts (which in my opinion is the best florist ever). I walked down the isle, grabbed some turtle truffles and then I said you know what…those aren’t my roses but I’m going to take a picture with them. And I did.

You just can’t help but not mind your own business, especially when you know the tea is good. Or in this case the coffee, pun intended, put that in the court papers.

I’ve known since the beginning I would write a book. I’ve always had trouble on where I should start. There’s not a thing I want to leave out. It doesn’t just start with my marriage, it starts a long time ago. For me it starts the day I looked out my bedroom window and saw my daddy sobbing into my Aunt Pudge’s arms. I wasn’t supposed to see that, but I did and I’ll never forget it.

My life has always been far from ordinary and much less then extraordinary. I have often questioned as to why it’s been so difficult. This doesn’t make it easier for someone else, but I’m reminded that someone out there has it worse than me.

My parents didn’t pick their lives either and they did what they could with what they had. Lord knows my momma always gave more then she should and she still does to this day for Brandi, Libby, I, being the favorite. My parents were amazing. Had their childhoods not impacted them in the way it did, I have no doubt that my parents would have been way makers in this world.

My momma, the way she loves, her mannerisms, her hustle. My daddy, he was so smart but just like any man, so stupid. Then there’s my sisters and I. There’s a lot anyone can say, especially about me but you can never say we aren’t “good people”.

I grew up taking the best parts of my family with me. From their faith, to watching my grandpa “water douse“. Praying healing hands over my sick body, laughter from the upper room that only some would understand. I grew up in a strange world. But I’d take my strange world over this one any day of the week.

My parents relationship wasn’t perfect and I can’t say it set the standard for me, but the way they loved each other did. My daddy hand picked cacti from Odessa and brought the home to my momma. She sat and dug all the thorns from his hands when he got home. He stopped on the side of the road and would pick her wild flowers. My momma would spend hours ironing every pair of his pants and all his shirts. They never had a lot but they didn’t want a lot either. You think my momma gave a rats ass about a Louis Vuitton? She cared more about some stupid flowers that would die. It was always the little things.

As I grew up with nothing, I found myself wanting everything. I said my kids would never want for nothing. You know what that makes? Ungrateful kids. I’m so ashamed of the mannerisms shown today. Even by myself at times. The way I will appear in public is not how my mom raised me. I remember my daddy never met a stranger and now I tell them to go away.

For 4 years now I’ve been writing, I wanted to write a book. I’d never start my book because it didn’t have an ending. I didn’t know how to write a book that I didn’t know where to start nor how it ended. I wish it could be simple, as that’s my main desire. Yet I’m not simple and neither is life. I say this as I’m telling my kids to stop sharing skittles and go to bed, while I sip a glass of wine. So see.

I do feel that what I want out of life is simple but apparently it’s “a lot”. I’ve learned to settle on my own because I refuse to be in a relationship for the sake of having a companion. I want that fire connection and the smile that I can’t wipe off my face. I want to rush home to them. I also have big goals for myself. This year I felt myself in the midst of my life shifting. Some what back to my roots but also planting new seeds. My children will always be my main focus. My faith, and my passion for helping others.

I sometimes get caught up in wanting to help others to escape the reality of what’s wrong in my life but there’s always a lesson I learn when I help someone else. Some days I find myself worrying too much about situations I have no control over and others I laugh and say who gives a rats ass. I see the looks I’m given, I hear the words unspoken, and I can read body language like an art. It’s really a curse.

It’s why lately I’ve isolated myself and even refused to leave my house. It’s safe and comfortable here…but why should I? Obviously, I was created with a purpose. We all were. I shouldn’t have to tone myself down to fit into the “normal standards”. I shouldn’t be afraid to speak my mind. There’s no shame in making a mistake. Jesus had the answers and he still wept. He also drank wine so there’s that. He loved the sinners just as much as he loved the saints.

I don’t want to ever feel ashamed of who I am again. I don’t want anyone to ever make me feel less than and I never will again. I have a great big past. I’ve made the same mistakes a hundred times. I’m loud, obnoxious, but I’m consistent, and I’m kind.

My greatest desire is to stop filling voids. For those I love to do the same. For people to say, I was wrong and I’m sorry. To let go of hate and hurt. Stop caring what looks good on the outside and worry about the inside. To actually fight for what they want regardless of what the world would say or think. To open doors, give up their seat, and remember what it was like to have values, morals, there is a right way and there is a wrong way. Yes, some rules were made to be broken but we are pushing those beyond the limit and no one bats an eye anymore. You can’t please everyone, it’s impossible so don’t even try.

There is a way to be fair and kind. To disagree without war. I’m sickened by the generation I’ve grown up in. I want to change it. I pray that some how before I leave this Earth, I am able to leave some positive impact. I just pray God finds a way to use me, my wrong doings, life lessons, mistakes, and also my love in ways I could never fathom. Just as long as he doesn’t count how many curse words I say, we should be okay. Also Jesus, I’m sorry for texting my ex and not always being perfect. I promise I’ll always try to do better, but unfortunately I’m also going to keep being me! Goodnight guys! Tomorrow, let’s do better for each other. ❤️