**May get copied over to my other blog**
It’s funny the things we remember.
I remember the outfit I wore on my first day of kindergarten; blue dress with a white top and matching jacket, black dress shoes.
I remember my first real broken heart; the day the county came and picked up my dog because my parents said he was too old to come to our new house and that it was his time to get some rest. I knew what that meant, that Prince was going to be put to sleep. He was 12 and I was 11, maybe I just didn’t get it or maybe I did. I just knew that I losing my best friend and there was nothing I could do about it.
I remember when I thought I was pregnant for the first time. I shook it off as the flu, but it raged on and I finally relented and tested. I cried for hours thinking about how disappointed my parents where going to be, what was I going to do, how was my fiance going to react?
(FYI: The strapping 18yo should let you know a few things, the fiance dumped me)
I remember the night I met my first husband. It was at my friends birthday party at Red Lobster. He had gone for the sole mission of asking her out that night, but saw she was clearly interested in someone else there. We talked and danced and ended up making out on the dance floor.
I remember the night he proposed.
I remember the day I found out I was pregnant again.
I remember the night my adopted mother died. I thought I had cried more than any other soul on the planet could have and still more came.
I remember the day we brought our son home from the hospital.
I remember the fighting. All the fighting.
I remember his face when I told him it was truly over, I had no fight left.
I remember his anger when he thought I had left him for a friend.
I remember crying on that friend’s shoulder after my husband would call me on the phone or show up at the house and call me so many dirty and nasty names.
I remember that friend kissing me for the first time.
I remember that abusive second husband leaving our lives for good.
I remember the night of standing in the freezing rain with my little sister at Target for Black Friday and seeing my rapist working there.
I remember the next day, the aches and pains that never went away.
And I remember so many tiny, insignificant details between all those. I remember being a good person, I mean I’m not a saint, but I think I’d tip the scales in my favor. I remember helping my family without a second thought and I remember thinking that they would do the same for me. I know that most aren’t in a situation to do more than lend a shoulder to cry on, but there are only so many times you can cry before even you, yourself are sick of it.
And now I’ll be adding something new the list of things I will always remember if things don’t change within a month. I’ll remember the day I become homeless and lose my kids. Because I’ll be damned if I take them from shelter to shelter or god forbid on the streets just because I don’t want to be without them. They deserve so much better. They deserve such a better mom than I am right now.