And then they wonder why I'm sprung...

23

Pssst...it's my birthday today. 

That's right. Another year older, still not sure if I'm wiser...

Actually, I think I am. This time last year I was kind of a mess. I was coming off of a long streak of really big fuck ups and my future looked bleak at best. My life is completely different now. I'm still making mistakes but that's just human nature. The difference is, my mistakes aren't quite as catastrophic now and they're made in the hopes of trying to accomplish something positive but failing at it. I've learned there's nothing wrong with that. You can't get it right every single time but you also can't give up.

So that's my motto for this next year of life. I will not give up. Not on myself or on my goals.  I will try my hardest to be more patient with the rate of my life improvement plans. I will appreciate how far I've come instead of feeling defeated by the long road ahead. yes, I'm aware I sound like a self help book right now but it's my birthday and the promise of cake makes me a better person.

A big heartfelt thank you to everyone in my life who is and has been so supportive through this past year. You guys are incredible and I love you all so much it might burst my heart.

Now, about that cake...

To my future children...

  If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably already read the letters that preceded this one. I hope it has helped you to understand why your mother is insane. Now, keep in mind that I am writing this being (almost) 23 so some of this may not exactly be accurate. Nonetheless, I have a feeling of what kind of mother I will be. Your teenage years will suck. You will go no where. You will have no social life. You will (probably) have to take random drug tests for no apparent reasons. You will be forced to endure a lot of “sex talks” and “please don’t get pregnant” lectures. For all of this, I am deeply sorry. The mistakes of my youth will undoubtedly haunt yours.
            Now, there some things you are more than likely feeling towards me that I would like to refute;

1. “My mom doesn’t trust me”- I do trust you (unless you’re a criminal, then I probably don’t’). The problem is that I was a bad teenager and I fucked up A LOT. I made a huge mess of my life and it has taken me a really long time to get to a place where I even feel slightly normal. I don’t want you to go through what I’ve gone through. I want better for you. I want you to take advantage of the opportunities I let slip away. I will demonstrate these wonderful feelings by being an over bearing nightmare. Enjoy. 
2. “My mom over reacts to everything”- Yes, I do. Please refer to #1 for the reasons why. I promise it is all out of love so just shut up and deal with that shit.
3. “My mom is the reason why I’m insecure”- If you have ever felt this about me, then I have failed you. I promise I will try my hardest to, in spite of my crazyness, make you feel loved. Never ever think that you are not good enough because if you are my kid then you are perfect to me.

I honestly wish I could say that I have all the answers and that “mommy knows best” but probably don’t. All I can tell you is that I will always love you and be there for you. I will never give up on you. I will never turn my back on you. I will never make you feel unwanted. I hope I’m a good mom to you. I hope we have a good relationship and we are open with each other. I hope this helps you understand me. You are the reason why I wrote this. You are the reason why I got my life back on track. You are my reason for everything.

Love you more than life,

Mommy

To my big brother, or at least you used to be...

I stole from you. There’s no way around that. I stole $250 from you and bought a shit ton of booze and pills and partied my ass off for two days. You know this because when you made claims about the money my uncle told you I was doing drugs. I was wrong to steal from you. I was wrong to use that money to party. I was wrong, but so were you. See, when my uncle told you how fucked up I was, you were supposed to want to help me. You were supposed to try to save me. You were supposed to try. Instead, you bailed. You cut me off and I still haven’t heard from you.

            You and I were never that close when I was growing up. That was mostly due to our 20 year age difference and the fact that for most of my formative years we had little to no communication. However, for about 2 years before that night we had built a stronger bond. I counted on you. I trusted you. I spent most of my time at your house. I saw you like a brother and a father rolled into one. In fact, it was you who told me to rely on you since our dad couldn’t be there for me.

I fucked up, and you will never know how sorry I am to have lost you. You fucked up, and you will never know how much you hurt me. One day I will go to your house with my head held high and my life put back together. I will hand you $250 and a copy of this letter. I will pay my debt and feel free to tell you exactly how you broke my heart and our bond. After that, I will walk away from you like you did from me.

With love,

Cristi, your youngest sister.


Update: My brother and I have both taken the first steps towards a reconciliation. I'm not sure if things will ever be the way they were before but I am very glad to have him back in my life. 

Master Cleanse

I was browsing through Instagram last night and I saw that a friend from HS was starting The Master Cleanse and it made me curious...

Flash forward to this morning: I've been looking online for tips and reviews and testimonials and so far no one has really said anything negative about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure that no solid food for 10+ days is going to suck so hard I might go on a cow murdering rampage...if I do, cookout at my house y'all!

Back to the original point; My birthday is this Friday and I thought after spending 48 hours eating my weight in frosting TMC would be a great way to clean out all the crap (pun totally intended) that I will undoubtedly ingest. Plus it will be an awesome (yea right) way to start my next year of life. So with all of that in mind, I will begin TMC on Sunday. Since its a long weekend I figure I can spend the first two days of the cleanse at home complaining and missing food in peace.

I'll blog out my progress and take some before/after pics and all that jazz...wish me luck!    

To Sophie, the most beautiful cat ever...

I think it’s kind of silly to write a letter to cat, especially since you can’t read it. I want to write it though because I feel like I need to thank the universe for you. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this but when I first adopted you, I was living out of my car. My mom had kicked me out and I had no where to go. Now, I have no idea why the brilliant idea of getting a pet when I didn’t have a home came up but it did, and I chose you. Thankfully, a few days after I took you my mom let me come back home. At first she was not thrilled about you (she’s not big on pets and our building didn’t allow them). I fought hard to keep you because having you made me happier than I had been in a very long time. You were so small and warm and you loved me so much. I was and am your whole world. Every time I come home you rush to the door and beg for attention. I sleep soundly every night snuggled up with your furry little self.
            I don’t know if you know this, but you’ve saved me on more than one occasion. When I’m at my lowest and I feel myself slipping away you curl up next to me and put your paw on my face. This may seem insignificant but every time you do this I remember that at least one soul in this world needs me. I remember that, even if you’re just a cat, I matter to you. I cry my woes to you. I confess my sins to you. I profess my adoration for you on a daily basis. I might not be here writing these letters if you had never come into my life. I’m thankful for you every single day.

With all the love I can give,


Mommy (the one that puts the food in the bowl)

To the sick bastard who molested me...

Did you know that for over 14 years I didn't remember what you did to me? My little brain put it all in a box and buried it deep in the back so I wouldn't find it. Did you know that I'm starting to remember? So many details are coming back to me. Like nightmarish flashbacks of a day I still can't believe I lived. I'm almost glad I can remember now because so many things about me make so much more sense. For example, I now know why I hate the smell of antiseptic cleaner and why anything that involves doctors or latex gloves gives me anxiety attacks. I now understand why older men make me nervous and why it's hard for me to look people in the eye.

Do you know much you fucked me up? I have intimacy issues in spades. Most days I battle with the feeling that my body is not worth respect and simply not mine to control. Most days I wonder why other girls want boyfriends and love stories and I just want someone to protect me. You did that to me. You and your fucking latex gloves. I trusted you. I trusted that you were a good man because you saved my dogs when they were sick. My mom trusted you; hell the whole neighborhood trusted you. I guess that's what happens when you live in a place where the monsters can hide behind little girls' shame and silence.

I just want to know what the fuck possessed you to hurt me. I know that you know what you did is sick. You'll be very glad to know that the story you gave me to cover your sickness worked like a charm. I even got grounded for the whole summer for “skipping school to play with the puppies in your clinic”, how fucking cliché can you be...

I hope I was the only one you did this to, but I know that your routine was far too well executed for it to have been your first time. It was my first time, did you know that? Well the blood on your fucking latex gloves must have given that away. “It'll hurt a little but I need to make sure you're not sick”, what a fucking joke. The best part is that you made sure I understood I wasn't sick and that I had been a very good girl during the “exam”. “Don't worry, you don't have to tell your mom since I already took care of you”, these are rough translations since you said it to me in Spanish, but that's pretty much the gist of it. Did it make you feel better to tell me over and over that you were a good doctor and I should be glad you took care of me? I bet it did.

My old therapist said I had to forgive you. That was the last time I spoke to him. I don't give a fuck, I won't forgive you. I was a happy child. I was warm and affectionate with everyone. You took that from me. You don't deserve my forgiveness. I hope it haunts you at night. I hope you know that you disgust me. I hope you know that in spite of your sickness, I grew up just fine. I hope you know that I, and whoever else you did this to, will never forgive you. I hope you go to your grave ashamed of yourself.

In retrospect, I'm madder at myself than I am at you. My brothers were doctors so I should have somehow known the difference between a vet and a people doctor. I wonder if I questioned you about that. I wonder if I resisted. I wonder how you convinced me to lie for you. There's still so much I don't remember, but I remember enough. I remember you. I remember the sting. And I remember my blood on your fucking latex gloves.

I hope you rot in hell. I hope God, or the devil, or karma, or whatever makes you pay for what you did.

Sincerely,

Your “best patient”


Update: While I still have a very shaky recollection of what happened, I've come to terms with it. I've learned that I am more than the things that have happened to me. I still don't think I've gotten to a place where I understand him, but I forgive him.