Author: Stephanie

Some people might say you’re too loud, too shy, too stubborn, too easy going, too blunt, too independent, too dependent, too busy, you say too much, too awkward, too emotional, too emotionally unavailable, too inquisitive, too positive, too negative, too smart, too funny, too giving, too mean. You get it.

We’re TOO for some people and we can be okay with that.

Are we too loud? Yep and if it’s not our voice, it’s our laugh filling the room. Sit back and enjoy it.

Are we too shy? Sometimes and we absolutely hate it. It holds us back from socializing and there’s nothing we love more than having all the friends but maybe it’s also a way of protecting ourselves from being hurt. Maybe we don’t have any more room for disappointment in our hearts at that time. Be patient with us because we’re worth knowing.

Are we too stubborn? Absolutely. We’ve been through enough to know what we believe in, what we stand for, and what we’ll tolerate. However, we’re also open minded and not afraid to adapt our way of thinking.

Are we too easy going? We have to be. If we were uptight or stubborn about everything, that would be exhausting, crippling even. So, you betcha we’re too easy going sometimes. It’s called picking your battles. It’s called knowing what matters and what doesn’t. It’s called living life and enjoying the ride. Sometimes we’re out of rope and in that moment, we have to let go as a survival tactic.

Are we too blunt? This is a big one. We can be blunt and straightforward but it’s our responsibility to know our audience. Being blunt doesn’t excuse us from saying things that end up hurting others. We just don’t like to dance around things. We want to get straight to the point and not waste anyone’s time. We also don’t like small talk bc it doesn’t accomplish anything so don’t torture us. You really wanna know the truth about something? Ask someone that’s not afraid to tell you.

Are we too independent? Yeeeep. You know why? Because everyone we’ve counted on has let us down, disappointed us, or left us scrambling in the end. Know how we avoid that? We don’t and won’t depend on you…for anything…at all. It’s easier that way and guarantees the outcome we’re trying to achieve. Sounds exhausting and terrible, doesn’t it? It is but it’s still easier, at least in our minds.

Are we too dependent? Listen, we can be both. If you feel like we’re dependent on you, that’s a sign of trust and exhaustion. We’ve dug deep into our heart and souls and decided to trust you because there’s no obvious reason why we shouldn’t, we’re taking a chance by opening ourselves up to the hurt we’re so tired of being put through, but we still have faith. So we start to lay some of our burdens down at your feet, not so you can carry them for us, but in the hopes that you’ll carry them with us. We’re tired of being too independent. Dependence might be the biggest compliment coming from someone that’s TOO. Don’t take it lightly.

Do we say too much? That’s because we feel like someone else is saying too little. We want to scream the obvious. We want the truth to be heard. WE want to be heard. We will stand up for ourselves and others.

Are we too emotional? We have hearts, feelings, thoughts, concerns. We talk too much so it all comes out to someone, somewhere, somehow. If we don’t say it out loud, we might explode. So listen to us or go away.

Oh, now we’re emotionally unavailable? Refer back to why we’re too independent. We’ve been hurt, multiple times, by the ones we cared about and maybe even loved. So, yeah, we’re guarded. It doesn’t make us hopeless or unworthy. We just need time. We need to feel a bond develop and for trust to form. You can help, but let us peel back the layers at our own pace. If we’re taking too long, you can move on, that’s ok. For us, it’s just a sign that you weren’t worth the peeling away to begin with…because we’re too independent, too stubborn, and just too.

Are we too positive, too funny, too smart, too giving? Listen, if you have a problem with any of these, probably just look inside yourself and ask why. Because we’re perfect.

I’m TOO and you can be, too.

Getting older and maintaining healthy friendships is weird and sometimes awkward. This has recently been weighing on my mind. You have the friends that you’ve known since the dawn of time, friends from after high school or from college, work friends, friends that you made because you had a baby, friends you met while you were dating someone, neighborhood friends, friends thru serendipity, church friends, school friends, friends that started as acquaintances. The list goes on, so many categories of friends.

What happens when life changes and your circle adapts and you lose one or two in the shuffle?

I’m usually ok with this process. It’s just life. There’s no love lost, no hurt feelings, just a shuffle or a new season that calls for a change. I married young and my husband had just as many friends as I did, so together we had A LOT. Then the baby came. We morphed into parents and our priorities shifted. All of a sudden we had two babies, we weren’t staying out late or paying ridiculous tabs at the bar when it was closing time. Luckily, we had friends going through a similar whirlwind of marriage and babies. These are the friends you gravitate towards most, whether you were close before or not. You’re suddenly comparing notes on married life, pregnancy and baby stuff. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still getting together and drinking beer but now there’s a dedicated space for play pens, fresh milk bottles, and sleeping babies. So, where does that leave the friends on different paths? The ones career driven, waiting later in life to start a family, or still hanging out at the bar every weekend? Choices are made on both sides to either keep going as friends and becoming more intentional in your friendship or slowly drifting apart. It’s just life and it’s ok. There’s a chance you’ll reconnect in the future.

Then there’s the rude awakening that comes with divorce. Some people you expect to pick a specific side and they do. Don’t be offended if it’s not yours, it’s normal. If any friend tells you they’re neutral, they’re a damn liar. I don’t care how peaceful it starts, divorce brings out people’s true colors and they are uglyyy. No true friend can stay neutral. You might feel like you’re losing friends in this process but don’t! They weren’t loyal in the first place, why would you want them in your corner? You don’t. You shouldn’t. I had people tell me they were neutral during my divorce. I either chose to not maintain a friendship with them OR to still be friends but I limited confiding in them with the personal stuff. The first time something you said gets thrown back in your face, verbatim, by your ex, is like a punch to the gut. You confided in someone you thought was loyal and they’re not. The pain and disappointment happens when the friends you thought would ride it out with you, don’t. That sucks and it’s hard to not feel hurt. Focus on the ones who stayed, they’re in it to win it and they’re cheering you on!

Then there’s this shift in your 30’s. You start to figure out who you are at your core, what’s important to you and your friend goals change again. This is where we unknowingly start to ‘settle in our ways.’ Feels too young, doesn’t it? Nope. If it hasn’t happened yet, you’ll see it sometime between 35-40. I really feel like this one right here, this one is the realest. We’ve lived long enough to figure out what types of behaviors we’ll tolerate and those we won’t. We find friends with similar vibes, energies, motivations, and faith. People we can be our truest selves around. We figure out what we need from them and what we can give back in return. There’s a natural balance that occurs. It’s incredible, really. Never in my life did I think I’d be ok with texting fervently with a bestie at 5:24 am. My rule started at not before 9 am, then 8, then 7. Now there are no rules. Wake up with an epiphany at 3:17 in the morning? Welp, no other choice than to message Megan immediately and tell her while my brain’s hot on it. She’ll read it when she reads it. Can’t sleep at 1:17 am because insomnia, stress, and anxiety? Better let Phia know just in case she’s still awake, too. We can Facetime in the dark and talk about it. Wide awake before your alarm goes off, brain firing on all cylinders, already panicking about what the day might hold but you don’t even have a way of knowing but WHAT IF? Ope, Megan just messaged bc SAME. Let’s just go ahead and hype each other up to be boss babes for the day.

Even still, there will be friends you outgrow and drift away from. The ones you thought would be around forever and your kids are best friends and you imagined living life together on a big piece of land. Now you haven’t talked to them in what feels like ages. Life keeps happening over and over for each other and you fall so far behind in what’s going on that your bond loosens. There are no intentions to catch up. There’s talk, “I’ll call you,” but it doesn’t happen. There’s a lack of intention and priority. You never expected your friendship to get to this point. You don’t know how to be ‘pick up where you left off’ friends. It used to be all-in, now it’s just nothing. Can these friendships be salvaged? Is the effort one-sided and never going anywhere? When you do you give up hope that you’ll ever be as strong as you once were? Right now I’m just letting my heart heal from the break.

On the flip side, you have friends that you don’t talk to often but can pick up anytime right where you left off during a random phone call. These friends are just important as the rest. I’d venture to say that if you took some time to think about it, there’s a unique reason that your bond is strong enough to do this. There’s a special mutual respect and love for one another. One where the other is always available when needed, no questions asked, no expectations. Or a song just came on and you can’t help but call to tell them and hear their voice.

Every time I feel like my closest circles are dissolving, I get a little sad. Then a different circle starts to form and guess what? It’s exactly what I need in my life at that exact moment, in that season.

Whatever the case is, friendships are weird and can be awkward.

Love y’all.

Disclaimer: This story visits domestic violence. Please, I’m begging you, read this slowly and know it’s ok to turn back at any point. You can X out of this window. You can close this tab. You do not have to read until the end. You don’t have to read it at all. It’s ok.

Understand and know that the reason I’m sharing a snippet of my personal story is to give a voice to those silent. It’s to let these silent people know that they are not alone, I hear them. I know the cycle, I understand the addiction, and I know what it feels like to live life in a deafening and deadly silence. Leaving isn’t easy, it feels impossible, and it will take multiple efforts to rid themselves of the poison. On average, a victim will attempt to leave their abuser 7 times before success.

I’m ok and I will not accept pity or apologies from anyone. In fact, I’ll delete any comments with it. I own this, I’m alive, and that’s all that matters.

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Hindsight is 20/20. I used to sing Eminem and Rihanna’s “Love the Way You Lie” loudly. I think it’s the emotion, aggression, and passion that pulls you in. About two years ago, it came on in the car and the last few years started to flash before my eyes. I began to fully understand the meaning of the words, at least my personal perception of them. I started crying uncontrollably and couldn’t breathe, my heart was racing and I wanted to vomit. I knew the two people in the song. It was us, we were them. I felt the words in the deepest, darkest corner of my soul.

I can’t tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now, there’s a steel knife in my windpipe
I can’t breathe, but I still fight while I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right, it’s like I’m in flight

It’s us. We knew we were bad for each other. The dysfunction was intoxicating, a high, like a drug, a bad habit that we couldn’t break. It weakened my soul and dimmed my light. I couldn’t let go. I clung to him.

High off of love, drunk from her hate
It’s like I’m huffing paint and I love her, the more I suffer
I suffocate and right before I’m about to drown
She resuscitates me, she fucking hates me
And I love it, 

It sounds crazy, but I know that he loved me the best way he knew how, that way was just very wrong. He always loved to argue with me, picking fights about small stuff was his favorite pastime, just to watch me get riled up and then tell me how cute I was. Sometimes it was out of hate and I’d get to the edge of walking out the door during serious arguments. He’d flip a switch, busting in with his words, gentle hands, and his best love. I’d roll my eyes and concede. He was obsessed with controlling my love, routinely pushing me away and pulling me back in. I hated him but I hated myself more for allowing it.

“I’m leaving you”
“No you ain’t, come back”
We’re running right back, here we go again
It’s so insane ’cause when it’s going good, it’s going great
I’m Superman, with the wind at his back, she’s Lois Lane
But when it’s bad, it’s awful
I feel so ashamed, I snapped, “Who’s that dude?”
I don’t even know his name, I laid hands on her
I’ll never stoop so low again, I guess I don’t know my own strength

Once you get on the roller coaster, it feels impossible to get off. I knew, everyone knew, that he was a better person with me. I encouraged and pushed him professionally to excel. He promoted twice and would ask for advice on how to be a better leader. He really was Superman with the wind at his back and I was Lois Lane. This was the side I loved. I admired him. He was much smarter than most people knew and could build, tear down, and rebuild anything and everything on the planet. The way he used his hands was the sexiest thing I had ever seen and I would watch him work for hours in the garage. The highs were insanely high. The sex was out of this world. His dysfunctional personality was my addiction. The lows were low. Dangerously low. He’d snap and put his hands on me. The next day he would cry and beg for forgiveness.

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn?
Well, that’s alright, because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry?
Well, that’s alright, because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

This is where the danger became real. The apologies and declarations of love flooding me. I hated it and loved it at the same time. It was sickening, I was sick. I hated him for hurting me but I would forgive him for lying to me AGAIN, for touching me, just drowning in his words and soaking them up. Praying that it would be the last time. I was in love with the highs and the potential that I saw in him. I wasn’t in love with who he truly was. I was in love with the fake him. The real him is a monster.

You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you’re with ’em?
You meet, and neither one of you, even know what hit ’em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling, yeah, them chills, used to get ’em
Now you’re getting fucking sick of looking at ’em
You swore you’ve never hit ’em, never do nothing to hurt ’em
Now you’re in each other’s face
Spewing venom in your words when you spit ’em
You push, pull each other’s hair, scratch, claw, bit ’em
Throw ’em down, pin ’em, so lost in the moments when you’re in ’em
It’s the rage that took over, it controls you both

Our connection wasn’t instantaneous. He was an emotional loose cannon. I saw a man that was broken. Boy was he persistent. He’d text me, call me, whatever and tell me ‘persistence is key.’ Eventually I caved and it became a whirlwind after that. It took some time but eventually we both would use our words to cut each other as deeply as possible. Hate pouring out of us. He knew my trigger words and I knew his, giving us both too much power. I never ever initiated physical contact with him. He was tall, big, and strong. He knew how to wrestle, pin people down, and fight. I knew all of this. I had even tested his boundaries when it came to violence.

So they say you’re best to go your separate ways
Guess that they don’t know ya ’cause today, that was yesterday
Yesterday is over, it’s a different day
Sound like broken records playin’ over
But you promised her, next time you’ll show restraint
You don’t get another chance, life is no Nintendo game

We were very aware of how dangerous our relationship was and chose to live on the highs and persevere through the lows, addicted to each other’s brokenness. Addicted to the pushes and pulls that we would engage in. The cycle of breaking up and getting back together was constant and incredibly exhausting. He would make promises and I’d choose to believe them.

Now I know we said things, did things that we didn’t mean
Then we fall back into the same patterns
Same routine, but your temper’s just as bad as mine is
You’re the same as me, when it comes to love, you’re just as blinded
Baby, please come back, it wasn’t you
Baby, it was me, maybe our relationship isn’t as crazy as it seems
Maybe that’s what happens when a tornado meets a volcano
All I know is I love you too much to walk away though

I don’t know what’s worse than blind love, but we were that. Him always taking ownership of our lows at the very last second. Me, standing there stupid, thinking he had maybe finally seen the light. It was rarely ever me that needed to apologize. I mean, for what? I wasn’t the problem but I was the enabler. A tornado and a volcano, colliding.

Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk
Don’t you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk?
Told you this is my fault, look me in the eyeball
Next time I’m pissed, I’ll aim my fist at the drywall
Next time? There won’t be no next time
I apologize, even though I know it’s lies
I’m tired of the games, I just want her back, I know I’m a liar
If she ever tries to fucking leave again
I’m a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire

Oh, the PROMISES, the apologies, the love that poured from his mouth and temporarily through his actions. The first time he said, “If you leave me, I’ll kill you,” was in a joking voice and I laughed with him. He usually said it during a high while looking at me with his twisted sense of what love was in his eyes. Sometimes it was jokingly, sometimes with affection, sometimes during an argument but I didn’t take it that seriously.

I mean, he loved me so much that if I left him, he would kill me. If that’s not real love, I don’t know what is. (Insert sarcasm and and a hefty eye roll)

March 31, 2017 around 10 pm. I did try to leave for what must have been the 12th, 13th, 14th, 27th time. This time was different, though. He could hear the peace and contentment in my voice with the decision and he hit the ceiling with rage. I won’t go into the details, but that night I accepted that I was going to die. I laid on the floor while he locked eyes with me, the hate and disgust radiating from his soul through his piercing blue eyes. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I fought for as long as I physically could, trying to regain control of my body, trying to push him off of me, but my adrenaline rush was wearing off, I was gasping for oxygen when he decided to let me taste it, praying to God that my kids would know how loved they were by me. Wondering, if I lived, if my ex husband would bring them to the hospital to see me. I was begging internally for one last chance to see their sweet faces. Praying immediately that my ex wouldn’t bring them and they’d never see me like that. Wondering what he would do with my body. He was smart, he could get rid of me forever. A missing person, never to be seen or heard from again. Surely he’d be a suspect, though, right?! I mean, seriously. All of these thoughts racing through my mind in nanoseconds, feeling my body giving up, knowing it would just be Jesus and me in a matter of moments. At one point, he had shoved a tshirt so far down my throat the I couldn’t breathe through my mouth or nose. He had restrained me in a way that he was just watching me suffocate to death. I desperately hung onto to the image of my children’s faces, hoping we had taken enough photos together, hoping they’d never forget the sound of my laughter or how I’d whisper, “I love you,” in their ears. I was tired, my muscles were tired, my brain was tired, my lungs were exhausted.

Here I am, though. Alive and thriving. Happy, independent, and surrounded by the strongest tribe of family and friends.

Please, if you need help, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233. The Salvation Army is an incredible resource at 1-844-458-4673. They will assist you with transitioning into a life without violence.

If you are in immediate danger, please, call 911.

Love you guys.

These dumb forks. I had two of them but they were thin and cheap and good for certain things so I kept them around. Like, slicing butter, eating small things because they were pointier, I don’t know, I’m probably just crazy. I know I’m off my rocker, everyone knows this and it’s why people love me. Maybe, I don’t know, hold on, gotta go analyze myself until my anxiety rages.

A little over a year ago I testified in court to the physical abuse that I had endured with him. That year mark hit me harder than I thought it would. I went thru a phase where I thought back to our relationship more often and the dreams/nightmares returned. However, with every gut punch, I heal a little more, forgive myself a little more, let go more. The punches hit fewer and further between, usually less painful than the last. This particular year mark got me, though. I wasn’t ready.

Anyways, these stupid ass forks. A wise person told me last summer that in order to heal from a relationship, you had to get rid of anything and everything that you tie to that person. So, I did, or at least I thought I had done a pretty good job of it. I just still had these ugly forks that I kept finding reasons to keep. The problem was that every single time I opened the drawer and that fork was on top, I thought about him. I thought about the good times, immediately followed by the bad, followed by the last time I saw him. These forks were actually unhealthy reminders that I had attached myself to. WHY?! I really don’t know. Last week, I opened the drawer and there one was, a stupid ass ugly cheap fork that I had held onto for years, an embarrassing amount of years at this point. I picked it up, felt a little sad but more healed than ever and tossed it in the trash. Tuesday, it happened again. I opened the drawer and there on top was the other stupid ass ugly cheap fork that I was emotionally attached to. I threw it in the trash. I’m pretty sure I only had those two but I’m too tired to check.

What was it about these FORKS? If I’m being honest, I think they initially felt tied to the happy moments. He’d cook breakfast and bring me my plate with one of these forks, always with a big proud smile on his face. For dinner, I’d cook and make him a plate and give it to him with one of these forks. He always packed lunch for work and would toss in one of these forks. Or, he’d pack lunch for me and he’d give me one of his forks. Over time they started jumping houses, back and forth. Frickin forks, man. They represented the moments when he took care of me and I of him. Weird, right? I know.

So, the forks are gone but the memories, good and bad, remain. It was past time for these forks to go in the trash. Now, if I could just get rid of this last t-shirt and the two paintings his mom did herself and sent me…

Nobody talks about the forks. No one warns you.