But, But, But, I’m a BAD ASS!

I want to help others in my own weird way and give pointers on things that I’ve learned in this fucked up world and insight on the things that I continue to learn. Freethinking and grammar mistakes are a part of my process. If the flow of my writing irritates you, if it’s too choppy, too crass, too righteous, too whatever…, that’s on you. I cannot control how you feel. However, if you happen to be the Editor in Chief of a publishing company with a handsome book deal- I might be willing to sell out my bad ass persona and enroll into an English class.

Southern Gentleman and I knew that our baby was a gift from the invisible man in the sky-aka God. It would also be our chance to be the parents we always hoped we had. We believed in some way or another we would do a better parenting job then our own parents and really gave it a go. We chose to walk hand and hand into a family with no previous relationship, why not? He gladly decided to move back to Virginia to be with me and I was grateful. I had just started receiving help from the government with pre-natal care and was working a lot of makeup gigs.

Industry folk gave me as much work as possible and I was fortunate for the continued support I was receiving from my own family when I became pregnant. It all seemed so perfect- my version of perfect. I had an awesome story on the creating of the baby and I was having it with a friend. Let’t not forget I was eager to start a family, be in love, conquer the world and finally have all my dreams come true. I was thankful to those who booked me while I was pregnant too-Can you imagine a 7 month-pregnant lady bending over to create a knife stabbing scene?! It was a sight, to say the least. Also, the craft service tables were always a little more empty than usual when I was on set.

Our families eventually gave us two thumbs up, multiple baby showers and other gifts to help us make it as a team. We had all the tools to be a power house but no foundation as a couple. No biggie, right? I was literally living with a hot co-worker that I barely knew and always kinda had a crush on. The age difference wasn’t a problem because I’m not the most mature person and I was excited. I thought we could build a relationship along the way and enjoyed playing house. I loved it. I really did. I took the whole mommy-wifey role very seriously. I was faithful to a fault and assumed it would work- dammed if I didn’t try to ignore all the red flags. SG and I hoped to utilize the help we were receiving to launch us into the world as a family and still maintain our professions. He was invited to stay with a mutual friend of ours in the business upon returning to Virginia. I was renting a room near Pleasantville because Kimmie and I went our separate ways permanently earlier that year- I’ll share that rude awakening one day, then again maybe not.

I moved in with SG and our mutual friend December of 2013 and put the majority of my belongings in storage until we were able to afford more than a room. He and I were already having problems come the week of Christmas but it was such a new experience for the both of us that I gladly swept all our bullshit under the rug. Luckily, we were approved for our own apartment before the birth of our child in May of 2014. Being pregnant and living out of a room with a friend was a nightmare, but we made it work to the best of our abilities.

We decided that Fredericksburg, VA would be where we set up shop. We welcomed our child and really worked together as a team. We didn’t see eye to eye on what it meant to be a couple, ever. However, as parents it seemed we had the same views and concerns. Then again, maybe my Southern Gentleman just ‘yassed’ me to death to keep me quiet.

The three of us did a lot together, we travelled for work, attended a church, worked out together, spent countless hours on the banks of the Rappahannock River, planned family outings, had movie nights, took turns during the night while I was nursing, supported each other. He had taken a regular job in sales 5 minutes from our cozy 2 bedroom apartment and I was able to work when I got booked. I loved that I could be a mom and work, it was very satisfying. The outside appearance look great and we had the photos to prove it plastered on social media but behind the scenes-we were unravelling faster and faster each day a couple. After a series of outbursts I started to realize I was the only one who wanted us to make it. Bummer. My picture perfect image of a family was fading and quite fast. Me being me, moving to Georgia with Southern Gentleman was the only option I saw to save us. I blatantly ignored the small whisper that is either Jiminy Cricket or the infamous Holy Spirit telling me ‘DON’T DO IT’.

I was tough shit and my Southern Gentleman always had all the answers I needed to hear. He has a way of saying all the right things, in any circumstance. He fits into any mold easily and at times he seemed to be genuinely happy with his choice to be in my life. For the record, I gave Mr. Southern Gentleman an out when I decided I was going to be a mother, but he was adamant about being in my life. There are lots of single parents but you know, I always wanted a family so I was happy that he wanted to stay with me. By no means was I trapping this dude, so don’t start thinking negative shit about me. I had all my ducks in an unbalanced row and didn’t want to be with someone for the 100,000,000 time that didn’t want to be with me. He said he wanted to be with me and our child, naturally I believed him.

Moving to Georgia after our cherub’s first birthday was my last attempt to turn my dreams with SG into a reality. Or maybe it was my last attempt to try to hold on to someone that I believed loved me, who knows at this point? This was our grand finale and I was the fat lady singing. I literally thought I could waltz into a production office with my resume, get a job, have a man, be a supermom and spin miracles in The Empire State of the South. Going against my inner voice, I gladly entered into what turned out to be my ‘Moses in the Desert’ experience.


–Don’t ever look down on a person using food stamps or receiving Medicaid from the government. Without the prenatal care I received and classes I attended on how to be a mother, breast feed and take care of myself; I wouldn’t have survived. It is insanely hurtful when a cashier shames you for accepting help for food. I learned to get over the looks and at times snapped on a fool. I talked shit and judged women back in the day so don’t feel sorry for me. I now know that the struggle is real and am a better person, after being knocked off my pedestal.

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