Trust in Me

Posted in Uncategorized on February 10, 2017 by Veronica Graham

‘Trust in me, close your eyes, you’re safe now that I’m around’ Too many snakes out here… Too many fucked up people waiting for me to snap. Gotta stay positive but it’s like trying to walk out of a tar pit. I fucking can’t seem to catch a break. It’s two steps forward and 10 back.  I’m suffocating over here. Between family shit, money problems, looking for other professional options, selling shit for money-it’s too much. Not sure where God is or why I even bother praying. Really feeling the weight of the world and I’m so close to gaining independence but my set backs are happening way to frequently. I’m choking up left and right, tears of frustration.

It’s almost Valentines Day, eating shitty candy from CVS and sending people gifts with hearts and tokens of love is what it’s all about…Cupid came to my home early this year. He shot an arrow laced with cyanide straight to my heart. Southern Gentlemen is expecting a child with his new girlfriend in May. That is the same month that my little cherub was born. My cherub hasn’t seen his father in a long time. No cards, no gifts, no calls, no nothing. Even when we lived in the South, he rarely made time for visits.  Little one will be three in May and he’s been telling me in a cute little voice ‘I go to Georgia, Daddy working.’ I’ve been getting asked questions about Daddy a lot lately. Honestly, I didn’t expect my baby to start asking where his dad is at such a young age. I don’t think it would be a good idea to say ‘Daddy is a piece of shit who bailed on us, chose partying over us, rejected rehab and is starting a new family with someone else.’

Hopefully, I will be chill enough to speak the truth to him when he’s older in a loving and respectful way. Now, I just smile and say ‘Daddy loves you very much and will come visit when he’s done working.’ No one preps you for things like this and I know how the hate between parents feels so I really don’t say mean things about Daddy at all. I didn’t want to spew hate because I still had hope that he would show up for our kid. He broke my heart, but honestly who hasn’t. However, I never thought I could feel heartbroken for my child. I thought people just said that shit. I have a very healthy, active, and extremely smart child. If you met the little tike, even if you didn’t like kids, your heart would melt. I’ve never been able to understand how SG’s been able to just bail out. I held on for so long from a distance. I would give him pep talks about life- Even suggested he move to the DMV, rent a room, get a new job, possibly model in NYC, become a barista-Anything as to not miss out on this awesome kid grow up. Coming back to the DMV was the best overall choice for me and I am doing better, not great but better than what I was in Georgia to support a home.

Aside from the fact that I’m flat out crushed, I was planning to make enough money to take little one on a trip to see Daddy this summer- Just be the awesome mom who makes dreams come true and doesn’t let personal feelings get in the way of anything. You know, try to be the bigger person, try not to be a shitty selfish mom. Try to give little buddy time with his dad even if only for a couple days. I kept getting blown off by SG after we moved here that I thought if I stopped antagonizing him, stopped bitchin’ about money, stopped with all the baby mama drama-things would get better. Maybe he’d help out or realize that home is where his child is. My silence didn’t change a damn thing.

I’m so teary eyed- My brain has so many memories surfacing like a montage. I can never forget the few good times I witnessed between the two of them and when it was the three of us. It can never go back to that and I don’t know when I’ll be able to face SG again, I won’t be able to make the trip this summer. It was picture perfect for a moment in time for all of us and I am up to my neck in stress, drenched in tears and have a very heavy heart. His choice changes so many things, I’ve yet to process all of it. I’ve got a lot of work a head of me that needs to be done to keep a stable and safe home for my sweet angel, emotionally and financially.

—-Don’t be the person who misses out on their child growing up. They’re only little and only yours for a short while.

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s a SWB!

Posted in Uncategorized on February 9, 2017 by Veronica Graham

My side kick and I packed lunch, the stroller and toys for our morning adventure- When I’m not working we both spend most of our time outdoors- in any temperature. Usually when the weather is warmer The Super White Betches come out of hiding. A Super White Betch is a woman trapped in a high-school mentality with a blinding honker of a diamond on her left hand, a -insert trending brand name- multi purpose coat and jet black sunglasses to cover alcohol induced blood shoot eyes? Today they were swarming the playground with their clones-It’s so uncomfortable to be around these types of women. Being that I am white it doesn’t do me any good. I’m not the right type of white.

It’s easy to tell when you’re in the presence of an SWB because you can feel their beady little eyes judging your ringless hand. They have a keen sense for knowing the difference between gel polish by Sally Hansen and OPI on a self-done manicure. Also, they’re known for having laser vision when spotting the impoverished and it causes them to sneer autonomically. I assume, most have a mediocre husband to rely on that pays for much needed sun damage relief microdermabrasion treatments. It’s truly remarkable, these creatures of the day are a sight to see- Saying ‘Hi’ or smiling works with other mothers but not a SWB. They kind of look at you with a questionable ‘do I know you’ OR this is my fav-if you get too close to one they dart to the other side of the playground when they’re on a group ‘invite only’ play date. They usually travel in packs- its easier for them to adjust to those who wear leggings in public. Being a mom is a lot of work and being a wealthy SWB mommy must be really, really exhausting-insert condescending snort laugh-

After the weight of the pretentious started to pour into my water bottle at the palygorund, I decided it was time for my side kick and I to go on a run. It’s not easy to get a kid away from the playground and little brawls happen more often when these little tikes get older. Laughter can turn into a mini disaster so quickly with kids. One of the Super White Betches kids took a swing towards mine and I was their to intercede with pearls of wisdom…’We don’t Hit’.  Simple and convincing. Not rocket science. No explanation, no detailed statement. It was effective and they were able to shake it off and play a little longer. High five me! Super White Bethces tend to give long detailed explanations when its time to lay down the law. It never works. The kid only gets more frustrated and has a melt down. Short, simple commands go a long way.

I get that children are learning boundaries and that no parent is perfect but its painful to watch an SWB completely ignore that their kid needs an adjustment or quick witted lesson. Usually, their sipping coffee, talking to someone and scrolling through their phones when disaster strikes. They have a way of ignoring everything around them. It’s kinda sad. There is a fine line between being ‘just kids’ and being a ‘rude little shiat’. If no one is setting limits in the moment than it becomes a behavior. Parenting is about being present, not sitting on the sidelines looking like a bia'(get ’em up, get ’em up).

Your call has been forwarded to an…

Posted in Uncategorized on January 23, 2017 by Veronica Graham

Visualize a painting of a person standing on the edge of a cliff, many hands are grabbing and reaching toward them-not just any hands but hands that are made of silver and gold. You would notice that each hand represents a repressed vision, dream, or realization. Threads labeled ‘jealousy’ attach the hands together forming a net. The hands viscously grab toward the person and some hands have broken through, climbing over one another to dig into the person again and again. You would see a hand that is bigger than the rest. That hand, using only its index and middle finger has pierced the side of the person causing them to bleed profusely-written on its talons are ‘deceit’ and ‘love’. The person on the cliff is looking down to the hand noticing how effortlessly it may cause their death. Tears billow in the eyes of this person, their mouth is stapled shut and emotionally are unable to move away from the snares of the helping hands. Above the person is an array of cherubs with scrolls of the unknown waiting for the person to take a much needed jump. I’m sure you can guess who the person represents.

Hindsight is always 20/20-  It’s hard for me to understand what I really don’t want to see when it comes to family relations; if you were a fly on the wall in certain family conversations of mine-you’d probably intentionally fly into one of those hanging tape rolls. I was conditioned to believe that my feelings don’t matter at a young age- that my judgement was skewed, dreams were attainable for others and that my existence was a nuisance. I had three very active parents in my life- Three people to shape and mold my foundation that get very defensive when I speak on my upbringing. I had nice moments, yes, but feelings of love and acceptance, never.  For years I was table talk- ‘eh, she’ll survive,’ ‘she’s not good in school anyway’, ‘she’s a fighter’, ‘she likes drama’, ‘she sure has a mouth on her’, ‘she should be happy her father took her in’, ‘ugh, what a spoiled brat…‘ I was tainted goods within the walls of my own family well before Kimmie discovered my unconscious cry for help.

Family matters are the nucleus of so many of my attachment issues and child- like tendencies. When I found out that my borderline diagnosis was a behavioral disorder that could be reversed versus a chemical imbalance that required constant medication I was relieved; nature vs. nurture applied to my case. Thankfully, I am no longer an active Borderline. Basically, I snapped in 96- added alcohol and drugs to an already disturbed mind and was ‘off to the races’. Fortunately, I started to get a grip around age 28, instead of ending up in a casket. I’ve never given myself a chance to heal from my upbringing because the truth is scary and I had to get through the damage from all the lovely men I slept with first. Yeeesh! I turned to drinking and drugs at a very young age because it was the only way I was able to cope with the negative vibes within my family walls. It wasn’t just me experiencing-it was how I survived.

As a youngin I felt I had to place the weight of my world on other peoples shoulders. My family was emotionally unavailable and my melt downs were too much for anyone to handle. I can understand how confusing it must have been to those who tried to help me since the appearance of my life seemed so ‘white privledge-ish’. Trust me, I was fucking confused too and wondered why things just kept getting worse. Today, I have a tendency to fall back into the helping hands way too often and bad relationships have added to many financial hardships. You don’t have to get married to lose all your money-Just find a soul sucking energy vampire that looks friendly. At times, I feel that I should be more grateful, more compliant, more open to what a helping hand has to say but then its like, nawwwwww. For fuck sake it’s all so clear in these goddamn truth goggles! Isn’t an entire life of struggle enough? OR should I keep on teetering the line of poverty until I’m a senior citizen- just keep being a fucking victim of circumstance and at the mercy of tainted love?

I can work through daily challenges much faster alone so I keep my distance from those I don’t feel kosher around. Keeping my distance is necessary yet extremely difficult- Why? Again, I was conditioned to believe that my feelings don’t matter and whatever I say is hogwash or me just being dramatic… Finding a way to earn more income and break this cycle of running back to helping hands when the going gets tough is a must. It’s expected of me to wallow in my own shit and then cry for help, because that’s what victims do but what if I can break the cycle this time? What if I try just a little harder to make it on my own? Then what? 

–According to Joseph Prince (I accidentally became a fan of his teachings-he seems authentic) A child will be humbled by society, teachers and friends. It is a parents duty to be the one to lift their spirit up; not curse them….The literal translation of curse means to speak down.


Losing my Religion

Posted in Uncategorized on January 16, 2017 by Veronica Graham

Fuck these bitches, on the real, everyone is an artist and everyone is a jack of all trades in entertainment. It’s getting pretty tough out here and my recommendation is to be about it in this biz. Too many tarts are trying to sell the idea of themselves. No one really cares about what you say you’re going to do, trust me, I know. Let people compliment your work, stop searching for acceptance for an idea. Let your work speak for itself. All this blatant ego centered-full of shit-wanna be a star- but really don’t have the balls to take a couple hits?  Sit your ass down and get to work…It reveals so much about your inner spirit.

Anywayz—Nobody believes in Jesus until a demon from the 9th gate possesses their ass. Honestly, if I was God, I wouldn’t help you. After working in true crime TV and having a few gigs on possesion-type TV shows, I believe that spirits exist. A lot of shows start where this creepy looking dude buys a house- A spirit sings louder than him while he is in the shower- The guy is filled with doubt and calls a friend, that friend is eager to contact the spirit; the friend recommends a paranormal advisor that they know- The paranormal team gets freaked out and calls the catholic dude with the cross for help. My question is- Why do people doubt that good and evil exist? When did the shallow side of all of us take over. Are we all doomed?

I am still in the book of Psalms and I have read a couple passages about praying to God for protection from the dark side; those who seek the light will find it and those who seek darkness will find it. Death, Life, what is the underlying meaning? I have a hunch that we are vessels that are naturally attracted to either side. I am still very new in my bible journey so don’t get all shitty on me. Yes, you, the reader. I have had some pretty raw experiences in my life and I believe that at one point I was empty and susceptible to anything. Not just emotionally, but spiritually.

‘From my youth I have been afflicted and close to death; I have suffered your terrors and am in despair. Your wrath has swept over me. All day long they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me. You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend.’ I felt that when I read it. Something inside of me recognized what the writer was saying. Also, don’t expect me to give you the verse and chapter. My advice, find out yourself. I prefer the NIV, just saying.

Have you ever been next to someone who just feels like a shell. Like, they look human but something is just off about them? They seem to be overly clingy and distant at the same time. They’re game for anything and just can’t seem to be at ease. Carefree to a fault. It’s almost creepy, like someone who doesn’t have any clear ideas and is just a wanderer… I was like that. Easy to sway, easy to mold. Just a person who would take anything that came my way. I feel very confident in my existence these days. I feel a little more at peace with my spirit man and living a life that is free from addiction is cool as shit. It’s like I have these truth googles on and I love it. I am very aware and connected to my higher power, whom by the way is not a lamp post or a unicorn that pops molly.

Not much else to say today, just wanted to tell you guys to find a way to feed your inner man. Stop settling for a couple likes and comments. ‘When you bleed just to know your alive’ –a clear sign that your spirit man is lacking fuel. A shell no matter how beautiful is just a shell. Keep searching and keep your head up.





Where do the Children Play?

Posted in Uncategorized on December 31, 2016 by Veronica Graham

Cat Stevens was on to something when the song titled ‘Where do the children play?’made air waves. The looks, the sneers, the absolute disgust people give toward children is running wild in these streets.  Some how a dog has higher regard then a child and it’s frightening.

My kiddo and I made a pit stop to the local star-crack and it was a pretty shitty experience. The atmosphere was filled with negative energy and no smiles; just faces tucked away in corners, dressed in dull colors scrolling through their dopamine enhancers-aka cell phones. I ordered my coffee and a hot tea, of course, as per me, I didn’t give the proper titling to a tea blend. Big no no in a star-crack and I was quickly told the star-crack way to ask for a tea. My toddler looked up and shouts”HI!” to one of the crack makers, no response. Kiddo shouts again “HI!”and still no response. People start surrounding the waiting area and literally become irritated that a kid is in their eye-line, and God forbid laughing and twirling around. In my not so subtle way, I tell my little one that some people are grouchy and coffee can’t fix it. Kiddo says “OK!” in the cutest way and starts eating a pumpkin loaf.

As a mom, I hardly relate to the old version of me and its a little scary. I still look about the same but my thoughts are very different. These first years of a child’s life are super important. It’s up to the parent to create a relationship of trust, create healthy boundaries, establish routines, allow them to identify with family and friends, learn to read, eat, walk, talk and more. It’s a lot of pressure but when you’re only a child for a short while it seems fitting that I am sleep deprived and working over time to set a solid foundation for my little one. I cringe more and more each day when I see another consumer friendly shop or a god damn day spa/ bakery for dogs appear. The children are our future-not a fucking dog in a sweater or a cat that can shit in a toilet. Honestly, I would like to see future investments being made to stop child abuse and more facilities to help the working parent. Investors should set up local pop-ups for abuse awareness and catered events for parents to attend who need guidance or just a few minutes to relax. Single parents are sweeping the nation, ok, so let’s capitalize on it. Mmmmkay…. how about Star-cracks can open up a wifi friendly child arena; not just set up shops in grocery stores and malls. Maybe places like Crap-olte and Mc-Shitty’s can merge and create the ultimate community center for families and sell their food in it?!

Even my apartment complex caters to dogs! We have a fucking dog biscuit bowel in the lobby that never runs dry and what was once beautiful landscaping looks more like a minefield of dog shit. I actually have to ask my kid to KEEP OFF THE GRASS, real talk.  I read an article about a year ago about how a family staged and executed the kidnapping of their 6 year old son, claiming he was ‘too nice’ and needed to be taught how awful the world is-It’s daily news to hear stories of people who leave their children in hot cars, beat them, sexually abuse them, talk down to them and so on. I recently spoke with a nurse who worked in ER and she willingly told me what she sees on a daily basis and its cruel. Parents aren’t educated and children are being mistreated way too often.  

In my not so humble opinion, if anyone saw or suspected someone treated an animal in a harsh way they would sound the fucking alarms!!! Call PETA, address the media, start a ‘Save The Fucking Mangy Cat’ program and burn that person on social media, permanently. Why do we chose to turn the cheek when it’s one of our own? A human, a soon to be active member of society, a future tax payer, a future congress person or teacher. When will we start treating young children with compassion? Even the god damn restaurants are hosting dog-happy-hour parties to bring in revenue?! Some restaurants do offer free meals on certain days to kids and always have crayons in stock; I am grateful for those chains. However, I really don’t want to see a future geared towards a dogs happiness any longer. I want to see a future and a collective effort from those with bottomless bank accounts to create more environments and host more events geared toward the success of children. The children are the future and deserve much more than a slap on the wrist for being loud, a Ssshhh in a restaurant for having a natural emotion-aka tantrum, or an electronic device plopped into their lap because a hard working parent just needs a break.



Fuck Happiness. Claim Joy.

Posted in Uncategorized on December 11, 2016 by Veronica Graham

Sipping the best damn dark roast in my favorite local independent coffee shop…

It’s amazing this spot still exists. I love this place. Always have. I got really sick the other day, the kind of sick that scares you into the ER. The kind that momentarily knocks the wind out of your sails in the most powerful way, stopping you dead in your tracks. Helpless and unable to control the outcome of your day kinda sick- I am a single parent and wear that badge of courage with pride. However, I needed help that day, and without the energy to take my love bug to school so that I could get help; I reached out to my step-monster ahem step-mum.

In a frantic tone,  I asked her to please come over. She was at my place within minutes of canceling all of her appointments. She dropped me off at the hospital, asked me not to worry and would be back soon… Or would she? After being temporarily pumped with saline and discharged, I saw my father standing outside on a business call. I knew it was him because he is the only person in the world who’s voice is louder than mine. He sounded like he had won whatever deal was being negotiated; it was easy to spot him. Within seconds my step-mum pulls up in my car, with an obvious full tank of gas (it was in danger zone when she arrived at my place) and a very happy kid. My little one is chanting “GRANPA! GRANPA! GRANPA!” My dad instantly finds himself fighting off chicken nugget sauce being flicked at his snazzy suit while trying to cram into the back seat. I take shot gun next to the not -so-evil-step-mumster and see my special request sundae sitting in a cup holder, three bites in- I realized it was a bad choice. Step-mum is talking to all of us an no one seems to be listening. In my defense, I earned a free pass for the day. I feel like death and my hair, oh god. I can’t even explain it.

The charade continues on the way to CVS. My dad is now negotiating with a 2.5 year old. My step-mum is struggling to park the car and I am about to barf, again. I quickly drop off my prescription and head to the public bathroom, no joke. My dad grabs vitamin waters, my medication and we are in the clear for a swift exit, or so we thought. Upon arriving at the car we notice it’s empty. Of course it is- and we don’t have the keys. Step-mumster is walking outside the shopping center with a toddler whose maxed out of chillness. I see her with the 3 foot tall dictator and its doesn’t look good, for her that is. As she picks him up and hurries back to the car she and my dad are greeted by an overzealous Pleasantville neighbor that seems to have appeared out of thin air. As per Pleasantville code she and my dad are polite, to a fault. My life is starting to feel like a Chevy Chase film…

Finally, we gather back into the small economy sized car and just sit. Yup. We just sit.  I’m able to ignore the white noise long enough to notice a lady bug has landed on the passenger side window, right where I was sitting. I smiled and thanked God. My relationship with God grew in the Bible Belt. Go figure, and I hadn’t seen a lady bug in 6 months so I was incredibly relieved. To me, it’s a good omen and allows me to feel connected to the universe and God. I was eye to eye with the bug before my step-mumster saw it too. Feeling momentarily blessed, we eventually get to my place. My dads car is still at the hospital and my step-mums car is at my place, seems like an easy transition, right? Nope. Step-mumster left her keys at her home. She took little one there to make me a Christmas card while I was in the hospital. 

The South, granted my distaste for it, helped me find my inner peace. The DMV rat race can take its toll on you but I love it and am happiest in it. Lately, it seems that the self help books I get my hands on have a similar pattern of slogans written by “inspired” people stating that you can FIND happiness!  You can find it on a wilderness retreat or a vacation! You can find it at the gym! Change your diet, stop smoking and you can find it attending an overly priced yoga studio! Buy a pet! Go on a date with a person who doesn’t suck! Within the same pages they filter in references to take it one day at a time and that you really aren’t in control, the universe is, but only if you believe that, if you don’t then whatever- 

Learning to live in the present, literally one moment at time is becoming less of a chore and my controlling tendencies are lifting, slowly. Maybe the pathological liar from previous entries was right about a thing or two. He had suggested over copious amounts of wine that I stop trying to control everything. That I should truly consider the art of letting go. No one is perfect and in my “inspired” opinion happiness doesn’t really exist. It’s not the same as claiming joy. Had I not lived in Georgia I wouldn’t have been able to recognize the stillness inside of me and claim my day to day joys.

I stopped battling within the pages of my mistakes and started to take other peoples “inspired” opinions with a grain of salt. I can claim joy when washing dishes because I have food to eat and a little person whom I love dearly, to cook for. Had I known how to recognize this learned practice I could have appreciated the people and jobs of my past a little bit easier…Hmm maybe not. The point is, I had to start shutting out the over saturated opinions of the self help snobs and ridiculous detective-type-style articles flooding my news feed on how to “Find Happiness!” Joy is in the moment and happiness isn’t a tangible thing in my “inspired” opinion.

Being still in the moment, is awesome. The smells of this coffee shop are uplifting. The people chatting let me know that I am not alone, the chill of the cool winter air breaking my comfort each time the door opens is riveting (yes, I used the word riveting), the smell of newspaper, the sound of instrumental music, the feeling of the sun from the back corner window-its reflection hitting the guys phone sitting next to me at the perfect angle to blind me momentarily is kinda lovely.  The obvious homeless woman enjoying a slice of apple pie, sitting directly across from me at a common table is part of what makes life beautiful. She has something that has taken me a long time to find. Appreciation for what is; Not what was or what could be but what is. Little moments that collect into a day make it more interesting then the day before. In my “inspired” opinion all of these moments add up to a joyful life.


–Wishing you all inner peace this Holiday season… Even if you can’t find it in the bottom of the egg nog bowl. One day a time. By the way, no more photos will be added to the blog, not trying to get sued over a shitty stock image.


Emotional Bondage, ugh as if?!

Posted in Uncategorized on October 17, 2016 by Veronica Graham


Thomas the Train music is blaring through a small flat screen T.V. A toddler is playing with blocks and eating breakfast. Veronica, feeling content, sips her coffee.

I recognize this feeling, a clear head with no pollutants. I have had periods of success in life where I was super focused and sober, then WHAMMO! I fuck up. I’ve had series of spells where I’ve lost control of my emotions and targeted whomever was near and practically lived in fear afterward trying to make it up to them, at any cost to my self esteem. It happened a lot, so much that it was a part of me and people around me accepted it and took advantage of it. Oh yes, people love to capitalize on other peoples mistakes.

I worked with a makeup artist years ago who suggested that my problem was that I haven’t mastered my lessons in life and that God will present the same lesson to me until I get it. She worked with Eminem as a dancer or maybe she was just near him at a concert. I don’t remember but she definitely had my undivided attention after that name dropper and when I asked if I could touch her arm because she was near him, she let me. How cool is that?! Obviously I didn’t take her advice but she had this internal strength, Princess Diana style, and I wanted it and still do.


Finance and Emotion. If finance represents my father and emotion represents my mother, then the colliding of two extremes created my skewed reality of the two. Right?

When I was dating a special person who lived in New York I forked over the cost. I paid when I got there, I bought the coffee, the food, cooked, cleaned and was ok with it for awhile. I felt like I was in a episode of Sex in the City every time I travelled up North to be with him. I let my imagination run wild and ignored the red flags. I cared deeply for him and emptied my wallet to be with him. He never asked me to pay for everything but he sure as hell never tried to stop me. Did he have money? I don’t know. I do know that he didn’t have money for me. You catch my drift. Who doesn’t like gifts, free food and money?! I was so hooked on him that I had his account information saved at my bank and would transfer him money a time or two. I’ve blogged about him before. He was the actor-guy that was too cool for me to write about. YES! I was a fucking dip-shit paying for a man friend with benefits. I believed that if I treated him the way I wanted to be treated he would eventually do the same. It was an investment I was wiling to make because I believed the return would be doubled. Pffft.

When I was with Southern Gentleman, not once in the entirety of our relationship did he post a photo of us without me suggesting that it was done. I never made it to his profile pic but he made it to mine. He kept a partially nude photograph of himself as his profile pic for “networking” and I swept my feelings about it under the rug. He sought his acceptance and love else where and emotionally abandoned me. I believed that we could get past the hurdles, remember? This too young to be a parent in your 20’s, have a job, be emotionally tied to someone, maintain boundaries-is just a fucking cop out. TOTAL. UTTER. BULL SHIT. It contributes to the Adult Child Syndrome that so many people, including myself have had to deal with. I may give social media the middle finger, but if you’re not mentioned in your partners news feed, little to no photos of the two of you together are current, no relationship status on fb (complicated is a cop out that suggests the other person is fishing elsewhere), no stupid fucking instagram photo of the two of you sharing a milkshake or fly fishing off the coast of Columbia, then “ YOU AIN’T THE ONE” and you need to cut the emotional ties of lies that you have created in your mind to that person. We are spirits in a media crazed world and social media is a part of our relationship goals now and forever, don’t even fake like it isn’t.


A revelation happened and Veronica was happy.

I spent 14 years living with a mother who complained about everything and the world was against her and another 12 living with my father. No matter how many people tried to help my mom it wasn’t enough to satisfy her needs. Everyone was the bad guy, except for her. Even now she is still the victim. From as early as 5, I can remember her fits of rage and sadness. She was so beautiful and ugly at the same time. No ones basic needs were met under her roof because she couldn’t break free of her own emotional demons. Her selfishness and child like view of life made living with her hard to be a kid. She was talented but too focused on what she didn’t have. Trying to keep up with the Joneses made her nutty. There wasn’t room for me to have a bad day, a good day, or an OK day because I was being emotionally drained by her. Luckily, I have been able to break the curse and her manipulation tactics don’t work on me anymore. THANK ya’ very much, MA! I’m finally able to utilize her manipulative ways to avoid others trying to sneak into my bubble today.

When I arrived to my fathers neck of the woods I was expected to be grateful and appreciative of the value of a dollar, understand and apply the benefits of hard work to schooling and know the significant difference between dollar store brand clothing and designer brand. I didn’t. I barely had any life skills, let alone an understanding that my father was well off because of his work ethic in business. I was left to my own devices and was shamed when I didn’t perform like I was expected. I lived in a fancy little neighborhood and was gifted a fancy little car- I was clueless. Eventually, I found solace with friends who made me feel comfortable. It was a rowdy crowd but that’s where I felt accepted and later rejected for being too crazy, as if?! My father and I have an some sort of understanding now and I definitely understand the value of a dollar. All that he gave me growing up wasn’t meant to be interpreted that that’s how you show people love. I literally just didn’t have anything when I moved in with him and parents are supposed to care for their children in more ways than just popping them out. I have also learned that leather seats in a car are better than fabric, investments should only be made in the stock market (not people), Bose have the best speakers and the dollar store is great for everything else.


–Everyone has their own cross to bear. No one gets a free pass to avoidance of life’s bull shit. Remember, bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people.