dramatic but I dont do drama

I am pretty sure I just wrote about this topic...but I am really starting to ponder this situation. I MAY be dramatic and by "may" I mean most definitely am I don't do drama.

I grew up with brothers so I never had the cattiness of girls. It was always this is my problem, lets say what it is and punch it out. If I am angry I will tell you and if not I wont. Sometimes, I think girls just need to get it together and say this is why I am pissed, or this is why you bother me or did you say this about me.


A pet peeve of mine, is when someone gets a story and then misconstrues this story, then spreads the gossip, then a whole huge issue causing me stress is here. If you want the answer just ask! Another issue the silent game accompanied with passive aggressiveness. My thing is, if it isn't true then it doesn't really bother me. Except when my character is being talked about. I am a good person, a good friend, and will do anything for most people. I focus on my job and making my people pleased and I take care of me. I differentiate between right and wrong and will stick up for what I believe is right.

short and sweet speak up, work it out, and move on with it....

August...maybe I shouldn't

August:  Maybe I shouldn’t…


The semester started again. I had started with 6 classes and ended with 3. My semester started strong and ended weak. Weak sauce. I had Spanish, Accounting, Communications and three other courses that don't ring a bell.

One of my core classes was a communications course. We had to give speeches and record them. I loved this class but we had to watch and critique ourselves with every taping. The one speech I chose to write was the last of the semester. I chose to write about cervical cancer. This was my mission, my word to the world...."DON'T GET CERVICAL CANCER!" I wrote all the facts and report, but I had problems saying what I wanted to say. My B.F.F., took the time write my cards for me. She wrote them and added in little words like smile, grin and other comments. I still have these cards packed away and I look at them this time. I am so grateful for this friend. She is one of them that I met later in life, but a consistent, loyal friend, who in the end always had the best at heart. She would sit with me and watch T.V., sit outside with me and talk about nothing for hours, be up for a Saturday night party, for countless hours spent walking around target, and really listening to me. A friend that was there and good and not just there for the fun- I was really touched she did this for me.
** Just a side note, I do not mention friends names for their privacy.

I went to class and read my speech. Everything we learned went out the window. I stared at my cards, read monotonously, scared, timid. I finally glanced up from my 10 minute speech which seemed like forever , I had tears streaming down my face and so did the rest of the class. For a moment these people felt my pain. Something that I would never wish on my friends or strangers even but something that I so desperately wished people could understand or get…..something that  I wish my core group of people could do more than just sympathize with. Its bullshit really. When one person has to deal with a lot of crap and others don’t. A bunch of “why me” starts starting to float around. I finished this speech and they all clapped and clapped and clapped. I looked at the floor as I walked back. I sat down next to my friend in the class, and he patted me on the back. Another guy just looked at me and said “wow”.

I watched my video...barely. I couldn't stomach it. In a way I was sick to my stomach, in another way, I was able to touch 29 people in my world, mostly a little younger than me but some of the same age. I gave these students something to think about. I could see the reaction on their faces, and I could tell they listened to me. This was good. 

This is one class I passed. This semester felt like high school again. I would go to class or not go, grades didn’t really matter and my attitude was the same as well.
The nights remained the same. Night time. When the freaks come out. There is something about a 23 year old female at night. She is young, fresh, face caked with makeup, and ready to drink. This I was ready to do. Never much of a binge drinker before, I was down for the cause. I still maintained that I could only drink Friday and Saturday nights and maybe a week night but this was a rare occurrence. Binge drinking is the normal for a 23 year old. How much beer can a 23 year old drink? Well I think from 9 -4 am, 10- 15 beers, a few shots and if lucky some hard liquor. How much can the “grieving” heavily medicated (doctor prescribed of course) for emotional pain, anxiety, physical pain and probably a few extras….drink, the same, but the consequences seem to be a little worse.
The nights always started off well. Fun, fun, fun, laugh, laugh, laugh, and scream….laugh, however, at times, this emotional pit of a mess would turn for a downfall.
I never fancied myself to be a social being or someone who relied on a friend to always be around. I really enjoyed my alone time. I often get sick of “people” I am too much of a control freak. Everything needs to be in its place and clean and in my control.  But shit, life proved to be uncertain and sucky so why not change it up. I became a person who always wanted someone around, someone to be consistent. I almost never slept alone. I had a privy of girlfriends who would be happy to join me on a sleep over.
Not too bad of a situation.

So the problem consisted of this: When the night ended and I was sufficiently drunk AND medicated, sometimes- rarely at first, my emotions would start to trigger. Ups and downs, anger and tears….misconstrued feelings turning into what looks like jealousy. But hey, once in a while, everyone is allowed to get a little crazy right? Who doesn’t call every person in their phone book and leave voicemails, one happy, one sad, one screaming, and one….

Another side note here. I look at these picture because they disgust me. I see them now and see such a sad girl, lost, scared, and forced into complete oblivion. I share them however, so you can see a part of my world at this time.

May - June - July

Perception. The act of perceiving something or someone. How someone else sees YOU through their eyes. What someone thinks about you. This is my laymen definition here, I am too lazy to get the real one. 

What you see in yourself and how others see you and even what you let others see are very different things. When you are at your thinnest, people still think your fat, when people think your angry, you could just be shy and when people think you are crazy with a capital C, you think get the hell out hell out of my face because I'm not crazy you are!  

May, June and July.

These months are filled with pretty much the same routine. Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep, eat, meds, sleep, eat, meds, sleep, text, call, sleep, sleep sleep, drink, sleep drink, drink, friends, cry, drink, sleep, eat. wake up, repeat. 

For awhile, this was okay with everyone. Lauren was happy. Or so everyone thought. A happy friend is a friend you don't need to worry about, mess with, talk to or TALK TALK to, a happy friend doesn't impede on your day, a happy friend isn't a burden in your life. This is what I needed to be a happy friend. I felt as though I had two lives at this point or maybe three or four. I was keeping it together damnit! Work me was quiet, kept the i pod on, got the work done and left alone pretty much, sometimes would fall asleep at her desk because she was always very tired and heavily medicated. Family me, had a very remove, distant, angry me, and friend me (when they saw me) for the most part was either sleeping, medicating, or ready for a party. Not happy but not horrible. 

I was cool in my head. An angry little beaver. My one triumph over the summer or around that time. My fight with the Medical Board. The number one Cervical Cancer doctor in AZ was assigned to my mother. I will not say his name. Mainly because I do not believe in giving bad horrible murderers positive attention for negative behavior. Not only did this dick, miss  blood poison results, he up and walked out of my moms treatment with out so much a word. HE moved to Florida. Gone, bye, yelled at the family all the time and her as well. WHO treats a person with cancer like this? The devil does. 

We were fighting and fighting for a mal practice suite against this monster in order to take away his medical license. We didnt care about the money, we didn't care about any of that. All we cared abo ut was the other women that would be under his care. I was frightened for them. The medical board is a scary thing. You have 20 or so doctors sitting staring, you need to get up in front of all of them, speak into a mic and convince these medical professionals that you, a regular human being without a doctors degree, that this doctor, friend, and comrade, killed your mother. I prepared a 9 page letter with all my emotions and great points. We each had 5 minutes to talk. My dad, my grandma I think, my aunt Janice and myself. They all spoke. My time to shine was here. I stood and read, my hands were shaking and my voice was trembling. As the tears rolled down my face and the spit flew from my mouth, I remembered the children my mother worked with. The children she loved, the children who signed her petition for her to be granted her degree. I thought of them. My voice grew stronger, louder, prouder, more convincing, more, more, more, "Shit, my 5 minutes were up" I looked at this board of people some with no facial expressions, some with tears and some who really couldn't give a shit probably, my voice spoke, quietly, timidly, "may i finish please?" All my rage went away and I turned into the little girl with a soft voice who was empowered by a woman- by her mother. Something allowed these people to let me finish. I finished the last two pages. looked them all in the eyes "Thank you"....They sat and contemplated. We didn't win this day. Although the doctors all pretty much agreed. My mothers doctor acted unprofessionally,inhumanely and had something to do with the discourse of my mothers death, he could not be fully punished. His punishment- A Scarlett letter.  A slap on the wrist. To this day, if I see this man....He is someone worth going ape shit crazy for...God gave me two fists, two feet and a voice and this woman is not afraid to use them.

Back to perception.  During this time I heard a lot....a lot of "blah blah blah blah" In one ear and out the other. So many "You are SO strong, you are amazing, You can get through it, You will get through it, you need to be happy, every day can't be a sad day" All of these words just pissed me off....I didn't want to hear it. I didn't need too. All people have good intentions done wrong. I perceived this "doctor" as a murder, his peers perceived him as having bad judgment.  I perceived myself as a brick wall. Smile, laugh, smile, laugh, happy. But really,what I didn't see was myself.

I was running on empty and slowing down fast, My car was over heating and the engine was going to explode. I didn't take the time to slow down because that would mean I would need to process everything. Processing everything would mean moving on to the next step. The next step in the stupid 5 stages of grief...acceptance....the funny thing is I don't even think I had hit on the first two in order to get to acceptance, I knew she was gone, I knew she wasn't coming back. To me that was acceptance. I could live my life on the wild side because now I didn't have anyone to answer too. I could hang out with who I wanted to because who cared. I could have 20 people in my little house like a Greek orgy because it was better to be around people rather than be alone. 

I was going down hill but didn't see it yet. I wonder if my cousins did...I'm sure they did. All in all these months were pretty boring in retrospect. My clock was ticking, my pot was boiling, and my gas take was pretty low....I still had a few kicks in me though.

April

Again, April is a blur. A mess of school, work, school, sleep, sleep sleep. I was sleeping a lot so my friends wanted me to go out and socialize. I don't remember April. But I do know my next project began. Something my mom had done, was go back to college. She was about 9 credits short of graduating when she passed away. When I originally contacted ASU, I asked if they would give her an honorary degree. They told me "NO".

Much to my dismay I was pretty angry. I decided this was not an appropriate answer. I wrote a letter to the Dean, Governor, and other big wigs in the ASU community. I took a long time writing this letter and making sure once again it was perfect. Looking back, the theme of my life stated to be perfect and angry. I sent this letter along with 700 signatures and probably some other stuff too. Then I sent it in to wait. My main point of this letter was to tell them who my mom was and that she had worked in the field of child development for 28 years, I reasoned with them that the experiences she had in the real world and the work place, is what led to her knowledge of children, not what she could sit and reiterate on a test from text books. She deserved this! 

During this time, my night activities also progressed. In my mind, this is what normal 23 year old people did. Partied until 4 am. I think some other 23 year olds didn't have a major emotional trauma going on. I kept it cool for now but the clinginess started. I created this world where I didn't ever want to be left alone. I didn't care who was at my house or sleeping over, As long as I didn't have to be alone. Being alone meant that I had to think about everything and my mind wasn't ready to rest. I knew that I wasn't processing everything. I would cry all night in my sleep. I gained a bunch of weight and on my off time, I would sleep. In retrospect, it wasn't abnormal. I had my day from 7-5 pretty jammed packed with work and school. I would fall asleep around 5:30 wake up at 8:30 and go back to sleep.

 

Jump ahead to summer- JUST for a second. I was sitting in my back yard and the phone rang. I answered it....It was ASU, the lady on the phone told me some good news. She said that ASU had decided to give my mom the degree. I burst into tears. "OK, OK, OK" Thank you!!! I called my grandma and could barely spit it out. She was very happy too!  One more task down, one less thing to keep my mind occupied. 

I was elated that my mom was given her degree. I also was proud that I challenged the Education system at ASU basically telling them that they way they educate people is not effective and needs to be changed, I feel with them agreeing to give her the degree, they agreed with the fact that there are issues and flaws within the educational system. Lauren 1 traditional education 0...

April and May came and went. I passed all my classes and now all I had to do was work. As my tasks and responsibilities left my head, my emotional state stated to get a little more ridiculous. My need to always be with someone grew. Again, I didn't care who it was as long as I didn't have to be alone. My anxieties rose, my tiredness grew. I would fall asleep at my desk for short periods of time. I would wake up and go back to work. I was disorientated most of the time, sick and in physical pain. My family started to wonder if I was depressed. I said "No, helloooo, havent you seen what has been going on?" I think one of my turning points is when I decided to go out in the middle of the work week. I NEVER did this. We stayed up all night .... still going strong. I wasn't as worried as everyone else around me.

February / March the beginning of a down ward spiral

Have you ever felt like you were being punished for something and have absolutely no clue the reason why? I have. Have you ever been punished and know exactly why? I have too. During my moms short illness I thought, "I really hope this isn't his punishment, his lesson." I think I believed the same for myself. 

The next 9 months were a blur. So we can start where we left off. 

February 23rd: We all sat at my grandmas house. We had a funeral to plan. Choose the prayers, the dates, the songs, the clothes, write an obituary. I sat there with my cousin and my aunts and my grandmas. Trina and I sang songs to pick fitting ones for a funeral. I would interject when I heard something that I didn't like in the obituary. I wanted to say something "I want, I want, then finally, I just want to go home." I went home that night. Took my meds, got in the shower and cried. I cried so hard that I rubbed my eyes raw. I crawled into bed and cried some more. I woke up and my eyes were swollen shut. I cried all night in my sleep. I stared sleeping with my door locked because I didn't want anyone to come in if I was screaming in my sleep. 

February 24th- February 28th or so: The planning:

We had planned everything out. The songs, the prayers, the days, the wake. My next job was to get the clothes she had picked out to be buried in. When I heard she had picked them out, I grew a little angry with her. She promised me she would fight. I went to my dad's house and started looking for the outfit. I think it was purple. She bought it to wear when she got skinny. I guess now, here was her opportunity. I started picking through her clothes. My tears grew louder and faster, before I knew it, I was ripping all her clothes out of the closet and on to the floor. Screaming in sorrow. I sat on the floor and smelled her smell. It hurt so badly. I regained my composure and placed all of her clothes back. I left her house and brought her dress where it needed to go. 

The wake had to be within these few days. The family got to get there early to see the body before everyone else did. I was looking at the pictures and heard some hurried feet. "MY BABY" My grandma was at her casket and crying. My heart broke for her at that moment. My grandpa wobbled down on one knee and touched her shoulder. Parents are not supposed to put their children in the ground, no matter how old they are. I looked at her. She had makeup painted on her face. I didnt like that - she hated makeup, it suffocated her. Floods and floods of people came in. All I saw were red faces, no names, no feelings. My moms friend Cheri stopped in her tracks and whispered in my ear "you will drive in your car and burst into tears, you will listen to a song and burst, you will see a picture, a movie, a card, a smell and break down, take those moments and give them to yourself, then you will go on" I keep those words in my heart and in my head. I went home alone and took my meds, got in the shower and cried, and cried and cried. This is something that was going to become a nightly routine. 

March 1st: Dooms Day. The funeral

My dads family was here as well as most of my mothers. I remember thinking of those ones, the ones who didn't come. "How dare you!. you disgust me. Unforgivable" bye bye out the door. I guess I couldn't really expect much from these few but you would think. 

I changed a few times that morning. I wanted to look perfect for her. A black pocka dot shirt. A velvet vest. I think I had torn all my extensions out but I had black hair and raw eyes. I couldn't do my makeup that well but I looked presentable or so I thought. We got to the the church. I remember running around like a crazy person. Sat my dads family on one side. I saw my friends. LOVE. They were all there to support me. All had deer caught in the head lights look on their face. What did they have in store for them, What was going to happen. I don't know what any of them really thought but that didn't matter so much. They were all there. TT sat behind me. He loves my mom. Mass happened. It was over. One more bump gone over. Then we traveled to the cemetery. There were so many cars. So many. At least 600 people showed up. That made me proud for her. One of my students gave me a card. I hugged her. A six year old had compassion for me. Even though I did not know the kennedy's I felt like the Kennedy family in that procession with all the cars following them burying a president. The driver took the long route because he wanted to give her one last ride in the city. We got to the cemetery. We got out of our cars. The tears in the crowd were hot and wet. There was dirt and flowers, holy water and more prayers. She is with her family here. People dispersed. I didn't want to leave her alone here. I wanted to jump in the casket, in the ground and lay there with her. Maybe for just a moment maybe forever. We finally left and went to my aunts house for the reception. People were laughing, eating. This is what she would have wanted. 

That night I went home. Got in bed and cried. A loud cry. My brother called me and told me to get up. I said no. He said, "You are not going to sit and cry by yourself. We will cry together, get up, my friends are coming to pick you up" We got to salty senoritas. All my cousins were there and even baby Kadence- at a bar at 1 month old. That has got to be a record. We sat, drank, laughed cried. I loved my cousins for this moment. They were there. Not the drinking or the partying, but they were there to support. To just be there. 

The next few weeks of March. We had to pick a headstone. This fell on my shoulders, but I am sure I took the job. I wanted something perfect. I chose and angel sitting on a heart. This way she always had an angel to protect her body. Now we had to wait. 

I continued school. I had a lot of catching up to do. I remember missing a science test. My teacher wouldn't let me retake it because I missed it. I reasoned with him, that I was at my mothers funeral. I believe his response was "do you know how many times I have heard that" It took everything in me not to well up my fist and hit that S.O.B. so my next best option was on his teacher review, I wished him the same treatment of me to be given to his daughters, when he gets cancer and dies. I believe my friend Amanda gave him a similar review. I loved her for that. It takes a bold person to say something balsy and reep the consequences. She stood up for what was right.  I would have had a perfect 4.0 if it weren't for that jerk off. 

Now it was time to start piecing everything back together. My aunt took us to Mexico. She had promised my mom she would take my older brother there. A promise my mom couldn't keep. I decided I was going to read lots of books and not fall into depression. I sat on our porch in Mexico and read. I was sneak drinking the whole time but I am sure that was noticeable. What else to do in despair. We spent week there.

When I came home, I think my friends thought it was time I got back on the horse. They felt my over amount of sleeping wasn't normal. I would go to work and school get home around 5 and sleep. I would sleep whenever I got the chance. They started to urge me to go out and have fun. I couldn't be sad forever. Ha. I started to go out and mask the sadness. Sometimes at first it was too much. I remember some guy wanting to come back and party "My response was my mom just died dick" He didn't know but I took such offense to it. Didn't the whole world know my pain?! My room mate at the time also wanted to make sure we were still having our Saint Pattys day party. I said "sure I guess- of course" So we had the party. This girl was sobbing. I didnt know her but she was sobbing for me. The girls must have told her. I comforted her. "It will be okay, I will be okay" I lie. I didn't know if I was lying to her or myself. At that time, it felt like the truth. I was with friends, and I was numb. Numb to all the pain when everyone was around. I could laugh. When they left I would cry. It was cool. 

Thats how the next few months went....

April: same ole same ole. Going out on the weekends became a regular occurrence... 

So here it is- my moms story through my eyes

All stories have a beginning, I guess my flaw with this blog was that I started in the middle and I've realized that you cant jump into the middle of the movie and get what is going on so you can't blog like that either.

I started this primarily for myself but I would like to also give others some sort of insight into why Im this angry little peacock of a woman. I think a lot of "things" need to make a woman an angry woman. I try not to be but if I face the facts, I am outspoken, wild, non apologetic - most of the time and resilient. If I look at the woman I would like to be like, it would be my grandma- her motto is never gossip- but really how is that possible and where is the line between gossip and venting or discussion...its a fine line and it takes an art to get it down because sometimes we can't keep our mouths shut! It's natural to be angry but it's not natural to bear the reasons behind it. This is painful and embarrassing or really just the fact that you are metaphorically naked for the world to see. Who likes that?

So here it is on the line....


About 5 years ago, my mom told me to find another job...WHAT?? breaks. stop the record. She saw that I was unhappy and needed some separation not from my job but probably from her AND she needed it from me too. So I was angry with her and we didnt talk for about 5 months on and off here and there but didnt talk. In a lot of ways I feel like I was her confidant, I knew all her secrets and cared for her. My mother was a woman that everyone loved. She bent over backwards for everyone and pleasantly came in last place in a lot of ways because she wanted her friends and family to win. She was a woman who kept our extremely large family together for reunions or Holidays and kept them all laughing. She was my grandmothers support and did everything for her. I always felt she did too much and that people took advantage of her and it made me angry because she NEVER said anything. She was a quiet one, but when she blew she blew. Its funny now but scary at the time :) One thing that I knew everyone loved her.


In 2006, the day after Thanksgiving, she had some pain. Well not some pain a lot of pain. She went from doctor to doctor telling her she was crazy. She was sick, down for the count. I didn't think much of it because she was resilient. On my 23rd birthday, I took her to yet another doctor probably the 10th or 11th and she wanted to sleep in the car because she couldn't sit down in the chair, it hurt to bad. The receptionist told her that if she sits in the car and misses her appointment, then she was out of luck. I walked my mom to her car, and she asked me not to leave her. She was scared. I told her I had to go sit inside and wait for the doctor. She said okay. I went into the waiting room and called my dad, told him what had transpired. The receptionist stopped my phone call and rudely stated " If she is SO sick then she should just go to the hospital" I stopped my phone call with my dad and stood up and told that snide angry woman, "this is where the hospital told us to come" probably yelling more than talking. "I continued to tell her to mind her business and worry about her job and not the sick woman crying in the car" Bitoch got my point sat down and played with her paperwork. We finally saw the doctor. My mom gave him the bowl of blood clots she had collected from her body. At that point he said he would not exam her and that she needed to get to the hospital immediately. I took my mom to the hospital, called my brother and had to leave her there to go back to work. Once my brother came I left. She got a diagnosis of Intrasticamitis. I simple infection which needs anti biotics. Ok good. Nothing to worry about. My aunt, a midwife and nurse practitioner decided to take matters into her own hands. She did an exam and found a tumor in her cervix. A tumor the size of of a grapefruit. Cancer. She had cervical cancer. My worry set in but we were assured by a well known best in the biz AZ cancer doctor that she was stage one 1b...good a 90% survival rate. People survive cancer all the time. No worries, a little chemo and back to work. Good.



Days went on and she was still in pain. My heart softened for her. I sat on her bed and brushed her hair. I was going braid it. She cried a little and I cried. When I was little she brushed my hair. I would scream and cry in pain, I would pull it out  and make her do it again and now, It was my turn, she cried but didnt ask me to do it again. I sniffled silently. I said to her "Your not going to die mom, dont worry" She cried and cried and through her sobs, she blurted out "I know I am not". I am not sure at that point if she was scared for herself or for her children who thought that their mother was going to die. She was only 45 years old.


Christmas came and she couldn't get out of bed. We all forced her to because I ran around for the previous two weeks to buy all the presents so this Christmas would be special. Instead of us going to everyone else's house, they came to ours. Something that has been a rare occurrence in my 23 years. I thought this was a little weird. Especially when uncle Gaylord came. Something was up. Was I blind or just oblivious...maybe a little of both. a few days later she went back to the hospital. She was very sick. It was New Years now. My mom told me to go out with my friends. I got dressed and was not ready to party but went out instead. We sat at some bar and watched the fireworks. As I watched them pop in the sky, I cried because she was watching them from a hospital bed. I didn't like the way the nurses treated her at this hospital. They would force her to get up and leave needles in her arms. She was scared. Two weeks she spent there. Then she got to come home. My daily routine stayed the same but when I got home, I would fall apart.



Time went on and went fast. I was tired and pushing it. My family insisted that I stay in school. I had 7 classes that semester. And so I did. I was sitting in a woman's awareness class and my brother called me...it had to be January or something and he said its stage 3b. I asked him what that meant and he said "50% survival rate" I told him I had to go. I sat in class and wet hot tears streamed down my face. But still I was confident that it would be okay. My schedule remained the same. School, work, school, hospital, homework. I would sit at work with my I pod on. My bosses were kind to me. My anxiety levels were heightened and I wasn't sleeping but pushed through. A few days after this, she went to stay at my grandma's house. My brother went to visit her and her blood pressure was so low. My family called the doctor and he said to take her to the hospital. Come to find out that 3 days earlier, she had tested positive for a blood infection. The doctor said it was a mistake but obviously it wasn't. She was back in the hospital. The ICU. I was so mad at that doctor, he is really really happy that he never had to meet me. I was sick, so at first I couldn't visit her. But when I was well enough, I dressed in the gear and went in to see her. We had to be completely covered and couldn't touch her. She was so swollen and sick. She would retain 60 pounds of water weight and then loose it. It was horrible. She was in this coma for two weeks or so. Finally she woke up and was able to move into a room.

January 31st 2007, My cousin gave birth to a little girl. Kadence. I went to see her. Immediately I loved this little girl. We took pictures, I printed them out and took them to my mom. She was in a coma like state and I knew this would wake her up. I went into the room and told her  "mom Kadence was born" She opened her eyes and said "Kadence" smiled and went back to sleep. My mind was at ease. "Good" I thought. Life, life is good. 



It was Valentine's Day. I wrote her a card. When I came in she asked for a hug. I hesitated at first because we are not huggers. I didn't want to because if she is asking for a hug, I knew it had to be serious. I was still at this point optimistic that she would be okay. We would sit then leave sit and leave. I once walked in and she was suspended in a sling from the ceiling to get her blood flowing. It disgusted me. HOW SAD for her. She couldn't move or control her body. I wanted her to fight but you could see it on her face, she was tired. A little worry started to come in when she couldn't remember her computer passwords. She was so mad at herself. I reassured her it would be okay. She was finally able to get a PET scan. That day when I came, I heard my brother crying I walked in and asked him what happened, he told me I had to go and talk to mom. He said he was scared. I told him I would take care of it. As I walked down the hall, I looked at the pictures and saw a sea of my family there. A lot of them. In my mind I thought "what the hell is going on?!" I walked in and my dad was crying and so was my older brother. My dad blurted it out. 5 years, that is what she had. 5 years. I was not satisfied with this. I looked at my brother and screamed. I made her promise to fight, I cried, I threw her food- her ensure. I cried and cried. My aunt walked in the room and my told me I had to talk to her. I told them I didnt want to talk but she made me. As I walked out of the room, I saw my families faces. All of them were red and hot, tears streaming down their face. I looked at all of them. Hurting for me, for themselves and for her. I don't remember what my aunt said to me but it was unacceptable.


She took me to a hospice that night. I didn't understand why we were there. This is where people go to die, every person in here was old. She brought me to her room. I didn't get it, why would we bring her here?! "This is her bed, so comfortable, this is her phone, this is her bathroom, do you see how big it is and nice?" I stood in the bathroom. looked around. "I don't want to bring her here. I don't get it, I don't get it" She held me and we cried.


They transported her there. She fell asleep. There was so  much going on in the world and it all stopped. We would sit in there. 20 of us. The next five days were a blur. I would sit by her bed and remind her to breath. Every 10 seconds "breath mom" And she would. This was sign to me, she could here me and she promised me she would fight. The 21st, I was tired. I wanted to go and sleep. My brothers asked me to stay because they all thought something would happen. I told them it would be fine. The next morning my dad called me and told me to get down there. I got there in 7 minutes and started running. I saw my brother standing outside. I screamed "did I miss it? is she gone? is she gone?" He looked at me and nodded his head, I fell to the ground and cried. He cried. The nurses came and helped me up or checked my blood pressure who knows. I went into the room and hugged her. Her body was there but her spirit was gone. I didn't want to leave. I went outside and texted a few friends. A sat there all of the sudden lost, confused, sad so sad and angry.

My family says that before she took her last breath, she opened her eyes and said "Rhea". Rhea is my great grandmother who died 4 years ago on that exact day. She was there to bring her home. 


So there is the story of the end of her life. The next part will have to wait. 4 years it has been and still it hurts....sometimes it feels like forever and sometimes it feels like just yesterday.... Now let the grieving process begin a sneak peak....



The next nine months are a blur, we planned the funeral, chose the headstone, and laid her to rest. As her life ended and her body rested, mine started to spiral out. In most aspects, I kept it together but at night it was a different story. I started to seem crazy. But it was easier for me at that time to allow people to think I was crazy for one reason rather than let them see what was really bothering me....

Cat fight - boobs and glitter

There are some things I just don't understand in this world. One thing is why people stay around bad situations or in situations where they are unhappy. I would like to think I am the woman who when faced with a jerk OR anybody treating me badly, I cold hard bounce. No way No thank you. I'm also pretty clear if you treat me poorly, that I am not gonna hang around. I'm only human and it does piss me off and hurt my feelings and I am angry about pretty much everything else in my life...so why hang around haters. But that's just me and I am probably a little wrong on that point because sure there is always the moments of lets work this out or stay away from each other for a little bit but in the end I walk away. Ladies ITS NOT RIGHT TO BE TREATED LIKE CRAP! Its not that I am afraid of commitment because I commit to a lot of things e.g. sleep, gym, eating regularly,bathing  - see commitment easy right?!  I just have an intolerance to assholes- male and female. 

So as I sit and observe my surroundings last night at a few different spots. I found myself once again in my quote un quote shark den or the wild. Place number 1. It was a man meat market! Not bad on the eyes but they were surrounded by their bottom dwellers, their lionesses. But they weren't even with these men. Really you want stare me down as I walk to the bathroom that you just stunk up?! Get real nasty pony tail. As I said and I will say it again, "Just because were pretty,  doesn't mean we wont take our earrings off" Were boobs and glitter but we have screwdrivers in our purses. Place number 2. Chill, relaxed, a sloppy meat market. I think the quote of the night was "its okay to eat these onion rings because I have fetish for getting herpes" my mouth was agape and my response "huh?" place number 3. Cuban hat man. HOT. Love. lost - meh. but fun none the less. 

FYI, pregnant ladies do not belong at a bar at 1 am when they are about 7 centimeters dilated people. Get real with yourself girl- its not cute!!

Its ridiculous though the way women treat each other. So caddy and snide towards each other. There are a few rules that I follow:
1. Treat your friends well. Why ignore/ talk crap about- side note (discussing issues is not talking crap about), try and hurt each other or be jealous. You are friends for a reason!
2. Always support your friends. PLEASE. Its how we spread the love. Unless your friends are hurting themselves, support them. Its not right not too.
3. Never touch your friends Siblings OR exes. And with that don't flirt with a guy your friend likes. Its just mean.

*** To side track here, I think I am so strong on this one because I don't understand why people think its okay. Maybe because most of my life I was the size of a hippo or considered- "pretty IF you loose weight" I never learned to how to flirt with guys. There was no need to allure them to my pretty little self. Sad I guess but not really because now I depend on me and I value myself. FYI. I lost 100 pounds. Not a size 3 but not a size ugly. Still sensitive though, so please don't say- He doesn't like skinny but so he likes you, or he likes thick, or chubby. R.U.D.E. I don't value myself on my waistline so others don't need to either. 
4. We are not a home wreckers. Were not trying to take our earrings off, so put your claws away.
5. Dance dance dance, sometimes like an asshole, sometimes like a stripper, sometimes like no one is in the room just dance. 
6. work hard play hard.
7. If you offend me you are going to hear about it. I have no problem telling someone  what's up. If I don't hear it, consider yourself lucky or sad because it means I really don't care about you.


Ok enough with the rules here, there are a lot of them but I follow them. Point is. Stop being crappy to each other. Its disgusting. We have three little ladies, Kadence, Kylie and now Clare in our new "immediate" family and I think about them and what they will have to deal with when they are 16. Hopefully we (the ladies here) will give them a strong enough sense of self to walk away from people who treat them poorly too. I know Kadence will because she is strong and smart, Kylie is just love and funny- smart too, and clare, she fresh and refined- a week old and I can already tell regal.

If you do anything in this life for you. Please do this much. Treat yourself well and you will treat others well. Take a step outside of your world for just a minute and be good to each other. Instead of picking each other apart like hyenas---which we all do! Stand up for what is right. At the end of the day right is right and wrong is wrong. The good thing is, I CHOOSE not to live with other peoples wrong choices. I think I think this way because I grew up with all brothers in our own little wolf pack. I have my girl sister cousins (not literally) and they are great but the vast majority of my time as a little precious gem stone of a tom boy girl was spent sucking up and rolling with the punches (literally), I never dealt with the caddiness of women and never learned a tolerance to it and think none of us should.

It's easier sad than done. I know this because well just read above.... a mixture of strength and hypocrisy.

xoxo
Lauren...maybe i should go by Elle

Mean Girls

Mean Girls: Which one are you?

A staple movie of "back in the day" One of my favorite scenes is when -Cadi, explains how the girls in the mall act like they are lions at a watering hole in Africa. This movie was  awesome at depicting the way girls treat each other. If we are lucky, we can think that we grow out of it but honestly we can all say that even in the late 20's we have experienced a mean girl.

Every lady out there has a mean girl side to them. We can all say that we don't but lets be honest. In an interesting conversation about gossiping last night it was decided that all women do it, and hell sometimes even men will admit to it. So in order to be real with yourself, its time to decide what type of mean girl you are.

Mean Girls: Which one are you? lets decipher each one

 Cadi: The Gazelle. New, innocent, wanting acceptance, a little scared, unknowing beautiful. This one sneaks up on you because the claws don't come out until you steal back the boyfriend that was once yours and promise to hook you up with. At first she is kind and trusting then with the one simple act of betrayal of her you become the BITCH. Her popularity and intrigue is built by you. She will use that to her benefit, smile to your face then passive aggressively do things to get under your skin.  Beware of this one she is sneaky, talks about you behind your back but in the end feels that she is not in the wrong, uses her innocence to claim ignorance, has a good heart but int he end she goes a little to far when her opponent gets hit buy a bus...but still wins the crown. 

Gretchen: The Hyena.  Her hair is so big because its full of secrets. Shes is a tricky beast too. She is the best friend, the right hand lady, the best and the worst person to be around. This girl never takes the blame because even though she is always around and involved with the Drama, she is always the listener, never the doer. She will implement her plan and allow the rest to follow through. That way her hands are clean. But dont double cross this one because her ears are so big it tends to make her head full. When her head is full her mouth starts having word diarrhea and then its over....all your nasty little secrets are out in the open. She turns cold, and detached. She is comfortable at first and then will come running back to you when she realizes what sin she has committed. 

Karen: The Hippo. The dumb one. This is the least of your worries in the girl world. Really she is just along for the ride. She completes the pack. Usually pretty, really only concerned with herself and up for a good time. She will keep with the rules and never really gets in trouble because she is always in her own head. A little too dumb for most. She really is a like a cow, eats and grazes then leaves when there is no more food. Don't put it past her though, she will throw in a cleaver remark here and there and gives the leader power.

Regina. The lion but not Moofasa - Scar. The most dangerous of the mean girls. Simply because she is mean and she knows it. The leader of the pack, rarely passive aggressive. Instead of talking behind your back, she will say it to your face with such conviction, you might even believe it yourself. Its hard to see to the soft side of this creature. She is strong, brash, hard headed, spoiled, entitled, does what she wants and in the end only cares about herself and her needs. The hypocrite. She will tell you what you need to hear to your face but talk bad about you to the next person to listen. She is the most vicious of the mean girls but in the end also the weakest. Her pack will turn on her when they get sick of her hypocritical bullshit and run so quickly and will also be the first to stab her in the back. She is the Kanye West of the girl world.

But lets not forget Janis: The victim. The Cheetah in some aspects. She is dangerous too. The once friend, part of the group, former B.F.F, is so angry and detached, that she becomes the arch enemy of the former A crowd. Going from living at pride rock to the out skirts of town. So the former scape goat will find a new best friend, and while being good to her convince her to hurt the old best friend . This is when all out war starts.

Its not until complete chaos breaks out and there is a group of screaming women at each other when they all realize mostly and maybe it was all a bunch of mis communication. A huge long line of this one said this and that one said that. Then after the storm blows over and there is two weeks of peace, someone else opens their mouth, steals someone else boyfriend, blows off a friend, or really hurts the other and the drama is all over again up and running. 

To bring this full circle back to the conversation about all mean girls and gossip. Men just don't understand where it is generated from. Well let me tell you something men, women are emotional creatures, its why you love them so much. What you see as gossip, we see as venting, finding a solution to a problem. It might be easier to punch someone in the face and it would be over, but then life might be a little boring.