Posted in Uncategorized

Update -What Went Wrong 

Hey everyone. I know I haven’t posted in a while. 

I have to be completely honest. My depression hit an all time low. I woke up one morning and couldn’t get out of bed. I hated everything. Well, I guess hate isn’t the right word for what I’m trying to express. Maybe the better way to explain it is more of a distrust. I didn’t trust my life. I felt out of place, as if I was something that felt wrong. There we go, that’s maybe a better way to put it. I felt like I was wrong. Wrong for this world, the wrong owner of our dogs, the wrong person for my husband. Just wrong.
I started to consider how family and friends would be better off without me.

I felt like the very air I was breathing in was being wasted. That even something as simple and precious as oxygen- was being wasted on me being alive. 

I didn’t leave my bed until my husband came home. I was terrified of myself. Terrified that if I had left the safety of the blankets, that I’d find some way to harm myself.
When my husband came home, he found me in the bedroom crying. He talked it through with me and did his best to try and lift my spirits. To assure me that I am worth something and that I mean something to him at the very least.
We talked about why I was feeling this way. Anything I could possibly be depressed about and even talked about my childhood growing up.
After nearly 6 hours of talking, my husband made me realize that I am not okay. I can’t try and pretend that I am.

My brain is messed up, and I needed help. I immediately scheduled an appointment with my doctor and told her what had happened. She prescribed me Zoloft, due to my previous attempts to overcome depression clearly not working.

I’ve been on the medication for a while now and thank goodness it is working. I don’t feel down. My frustration with myself has left. 

I’m not going to say I dont get sad, but I definitely have never felt that dark side of me coming back. I feel like that self loathing part of my brain is being battled by the medication, and I can finally breathe again.

I’ve also recently started seeing a therapist who helped me realize and confront one of the reasons that I’ve felt so down and depressed. 

As a gay man I thought that coming out would stop me from ever raising children. My talks with my sister about her wanting to start a family and try for a baby over the past few months have unfortunately forced me to open up and address the fact that I felt inadequate or less than another man because I would never be a father.
My therapist helped me realize that I’ve been ridiculous in thinking that way because we still have adoption to consider. Even surrogacy. Children were never out of the way for us as a gay couple, but when I was a kid coming to terms with my sexuality, I just assumed that was out of the question.

We have contacted our local foster agency, and have done the training and paperwork to become a foster care facility. We hope to be placed with a child and adopt within a year. 

We can have a family, and I can get the medical help I desperately needed. Mental Illness is a real and dangerous thing, and I can’t stress enough how important it is for people to speak up. To find another human being and seek help.

Posted in Anxiety, Depression, Memories

How Anxiety Almost Terminated My Marriage

Past relationships are always a hard thing to talk about. Whether you talk to a partner about them, or a family member, or even a stranger. You always get that feeling that they aren’t going to understand what you went through, and more often than not, you are met with someone that tries to downplay your feelings. I can’t tell you how many times people respond with, “Why didn’t you just leave?”

Some of us don’t. Some of us stay in that abusive relationship because it is something we’ve always known. I’ve always experienced a father who threw dishes at me since I was 6. I always experienced that alcohol made someone pick a child off the ground and throw them into the wall, or on the couch. I’ve always experienced that feeling like you are constantly walking on egg shells, expecting the worst to happen.

So when I met Cory, I expected nothing more. He was the first person I gave in to. The first person I fell in love with. The first person I went out publicly with, and the first person I started sharing my past with. It didn’t start out abusive. It started like most romances do, butterflies and hand holding. Cuddling late into the night, talking. Somewhere over the course of our dating relationship, he stopped paying for meals. He stopped wanting to hold hands publicly. He started getting angry for things that were out of my control. Things like our landlord not fixing the heater faster than four days. Things like that would always end with me being reminded how stupid I was. How useless I was. How ugly I was. When the words didn’t make me cry, out would come the fists, or the slapping. I’d been beaten so much as a child that I was almost numb to it. At the end of every day, Cory would always come back and tell me he loved me and that he was sorry. I was helpless. I was a scared mouse, happy to have found someone who would always forgive me for my mistakes, always stuck in that terrifying mouse trap. Notice that my mistakes were hardly anything I was doing, just merely existing. Abusive people twist your mind and make you thankful for them. That staying with them is the best thing that’s ever happened to you because without them you are nothing but a pile of garbage. You begin to think this is what love is. Then one day I found out that he slept with his ex. Cory cheated, and when I confronted him, he told me he was poly-amorous. Essentially able to love multiple people through sex- was his definition. He apologized and said he loved me, and I believed him until after nearly 3 months of him cheating and coming back to apologize did the light bulb in my head finally turn on. We terminated our relationship immediately when I stopped being that terrified mouse. The little rodent that would always take his apologies like they were the words of god. I wasn’t his little pet or puppet anymore.

Years later I meet my (now) husband, Patrick. We fall in love. We have our ups, and our downs. Once in a blue moon we have  our verbal fights, but we have never laid hands on one another in anger. He has always listened about my past with Cory, and hugged me through the nightmares, the tears as I eventually overcame the abuse. I made an effort to find my father, to get to know him and overcome the fears I had as a child. Patrick made me feel whole again. He made everything from my childhood, my being raped, by broken relationship from my father, and my past relationships better. He made me better. So when gay marriage became legal in California, we went and immediately got married, that week, in the courthouse. It was small, with just 6 people from my side of the family, but it was beautiful. I’ll never forget the way he smiled at me as I tried to repeat my vows from the pastor through tears and stutters.

We had been married for nearly two years before we started to experiment with things inside the bedroom. It’s not as if we were bored of our usual encounter, but we had just become so comfortable with each other, we started telling each other about certain fantasies. Eventually we both agreed that we would like to try having someone else in the bedroom with us. So we picked someone out together, invited them over, things heated up, and eventually the night came and went. The next morning after the third wheel left, we decided that this was something that wasn’t for us. We liked our bedroom stuff better when it was just us. I don’t mean to put down others at all, but this was just something we both felt. We felt as though it was less intimate with someone else, and the residual feelings that I had from my past relationship with Cory had started to creep back. The feeling and fear that I would be cheated on. I was honest with Patrick about my fears after we came to the conclusion that we liked it being just the two of us, and he assured me nothing would happen unless I was there with him and comfortable.


So, we were happy. We hadn’t had anything major happen in our marriage since, it was beautiful and peaceful. Until last week when Patrick was sitting in bed with me and asked if I remembered our third wheel. I had told him yes and asked why he was brought up, for I had not thought about that guy in a while. Patrick then went on to tell me that he had been talking to him for a little while, and the third wheel was telling him about being a caregiver. Third wheel apparently went on to tell my husband that a caregiver was someone who would provide financially and sexually, all the things that they needed.

Immediately the fears of cheating came back to me. I never forbid Patrick from talking to anyone, and tried to trust him. I never wanted to be that person in a relationship who asked to see his phone or text messages. However, the way I was feeling made me ask to read the message to see the context in which it was presented because the whole conversation took me right back to how I felt when I was cheated on by Cory.

Reading over the messages, I saw how Third Wheel was constantly hinting towards my husband about being sexual. How he was shifting the conversation slightly by asking sexual questions here or there. Patrick would always respond with, “my husband and I do this,” or things to similar effect, but when Patrick typed those responses back, Third Wheel would come back with, “Oh that’s turning me on.”

I kept reading these messages back and forth until I got past the caregiver section, and when I got to the bottom after Third Wheel explained what a caregiver was, I saw the words from my husband say, “Do you want me to be that for you?”

Immediately my heart was broken. It hurt so bad to see something like that, because I was reading that as Patrick offering. Patrick offering to be something like that for someone else and nobody had talked to me about anything beforehand. I took that as cheating. Especially because of what happened to me in my past relationship.


I immediately told Patrick how I felt and when he reached out to me, I pushed his hand away and started crying. I hit a super low point. Immediately my anxiety and depression came in, and I felt those feelings surging back. The feeling of being that terrified mouse. Waiting to be hit, to be slapped, to be called names, to feel the pain, and then hear the apology. Patrick tried to say that he didn’t mean for it to come across that way and he was sorry, but I screamed at him that he sounded just like Cory. That his apology was garbage and that it didn’t matter what the intent was because it’s what happened.

At the end of the day, he sent someone a message about sexual things, and Third Wheel responded with, “that’s turning me on.” Which seemed like key words to me, about where a conversation was going. I cried for hours, and Patrick cried alongside me. We talked back and forth, and he assured me he didn’t mean anything by it. That he was just learning what a caregiver was and was confused because it seemed like Third Wheel was wanting him to be that. Patrick said when he asked if that’s what Third Wheel wanted him to be, it wasn’t because he was offering, but Patrick was just trying to make it clear as to what the intent was.

It’s taken me days to get over it. I clocked Third Wheel on facebook. I told Patrick that I couldn’t handle them talking or messaging each other anymore. Patrick has respected my feelings. Patrick has assured me that he didn’t mean it to seem like he was propositioning someone outside of our marriage. He said he knows how I went through an abusive relationship, and if I have to be that crazy spouse that wants to check his phone, to simply ask and take it. He said he has nothing to hide and wants to be married to me. That he wants to grow old with me. Have kids with me. That he’s simply too damn old and tired as he is now to even try and play those cheating games.

I know what he is saying is the truth, but it’s hard when you’ve grown up like this. When you went through abuse throughout your whole childhood from an alcoholic with a bad temper. It’s hard when you’ve been raped by someone you trusted, to overcome the anxiety that keeps you from feeling safe or trusting someone again. It’s hard to not feel like someone is going to cheat on you again when you went through that already with someone in the past. Luckily, I found someone who is empathetic with the way that I feel. I can only hope more people are out there like Patrick, and that those empathetic individuals find those out there that are broken, like me.

I hope that others mend themselves, and are able to get over those bumps in the road, built by the past. I know today was a rant and it has been a while since I’ve done an update, but this is where my mind has been the past week. This is what I have been trying to overcome mentally.

I feel better, and Patrick texts me multiple times throughout his work period, talking to me about his shift, what he wants for dinner, and even the cutesy things like complimenting me, or saying he misses me. I just feel so stupid for letting my past relationships, and past experiences almost terminate our marriage. Almost ruin something so good, pure and beautiful.


If you managed to make it all of the way through my jumbled text rant from my brain, I am:

1) Sorry

2) Thankful for all the kind words that people have sent me. I know I am a little broken, but this blog and the kind words from different readers whether it be in the comments or getting emails, means a lot. I genuinely appreciate you kind souls out there.

Posted in Dead By Daylight, Game Review

Review of “Dead By Daylight” – PS4

My first experience of this game was sitting my by bed, surrounded by darkness, with my face illuminated as I watched Jesse Cox and his friends run around as a killer, murdering the survivors and wiggling free from the killers grasp.
Initially it had me giggling, and it seemed fun, probably due to the group of friends joking together and playing around, even though the situation is literally playing with the idea of someone playing as a slasher psycho from some sort of horror movie.

I had talked to my husband and my sister periodically about the game since seeing the video, and we’ve investigated reviews little by little on YouTube.

Yesterday, my husband and I decided that we would purchase the game, and in order to convince my sister, I brought it to her house for her to give it a shot.

We took turns, lurking in the brush, hiding amongst the trees; it wasn’t long before we were screaming at the television, running away from a man with a chainsaw, or a madman doctor that kept electrocuting us.

We decided immediately that we were both hooked and as the night started, and all four of our consoles were ready, we logged into the game.


The Concept:

The general idea is good versus evil. A group of up to four campers are placed around the map with the goal of repairing three or more generators. Once the required number of generators are repaired, two exits are added to the map – one on either side. A small twist however, is that a survivor must channel opening the door via a button or lever system directly next to the exit. Once channeled, the door is open for any survivor to run past and leave the zone, unable to return, but given points for surviving the encounter and the ability to keep the items they found or started with.

While all of that is going on, you are placed in the map with someone playing as the killer. The killer is unknown to the group of survivors until they are met on the map face to face. The killer is unable to be destroyed, but generally moves slower than survivors. Especially when it comes to the drop-able barriers, and moving through windows or jumping over fallen logs. The killer is a being with one motivation, to please the “Entity” by killing all survivors. Generally each survivor has about 2 hit points. Getting struck once drops you down to one health, which causes you to bleed, stumble, and/or run slower than normal. The injured survivor also breathes louder and grunts in pain in this state. Once survivors are struck in this state, they are dropped onto their stomachs with essentially “0” hit points, crawling for their lives.

If another player manages to get to them before the killer picks them up, the crawling survivor is then able to hobble as if they had 1 health again. However, if the killer picks up a near death survivor, they are able to hoist their bodies onto one of many hooks stationed throughout the map. Survivors are then given a slowly depleting health bar that once depleted- they are immediately “sacrificed” and removed from the map.

Survivors can get to an ally and remove them from the hook, giving them the chance to hobble away as if they once again had “1 hit point”.

There are things in the game such as med kits, and toolboxes which make healing an option for injured survivors and speeds up the process on repairing generators.


There are also many…MANY…”perks” or abilities you can equip on killers and survivors, in order to customize the way you would like to play the game. Whether given the ability to see allies through walls, run faster to escape the killer, or to instantly kill crawling survivors without the need of placing them on a hook.

Dead by Daylight has a selection of survivors available, each with their own talents and traits; in addition to a variety of killers which increase the replay value of the game immensely. Add in to the fact that their are MANY maps, which make learning the ins and outs of each map (hiding locations, generator locations, things to jump over and walls to place) every game quickly ends up feeling relatively unique to the previous ones played.

However, there are some issues with the game itself that can affect the “fun” aspect of Dead by Daylight.

Dead by Daylight has some seriously annoying coop play. You can go into the mode of “Kill Your Friends” which allows you to select one of your friends to be the killer while the others are survivors. An annoyance is that there is no tutorial that shows you how to switch between the roles, so my family of four kept leaving in between matches to open up a new lobby started by the player that wanted to be the killer.We learned after days of playing that when in that game mode you can select the “spectator” button, which immediately turns into the “killer” button. You can only change in between the three rolls, in that exact order. The game can bug when doing this, thinking there are two killers. It will let you start a match, but it has glitched and crashed the game every time we did it this way.

Dead by Daylight doesn’t let you gain “bloodpoints” when you play in the “Kill Your Friends” mode. This is rather frustrating because you can spend hours playing with friends, only to gain nothing for your games against random players in a public lobby.

Another frustration is that if you decide to choose the “Survive With Friends” game mode, up to 4 players are put into a group, then put into matchmaking. The most irritating thing about this, is that the matchmaking system does not seem to place you with people around the same skill level as you. Nor are you placed with people about the same level. We were constantly grouped with killers that were level 20 or higher, and had a HUGE advantage over us, which was even more annoying because most of our matches were played together, so we didn’t get the “experience” or “bloodpoints” to use in multiplayer. Then you have to add on the fact that there are NOT a lot of people wanting to play as the killer (for various reasons, some were similar to the complaints above- just revered for the killers Point of View) so we waited for 10 minutes at nearly every attempt to play in the “Survive With Friends” game mode.

The game has a decent connection at almost every attempt to play, and we barely deal with disconnects. However, there is a huge problem with a killer leaving if you are decent at hiding. It is extremely unfair that when a survivor leaves the game or disconnects, the killer gets a bonus to their score/experience. If a killer leaves, you “disconnect from host” and get nothing. No experience. No “Bloodpoints”. No score. Nothing.


All of the complaints aside- we spend hours playing this game, shrieking over our headsets because the thumping heartbeat when a killer is nearby, the exploding hag traps that pop out at you, the crazy chainsaw wielding hillbilly, teleporting nurse, and doctor that makes you hallucinate causes us to nearly crap ourselves. You are on a  constant adrenaline high, hiding from a killer, trying not to attract the killer while repairing generators, helping caught allies, and screaming for help when you are on a hook and about to die.

This game, for the price of $29.99 was definitely one of the better purchases we have ever made on the PlayStation 4. We have gotten hours of entertainment that never feels entirely boring, and even though there are bugs periodically that cause you to crash, and the matchmaking is entirely frustrating at times, you can barely ever stop the adrenaline coursing through your brain.

Every game leaves you in that fearful sweat or that intense level of focus as you are running through cornstalks, attempting to evade a man wielding bear traps.

I simply cannot recommend this game enough, and you can bet your ass we will be buying the Halloween DLC that adds “The Shape” (Micheal Myers from Halloween) killer to the fray.

If you are a horror buff or an adrenaline junkie, or simply love to goof off with friends, buy the game. Perhaps we will see you and scream for our lives together. Perhaps we will piss our pants at the same time. Perhaps you may be on the bloody end of our claws as we chase you through the night.

There is a lot I didn’t talk about in this game but rather than spoiling all of the content, I firmly believe you should buy this game and give it your best shot. With an open mind, you won’t be disappointed.

(Note- the hit point references are not a real thing, but some people understand when numbers are used, so THAT’S why it’s in here 😉 )

Buy for Xbox:

Buy for PlayStation:

Buy for PC:


Posted in Personal Accountability, Weight Loss Journey

Stomachs Better- Prepare for T25!

My stomach finally feels like it isn’t trying to kill me. My body has finally passed the phase where that burger of death was causing me to be so gosh darn sick.

So what am I going to do? 

Today I’m getting in my car and driving to local camping spots with my mother. I’m gonna help her find a few spots so hopefully we find something we like for when we go on the 19th and 20th 🙂

Something with a decent amount of privacy, access to a swimming hole, and that you don’t easily hear the highway right around the corner.

Tomorrow I start back T25. From there I’ll be staying away from any and all food that isn’t made from my own kitchen.

There is no way I’m allowing myself to get that sick again. Just the thought of a burger makes me want to run towards the bathroom and puke up everything I have.
So for now, Good Morning, and I hope you’re having a fantastic day!

Posted in American, LGBT Community, Transgender Military Ban

What an AMERICAN Really Thinks of Trump’s Trans Military Ban

This filth of a President that has never seen combat, is now telling others that they aren’t allowed to take a bullet for this country.
Is this the hate that you voted for? To start banning people from serving the nation they were born in? That they pay taxes to? That they live in? That they went to school in? That they love? 

Because if not you’d better be calling him out for it.
You said not to worry. 

You said our community was fine. 
There is no reason why my friends should have to feel like second class citizens when we can pay for cis men to get it up via viagra.
There is no reason why my friends have to feel like a second class citizens when we pay for cis military women to go on maternity leave.
There is no reason to have my friends feel like second class citizens when cis women can have their childbirth paid for and acted on at the cost of the military or pay the cost to fly them across the world back home to their family. 
Take your blatant homophobia and hypocritical self, and kindly Fuck off.
This is simply UN-American.
If an AMERICAN wants to serve our great nation, then an AMERICAN should serve.
I thought we were past this when African American men, Hispanic men, and Asian men (and all other POC) had to fight for the right to serve.
I thought we were past this when women had to fight for the right to serve.
I thought we were past this when faggots and dykes had to fight for the fight for the right to serve. 
And now we have to go through this shit again. 

Pull. Your. Head. Out. Of. Your. Ass.
Start acting like an American.

Viagra For Military Men-
Maternity Costs For Military Women-

Posted in Anxiety, Failed to Exercise, Personal Accountability, Weight Loss Journey

McDonalds Food Poisoning and New Homeowner Questions

So as an update: (possibly gross TMI- you’ve been warned)

I decided to get McDonald’s the other night, a double cheeseburger fries and a coke. A “treat,” I told myself, for adulting so well and being on top of bills/exercise.
I then spent the next two days constantly running to the bathroom to explode and be sick out of both ends. Getting very little sleep with my stomach in knots, as my body rejected that meal and punished me for two days.
My husband believes that it’s because I haven’t eaten fast food in forever, and have been eating healthy foods regularly, my mother thinks it was food poisoning.
Regardless- it was an event in my life that has officially killed any burger joints for me. The thought of them makes me sick.

I got so dizzy, I literally passed out on the bathroom floor at 430 in the morning.

Never. I’m never. Eating that crap again.

Needless to say I haven’t done T25, and I’ll be picking up on Monday when my body is not trying to kill me.

Which brings me to my second half of this post

Homeowners- I have a few questions if you’d care to lay down some wisdom.
When does paying your mortgage become less of a burden?

When do mortgage insurance premiums go away?

When did you first refinance your home and why?
We aren’t behind by any means but if just the MIP (over $200 a month) were out of the way, we’d be able to consider building an actual family.
Any insight/advice you have to preemptively help us would be appreciated.

Posted in Civilization VI - Gorgo

Civilization VI- Gorgo, 13

With the first Holy Site completed in Sparta, it seemed only fitting to build a shrine for my people to worship at. Through this shrine, the people of Sparta with feel closer to our Pantheon. One day, we may even allow people to become missionaries to spread the word, but they must be trained here. They must learn all that our God of the Sea has to offer, so that they can teach Their ways.


Pedro paid a visit to let me know that he’s happy that my empire poses no threat to him. How silly of him, I am dealing with Amsterdam and wouldn’t dream of harming my dear Pedro, kind and firm leader of Brazil.


While surrounding Amsterdam, my forces have encountered trained warriors. They claim to not be hostile and from the land of Brussels. Meanwhile, my galley following the coastline, has found people from another land called Geneva. The people from Geneva seem injured and dirty, maybe I should send someone on foot to find out if they are okay?


Our researchers have come up with a brilliant idea. They believe we can take wood, and use it as a sort of barrier between us and those who would do our cities harm they have deemed the construct, a “wall”. I’ve instructed for the first one to be built around Sparta.

Also, the time for change has come. Our people want more than a set of rules and laws. They yearn for a more structured form of political stability. We have transitioned to a Classical Republic, which I feel will allow for more happiness for all of my people near and far. I’ve been labeled as a Charasmatic Leader since this transition, and instilled a new program to help make Caravanseries more profitable.

Posted in Anxiety, Depression

“Why Do You Let Past Fears Control You?

Make them fears your bitch.

I love my sister and I know she didn’t mean to come from a hostile place, but this is something people who suffer from anxiety or depression deal with every day.

We constantly deal with people trying to tell us to “just get over it”. It’s like, “I never thought of that,” right? Just don’t let it affect you, pick yourself up by your bootstraps and move on, stronger than you were before. There lies the problem, however, I would give anything to not let anxiety or depression strike me in this way. To not feel like I can’t breathe, or like my heart is going to detach itself from my body and run out of my chest. To not get “over emotional” to jokes or “take things too seriously”. I would love to not have a dream and have it strike me to the core, making me afraid to wander through my own home, fearful that past demons would be just around the corner. I would give anything to not push my husband’s hand away on my bad days, because his touch reminds me of my dream I had the night before, and even though he’s never hurt me the way others have, my brain still connects a loving hand to a rapists.
People who suffer from anxiety or depression don’t choose to feel that panic or that constant “inability to breathe” feeling. We don’t get excited to share our fears with others, and would prefer to keep it to ourselves, let it fester until something “crazy” like suicide crosses our mind. The feelings, or in my case yesterday: rape memories, come back and fill your headspace with a darkness so thick, it makes you unable to stand.  Unable to think clearly. Unable to function.
We feel helpless. We feel alone. And comments like the one above only solidify it. They make us feel like we ARE crazy. Like there IS something wrong with us specifically and that others could never understand how we feel. If I hadn’t married the wonderful supportive man that I did, I know I would have followed through on some of my more darker thoughts.  I would have harmed myself in ways that I probably wouldn’t be alive today.

This is something people need to understand more. Not just post on social media about being available when a celebrity dies due to suicide when linked to depression. 

The mindset of “just get over it” needs to change.

Posted in Anxiety, Depression, Dreams

Rape Victim/Rape Survivor

I could feel his hands rubbing over my shirt. Sliding them down my body as if they were slow moving snails without leaving evidence of their travels. His hands reaching down, rubbing me over my sweatpants.

Myself, not even understanding what’s going on, still drunk on my deep sleep. That cloudy hangover, intent on making sure to keep my eyes closed. Maybe it was my brain trying to make me sleep through it, to not remember.

I laid there, trying to breathe normally, thinking this had to be a dream. I didn’t know what was going on, why I was being touched. Why I was being rubbed this way. I tried to be still, dead weight like a heavy log, as if that would stop him from pulling down my sweatpants.

I laid there, still, exposed, eyes closed, praying to myself not to move. If I didn’t move then he would see that I wasn’t saying yes to this. That I didn’t want this. I was wrong, as he put his mouth on me. Immediately my body went into panic mode.

I’d never felt that feeling before, being only seven years old, but in my gut- deep in my soul, I knew that this was wrong. My body ignored my brain praying to hold still, and began the attempt to wriggle away. But like a worm in a birds mouth, the predator had already started upon his prey.

Immediately the gentle rubbing ceased as his hands became solid blocks of iron. One hand holding my lower body still, while his hand that was rubbing my chest grabbed at my throat. I tried to push his hand away and started my feeble attempt at a call for my mother, but when I made the slightest whisper, I felt pain as a hand was slapped down over my mouth.

Then that demonic face stopped working my lower half, and presented itself before mine. I could feel his breath, hot and humid. The spittle coming off his mouth as he explained to me in a hushed gravely voice that if anyone were to found out about this, he’d kill them, and then me. He reminded me that I wouldn’t want to cause others pain, when we could just play, and move on. Nobody had to get hurt.

I was so scared. I kept trying to wriggle away, to get away from thus man I’ve known for so long. This man that used to babysit my sister and I. This man that used to make us feel so safe when mommy and daddy were gone. The man that gave us our first green apple. Who laughed when we said it was sour, but squealed in delight with every bite. I let out another attempt to call for help, but was met with a slap to the face, and then his heavy hand covering my mouth.  His hand was so large compared to my small face, I found it hard to breathe, for his hand all but sealed most of my nostrils from any air coming in or out.

His mouth went back to my lower body, as I laid there, pinned and helpless. I cried silently. The tears rolling down my cheeks. Afraid to move, afraid to be hit. Afraid to call for help and have anyone else experience this. I wanted our dog. I wanted my mom. I wanted to sleep. I wanted anything than to be here with my uncle.

Then a feeling washed over me, an explosion of something that in my brain. It caused me to convulse and cry out against the hand on my mouth. I didn’t know what it was but I knew without a doubt that it was the most confused I’d ever been in my life. How could fear and pain lead me to a sensation that felt….good, but still left my gut knotted and  constantly telling me something was horribly wrong with the whole situation.

My uncle removed his hand from my mouth, let go of my body, and withdrew his mouth from my lower half. I immediately grabbed my sweats and pulled them up over my waist, rolled over and tried to go to sleep. It felt like the process of covering myself and rolling over took years, and I’ll never forget him sounding hurt when he said, “oh come on, don’t be like that.”

I rolled onto my stomach, pushed my face into my pillow and cried. I tried to ignore the pain in my face, to ignore the warmth from where he hit me, to ignore that feeling of wanting to die or to be anywhere but here.

I’m sorry for not posting my workouts for yesterday and today. This is where my mind went Monday morning. This is what I’ve been battling. I’ve been trying to get myself out of bed. To face the day. But when I start to move, my brain betrays me and shows me images of that night.

For example: Today I slept through all three of my alarms and still had to force myself out of bed at noon.

It’s debilitating. I thought I was past this. I hadn’t thought about my Uncle Oggy since elementary school. But here I was, afraid to go outside.

Here I was, pushing away from my husband, telling him not to touch me. Making him sleep as far as he can on the other side of our bed, while I sat there and cried myself to sleep.

I wonder if Oggy knows how painful that one incident is for me. Still. Nearly 20 years later, I can still remember it, still fear him, as if it happened yesterday.

I remember the way his breath smelled, the way the sheets made my skin itch, the sound of his voice, and the cold feeling of death I felt on the inside, when someone I trusted violated me in such a way.

I wonder if other rape victims are this broken. Are still this affected.

I wonder if I’m crazy, hurting my husband, making him feel like hes doing something wrong, when some days the memories flood back and I become this cold shell of who I usually am.
I wonder if other rape victims call this surviving.

Some days…I just can’t do this. I can’t breathe. I can’t just…be.

Posted in Civilization VI - Gorgo

Civilization VI, Gorgo-12

As I was removing my troops from England, I hadn’t noticed Amsterdam sending an attack force! They ambushed my units, in a fury by the likes I hadn’t seen before. I ordered all units to begin heading south to assist immediately but I fear one troop of my slingers lost their their lives before my orders were even given.


Oh Pericles! He’s so funny with his witty words; he had sent me a delegation, saying that it bears gifts and not to be worried, for there was no large wooden horse involved. As if someone would be crazy enough to make a horse out of wood. How impractical!


With the repairs completed on our galley, I sent it along to coast, to explore and see if there were more potential allies nearby.


I went to meet with Pedro, but he seemed a little standoffish. I figured it was because he was distracted by some of his citizens looking disheveled. I told him I would send some gold from our treasury to help him focus on the betterment of his people. He seemed to be in a much better mood once the deal was etched in stone.


In the same fashion, Knossos is now building a Holy Site as well, their mountain range is also next to a river, which ultimately leads to the Sea. Communion with our God seemed ideal there.


I have replaced our outdated Agoge policy to enact Conscription. I know some people in our army won’t be paid for their service, but ultimately it’s for the good of Sparta and the people who live there, so the ends justify the means.


A man stumbled into Knossos, he introduced himself as Mohandas Ghandi, but his people refer to him as Bapu for some reason. He asked that I call him friend. Someone so sweet and small could never be destructive, so I invited him into the city, to sample what hospitality we have to offer.

As he was on his way, I sent a delegation to his people. Maybe this can be the first step towards a deep rooted friendship?


Less than a year later and he comes to me, telling me that I am bloodthirsty and that it might be better to out an end to our friendship! Is he speaking of my current altercation with Amsterdam? Maybe if I try and communicate my desire for those Diamonds, he would see things my way. Yes, he seems reasonable. He has to understand that Amsterdam needs a leader to help them manage those gems! I am only doing them a favor!

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