tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-329031252024-03-23T10:49:10.816-07:00Return of Looney Bin Drop OutJust a fucked up girl, in an even more fucked up world, trying not to fuck up too much.Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-85390055847947688822008-11-19T13:39:00.000-08:002008-11-19T13:55:23.727-08:00OMG!You know what... just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">friggin</span>' shoot me! Really.<br />I didn't even read my last post first to see what needed updating because I know it's pretty much EVERYTHING. My life is fucking ridiculous. It seemed that I had it all set up. I had all my kids all set, my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">meds</span> all settled, a surgery date (I have severe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">endometreosis </span>and need a hysterectomy), therapy and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">DBT</span>, kids therapy, Girl Scouts... the whole bit. But, my relationship was falling to bits. He was taking good care of us, but was hurting me inside and outside. This last weekend I finally said enough is enough and put him in jail. I also packed all our stuff and put it in a U Haul and moved out of the state.. with the help of my church and family. To say it was hard is a HUGE understatement.<br />Now I'm here. At first it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. My spirits were pretty high. I had just done this starting over bit and didn't think it was going to be so bad to do it again. Well, I have double the kids this time, no car, and a different state. I'm not in my own place, which makes it uncomfortable and hectic. I only have four days left on my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">meds</span> and the soonest appointment I can find is a month out. I am rapidly losing more weight.. I am now smaller than I was when I was using coke. All I want to do is run and hide. Everything seems too big. I try to take small steps. But, even making breakfast is too much. I don't feel like I can stand up that long. I think horrible thoughts... like giving my kids away, just because I feel like I can't do it, not because I don't want them.<br />I was so close to having it "all"... yet, so far... It hurt so bad. I won't ever have it I don't think. I don't really deserve it. I was good to him. But, Karma is one bad bitch.Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-14757993451781102822008-10-13T16:37:00.000-07:002008-10-13T20:24:30.867-07:00Holy Kamoly!<div><br /><br /><div align="center">I've been gone so long, it took me forever to remember how to get back!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">First of all....<br />Here is me now....<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256787412466220978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd9aHgBsCyEMVMA51NZ5npG-rFfL3LCzb3EoEWGROc_swBGo4Uxwb61Uj5vWTJesG2lnhKXL4Ew-AEznNu2KIVE7SDMXU1Kk6CG449cFfqyawxMzHElqUXvvHp5gNe8n6lu0RU/s400/shan2.jpg" border="0" /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256792878093308850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0G5VlsHvBZTUhyng9C9yvf9J5QeISmRwMXWTcO4WyPr5J7MZf1lLSJ6Ns55qRP3mdK_sbg2SOBo7eK9k-65pl2D83hOweQ402xW1iD357uZGXTadwr6rWLVSs5o0KEf9Tlp2C/s400/me3.bmp" border="0" />And, here is the baby I was pregnant with in my last post... Her name is Kennedy Grace and she will be ONE this Saturday!!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256787830916496290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBAwJXxlFsnm4Va2flJGCR_BjqS2UvKAu0MP3ah5_zUlzAuEjGl2T4FJIRqIbYNJjVoZqV2_KycXLsgsQaYRdEOljLHP_WiM2j85aDjHAJAp2MhmNVdsxGEyz8nu3ZpLDTcCU/s400/kgpark.bmp" border="0" /><br /><br />Here are my other three...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256789917156932002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF6ROBleD4__mEaFtBCmXK2aTuvd-InHcDX2UNrgTfTy5F1tXN-OrkGCm8eEfwmqwhxNS5Ra07MBMJzCkznFAIpjJbOrxqoE-VRnUFlJZrFfHa2aM_2LWTjvx1CmKyZj64opc7/s400/ryx.bmp" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center">Rylee, 6, and Xander, 4.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256792478556369202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbsLrf_lsJNkkSgFqpgUW-rT2075T9xgI8Nd1HH7Vutp3DO2oNpefo-fKMV59DCDQgw7OVyzdGnwzGcQkkeKt2jr10WjWw3avSwW7dWbPY2g8ogmeduHIJ_64KrWlqORQYNRX/s400/kiera2.bmp" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center">Kiera, 8.<br /></p><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256793338352183138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS6IJhLt87y4O4ueDcK9IWtFBbV4UJwOXlaMLLeZagM2ZJ9A1rIrjIfW1adh4K_7kNwCeBmIajoOf6N41EyhmvLW4ZbZ6HRQTsNFA6-bdZn2ObvBFmiMHH6uJeTVrbrfUREsu_/s400/lick.bmp" border="0" />And my biggest Baby, of course.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="left">So, that's what we all look like now, well over a year later. To try to catch up with us would make your head spin, repeatedly. I had a baby, you caught that. Scott and I split, again, in January...I actually moved out in February. That's right when he knocked up some other chick...I'll get to that more in a minute. So, anyway... I got married March 5th to some guy I used to call my stalker to make it all stop hurting. I left him less than a month later and dated a coke dealer that beat me severely. That lasted about two months. Also in March Scott moved to Colorado. By April the pregnant chick had joined him. I remained in Vegas, dancing, living alone and doing horribly...Probably the worst mental state I've ever been in. I looked like this...<span style="font-size:78%;">(Sorry, it's off my phone and I just couldn't get it bigger. Point is, I was tiny and sick.... and, back in that same damn dressing room.. though I did end up venturing off into bigger clubs, which made for bigger trouble!)</span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256844270537259202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXENSoC5juL6LWCCZXI-QPq0SNN_qSaaKznQNVZAoCsDHFLFLgaA30_YKQifGwPrLL-7IqwR3R2_zKAdMg8WR7EM3a797UZM1FIBEUlDGBcxbjv7WzvSH1to-Wv_cN41JEzgD/s400/work.bmp" border="0" /></div><br /><div align="left">Scott and I maintained communication. In July he visited me. Less than a week later her things were packed and she was back in Vegas with her daddy. I know that makes me sound horrible. However, I met this girl in March; over a game of beer pong, while she was pregnant, less than two months after he left me (making <em>our</em> daughter under four months old), as she told me she was aborting her baby, with a cigarette in her hand and a round of shots on the way. (She bashed the window of my Beamer later that night.) I was getting MY family back. Ok... Back to the story...Kennedy and I were packed and living in Colorado a week later. Kiera joined us a week after that. And, the other two, Rylee and Xander, got here yesterday... after some fighting I had to go through with my ex to get them. Due to some bad decisions she made during her pregnancy that aren't my business, she was forced to deliver 10 weeks early. Their daughter was only 1lb 13oz... but, is now 3lb 6oz at one month old. We have yet to meet her as she is in a Vegas NICU unit that neither one of us is permitted to enter. I have a lot of pain and insecurity related to the whole scenero, so I try to block it out... which doesn't work, of course. Anyway, I am clean and on my meds and doing much, much better at the present moment. I would like to get a job... but, after child care for four kids, I'm not sure if it is even financially worth it. So, for now, I'm hangin' out with the kids at home. I'm actually involved with church. Which, if you knew me before, you know is <em>extremely </em>out of character. But, I have found a great deal of comfort and security in faith. I also have the girls in Girl Scouts. I have to find Xander an activity, also. So, there is a little catch up. Still looney as ever, but I have still avoided the bin! Take care loves! </div><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><br /><div align="left">By the way... I'm currently reading, and highly recommend, the book <em>How I Stayed Alive When My Brain Was Trying To Kill Me </em>by Susan Rose Blauner. Susan has been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, post traumatic stress disorder, and major depression. But, most importantly, she had obsessed with suicide for at least 18 years and survived several attempts and is here to write about how she overcame it! This is a no-nonsense book written in laymens terms (as in telling your brain to fuck off!). I'm having a great time with it, and unlike many books of this nature, I'm not getting <em>more depressed </em>reading it! Just thought I'd share.</div><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><br /><div align="left">Also... I don't have computer access everyday... So, if I don't respond, for even a couple weeks, I apologize and will do so as soon as I can. :)<br /></div><br /><br /><p align="center"></p></div>Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-68613675044467890302007-03-12T09:25:00.000-07:002007-03-12T10:31:12.787-07:00I Ate THAT?!... And other random shit<div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68t4c8SsfodY6vTwhxkHm0pHpwKq7ryLmcc9QQjSlU-qpkfCB9HA5VT6hAMXpxF5zS3tDE_zd0y7gkt2tHxFASW6s1lH5RmW38DUu6z8UK8gWrROjFZWvqZYmMN2YuCXKoXg_/s1600-h/03_09_07_1451.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041075289306308322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68t4c8SsfodY6vTwhxkHm0pHpwKq7ryLmcc9QQjSlU-qpkfCB9HA5VT6hAMXpxF5zS3tDE_zd0y7gkt2tHxFASW6s1lH5RmW38DUu6z8UK8gWrROjFZWvqZYmMN2YuCXKoXg_/s400/03_09_07_1451.jpg" border="0" /></a>The shit I eat when pregnant... Blah! What you see above was my snack yesterday afternoon: black olives, hard boiled eggs, and a pickle spear. It wasn't that I was actually craving this odd combonation. I just looked in the fridge and grabbed each item. Once I got them on to a plate, I looked at them and thought, "What the fuck are you about to eat, Shannin?"</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041087980934668018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAZ5o6SOvw5mlWIrSYbqmA_bwhW42qmf73EmCnxSg_hgqNJgjkOwqAIuV0VFd8Ik4zZuE3YoPEDpE_r8mqbqtsoTDyeU6TiMqg-BMBcv2TaoxHKhpEH5RIiLRpgBjTo5Ah6Nf/s400/03_11_07_1214.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I am now 7.5 weeks along. Still haven't gained any actual weight; lost a pound actually. But, my tummy has gained a lil' pouch. I like it. I love pregnant bellies; until the day after delivery!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This pregnancy has been trying already. I am not having the complications I had with the last pregnancy which ended at exactly 7.5 weeks. But, I am physically exhaused. I am completely fed up with being nautious all the fucking time. A lot of it has to do with stress, I am sure. S is doing everything he can to help me in that area. He has been hired for a second job that starts in another week or so. When I get home Wednesday he is taking me out for a night alone... out of Grandma's house for the <em>entire</em> night! Loud sex... HURRAY!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I need to be home so bad. My mom is driving me insane... well, more insane than usual. There is a very good reason we have never spent more than a few days in a row together since I was 15 years old. A <em>very good reason. </em>I will miss Kiera, who is finishing her school year here. This is her third school this year and I don't want to make her have a fourth school this close to the end. Ry and Xander are going to their dad's. But, at least I can see them whenever I want. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When I get home I have to clean out my locker at the club. That is always sad for me. I'm not sure why. I hate my job when I <em>have</em> to do it. But, the thought of quiting, of leaving that stage, kills me. S doesn't want me to ever go back. I have to tell myself I <em>can</em> if I <em>want </em>to or it will bother me too much. It's hard to explain; but any girl who has been in the business for any extended amount of time understands the discomfort and fear of quiting.</div><br /><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041090996001709826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMw1CAWN7uMj85qxSdrCM4WElXlhqShY6CeQb7UuUq7d_eHzf-hIu00C6R7-nLa3lFP6aM87fXw2V_TIewh1Q21AvZHSmQUQN28QU9H01cq7x2-R67fpchKtkAWGTOQarwyLZ7/s400/01_26_07_2309.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div>I'm going to try to get a job bartending again. It's pretty difficult to get a bartending job in this town. I'm hoping I finally know enough people to find an "in". That's what really matters here, <em>who</em> you know, not <em>what</em> you know. I'm hoping with my experience and the few connects I have I will find something. If not, it's back to serving food. Blah! But, everyone tips a pregnant server extra... Right? :)<br /><div></div></div>Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-26781600309904754692007-03-07T08:36:00.000-08:002007-03-07T08:43:53.312-08:00I Miss My Mind and My Baby<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkwuEb7YRfdcEKB-OBhCLS82NT1uiU3DsK2G79I8EkUpqzHeE2UWTmTb3f59wS7TxvOt6Rinm6XO-g-9rBMi6cHKXd5hA-jrEAsvUNxXnCmqR8O1sQuJclzSb1NTep0w_fMBI/s1600-h/02_02_07_1648.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039224130396476418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkwuEb7YRfdcEKB-OBhCLS82NT1uiU3DsK2G79I8EkUpqzHeE2UWTmTb3f59wS7TxvOt6Rinm6XO-g-9rBMi6cHKXd5hA-jrEAsvUNxXnCmqR8O1sQuJclzSb1NTep0w_fMBI/s400/02_02_07_1648.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Hmmmm... What to say to the audience of 2, maybe 3? </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Perhaps you are interested in the fact that I am completly losing my mind! For real this time.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Yesterday, I ate a huge bowl of spagetti. Put my bowl in the sink and went to do some laundry. Noticed some tuna in the cupboard, and thought, "Yum, tuna. I'll have that for lunch." And, proceeded to make a tuna sandwich, abandoning my laundry. Half-way through the sandwich, I realized I already ate lunch! How do you forget something like that 30 seconds later??</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Then, I tried to cover the crock pot with my phone instead of the lid. Followed by attempting to drink my phone instead of my water.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>WTF??? I usually get this retarded later in pregnancy... Way later. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Anyway, beyond that, I miss S terribly! Really, really bad! I'm going insane. My mind is wandering to places I hate for it to be. Picturing awful things that I can't shake off. I just want to be home... NOW! But, I am at the mercy of Phil. Note: Never, <em>ever</em> put yourself at the mercy of your estranged husband. No matter how well-intentioned they seem, they aren't. <em>Ever. </em></div><br /><div></div>Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-30558024914942381772007-03-02T10:01:00.000-08:002007-03-04T08:37:41.002-08:00Am I CRAZY?? Don't answer that!<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOZnI9daz6sZJO91sXcwlwKXb-ynFJsx70vYZl_VIiEBbKjWiFf0PN2QdBA2y4J1W5M5CyGvaIM44n8C6zw9kDqMfYce8qPoKNlkO7MwTrDZ2xnmJBVhDMt8LEIZjAI6EGrAG/s1600-h/02_22_07_2122.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037395212475076386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOZnI9daz6sZJO91sXcwlwKXb-ynFJsx70vYZl_VIiEBbKjWiFf0PN2QdBA2y4J1W5M5CyGvaIM44n8C6zw9kDqMfYce8qPoKNlkO7MwTrDZ2xnmJBVhDMt8LEIZjAI6EGrAG/s320/02_22_07_2122.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Here I am again! It is so odd to read my last post and think of everything that has happened since then. </div><br /><div>Here's a lil' catch up.... ( I threw some random pics in because I know how you all get bored without pictures!)<br /></div><div>S came back that night... We fought; bad. I left with the kids to Blither's. I ended up getting into a shithole place for a couple weeks with the kids,</div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINxC9pHnZ79WIdWPuuiWoncSQfgovtwfKLkZlWHDkSYlkp4QMqYZA5z-oYZa2sb78-gUqtrPg-8DpQZGO-agBNqP3hYTUAD4MS2yrgLnZCUd6rU9ERNu3qMutdDzPyupUlxTJ/s1600-h/02_15_07_0040.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037396213202456434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINxC9pHnZ79WIdWPuuiWoncSQfgovtwfKLkZlWHDkSYlkp4QMqYZA5z-oYZa2sb78-gUqtrPg-8DpQZGO-agBNqP3hYTUAD4MS2yrgLnZCUd6rU9ERNu3qMutdDzPyupUlxTJ/s320/02_15_07_0040.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><div>but remained in the relationship with S.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Fast forward to December 16th....</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghTugueGqXU69zZMH-wGKDY1sGOL21t-tL5poO96tsoFBJdkFZQhSzaDHTBznqB3P0Qekjf7VBVgQ3JxUsIhO9BTFBVqVXkAF6wgGOehsj9TyXqDrjsraKr78o_l2J3Ikp3_zt/s1600-h/03_01_07_1257.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037395401453637426" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghTugueGqXU69zZMH-wGKDY1sGOL21t-tL5poO96tsoFBJdkFZQhSzaDHTBznqB3P0Qekjf7VBVgQ3JxUsIhO9BTFBVqVXkAF6wgGOehsj9TyXqDrjsraKr78o_l2J3Ikp3_zt/s320/03_01_07_1257.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>We had to take the kids to my mom. I didn't have transportation to get them to school or daycare. No daycare means no work; no work means no money. Phil was still not helping... at all.</div><br /><div>That night, S and I went to the Christmas party at my club. Alcohol + Emotional Shannin + S = fight. So, before it got ugly, I notified security not to allow him back in. This was the last straw for his ego. So, he left me.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>For the following month I....<br /><br /></div><div>... Moved into my babysitters spare bedroom.<br /></div><div>... Dated morons... One of which has become Phil's boss and my favorite stalker!</div><br /><div>... Visited my kids for not nearly enough time.</div><br /><div>... Got back together with Phil.</div><br /><div>... Left Phil for S, again.</div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037395624791936834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLNgDPMf2reupb2RGnfzWvwDVvxeKQQyBXnUM6WkRlBNKwbmso95zlC2yVvJKpz3EjndBsGtL0awmk_HjH6egKpQB8KLUrNpyatfUTrq5bQ7XY8h5UGLvxeB9Drc4MpxqpLA3/s320/03_01_07_1027.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>Sooo.....</div><br /><div>S and I are back together. We totally do NOT have our shit together. We both<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgplW4_lb5Im0wKBTox8pMNG99xXm3ymrwhyphenhyphenXrp-07NnR62cYzOAjdHPrDtKLyLmlzNdZxCVGAUO0OeKbik9xL3vrrPq6_5UuyKzzIXiun8f97y4gDgNyz_WrHRHE7IAcuou0z6/s1600-h/03_01_07_1644.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037395843835268946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgplW4_lb5Im0wKBTox8pMNG99xXm3ymrwhyphenhyphenXrp-07NnR62cYzOAjdHPrDtKLyLmlzNdZxCVGAUO0OeKbik9xL3vrrPq6_5UuyKzzIXiun8f97y4gDgNyz_WrHRHE7IAcuou0z6/s320/03_01_07_1644.jpg" border="0" /></a> have jobs, but I will get more into that momentarily. First, let me say that I hope there is no one else in his family that wishes to inflict pain on me. His mother attacked me in a bar about 6 weeks ago. Two weeks later, <em>her</em> mother came into my club threatening to <em>shoot me!!! </em>I won't be invited to family functions, I'm sure. His father's side seems ok with me and we are living with his paternal grandmother. That is SO much fun! HA!</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>So, the job situation... S is working whatever shit job he can get his hands on. He is miserable, but doing it. I still have my job.. However... the morning sickness that lasts <em>all damn day</em> makes it difficult to feel sexy in 2" of un<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOPUWF9Fb5IFLUBAOwgbBNNJVLAL7taSmtMNzkjbtdmjHdYvocAlQfZczRE1jYJ5YVJCd-d12jTeKMe3RU3A467bCTyb3Jearsa-oXeg295gQ068NmXLmRg04z6vXCG2x4RCU/s1600-h/5+weeks.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037396483785396098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOPUWF9Fb5IFLUBAOwgbBNNJVLAL7taSmtMNzkjbtdmjHdYvocAlQfZczRE1jYJ5YVJCd-d12jTeKMe3RU3A467bCTyb3Jearsa-oXeg295gQ068NmXLmRg04z6vXCG2x4RCU/s320/5+weeks.jpg" border="0" /></a>derware and 8" of heels. Yup... I'm pregnant! Five weeks now. And, we are <em>broke, broke, broke.</em> Living with grandma isn't going to work with the hordes of children we will soon have in tow!</div><br /><br /><div>NOW... </div><br /><div>I am at my mom's with the kids for two weeks. Phil has a place set up for them then. I miss the hell out of S and our trust issues are in full swing right now. I am trying to tell myself that we need this. If we actually make it through, it will be amazing and just the jolt of faith I need.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9yZ_9qZRl2YsgJQSGSxDbf4lT6Pkh-bevtKxTBHuYs5VqVVV-rsfXNSONWjdnRFsXdtbIEfhKBcPqXL6OMf_CoO7swJWwDiwcKKRDHjYkQqKEQkilJQaumXjyKMbFyd4vvqj/s1600-h/02_24_07_1045.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037395989864157026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9yZ_9qZRl2YsgJQSGSxDbf4lT6Pkh-bevtKxTBHuYs5VqVVV-rsfXNSONWjdnRFsXdtbIEfhKBcPqXL6OMf_CoO7swJWwDiwcKKRDHjYkQqKEQkilJQaumXjyKMbFyd4vvqj/s320/02_24_07_1045.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>If not, Phil has offered to let me stay with him. He will take care of me while I can't work and I will be living with my kids full time. Sounds great, I know! But, I would lose S. And, honestly, I love the shit out of that man. No amount of money or security changes that for me.</div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>New MiMi, stolen from </strong><a href="http://blitherbean.wordpress.com"><strong>Blither</strong></a><strong>, at </strong><a href="http://nowthisislooney.blogspot.com"><strong>Now THIS is Looney</strong></a><strong>.</strong></span>Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1165511891423642022006-12-07T09:10:00.000-08:002006-12-07T09:18:11.436-08:00Life Can Kiss My ASSYesterday I had this big, long rant regarding Phil reading my blog and not showing up for his kids. It was followed by a sweet, sweet letter from S. I was almost done when S walked in the door and gave me a heart attack. So, it was all deleted. Doesn't matter though. I'm over Phil reading this (Hi Phil!).... And, I think the letter is only true when S thinks I'm leaving. A bunch of <em>you're my soulmate, I can't live without you, I'm yours forever </em>bullshit.<br /><br />Well, I <em>do</em> want to leave.<br /><br />*Insert whining, moaning, and rationalizing here*<br /><br />No reason to go through specifics of <em>why</em>. I'm just not happy. Niether is he. We <em>want</em> to be, but we aren't. We <em>try </em>to be, but we aren't. I'm really not ok. But, I suppose I will be... at some point.Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1164999027158734222006-12-01T10:38:00.000-08:002006-12-01T10:50:27.196-08:00The Truth Fuckin' Hurts<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1025/1395/1600/764563/Image01.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1025/1395/320/303695/Image01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here's some fuckin' honesty. I gotta get it out....<br />My relationship is in the exact spot everyone said it would be, though most of them gave us a year... It's only been six months.<br />I have more past due bills than I can count. Unfortunately, one of them is rent. That seriously sucks when you only make tips and can't even try to set a budget for when you <em>will</em> have it.<br />I am still in love with my ex-hubby. But, I am also in love with S. I didn't think a person could really love two people at once, but I do. I don't want to let go, but I don't want to lose P either. I think I already have, though. Then, I think about how many lies he has told me...especially lately...and get discouraged. And then, I think about all the shit I did while we were married... and realize I deserve all the shit I'm getting now.<br />My entire life is spiraling downward in a way I've never experienced. I'm irresponsible, flakey, bitchy... Not to mention all my emotional, mental, and physical shit going on.<br />I've been calling the med clinic over and over and they don't answer or return my calls.<br />My phone is now disconnected... AND, I ran out of coffee!<br />Something has GOT to give.Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1164738958901935922006-11-28T10:34:00.000-08:002006-11-28T13:29:49.256-08:00My Feet Hurt<p align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/1600/11_22_06_1133.jpg"></a></p><p>Bathtub sex is dangerous. That is all.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/1600/11_22_06_1133.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/320/11_22_06_1133.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Update: Apparently there was some confusion. So, here's a lil' explanation. Being on top puts the top of your feet downward. The friction of my skin against the bathtub literally wore my skin off. Lovely, eh?</span></strong></p>Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1164147908998675272006-11-21T14:14:00.000-08:002006-11-21T14:40:51.460-08:00New Pics for Blither<div align="right"><br /></div><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1025/1395/1600/287877/10_06_06_2202.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1025/1395/320/94527/10_06_06_2202.jpg" border="0" /><p align="center"></a> <em>My favorite picture of one of my favorite girls, <a href="http://blitherbean.wordpress.com">Miss BlitherButt</a></em></p><em></em><p align="left"><br />I have soooo much going on. But, oddly enough, don't feel like writing out <em>any </em>of it. Some too painful, some too crazy, and some just too retarded.<br /><br />However, at Miss BlitherButt's request, I will post new photos. One's that portray a life not quite like my real life, but good enough for still life.<br /><br />You got Ry (my middle daughter) in the last post. Here are the other kiddos in the clan:<br /><br /></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1025/1395/320/718677/10_12_06_1702.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em>Dakota, S's baby boy... Gotta love a toof-less smile!</em></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1025/1395/320/29127/10_18_06_1545.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em>Xander, my baby boy...Freshly shaved.... Mama's sorry Baby X!</em></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1025/1395/320/463494/Image025.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em>Kiera and I... Someone has to look like me, damn it!</em></p><p align="center"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1025/1395/320/236228/10_13_06_2145.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em>Lovey Dovey with my Baby</em></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1025/1395/320/212899/10_13_06_2144.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em>Blither always has this look like "Who the fuck are you? And, why the fuck are you touching me?" in pictures of us. But, she likes me... I promise! Try to remember our HNT's... she likes me!;)</em></p>Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1162235987528418602006-10-30T11:09:00.000-08:002006-10-30T12:03:01.480-08:00Got Lost?<div align="center"><br /><br />Wow! It's been a minute, eh? Let's see if I can remember enough to fill <em>myself</em> in. I lost the pregnancy at 8 weeks gestation. That sucked, obviously. Then, three weeks later, I had a positive pregnancy test.... 4 of them, actually. All of my symptoms began to reappear. I went to the doctor and found that it was residual hormones. A rollercoaster, for certain. In the midst of all of this, getting to work has been difficult due to the sickness, bleeding, and cramping I had been experiencing. I'm trying to get back more often now. Especially since S is still laid off.... ugh. P is of no financial help what-so-ever. In fact, he is a drain. I give him money for diapers, food, hotels, gas, etc. He is in a place I can't even see. It is very sad, really. He just got a new job and I hope he will climb back from where he is at now.<br />I have, somehow, been able to find some moments of joy in all of this. Here are some of them:<br /><br /></div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/400/10_06_06_2206.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><em>Baby and I at Hole in the Wall with Blither and Mr. B<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/400/10_07_06_0043.jpg" border="0" /></em></p><p align="center"><em>Miss BlitherButt and I<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/400/10_07_06_0047.jpg" border="0" /></em></p><p align="center"><em>I swear her face looked retarded, too. Stupid camera phone!</em></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/400/10_26_06_2145.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em>Alone time with the Baby ;)<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/400/10_18_06_1551.jpg" border="0" /></em></p><p align="center"><em></em></p><p align="center"><em>Miss RyRy lookin' purdy</em><br /></p><p>Well, I had more.... but, fuckin' Blogger. </p><p>Hopefully, I'll be back sooner next time! :)</p>Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1158380310389467632006-09-15T20:54:00.000-07:002006-09-15T21:18:30.416-07:00Fucking "Illnesses"MmmK... new post, new post, new post....<br /><br />Uhhh... I seriously feel like I don't have shit to write. I used to love to blog. I used to feel like I had so much to say. Now... well, not-so-much.<br /><br />It isn't that I don't have shit going on.. Because, boy, do I. But, I realized that when I blogged before I became completely consumed with diagnoses and symptoms... But, never recovery. I'd have good days, or even periods. But, never a real effort to be better.<br /><br />This is not to say that I am "better." I am just less focused on how ill I am. And, this is not to say that I pretend I am not ill. I am just trying to live <em>with</em> my illnesses, instead of living <em>as</em> my illnesses. If that makes any damn sense.<br /><br />I guess this comes to mind because of the tiniest incedent today. S was about to leave to pick up lunch when the maintenance man came. S bent over and kissed me goodbye. I looked at him with that what-the-fuck-do-you-think-you-are-doing look that only women can produce. He was dumbfounded... what did he <em>do</em>? I realized that my need for his presence in order to have someone in our home was not "normal." What's more is that I realized how many other "normal" things I am incapable of doing, alone at least. I was so used to P knowing and doing what I needed that I had forgotten how "abnormal" I can be. S was more than willing to stay and said that it made sense that I wouldn't want to be alone with a strange man. I tried to explain that there are many more things he will need to adapt to. He didn't flinch. Just said, "I'm fucked up, too. It will be fine." <em>Huge sigh of relief.</em><br /><em></em><br />S did mention this the other day:<br /><em>"You change your mood like twenty times a day. Well, not twenty maybe, but A LOT of times every day. The smallest thing triggers you, and I have no clue what it is or how to react."</em><br /><em></em><br />My response:<br /><em>"I was completly honest with you regarding my illnesses. I didn't wait for an episode, I told you strait up...." </em> And a bunch of other completly defensive comments like that.<br /><br />His reply:<br /><em>"No baby, I'm not bitching. I just want you to tell me what I should do when you do that, that's all. I don't know how to respond to you without making you upset. Just tell me how to deal with it."</em><br /><em></em><br />Uhhhh..... He is being completly understanding and making huge efforts. And, you know what?<br />I had no answers. I have spent years and years researching my illnesses, and couldn't give him a single suggestion besides...<br /><br /><em>"Either you can deal with it, or you can't"</em><br /><em></em><br />WTF, Shannin?!?!?! Gee, why aren't people more understanding and accomodating to mental illness? Perhaps they have had an experience with an ass like me? I can not believe myself sometimes! And, even still... I don't know how to articulate how he can best deal with me other than to just ignore me, which will likely set me off at some point too. <br />Am I going to have to get him a copy of "Don't Walk on Eggshells"(I think that's the title)... a book about "dealing" with BPD?Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1157923615652014062006-09-10T14:17:00.000-07:002006-09-10T14:38:17.763-07:00Look Out Vegas.... We're Back!!!<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/1600/tah.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/320/tah.jpg" border="0" /></a> Yup... That's right... That's me and Blither back at our "Hole in the wall" where many splendid nights of too much vodka & Red Bull, too much Toby Kieth via kareoke, and "Nam" all take place.<br />Prior to meeting up with Mr and Mrs Blither, my Baby took me out to a <em>fabulous</em> dinner at a steakhouse where I had melt-in-your-mouth-makes-you-make-the-"O"face- salmon... mmmmmmm. Then, he took me to the Comedy Stop.... <em>fuckin' hilarious!</em><br />We then headed to the place where the drinks are weak, the service is slow and the music will arouse suicidal feelings (Like we really need help in that department!)... <em>Why the fuck do we still go there? </em>We have no clue. <img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 236px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="172" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/320/09_10_06_0036.jpg" width="211" border="0" /><br />It was so wonderful to drink, dance, and be babbling idiots with BlitherButt again! Damn, I missed that woman!<br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/320/09_10_06_0040.jpg" border="0" /><br />Baby decided to "sing". It was.... cute. <img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="208" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/400/09_10_06_0331.jpg" width="224" border="0" /><br /><p></p><p>It was a great night... No drama, no flashbacks of Nam, no one puked.... What more could you ask for?</p>Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1157673842913156602006-09-07T17:01:00.000-07:002006-09-07T17:04:02.926-07:00HNT<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/1600/pout.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/400/pout.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em>Pouting as I melt away.</em></div>Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1157588907388694552006-09-06T17:12:00.000-07:002006-09-06T17:28:27.400-07:00Ugh....There is no better word for this than UghSorry I didn't get back sooner. I've had my kids and the batteries on the cordless mouse died (cordless mice... are they called "mice?... anyway... they are completely worthless and are only cool the first time someone sees one). Anyway.. Moving along...<br /><br />I went to the hospital and here is what happened...<br />*Waited FOREVER<br />*Got a call from Blither... I'm gonna return it sometime soon, too ;)... It was good to hear her voice after all this time.<br />*Waited MORE<br />*Finally got back to a bed... and WAITED<br />*Eventually got an IV... which was connected to NOTHING... and blood drawn<br />*A while later, I got two Tylenol and meds for nausea<br />*Got a catheder that no amount of begging, crying, and barganing got me out of<br />*Had fluids attached to my IV<br />*Had major panic attacks while stuck in bed WAITING<br />*Got an ultra painful ultrasound (yes, they <em>can</em> be invasive!)<br />*Found out the ultrasound didn't show a DAMN THING... except <em>possibly</em> a gestational sack, but no fetus<br />*Found out my pregnancy hormone levels were at 5000.... 2000 means you are pregnant<br /><br />SO....<br />According to hormone levels, I should be further along than my last period would suggest. However, if they go by hormone levels they should be able to see a fetus via ultrasound. So, basicially, we know nothing. Either I am only as far as my last period suggests, or I am further and already lost the baby.<br /><br />HOWEVER...<br />I am still in severe pain and spotting.... UGH<br /><br />Somehow, I have seemed to manage maintaining some sort of a stable mindset through this. Although, I am a bit worried about my future life.... with a man I don't feel has not been there for me enough through this. The other side of me knows I am being incredibly demanding and that he is trying so hard he cries....<br />Fuck! I am an asshole..... But, until I am out of pain, I am excusing myself, damn it!<br /><br />Here's me and my Baby on a lake cruise he took me on to try to cheer me up....<br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/320/09_03_06_1621.jpg" border="0" />Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1157150580641227272006-09-01T15:37:00.000-07:002006-09-01T15:43:00.656-07:00More Fucking NewsI guess whoever is runnin' shit had other plans..... I woke up today and began bleeding. I am headed to the hospital and will know more from there. I am assuming they will perform a D&C and I have no clue what that will be like or what to expect after that. For now, I am alone and in pain. S had to go to work, so P is coming to get me and take me to the hospital. Why couldn't he be as good as a husband as he is as an ex?<br /><br />And, now, completely off topic... but oh so typical of me.... Here is an updated pic of me, it's been a while since anyone has seen me.... Fuck, I'm random!<br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1025/1395/320/Image006.jpg" border="0" />Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1156871087048739572006-08-29T09:55:00.000-07:002006-08-29T10:04:47.070-07:00HOLY FUCK!!!OMG! OMG! OMG! Holy hell, so much is going on here I can't keep up with myself. Here's a rundown....<br /><br />Thursday night P gave me a ride to work. He ended up drinking and talking and staying all night. Afterward, we went to our old house for an hour or so..... This left me in a HUGE state of confusion. But, still realized that there was a reason for how everything ended up with us, and that wasn't going to just go away. All the lies we <em>both</em> told.... All the things he said to the world about me that just weren't true... All the gambling, cheating, drinking... It wasn't going to go away because we got drunk and laughed together for a night.<br /><br />Saturday morning S proposed!!! WOW!! We spent the day at the lake just talking and having a few drinks. Soooooooo excited planning our new life... how the wedding would be, when we would do it... wishing we could do it right then.<br /><br />THEN.....<br /><br /><br />Sunday morning I took a test..... PREGNANT! Oh shit! This makes four for me... but, five all together. I'm excited, scared, happy, scared... and super overwhelmed.<br /><br />But, other than that.... not much going on here! HA!Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32903125.post-1155833005986380832006-08-17T09:37:00.000-07:002006-08-17T09:43:25.986-07:00Hello, againI'm back!<br /><br />To try to explain <em>everything</em> that has happened in the time I was gone would take an eternity. But, here's the basics....<br />I left my husband, P.... as many of you know from reading his blog. (Which is <em>full</em> of lies... he readily admits this and no longer posts).<br />I have been with my current boyfriend, S, for a few months and live with him now.<br />I have my kids four days a week.<br />Other than that, I'm still dancing, I'm still not on meds, and I just quit drinking.<br />I don't have much to say at the moment... But, just wanted to get back up and running.<br /><br />If you are new to my blog, go <a href="http://nowthatslooney.blogspot.com">here</a>... Everything you could ever want to know about me is there.Shanninhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03034070974842765819noreply@blogger.com6