meadow

15 years ago I became an official suicide girl. Unfortunately, I've only done one set, but I will never forget that set. I remember when I first went to meet Amina, for her to do my set, I was told that I "had on too much makeup". I guess at that time, suicide girls was going for a more "natural" look.....

I was pretty butt-hurt over the comment, and also panicked because 15 years ago, I was a wannabe emo/scene girl with a lip ring, jet black hair, and layers and layers of black eye shadow. I had just gotten my first tattoo and remember that I would only wear tank tops and would kinda, like, walk with my shoulder twisted in front of my body.....like, leading me..lol....as I just wanted to show it off to the world and thought I was the coolest kid ever.

I also remember how shortly after getting my first tattoo how I actually began to feel naked. I mean, I knew I wanted more and it was all I could think about until I was finally able to afford another for my other shoulder. When I got my second tattoo, one on each arm, I remember feeling relief. I remember feeling as though that it didn't matter what side I was seen from, because I now looked "cool" from either side...lmao

15 years later and I am close to having both arms completely covered and looking and feeling like the ultimate cool kid hahaha...but for real, if/when I get a tattoo now, it's seriously not a big deal anymore. I no longer feel like I *have* to show off my ink. In fact, it can often be uncomfortable/awkward/annoying at times when someone tries to talk to me about them. For a few years (when I first moved back Phoenix) I relied on public transportation. I would seriously bus my way to the strip club then back home almost daily. I swear, the city bus could make a reality show just outta the conversations and shit that happens on it's route.

I invested in multiple pairs of headphones, the big over-the-ear ones (I hate the in-the-ear ones anyway), in a polite attempt to get people to not engage with me. I would literally sit there, in the aisle seat with my stripper bag next to me (unless the bus was packed and the seat was needed), I'd sit there and draw, or read, or play candy crush, with neon headphones covering my head, purposely never looking up...ever....because I'd always be too afraid to make an accidental second of eye contact with someone....doing everything I could possibly do to become "invisible", or at the very least, clearly uninterested.....yet there would ALWAYS be that one person who just *HAD to know 'what I was doing/listening to/going/. Or they just *HAD to ask me about my tattoos.....where I got them done (why? are you seriously going to fly to Vegas or hit my ex up orrr....they just *HAD to show me their one and only Tazmanian Devil tattoo that always looked more like a birth mark.....orrrr they just *HAD to tell me about all the tattoos that they were going to get then proceed to tell me why...and 99% of the time, it would be a flower or something in honor of their grandma or someone.....which, I'm not hating on memorial tats or anything like that, but like....I also honestly never asked and don't care.

People always ask me what my tattoos mean, or why I got them as though there needs to be a reason for getting a tattoo....I got them because I liked them. My first tattoo I got because I loved the artwork and thought it looked badass (the Bloodrayne on my right arm.) I had never played the game, seen the movie, read any comics....I mean, all I knew about the character was that she was a vampire (and even that information might be wrong, lol). I remember when I had my red hair, people would ask me if that was me, on my arm.....like, um...yeah, I think I'm that amazing that I went ahead and tattooed myself on myself. I'm not Steve-o! lol My second tattoo (the nurse from Silent Hill on my left arm), again.....I just liked the way the artist drew that particular image. I mean, at least I was able to say that I did see the Silent Hill movie (and it is still one of my favorite movies) and the characters from that movie are just creepy and awesome. I tried the game after getting the tattoo, but I was honestly kinda scared to play it by myself and just couldn't focus on it at that time in my life. I wish they'd redo it because 15 years later, I can guarantee I'd be able to focus on it now lol

As for the rest of my tattoos.....they were all mostly done by a guy I ended up dating the first time I separated from my exhusband. He pretty much did my sleeve for me and I was only with him for maybe 2 months......after that, it was awhile until I got anymore work done. There were about 3 and a half years that I kinda "forgot" about tattoos and was happy with what I had. At least up until my second son was born. After his birth, I once again, became obsessed with getting his name on me (since I had my first son's name on me, I felt it was only fair.) I just couldn't afford it at that time in life. Having a newborn, a 3 year old, not being able to work (dance), and being back with my first boyfriend (husband by then) who didn't have a single tattoo....I had to pay for them again, and couldn't afford one at that time.

However, during my pregnancy with Kane (my second oldest son) I was contacted by Discovery Fit and Health. They were interested in having me featured on one of their shows, "I'm Pregnant And......" and there are different stories for the episodes...like, "I'm Pregnant and homeless", "I'm Pregnant and in prison", etc, etc. The episode that I did was, "I'm Pregnant and a stripper". Chelsea Handler even did a short parody of it after it aired back in 2011 or 2012. As part of my story and episode, they filmed me as I got Kane's name tattooed on me. Since it was important to me and it added to my story. The entire airing of the episode was only about 23 minutes, but they followed me around for about4 days while I was pregnant, and then came back after his birth "to see what life was like and to see if my dancing life changed".....I was honestly worried after filming ended that they were going to make me look bad, and despite ACTUALLY LOOKING (physically, like, they made me wear a wig during interviews because something about the lighting or something....and I remember first seeing a clip of myself on national TV and cried for days because I thought I looked so ugly. I didn't even look like me, at first and I was so mad about that. Which, when I think about it now, I laugh because of how stupid I was and how petty and insecure I was. The story and the episode itself was amazing and they portrayed me exactly as who I was. Well, other than when they had to create some sort of conflict and struggle, so they said that I had post partum, but that I handled it....but I never had post partum, lol....it was such a quick "conflict" too in the episode that probably only went on for 60 seconds. It was mentioned, then solved and the way it ended.....I mean, I was given copies years ago, but I no longer have them.

This trip down memory lane though, I am going to go do a search and see if I can find it because it was a time in my life that I felt truly blessed and happy and am glad to have those moments with my kids documented like they were/are.

anyway...yeah.....I don't even know how I ended up on that memory, but I'm glad I did and glad that it happened. I guess, out of all my tattoos, my "KANE" tattoo is the one with the best/actual story behind it.

After my KANE tattoo, I didn't get anymore tats until I finally/officially got a divorce from my first boyfriend/husband who I was with for 10 (close to 11) years of my life! I mean, I left home at the age of 17.....left home from Phoenix and went and ran off with this 24 year old guy who I met on MSN chat who drove down from Vegas to *meet* met....and who, at the time, I thought was my soul mate and everything I had ever wanted (omg...the shit we think we need/want or that's important at the age of 17....lmfao).....and just let him make me believe that he was all I needed. I will never forget the day I met him either. I had literally just gotten back from seeing the movie ICE AGE with my FAMILY in theaters. I had just had my mom drive me to my orthodontist appointment earlier that week.....to tighten my braces......I still had collages of cut outs from Seventeen Magazine taped to my notebooks and mirrors.....I still couldn't sleep without a stuffed animal....but there I was, so anxious to be in a relationship, and so ready to "be grown", that I literally just punched my innocence in the face and gut punched my journey and experiences as a teenager who was meant to evolve into maturity, a woman.....rather than be forced into growing up and having responsibilities that I wasn't prepared or ready for......I was groomed though. Groomed, manipulated and hurt and betrayed.....I mean, to this day, I am forced to deal with him since he is the father of 2 of my kids...and to this day, he still tries to control me and just LOVES bringing up my past mistakes.

but ....he hasn't had any control or power over me for so long that if it wasn't for my kids, he would have easily been forgotten by now......

I honestly don't know what my intent was of coming here. I was going through instagram and some suicidegirls popped up. The site has come a long way and it's really amazing to see how far it's come and to see so many beautiful girls all in one place. I have always wanted to do another set, especially when I finally felt more comfortable in my skin. Rigght now though, I'm going through a pity party stage.....where I'm not really happy with my body and know that I have some work to do on it before I could even consider doing another set aagin. I mean, I could have after my second son because there was awhile there in my life that I became super healthy and was working out, eating right and I looked and felt ggood about myself.

I have made so many horrible mistakes though since those days. After I got divorced from my first (and only husband), I felt so free. I would give anything to go back to those days in my life and would give anything to be able to change some stupid choices I made. Choices that ultimately led me to where I am today....which, I mean, I am grateful for certain things in my life right now...(the fact that I have a roof over my head and the fact that my 3-year-old son is snoring peacefully next to me), but I also know that I will forever have a hole in my heart due to the fact that....a) I have missed out on so much of my older boys' childhood/life.....and that even though I sacrificed my kids, FOR my kids, I still allowed myself to be controlled by my ex and still let him make me feel as though I wasn't enough and make me believe that my kids were better off without me.....I get that ultimately I am the only one who made the choices and I should have done more and fought harder and I'm not BLAMING him, but he didn't help and was totally fine using our kids as a weapon against me and use them to hurt me......I'm grateful that I talk to them these days, but there will forever be unrepairable damage and a hole in my heart from something I can never go back and redo.....and b) knowing that I have a daughter who is 5 now, and knowing she is my son's full blood older sister.....knowing she is within walking distance from where I live, but knowing that there isn't anything I can ever do or say to be her mom again. The state of AZ took away that right from me when I was battling my heroin addiction. They took away the little girl I had always dreamed of raising and took away any chance of even making any memories with her. She wasn't even on this Earth for 48 hours before they had someone come in and tell me that I wasn't going to be leaving the hospital with her. That, because I was a "junkie", that all the baby stuff I had at home, all the items that I had carefully picked out her her, all the excitement and all the motivation and all the plans I had....just....none of that mattered. All that mattered to these people who had only known me for 5 minutes was that I used heroin during my pregnancy with my daughter. Because of that, I was an unfit, uncapable, awful, person who wasn't even going to get the opportunity to bond with the life I had created and carried for the last 10 months. It didn't matter that I asked for help, but no one ever offered me rehab or therapy. It didn't matter that even though I went to EVERY prenatal appointment, and not ONCE did ANYONE say that I was at risk for losing my daughter because of my use....I mean, they never once even MENTIONED my drug use. I was the one who mentioned it....and when I didn't get any feedback, or any help, or any suggestions, nothing.

I knew that I didn't want to be addicted to heroin and pregnant....or addicted to heroin, at all! I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I also knew enough that I couldn't *just stop*. So, I did the best I could.....meaning, I literally only used enough each day to "stay well". I wasn't trying to get high or fucked up. I just didn't want to feel any pain because if I felt pain, then my baby would have felt pain and the chances of a miscarraige are much higher. Not once, at any of the rest of my prenatal visits was my drug use ever mentioned. I'd go pee in the cup, I'd get the ultrasounds and I'd be told how much she was growing and how amazing everything looked and was. All the while, I fall in love with the life inside me and had never been more prepared for anything. LIke, because I had cut my drug use to such a little amount, I had a little more money....and I couldn't wait to meet her and to then be able to detox. I just had to have her and know she was okay and safe before going through the detox and withdraws.

When the day finally came (March 17, 2017) for her (Cambria Rose) to enter the world, I was so excited. I admit, I was nervous too though because I was worried about how much I affected her. It is another thing, that to this day, I still wish I would have done different , but when she was born, the pediatrician checked her out (because by that time, the entire hospital staff knew that I had just peed dirty before giving birth....I wish I would have known I was being drug tested, I wish I would have refused or lied...buttt...anyway, the pediatrician checked her out and literally said, "THE HEROIN WASN'T A BIG DEAL" his exact words....."the heroin wasn't a big deal because she wasn't showing any signs of withdraw...." I was so relieved, so grateful, so excited, so anxious....she was beautiful, so perfect. She was my angel and I remember being so excited to be a mom aggain. I remember asking the nurse when we'd be discharged and she just looked at me puzzled asking if anyone spoke to me yet. There had been one elderly lady who did and asked about the drugs and I had explained my next steps and she saw the instant bond and I know she was on my side and I had never even considered or even thougght about not leaving the hospital with MY baby, my daughter. I mean, that shit doesn't happen....right?

oh, how wrong I was. After not being able to get a straight answer I finally asked to discharge myself and my daughter because we wanted to go home. Well, I was free to leave, but not my daughter. WTF?! I thought it was a joke....there's no fucking way this is okay, that this is legal that this is happening. I mean, I literally got to the point where I had my daughter in one arm and was fightingg off the nurses and the social workers with my other arm (only to have THAT used against me....since to them, it appeared as though I intentionally put my daughter in harms way and that I was withdrawing off drugs and having an episode".....that I was clearly unstable and unsafe because, OMFG, a mother is upset and trying to KEEP her NEWBORN BABY WITH HER?!! It was the most fucked up thing in my life....the Twilight zone....a moment in my life that replays constantly and how I wish I would have done this, or that or not this or that......

Leaving the hospital with an empty car seat was the most humilating, insane, unreal thing that has ever happened to me. going back to an apartment that was filled with baby girl stuff....expecting to be able to use all the diapers, clothes, cribs....only to go back to a quiet apartment. Only to have neighbors ask to see her....and having to lie....only until, eventually, it's clear that I'm no longer pregnant and clear that there's no baby cryin gin the background, or being pushed in a stroller....there weren't any dr appointments that we had to make, just court dates.

That feeling of emptiness, dread,pain....I mean, I still carry it with me every day......I could have/should have fought harder, done more.....I let my anger take over after that...I felt betrayed, I felt useless, .....They wanted me to start doing gthis, that, the other ASAP and as much as I wanted to get it all done and prove them wrong, but the pain of not having her there with me everyday and knowing that someone else was bonding with her and that I felt so wronged and so violated, but no one gave a shit about my side of the story......I wasn't able to get sober as soon as they wanted me to. I mean, I would have some good months and then, the pain in my heart would just become overwhelming and I'd use and fuck up any progress I had made.

In their eyes, I truly believe that it wouldn't have mattered either way. I know I will never know, but just the fact that no one offered me help prior to her birth, shows me that of course they wanted her to be born "dirty" because that would guarantee that they'd get a beautiful, happy, healthy, baby girl.......

I mean....there isn't much more I really need or want to say about that because it still hurts. It will hurt forever and just constantly wondering and thinking about wishing......she'd be starting kinderggarden.....I know she would have been an amazing big sister. I'm grateful for the year I did get with her...I mean, it was always supervised time because they thought I was such a dangerous and horrible person who was just gonna start shooting up dope with her in my arms or something....I don't know....

but I was only allowed to see her for 4 hours a week, supervised. That went on for a year before they cut me out entirely. It would have been easier if she died, to be completely honest. Knowing that someone else is making her call them mommy....someone else is doing gher hair, reading to her, tucking her in, playing dressup....someone else will get to take her shopping, get to cheer her up when sad, sing to her, help with homework, talk about her first crush, help her when her heart gets broken, help her with prom, see her graduate....ugh....i mean, I know how selfish that is of me to feel that way, but I can't help it......I loved her before anyone else and.....she IS me.....

After that happened, I got really bad with heroin and just....whatever was around. Fentanyal....blues.....xanax.....I was (am) disgusted with out system and myself......

If anything ggood has come from that, I have been ggoing to school and am still in it and am close to finishing up my associates. I mean, I wish I could go on ot be a lawyer and change some laws or help others who have gone through what I did, because I mean....it wasn't right. I know I was wrong too, but.....there's so much more to it that still just makes me sick to think about.....

When I found out I was pregnant with my son, I felt as though I was being given a second chance. I was using, but as soon as I found out I was preggnant, I checked myself into rehab. No fucking way was I going to go through another loss. At one of my prenatal visits thouggh, my past case somehow came up and I was told that even though I was clean, cps would still have to be involved. WTF?!! That didn't mean I wouldn't get to leave without my son, but I no longer trusted doctors, the system or anyone telling me this shit. I made the choice after that that I would have a home birth and that, women have been doing it for years, giving birth at home, on their own.....and I was not abotu to put myself in a situation that could possibly go wrong. I mean, those people have no problem lying, and even though I know I had nothing to hide, I still felt as though I needed to.

I prepared myself with every book, video...and even though I was prepared for the birth of my daughter, I was even more prepared for the birth of my son. When the day finally came (June 1, 2019), I had a big pool set up in my living room. I counted teh contractions...and before I knew it, I had to push.....his dad grabbed him, underwater and there he was, screaingg and bloody, and like....my body knew what to do....it's instinct.....I get that it probably sounds gross to most people, and weird and crazy, but it was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life and it had made me wish I would have had all my kids born at home.

So, after all of that, I post a status on my personal FB that I only have my family and friends on. I announce that Ethan is in the world (only a few people knew I was pregnant since after the loss of my daugghter, I wasn't trying to experience anything like that again. Everyone understood why I did what I did with his birth.....well, almost everyone...

3 months have gone by and we are sitting there one day and someone is knocking on the door. It's not a polite, neigghborly knock. No, it's an authorative knock and they announce they're a social worker. I had done tons of reading by then and everything I've ever read has always said DO NOT answer, if you do, DO NOT let them in the house. I didn't even want them to know I was even there.....I go hide in the bedroom with my son and his dad finally answers the door. OF course she wants to come in and see if we (me and my son) are there and that she can't leave until she sees us. Apparently someone from my FB saw my post about my son's birth and took it as thouggh I was trying to dodge CPS (WHICH, honestly, fuck yeah, I was.....I never wanted those people in my life again....) but he had told them I refused to take my son to the doctor and that I'm neglecting him....and I was like, WTF....who the fuck would even do this to me....after knowingg.....I mean, It felt like a nightmare....finally, the lady leaves and I take off with my son to California so we cna hide out at his great grandparents. Even they can't believe what is happening.

By this time, they have already established that they were going to remove my son from me because of not letting them in the house in the first place. Because of that (and my history) I was a "danger" to my son......I t was a nightmare that I kept trying to wake up from. Eventually, they had cps in california go to great grandparents house and they, once again, rip my baby out of my arms....this time, I had some time and I never let him out of my sigght so when they took him, at 3 months old.....I was ready to just end the pain.

There I was, supposed to be a mother of 4 kids, with no kids. I didn't know what the fuck to do......I had truly believed that this was all gognna be a mistake and over shortly once I go pee in their cup for them and it's clean. They took my hair follicle, which ggoes back 3 months....it was clean....so I thougght that was all they needed...no, not enough. I still had to go sign up for one of their rehab groups...even though I was already fucking sober....but...they still weren't giving gme back my son, despite the fact that I had literlly proved my sobriety with their fucking tests...it wasn't enough....how the fuck is this shit legal?!!

it took me 2 years....2 years before I got my son back full time and got them out of my life for good!

I apologize for rambling and venting....and didn't realize how late it was.....but am just gonna end it here for now......

if you actually read all of that, thanks? I mean....I dunno what most people will make of it, I know that many will probably still look down at me and I mean, I still get down on myself because of my mistakes, my failures.....there is only so much I can do to make up for some things and it sucks that some things I can never make up.....

but I can only pray that i will at least one day be able to share my side and am just grateful for what Icurrently have and it gives me a reason to wake up and at least try every day......

okay....I know I am just suddenly stopping/ending, but...good night.