The title goes here. Free writing.  

There is no pre-determined guarantee for relationships.

Love is often confused with many other things, but when it is real; the “feel it in your bones” feeling of love, never goes away.

It is always there despite, no matter what the situation…. for better or worse.

It’s waiting in the back of me every time; to love again; when the trials of our lives ease up, and I come back down to reality. I cannot stop the feeling no matter how hard I try to, and you will have to make me hate you, to get me to stop.

That’s ME fully, that’s HOW I AM. That’s how I love.

Please don’t make me hate you.

I have always loved hard.

I fall too easily, I trust too easily, I believe what people tell me too easily….all the time…I always have. 

I like to believe that I’m worth love. 

But the kind of love, and the idea of love I have always searched for, is something that I can’t ever seem to fully get all the way. 

I’ve had two failed marriages; one 10 months, another 13 years. A five-year, online, long-distance, fuck up my life completely, cluster fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk of a “relationship”; and now T.

Those ARE my major relationships in my adult life.

No one compares to T.

I struggle every day to be the kind of woman that T deserves. I know I am failing, and then I ask myself why, and what I will do about it. 

I wish really, that there was a guarantee that we will make it; but there’s not. 

The only guarantee there is, is the one that I make to myself. 

I will continue to be honest about my feelings, needs and wants.

I don’t believe in hiding who you are from anyone anymore… especially the man you love.

I know that things aren’t perfect in my life right now…or my relationship.

But I do know that T is the only man, who has made me feel like I deserved love. And I never thought I’d ever feel that from a man. I never had until him. 

I guess that’s why they say love is patient.

I hope that I can work out my life, so that I can be the woman, that I know I am.

The damage I carry is real, and I’ve had more than I care to have these last months, and it fucks up everything…to the point that I have to make the choice to stop letting it infect, every good thing that I touch. 

It’s hard when there’s stuff you need to talk about and understand, but you know there’s probably no way you ever could, because you weren’t given the option upfront to know about it.

I can’t figure out what I could have done differently…except for me to do the exact opposite thing, and I obviously made the choice to be in this relationship. 

 I’m not a quitter. 

Every day is a new day to try. 

“Love without Limits, Fight without Fear.” 

It’s tattooed on my arm, but what does that mean to ME?

I made it up. Truth. Because I had made a choice that day to try to understand myself; and those are two things I try to do.

I hope there is a God AND that he will help me.

This is a free writing ramble.

I am sober, alive, confused, hurt, determined, and in love.

I need a miracle to fix my brain, and my life. 

I’m really just trying to be as positive as I can right now;

And I don’t feel bad for writing any of this, because it’s gotten me to this very moment.

Love yourself.

J. Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

My TRUTH about Hurt and Trust.

The I don’t knows in your head kill you slowly, and the actions don’t match the words.

Always trust your gut, but then some will do everything they can, to make you doubt it…only to hurt you for no other reason than selfishness or fear.

We’ve all been there. The hurt side.

Honesty is relevant. 

The hurt you may cause upfront from saying the truth, is way better than turning around one day and realizing it was all for nothing…and you have hurt the ones you never wanted to, by spinning a different story to cover your ass and/or loneliness; or just being a complete idiot drunk, or whatever you were being, when you made the choice to hurt that someone else.

Have you been here too? Me too.

You have no formal right to judge another’s level of hurt, when you are the reason for it. 

All you can do is make a commitment to yourself, that you’re not going to live like that anymore…forgive yourself…daily…and then try to become the best version of yourself possible.

And keep doing it.

Every day you make a conscious effort.

Remember that your actions have consequences that may last longer than you thought they would originally.

You would feel the same most likely.

Remember the person on the other side of it, and how you would feel if this person did the same to you, that you did to them.

Remember the feeling.

Understand it. Accept it.

THAT is the hard part.

YES. It’s frustrating for all involved, on many occasions; but if you didn’t care, then you wouldn’t have said you were sorry in the first place, right?

Make your sorry mean something, so the person you hurt will know you are truly sorry. 

You can’t get mad for the person not trusting you fully, OR not even wanting anything more to do with you.

What does a sorry mean?

Blaming others for not tolerating your BS, is nothing more, than you being selfish. 

That includes anyone, and me most assuredly; for any situation that might fit. 

I know by experience, I learned it ALL the hard way.

Give the person you hurt, time to find peace with the hurt you caused them….or not.

And DON’T do it again.

Tell the truth even if it burns you outright.

It’s right if you TRULY value someone.

It will be found out eventually anyways, and that just says a lot about how you are as a person really, when it does come to light.

Everything that means anything REAL, is founded in truth. 

Trust is the hardest thing to gain back; and the easiest thing to lose.

You can’t keep dropping bombs, and not expect some form/s of casualty/ies….yadda, yadda, yadda…

I know first hand what it’s like to lose every single thing that mattered besides myself; and almost that too on several occasions; because of the hurt I caused other people, and the things I did for myself only, at someone’s else’s expense.

That’s why I try every day to be honest about who I am; my needs and wants; and my huge flaws that seem to overpower me at the worst times.

I try to be a good person now.

I do fail, but not on things like truth anymore. MY truth, and what I expect for my own life.

If people can’t hear me, then they never wanted to, or cared to in the first place.

The hurt you cause others, IS relevant to the person or thing you caused it to. 

It IS.

Fix it with your actions. or don’t even bother.

No half-assing. It doesn’t mean shit when you do that. You can’t candy-coat reality, and have it stick.

The only options I’ve found, to make amends to a person I hurt in my life for REAL, and to re-seed the hole I left with something that might grow better, and that is better than what was there before… is to stop blaming the person I hurt, and STOP hurting them period.

That is true regret, and fixing something you are truly sorry for…or trying to. Understanding that it is your cross to bear, is another facet.

You did it.

Some things you can’t fix later.

I admit that I’m flawed, and I have hurt countless people in my life that I did not intend to…and some I did.

Still, the choice was mine to make; so whatever forgiveness I can seek out and earn back from my loved ones because I’m truly sorry and want to make it better; just fixes me… in the end… from within; because I honestly don’t deserve the chance to fuck it up again; but you’re trusting me not to; so I won’t. I owe you THAT much.

You see?

This I know for sure.

We’ve all been on both sides, without wanting to; and both sides suck.

I know the pain I’VE caused others is real; the trauma I carry from others hurting me is real….

And so is MY truth…

My absolute resolve is that I am indeed a very complex individual, with issues that have been fed too much, for too long…and I am just tired of dealing with certain feelings, and I’m tired of myself most of all for being tired…even though I know some of it, isn’t my fault at all…

A lot of it is.

Love yourself.

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

Pretty sure it’s Tuesday, and the fact that I had to think about that is sad; still…

My mood is better today.

I can’t expect to feel positive all the time, when there are real problems I’m dealing with.

I’m not afraid anymore to say when I feel like shit inside, and I guess that is one good thing.  

Truth be told, I have no reason to trust anybody; or care. 

I think that’s a rather fucked up and selfish way of looking at things though; so I’m again looking on the bright side….because I actually hate feeling shitty…I don’t know if any of you have realized this by now, or not. I know it may be hard at points to tell.

If I could change one thing about myself, it would be my pessimism on life in general.

I work on it daily to control it; because I know that my attitude, directly affects my whole day, and life. Lately I’ve been failing.

It is still hard to stop up the leaks in my heart; for valid reasons that will always suck.

For that, I wish there were a solid cure that worked…

Faith seems to be the only option to slow it down.

Day 142 on the sober count; keeping it real, like always.

Love yourself.

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

I need a vacation from myself…for real.

For a long time, I guess I was “whiny”. You always look back on yourself, and most times I’m like “Wtf Jen, you were really stupid, and are.” 

Yep. 

Every day I play the “I love you” game with myself, in hopes that someday I may feel whole enough; to not destroy myself with my own mind anymore.

I am definitely my own worst enemy;  because of it…I push people away to a safe distance.

I am easily ALWAYS going to be a work in progress; and I’m trying to embrace that fact daily, because I think I put a lot of unnecessary stress on myself; that makes me lose the parts of myself that I DO like. 

It’s hard. Because I don’t want to feel like this inside. And it’s hard to explain to people, because I really don’t much know why I have such ups and downs every single day except that I am bipolar; I’m not willing to go on synthetic meds again; to zombie myself again; to try and stop it.

I do wish I could stop it though. 

I have tried for my whole life; to no avail. I gained a bunch of NOTHING doing that.

Who is terrified of failing so much; or being disliked so much…that she doesn’t even start?

ME.

I know I am better than that, also that that’s not true.

I am sober. I am also alive.

I see the way people look at me and I wish I could disappear.

When you struggle in your own soul, sometimes it is one of the lonliest places you can ever be.

It’s not a good feeling at all, and that’s why I wouldn’t wish it on anyone at all.  

I know just writing this will help me refocus and move on for today. 

I am not crazy. 

I am a broken spirit who searches for light in my own darkness.

I hope today will be better than it started out.

Love Yourself…I’m trying to too.

J. Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

Maybe…

Maybe it’s because it means more….

to struggle for things you need and want.

If there was no struggle, then there wouldn’t really be that much of a reward in the end.

It wouldn’t mean anything.

I don’t know if that’s exactly true; but it’s what I tell myself when I feel beside myself, and upside down. 

Just keep going.

Today I feel good enough, and there is reason to believe that it might just be a good day after all. 

I have faith.

T and I have decided to stay where we are for now, and to take this next month and really find a place that will suit us.

I believe that things and moments come to you when you really need them. 

I’m going to stop expecting, and start accepting. 

I think it can only help in the end. 

Love yourself.

J. Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

I Struggle With My Faith, and I Don’t Want to Anymore. The Root of the Root.

Here’s the disclaimer. 

I know a lot of people follow me here, because they want to see the messed up things I’m gonna’ say next. That’s fine. 

This may not be the blog post for you though; because it is long, and recaps my struggle with faith and childhood. It’s a self- validation piece, and my life truly unfolded. 

It was hard to write; and even harder to post.
I appreciate anybody’s time in advance, that does want to read further. 

Thank you. It means more than you know. Xo

-Jenni

……………………………………………………..

I have struggled with my faith since the age of nine, when my Father first took us to church.

I’m trying to come to some sort of terms with it, because it has been weighing on my mind for many reasons; for many, many years.

I’m getting older. I’m letting things go that have infected my soul for so long…FINALLY. I need to find some sort of peace with my faith so that I can nurture it, and possibly build on it more, so I can have closure and true peace inside.

I feel I need to do this, at this point. There are holes in me that will not close without it; I’ve tried, and I know this.

Lately, I feel a shift in my way of thinking regarding “God” and his existence. The ghosts of the past make me question today. The only thing I really know for sure is, is that I do not know what comes after this life at all.

As a child, I grew up in a house where the only father I had ever known drank too much. The F- bomb was dropped as easily as the porn mags, that were just laying around the living area of our downstairs basement, in plain site of a child.

It was all about my father, nothing else. He did what he wanted, and my mother did what he said to do, and was a good wife to him. She loved him, and she loved us as well. 

I never knew from day to day, what mood my father was going to be in, or if I would get hurt by him that day. Sometimes things seemed normal”ish”; but it wouldn’t take long for him to fly off the handle without warning, and become way too agressive with my mother and myself for certain. He caused physical and mental damage, over and over, that hurt us both. Sometimes he would even lash out at my younger sisters too, when I didn’t get there fast enough to get in the way. I’m sure they don’t remember a lot of it early on, and I am SO grateful for that; but I still do. He was cruel and not loving by standard; and that’s how it was for me.

Mostly it was a life of uncertainty, mental chaos, fear and pain; in some regard; whether it was physical, emotional or worse.  I was always on edge, and scared. It also was a lot of avoiding anywhere my father was… at all times… if I could at all manage it. 

I hated him, but I loved him as well because he was my Father. Most don’t understand that. 

It’s not my issue.

…………………………………………………..

On the outside, we looked like a regular, (lower) middle-class family. It was my father, mother, two younger sisters (my dad’s real kids), and me. My father was a welder and a sprinkler fitter by trade with the Union. We always lived in a house, and had food to eat. We took vacations every year. We grew up in the same neighborhood and went to the same school our entire school years, k-12. My mother was a “typical” housewife.

It looked, on the surface, to be quite normal; although I know for a fact that many people around us at that time (adults), knew that it wasn’ t. The truth is, I personally lived a very disfunctional childhood. I was fully terrified of my home life, because I was being abused on a regular basis, in various ways. That’s being about as forthright and vague as I can be about it, without getting fully into it; and to prevent more slander from complete strangers that have no clue, and like to send me BS emails and messages about how I’m a pathological liar and making it all up…

You can ask my Mother about it…Enough said.

It pisses me off that I have to deal with that factor.

It’s relevant information none the less, and you need the back- story to understand the whole blog.


Anyways….

My grandmother somehow talked my father into going to her “Christian Reformed” church one Sunday. I was about 9 years old, I believe. I didn’t understand who God even was, because there was NO religion in our family at all, and I had never heard of him up until then. I can’t remember any of my close, or extended family; besides my grandmother; ever going to church or anything. Christmas was just Christmas. Easter was just Easter. There was no talk of spirituality, faith, or God at all in our family…ever.

For some reason or another, my father decided that we would go to church. He latched on to the concept quickly, and our family then started going to church every week…twice on Sunday, and once on Wednesday.

I’d like to think it was because he wanted to change his ways; but that didn’t end up happening at all.

It actually got way more fucked up.

……………………………………………………..

I DO remember many good memories about that church. 

Christmas programs, Sunday school,  Calvanetts (like girl scouts but church group), many gatherings and social events, Bible school. I know a great deal about the Bible and I read it once, straight through. It took me three years. Lol. Bet you didn’t know that about me. 🙂

The point though is that there were some good people there for sure. I was in all regards “forced” into the atmosphere; but I do have to say that IT WAS comforting in some way, to be around father-figures that acted like proper fathers. Before that, I was totally afraid of men, and I would hide a lot. I had a few teachers there though, that I respected and listened to; It’s because they were all kind to me, and each of them seemed like the kind of father, I’d wished I’d had.

It’s kind of sad when you think about it. 

I was often jealous of other families that were loving and happy. True fact.

Unfortunately, I also remember that most of the people at “that church”, acted like they just wanted to show off what they were wearing that week and what they had. It was apparent. No one ever clapped after a song performance or a congratulatory mention to someone from the Pastor; which I thought was totally weird and not cool at all. It’s as if they were above showing emotion. The worst part was that the church mostly treated my family like we were less-fortunate and less-than as well, because we had nowhere near as much money as the rest of the congregation that went there….we were charity cases, basically. They used to give us care packages on our porch and just leave them there, and I’m pretty sure they were helping my parents with financial strains at one point. (This is not a fact, just a hunch) The point is, I can STILL remember the stares when we walked down the center isle of the church to be seated every week. I absolutely hated it because I knew why they stared at us. It’s funny how people think that kids can’t pick up on things like that; but it’s not true…they definitely can.

I felt like I didn’t belong there at all; but since I did not have any choice but to go, I adapted as I always did. 

After a while, that’s when the religious indoctrination started by my father.

……………………………………………………

It is hard to believe in God, when you are a child who does not understand what is happening to her; and why her father hates her, and hurts her. I often would ask questions about God to my father; which were always met with anger, degradation, and punishment. I once had to stand up at the dinner table for three hours and be lectured and talked down to,  because I asked my father “How he knew that God existed.” 

I was ten.

You see, even at that age, I knew what he was doing to me and my family was not right, and that it didn’t make sense what he was saying; his actions never matched his words.  I also knew that no one seemed to care what was happening to me. 

Everybody thought my dad was just awesome. He wasn’t. He fed and clothed us, and provided for us; but he was not a good father to me at all. He caused trauma that I’ve carried with me, my entire life. 

I don’t have any regrets saying it either, because it’s the truth…and he and I and my mother, all know it.

The truth hurts.

Sorry Dad, but I’m writing this to self-validate, because I deserve to.

…………………………………………………..

I remember one Sunday, our pastor asking for people who wanted to be saved to “Come up to the front and take the Lord’s hand. The Lord would help us find our way and save us all from despair.” 

I went up.

I wanted to be saved so bad. I did feel the Lord in that moment. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed, as hard as I could for his healing. I wanted my father to stop hurting me, my mom,  and my sisters; and I wanted God to please, please help. I truly believed that he would take the pain away, and fix my life and my family.

It didn’t happen at all.

The same things continued to happen, and as I got older…it got worse.

……………………………………………………

was baptized along with my parents and sisters, when I was 11 years old.

My father then became a Deacon of the church.

What I will never get, is that my father would sometimes openly abuse me in front of church people, and NO ONE did ANYTHING, but look the other way. 

One time my family went on a camping trip with another church family, and my father gave me a black eye because I was teasing my sister when we were supposed to be sleeping. 

He punched me numerous times in the face, like a man would hit a man. 

What do you do?

The next day my mother actually had the nerve to ask me, if my father had done that to me. I love my mother more than anything, but I was so enraged in that moment I could literally say nothing, because I wanted to hurt her the way that I was hurting inside….and on my face. 

That’s fucked up.

I was thirteen.

It took me a long time to realize that my mother was a victim as well; but I do know that now, and understand.

She told me not to say anything, like she told me the first time my father gave me a black eye, when I was six. She told me to behave. I didn’t tell anybody. The church family we were with had two small children even. They saw me and said absolutely nothing. Everybody went on about the vacation as if it hadn’t even happened, and I know they all heard it.  That’s when I pretty much figured I was FUCKED, and this God everybody was talking about, was not gonna’ save me at all. 


My father eventually had a long-running affair in the end with another woman. He left my mother, my sisters, myself…AND the church.

Then the church left my mother, and she almost killed herself over it all.

My parents were divorced when I was 14. 

My sister’s were devastated and cried and cried. 

I cried because I was happy my father was finally gone, and could not hurt us anymore. 

Yeah.

By the way, my mom is an amazing woman. She worked her ass off to keep us in that house, clothes on our backs, food in our stomachs…and she did it all without help from the government. 

She IS the reason I am strong. She IS the reason my eldest daughter is strong. 

It took me a long time to realize this. She kept ALL us girls together, when we were all falling apart and had no one but each other. 

Every day I’m thankful she is my mom.

Just wanted to say that because I love her, and I respect who she is and what she sacrificed for me.

She raised my daughter until she was 13 years old because I knew I couldn’t. If not for her, I would never know my daughter because she would be with an adoptive family right now instead. 

I’m so grateful for her. She always loves me no matter what. 

I love you.

Thank you.

……………………………………………………..

Ok . Back on track with the religion thing. Sorry.

…………………………………………………….

I guess my whole issue is; I feel most people hide behind their religion, and are totally different people when it’s all said and done. 

I fully respect my friends that are passionate about their faith in God, and practice it. I have no issues with anyone believing what they want, because I feel like it’s as personal as your life-journey is. Everyone finds their own way and belief, no two ways or stories are exactly the same, unless you’re in a cult.(lol)  

Ok, that was bad; but wtf.?

There are however, a lot of shady, scummy, horrible people in the world that use God as a cover, and those people are not godly at all. I know this because I’ve lived it.

Anyways… 

My childhood experiences and church involvement, have tainted every single thing that comes to religion for me. It’s sad that I’ve felt guilty for talking about it in detail, until now. After my son passed, I said “Fuck it” all together and just started trying to see things for what they were . 

My core beliefs are as follows:

* I don’t like organized religion. 

*I do not believe the Bible is the do all, end all; or you’re going to Hell, at all. I don’t even know if it’s real, or if there is a Heaven or Hell, and really I think it’s just a bunch of stories, and totally hypocritical and perverted to say the least.

I don’t think God is coming back, or he’d be here by now. Don’t people consider this at all?

I don’t know really how to say all this without offending someone, but more people have been killed in the name of religion, than anything else; and that is a fact. 

It makes no sense.


STILL……

There’s got to be something. 

I refuse to believe that this life is all for nothing. I refuse to believe that the despair and suffering of the world, is all for nothing. I refuse to believe that nature is as amazing as it is, without something or someone having a hand in that. I want to see my son again, and some other people too.

But I really don’t know what or who (if anything), is responsible.

I am a much more  spiritual person, than I am a religious person. I think it’s the most logical way to go. 

Wierdly though, a lot of things have been happening in my life that cause me to reconsider trying out just ONE service some time; in “that church”…. just to see how I feel afterwards. 

Maybe that is highly hypocritical, but I feel like I owe “God”, another chance..if he exists.

It’s kind of freaking me out too, because I’m scared to death of the insides of churches, and will not go in them. 

I just want to feel that feeling I had again, when I was up at the front of the church, and truly believed he could save me when I was 11 years old.

For what it’s worth, I hope I at least can find some sort of comfort and direction, and maybe let the ghosts from my childhood finally pass on to the other side, where they belong for good good good.

That can’t be a bad thing, and I think I owe it to myself to walk in that church and find out once and for all. 

I am not a child anymore; and my father is no longer able to cause me damage. The damage I now do regarding the whole thing, is to myself. Hence the struggle.

Even though I don’t speak to him; I have for the most part accepted that it can’t be changed. 

I will always remember though.

It’s because I understand that his Father hurt him too, and it is a cycle, that I can take a different look at it now. I am also a person who knows about alcoholism, and hurting people you’re supposed to love. Also because I love him; he’s the only father I’ve ever known. 

And that’s why I know there must be something. 

Two years ago, I never would have been able to say that about him. I let it affect my whole life, and way of thinking. But that’s over now.

That didn’t happen by itself. 

I have control of my life now.

I guess I’ll update, and let you know how it goes. 

Thanks for reading. I haven’t talked this extensively about my reasons for my beliefs and how they got there in open written forum before; and so that in itself is completely freeing. 

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME



Thoughts on Value and Acceptance.

I think one of the biggest issues I’ve had in life, is my rather overwhelming need to feel like I’m truly being valued and heard; but never really feeling it fully at all, from anyone or anywhere.

This includes by people in my real life, as well as on social media, and in social situations.

It used to make me sad……. that I wasn’t worth the effort or love; the time, concern, respect, or loyalty….”What’s wrong with me? Why does everyone treat me like I’m nothing?”  Blah, blah, blah.

I always ended up on the wrong end of things….I was a bitter person because of it. I blamed everybody else for every situation I was in.

My thoughts in the past with value and acceptance, where based off of a dysfunctional childhood that I couldn’t let go of; a life of discontent, addictive behaviors, and mental health issues. I still have some of those issues.

I used to get all bitchy and dramatic about it…and sometimes, I still do. Although all my core Bullshit remains;  I’d like to think, that those moments have reduced severely since last year. 

Truthfully, there’s only a few people I even care about enough anymore, to let close enough to get past my wall. Truthfully, no one owes me one damn thing in this life. Truthfully, I’m just trying to finish this blog post that I started over a year ago.

My thoughts on value and acceptance now, are based off principle and common sense.

My value isn’t worth anything, if I have to talk you into believing that I’m valuable; even when I’m proving it with my actions already….and vice versa.

I’m not going to spend time talking you into anything.

There it is; there’s my current way of thinking.

I’ve learned to live in real life; and with the apologies and validations, that I will never get. I’m not going to spend time on something that makes me feel empty; it doesn’t matter what or who it is.

Neither should you.

I’ve personally found that it’s best to invest quality time on yourself; so that no matter what, you’re good in your own worth; on your own; because that’s all that matters.

Many people see value in many things; but most don’t even realize the value of something;  miss out on it all together; or don’t even care to find it.

Life goes on. 

To value myself is the greatest gift I ever gave myself….NO returns. 

Some days I have to dig deeper than others; but I do know at the end of the day; I’m good. 

There’s quite a power in that on a whole because it makes you better able to genuinely practice healthy living. 🙂 

Also; If you don’t value yourself;  no one else will. If it’s not even worth it to you; you can’t much expect it to be worth it to anyone else either.

Love yourself. 

J.Rounds ©2016 ~Peaces of ME