I’m Working on It

Be careful who you choose to surround yourself with because energies are contagious, both good and bad. Misery loves company and people permanently fixed at the bottom that just ooze greed, envy, and self pity vibrate at the lowest level. These people seek to suck those around them into this self destructive pit with them. These people see anyone trying to claw their way out as a threat to their own self worth and will attempt to pull you back in at all costs. They see no way out for themselves and they’ll be damned if they feel you’re going to leave them there alone in their own misery. These people don’t actually want help, they want to snuff out your light. Pray for them. Pray they find what ails them and they choose to heal it, but you cannot fix these type of people. These people see someone beginning to love their own body and then remind them how they used to look or bash what they choose wear or what they eat or their choice to work out. These people see someone finding their faith and make fun of them, judge how they choose to worship, or what they choose to identify their higher power as, choose to remind them of when they were godless heathens. They see someone reconnecting with their family and they choose to try and stir the pot, start rumors that aren’t true, pressure them into resuming their old ways, remind them of the shitty choices they had made before. They see someone happy in their relationship and they try to poke holes, plant doubt, weave insecurities. These people are heartless and gutless. When it comes to tearing others down they have no shame. These people claim to do what they feel is right, but in reality all they do is self serving. I truly feel bad for these people because how badly do you have to be suffering to only wish to inflict similar suffering on those around you. How bad do you have to be suffering to not believe in a way out. I pray for you. I hope beyond all things you one day find your worth and decide to be better than what you accept today. When you see someone trying to do better, cheer them on. If you’re in a better place than them, offer a hand up. If they’re somewhere you wish to be, ask for help. But never try to drag others backward to match where you are. Watch how you talk about those doing better than you because the universe hears all and will deliver you exactly what you ask for. You see someone in a nice car, internally congratulate them on their success, don’t bad mouth them for getting something you envy. The universe hears you badmouthing something you desire and what it hears is “fuck them and that thing, I don’t want one” instead of “good for them, I will have one some day too”. There’s a monumental difference in the energy that puts out and the energy that will be returned. Desire and envy are very low vibration levels to exist at unless used correctly. You can use envy and desire as your motivation to do better. I can be envious of someone and desire what they have without being bitter and cold about it. I can harness that envy and that desire into a tangible plan to attain those things I want but don’t yet have. Watch how certain people make you feel. Surround yourself with people who’s energy matches what you want yours to be. Watch how you think and how you talk because what you put out there will be returned to you. Look to be someone’s hand up and never seek to destroy anyone. Do all you do in the name of love.

When my siblings and I were growing up we weren’t allowed to say “I can’t”. If we did we had to scrub the toilet. As a child I was SUPREMELY annoyed with that rule. Now, as an adult there’s two words I loath; try and can’t. The most irritating words in the English language! There is no such thing as “try” and there’s no such thing as “can’t”. You either do or don’t or give up. That’s what those words mean. “I tried and I can’t do it” means “I’m a giant pussy that gave up when it got hard!” Can’t and try are victim words. I know because I used to use those two A LOT. Boo hoo I tried poor Taylor. The truth is you I didn’t try, you didn’t try, no one just tries. Unless you’re talking about a new restaurant or outfit “try” shouldn’t exist because you either do something or you fucking don’t. It’s that simple. Same with can’t. I physically can’t sprout wings and hooves and become a Pegasus, but generally we as people are capable of just about anything we fucking want. Sometimes we might need to ask for help getting there, but you CAN accomplish whatever you want. Can’t and try come from people who want to stay stuck exactly where they are and suck up as much pity from outsiders as they can. I hate a “I can’t do it” type of person. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. You ever think you “can’t do it” because you keep thinking like that? What if you thought “I’m fully capable of doing this even though it’s hard”? What if you quit trying to be victim of every circumstance in you life and instead be a survivor and actually accomplish something? What if you quit “trying” and actually just fucking did something? What if you quit thinking “I can’t” and had the mindset of “I can do anything”? You think maybe just maybe your circumstances might actually change? Maybe then you can quit playing the victim and actually take charge of your life? Maybe then you can actually love the life you’ve been gifted. Maybe then you can take pride in what you’ve accomplished. Maybe then you can find your happiness. Quit limiting yourself. Quit trying and just do it. Quit giving up when shit gets hard and pretending like you gave it your all. Quit lying to yourself. I see through that bullshit and so does everyone else. Drop the fucking act and actually do what you say you’re going to. You’ll be amazed at what you can accomplish if you just believe in your self.

I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it, the Universe will speak to you, whether you choose to listen is up to you. Yesterday I did something I consider brave, but even after I did it I kept questioning it. I wrote my half brother a letter and I mailed it along with some photos. The photos were just a few with my biological dad and my mom, one of us at their wedding with my great grandparents, and then one of my family at my wedding reception with my husband, myself and all of our kids. My letter simply said; “XXX, my name is Taylor Mae Kelsey. I am your half sister from XXX’s first marriage. I would love to be able to get to know you. My cell number is XXX, my Facebook account is under my full name, and my address is XXX. I really would love to hear from you. You have 5 nephews and 1 niece! With love, Taylor” and before I could question myself to death I put it in the mail. And even after the postman grabbed it I questioned it. And then it began to rain. Now, I’m going to talk about my belief in different symbols. These are beliefs I have developed out of my own personal experiences not anything I’ve learned from anyone else and certainly not anything I learned from Google. I love rain. It is my favorite. Water is the giver of life. Without it we would all be nothing. To me rain is a good omen. Rain brings new beginnings and new life, it washes away the old and allows new things to begin to grow. So, when the rain started yesterday I was relieved. And then as I was driving home my spirit guide, the raven, flew slowly and gracefully over head. Just letting me know I was still on the right path. My confidence in my decision grew, but I was still worried and anxious. My favorite time to meditate is 3am. Without fail my tiniest butterball baby wakes up just before 3am to eat and is usually back to sleep just shortly thereafter giving me time to talk to the Universe. This morning was no different he was up just before 3 and asleep shortly after and once he slept I laid in bed and I spoke all my fears, worries, and anxieties to the Universe and I fell asleep. I awoke again at 5 because Mr. Butterball was hungry and I heard the most glorious thing; a thunder storm. Thunder storms are my favorite thing in the entire world. Not only are they beautiful, not only is the rain a good omen, but between the rain and the lightning and the thunder if you listen you can hear the voice of God. I opened the curtains to watch, fed my son, put him back to bed, and then I watched the rain streak the window and I listened and God spoke. He answered my questions, calmed my anxiety, and opened my heart and my eyes. He said to let go of my fears and worries because I reached out with love in my heart, my actions, and my words. He said that I have nothing to lose from this only to gain. He said whatever happens will happen, but hold tight to hope and release everything else because it doesn’t serve me. So, I did. I laid there and enjoyed that feeling for a moment and then I got up, got a small workout in and showered before I have to go in to work. I am no longer worried, I did what I felt was right, I hold onto hope that he receives my letter and reciprocates the love. We shall see. Trust your gut and listen to the Universe because it holds infinite answers.

Today I had the brilliant idea of going through old photos to send out in a letter to my half brother. Photos from when I was so small. Photos from when I had a daddy that loved me. After he left my mom sent him all the photos with him in them back to him. I don’t blame her at all, but you never know that you want to see something until you get it. My aunt Tammy had given me a bunch of pictures she had saved for me. I’m going through them right now on my bedroom floor and to be honest I’m crying. I’m crying so hard I can barely see alone on my bedroom floor into a pile of photos of people that no longer exist in the world that I live in. I’m looking at these photos wondering who are these people. They look so happy. Who could we have been. How did we get here. Why are we here. Why did you do this. I’m looking at these photos of this happy little girl. This happy little girl that loves her daddy so much and it looks like he loves her too. But how could he? How could he have ever loved her? Looking at these photos of this tiny happy baby and thinking she has no idea what’s about to happen. It’s like watching a horror movie where you know if they open the door the bad guy is going to pop out but you can’t stop them from opening it. It’s like watching a horror movie, but this is my life. I’m that little girl that looks so happy with her family. That little girl that is so innocent. I’m that little girl that has no idea what’s coming for her. I’m that little girl who lost her innocence the day her daddy decided he didn’t want her anymore. I’m that little girl that knew at such a young age how cold and cruel the world could really be. I’m the little girl that still smiled for all the photos, but that sparkle is gone. I’m that little girl that had to morn the loss of someone who is still living just fine. I’m that little girl curled up on the floor in a pile of photos of ghosts from a life that never got to exist. I wish I could warn her. I wish I could make her hear me through the photos, through space and time, tell her; tell them all what’s about to happen. I wish I could’ve stopped it. I don’t understand. Looking at the photos and seeing my own daughter in my tiny face, I don’t get how you could’ve done that to me. What was so much more important? What was so awful? What made you decide that out of all the things in your life that I was the one that was optional? Why was that little girl that loved you more than anything an option that you could go on living without?

Since getting married I have officially changed my last name everywhere and on everything. I’ve only been married once, but I’ve had three last names. Each time I change it I feel like I’ve killed an old version of myself and new one has been born and this time finally feels right. I was born Taylor Mae Gette. I had my biological dads last name through grade school and I hated it. I hated having any relation to him. I hated having to explain to people why my name was different than my siblings and parents. I hated everything about it. I wanted nothing to do with him. So, for my birthday one year my grandma paid for me to get my last name changed to match that of my mom, my step dad, and my siblings. To do that we had to go to court and my biological father had to be notified and if he wanted to contest it he’d have to show up. A sick part of me hoped he would. Hoped he cared if I kept his name or not. Hoped I’d get to see him in court. Of course, he did not show, which was to be expected, but none the less disappointing for me on a deep level. He 100% did not care. That day Taylor Mae Rotter was born and Taylor Mae Gette was killed. Taylor Gette was finally put to rest. It was the death of a little girl who’s life hadn’t even begun. It was the death of what could’ve been, but never would be. It was the death of shattered hopes and dreams. It was the birth of seeking to find myself. The birth of a little girl just wanting to belong. The birth of so many insecurities. The birth of a shattered little girl. The birth of a girl who sought out acceptance from where ever she could find it. The birth of a little girl who was so angry at the world she took it out on herself. The birth of a girl that tried to find herself in other people. Tuesday was the death of that girl. I got to close that chapter forever. Tuesday was the birth of Taylor Mae Kelsey. This new name, this new chapter in my life, this new version of myself finally feels right; for the first time ever. This was the beautiful much needed death of Taylor Mae Rotter. This was the death of seeking the approval of others. This was the death of a girl who sacrificed herself for the sake of others who didn’t deserve it. This was the death of all the insecurities. This was the birth of a strong and independent woman. This was the birth of a woman who knows who she is. This was the birth of the person I should’ve been all along. This is the birth of a woman that knows her worth. This is the birth of a woman that will not be walked over by anyone. This is the start of the life I’ve always dreamed of. I am over the moon to share my husband’s last name. I am beyond excited to be an official part of his family. I am no longer scared to cut ties with those that claim to be family but abuse the title. I know who I am and I love her. I love my life, I love the people that stand by my side. I have found me and my name finally feels fitting.

Let me apologize is advanced for the spam posting today, but I have a bit of a moral dilemma. I know I’ve talked about my biological father, but I don’t know if I’ve ever really mentioned that he has two other children that have no idea I exist. I have two brothers, who I’ve know about basically their entire lives, who I’ve never met, who I think I’d like to meet, and one of who is now 18 and has graduated high school. I’ve been tossing around the idea of reaching out to him. I haven’t done anything yet because I don’t know if I should. Is it fair to me to reach out to him? Is it fair to him for me to seek out this relationship that he doesn’t know exists? Is it selfish of me to do so? Because I know that it might flip his world upside down. What would I even say to him? How would I even begin? I don’t want to reach out with any hate in my words about his parents even though I do hate them with every ounce of me, but that’s not on him and it’s not his hate to take on. I don’t want my experiences to change how he views his family or himself. I don’t want to reach out for the wrong reasons. I don’t want reaching out to be an act of war on his family. I know nothing about him, but I think I’d like to. I don’t want him to hate me and I don’t want him to hate his parents. I want to be able to reach out with love and kindness, but how in the fuck do I do that? I want to extend an invitation for us to get to know each other as siblings, but is that selfish? I am stuck.

This is for all new moms. The real moms. The imperfect moms. The first time moms. The moms that have no idea what to expect. The moms that have been reading up, watching videos, listening to podcasts on what to expect and how to be the perfect mom. Let me be the first to tell you that’s all bullshit. Nothing is going to be like you expect, you’re not going to be perfect and that’s okay. Let me go through some things I’ve experienced that are realistic, that are normal, and far from perfect. First things first, being pregnant is gross. You’re sweaty, you’re chubby, you’re uncomfortable, you’re emotional, you’re exhausted. Giving birth is horrific no matter how you choose to do it. I highly recommend an epidural as someone who tried to go without one and failed and someone who had one work on only the right side of their body. But you do you boo boo, try it for yourself if you want but there’s no medals or gold stars for enduring the pain. I suggest letting them make you as comfortable as possible. After giving birth tons and tons of people talk about this big flood of love washing over you. As someone who’s given birth twice, that isn’t always true and you shouldn’t feel bad if it doesn’t happen because in no way does that mean you love your baby less. When you get home EVERYTHING is going to be overwhelming! You’re going to be dead tired, the house is going to be a mess and so are you and that’s okay. You’re hormones are going to be crazy. Everything is going to make you want to cry or punch someone. You’re going to want murder your husband over almost nothing. Sometimes you’re just gonna want your baby to shut the fuck up and that’s normal. Being a mom is going to make you feel like a lunatic and that’s totally normal and it will pass! Don’t think because you don’t look or feel like the “perfect” moms portrayed online that you’re doing something wrong. There’s no such thing as a perfect mom. You’re doing great. Just be kind to yourself and know it gets better and it gets easier.

Here’s exactly what I’ve been talking about y’all. My husband is my perfect match, I seriously couldn’t imagine a better human being to spend my life with. Most things about him are the complete opposite of myself, which means we balance each other out. We have different options and viewpoints A LOT, which means we can learn so much from each other! My husband is passionate and dedicated in everything he does. He doesn’t do anything half assed, he’s always said if it’s worth doing at all do it the best you can. The way my husband goes about doing what’s he’s passionate about is completely different than me. He is blunt, aggressive, and brutally honest and it all comes from this place of deep love and caring. If he didn’t care he wouldn’t do/say shit, so when he says something that comes off as harsh it’s meant lovingly. I love him to pieces and I love how his mind works. He fascinates me and it makes my heart sore when he sends me tid bits of the inner workings of his mind. I’ll show you an example of his beautiful, caring, passionate, aggressive, blunt mind so you too can gain a new perspective aside from mine. “I’m all for affirmations and positive self talk. My self talk is AGGRESSIVE and AFFIRMING, but it HAS to be honest (the best day of my life will always be the day I looked myself in the mirror and said your failing motherfucker). They call it “imposter syndrome” and “cognitive dissonance” cuz everything has to have a fucking label or a diagnosis in today’s world, well let me explain this to you. Your subconscious mind KNOWS your just talking, it KNOWS your a fucking liar when you just read a list of positive affirmations. So, guess what, you FEEL like a fucking liar. An imposter. The very fucking word affirm means to validate. Your affirmations have to VALIDATE your actions. You can’t even trick your own subconscious and you think that your going pull some shit on the Gods with your little affirmation loophole and there just gonna grant you gratitude because you said I’m grateful 27 days in a row? Let’s just say for the sake of the point I’m trying to make that was a possibility, WHY WOULD YOU BE OKAY WITH THAT?! That is the exact thing that is wrong with your position. You would be okay with just appearing to be something with the snap of a finger. Instead of becoming something through the work and discipline that is required to actually acquire it. Gratitude is learned at the fucking bottom. Gratitude isnt saying thank you to the universe for your car and your pet turtle and whatever else you have. Gratitude is more like, thank you for this chance to live today. Im going to do xyz to prove my gratitude today. Thank you for this flesh spaceship I’m piloting I’m going to feed it the cleanest food I can. I’m going to celebrate what it can do during this workout. Then back that shit up WITH ACTION, or bow the fuck out and try again when your ready to be serious. Take shit DEEPER. As deep as you can go, then maybe you will stop slacking.” You see what I mean? His self talk is ENTIRELY different than mine and entirely effective for him and probably tons of other people out there. My self talk is gentle and kind, I won’t lie to myself, but I don’t often use the brutal honesty that he does in his self talk. Sometimes you need self talk like his. Self talk that is so truthful it hurts. Self talk that gives you a kick in the ass. Self talk that makes you get up and do something different. Sometimes when gentle isn’t working we need brutal honesty and aggressive passionate caring to remind us why the fuck we need to change. Sometimes we need a different perspective. For this I love him eternally. I love him for his perspective, for his honesty, for his passion, for his ability to show me new things constantly, for his desire to push me to be my best version of me, for making sure I don’t get in my own way. He is my favorite person on this planet and I am so grateful for him.

Relationships in general are hard, relationships in active addiction are harder, relationships in recovery are even harder. My husband and I met when we were both early in recovery, we relapsed a few times together, and now together we are in long term recovery. I’m going to say it is rare for couples to make it through that together. Every treatment center, every NA/AA meeting you ever attend, any counselor you ever speak to will tell you not to start a relationship while in early recovery. I want to put it on the record and say, they’re probably right. I believe my mine and my husband’s success story is a rarity, I don’t think it has to be, but I don’t think most people have what it takes to recover together. Early on in our relationship we made A LOT of very poor decisions, but the best decision either of us made was to never give up on the other. We have literally been through hell and back together. Multiple felony convictions, losing multiple homes, multiple incarcerations, we’ve burnt our lives to the ground together countless times and we have also built it all back together. He is the one person in my life that never gave up, that never called it quits, that never thought anything was too tough for us to pull through. Together we are rising. The key to success with us is that we don’t complete each other. He doesn’t fill the void I was filling with drugs. He doesn’t make me whole. Because two broken partial people do not make two whole people, ever. He is my partner. My perfect match. He is my complimentary part. He doesn’t make me whole, he loved me and supported my own journey until I healed myself and made myself whole. You can’t rely on another person to fill the void inside yourself, you are the only one that can repair that. A good partner will love you and support you until you are able to heal yourself and vice versa. Don’t be the other half of anyone, be a complimentary piece. You should be whole people separate from each other and together you should conquer worlds. I think that’s why dating in active addiction and early recovery is hard, because we are constantly trying to fill that void within ourselves with anything but self introspection. I do believe to love someone correctly you must first know how to love yourself. You cannot hand someone the broken pieces of yourself like “here use this to fill your void” because you will lose yourself in trying to repair them. Be someone your partner can lean on, grow with, and learn from. Be someone that pushes your partner to always be the best version of themselves. Be someone that will attract the type of love and support you deserve.

Something I’ve never understood is the glamorization of social drinking in this country. I don’t get why we associate going out with out friends/family/whoever with getting drunk. Maybe it’s because I’m someone who’s never been able to have “just a couple” of anything, but I still don’t understand why that’s a necessity for having a good time. There’s never been a time in my life where I’ve looked at a group of shit faced people and thought “man I’m missing out”. I am an addict, there’s not a substance on this planet that I use to just “have fun”. Once I start I lose control, because I am addicted to escaping. I am addicted to losing my myself. I am addicted to hiding from my problems. I am addicted to running from real life. I am at my core a deeply sad person which translates out loud into anger. There was a point in my life where the sadness enveloped me and the anger controlled me and the substances subdued me. I walked around most my life in a substance induced dreamlike haze. There are countless days and nights I don’t remember and many many more just fragmented beyond recognition. I felt terrible constantly inside and out. Everything hurt down to my soul. So, forgive me if I don’t understand social drinking. Now that I love myself and my life I really don’t get it. I don’t get wanting to lose control in the name of a good time. I don’t understand feeling like shit for the sake of a good time. I don’t understand endangering lives because of a good night. I genuinely don’t understand the use of any substance to have a good time, because I never used them to have a good time. I used them because I needed to feel different than I did right then. Nothing about it was fun. Nothing about it was a good time. I never associate alcohol with a good time because nothing good has ever come from it for me, nothing good happened, I didn’t have any more fun because of it. When I see people drinking casually I honestly think “good for them” because I can’t, I don’t want to, and I won’t. I will never and have never been the life of a party when I’m drinking. Get me drinking and I am the death of the party, I am the death of the night, I am the death of your good time; because I don’t drink to have fun, I drink to escape. No length of time, no amount of sobriety, no special occasion will ever change the fact that I can’t use any substance socially or casually. Alcohol may not have been my drug of choice, but it’d certainly get the job done. So, there is my long winded reason why I don’t drink. One is too many and a thousand is never enough.