Sensitivity Sucks. :-P


I’m very emotionally sensitive. I always transfer attributes of my biological family to all other people I come into contact with… but not everyone is going to behave like them. Not everyone is manipulative. Not everyone is passive aggressive in their interactions and lies. 

But my family members usually do behave in those ways.

Why do I even try to interact with my family members? Probably because I crave to feel that I belong somewhere? 

I’m not required to behave as they do. I’m not required to follow the path they imagined for me – which included marriage, divorce, babies out of wedlock, and not ever attending college. 

Well, I’ve done a good job on those things, so far! I’ve been married, divorced, conceived three children without being married to the fathers, and still have not acquired any college credits, whatsoever. 

I’m 28 years old and I feel like my accomplishments (or lack thereof) still show me to be an immature 19 year old. 

I really want to stop being so emotionally sensitive. Really. 

I want to stop putting the weight of my burdens onto other people’s shoulders just because they’re willing to listen. They can’t, in the long term, help me become who I want to be. Especially just by listening. 

I don’t want to overwhelm the people I love (actually love; not feel obligated to love, like my biological family). 

Please, God, help me to learn to vent these things to you. And/Or my therapist – who I begin seeing on Tuesday. 

On Wednesday, I’ll finally have my ears irrigated. I cannot wait. I literally “need my ears cleaned out”. 

On the 12th is my psychiatrist appointment and soon after is my 3rd obstetrics appointment. We probably won’t see Sesame again, but we’ll talk about him and make sure he’s okay based on the information given and found. 

Okay, … I ate ice cream to try to help fix my mood. It semi helped, but Sesame SERIOUSLY wants a burger with a lot of cheese.

Done pretending.


I’m not as strong as I pretend to be. I’ve reached the place that pretending to be okay isn’t possible. The closer I get to the end of this pregnancy, the more scared I am.

I’m not scared of childbirth.

I am scared of Sesame’s adoption process,

but that’s not what I’m terrified of, honestly.

(((  I feel that because I was able to withstand Chloe’s adoption process, Sesame’s should be a little bit easier for me. Maybe.  )))

What I am really scared of… what has me in an on and off depression is the thought of not being pregnant anymore: not having a reason for being. Not feeling useful. Feeling worthless.

Not only will my uterus be empty, but I also won’t have my children. Not one. And yes, that has been my choice, my decision – but that doesn’t leave me without the pain of loss and a feeling of emptiness and worthlessness.

I have an appointment with a therapist on Tuesday (July 3rd) at 3pm. Then, an appointment with a psychiatrist on July 12th – but if anyone cancels their appointment, my appointment will be moved up to a sooner date.

I think that’s all I’ll blog about this, for now.

I’m 28 years old.


I’m 28. Yesterday was my birthday. I can’t change my About page without messing up all of the pictures, though… so you’ll just have to think that I’m forever “about to be 28”, k? K.

Oh, forget this.


I feel pretty taken for granted. I’m just someone giving up my children for them to have a better life, but let’s look over how the “birth mother” is feeling. The person who has the children in her womb for 9 months, raised one for 2 and a half years (Chloe), another for 11 weeks (Daphne), and is still pregnant with Sesame. 

There are other things getting to me right now, besides that my work neglects to take into account that I need to know WHEN I work. 

I’m definitely taking Wednesday (day off, thank God) to do whatever I want. 


(Stop) Walking on Eggshells


I was misdiagnosed as having Borderline Personality. I have Asperger’s Syndrome. The misdiagnosis of BPD for an adult female who has Asperger’s Syndrome is common. Study and compare traits of each, to see why.

I have borderline personality disorder. It doesn’t affect my daily life, I don’t feel like, every single day – like it used to, though.

I can see that one of the main symptoms I still show is extreme sensitivity. Another is misinterpreting people’s words and body language – especially if these things have to do with how I perceive someone is treating me.

I spent the first part of this morning wondering who in my childhood used silence as a weapon. I can remember my family members using silence as a tool to show “how stupid” I was. If they said nothing, I never received my validation. I never felt like I was the least bit correct in my thinking.

I do have an all or nothing thinking to me, but most times I see this as an asset. Sometimes, it’s just not.

The fact that someone doesn’t fully agree with me doesn’t mean that they think I’m completely wrong – that I have nothing to valuable to say or think. It’s not always an all or nothing thing. There are grey areas.

Because I ignore my diagnosis (BPD) a lot, I forget that my interpretations may be wrong. That I need to step back and think: am I misjudging this situation? is this person really thinking or feeling what I feel like they are?

My thoughts aren’t other people’s thoughts.

This is actually a form of narcissism.

Horribly cute


I am going to vent something I need to vent. 

We can’t always be happy with people’s words, actions, silence, and inaction, but when it has to do with my children, my love for my children, and/or the fact that my children are my children, I am definitely not happy.

I could type “(biological/birth) children”, but guess what — — they’re my children beyond that. Especially Chloe. 

My sister once told me “Chloe’s way too beautiful to be your daughter.”

From my sister, that’s almost expected. Her self esteem is entirely too low and she likes to make others feel the same about themselves. I’ve never let her crap get to me, as an adult.

But even if someone stays silent when I show them the resemblance between Chloe and me, it feels the same. These people (more than one) are doing this for their own reasons: either insecurity, spite, or blindness. Chloe is 3 years old. I will be 28 in less than 2 days. Pretty good age gap and therefore, Chloe and I are on different parts of the aging ruler. I was horribly cute as a kid. (My self esteem is sometimes pretty darn good, especially about me as a child). Chloe is a horribly cute 3 year old. 


Me, as a kiddo



A Definite Suggestion –


When you go out to eat, watch your servers: where they put their hands (on your plate or napkins), whether (if you can see/watch) they wash their hands, etc.


Because a Subway employee (in the gas station I work at) was picking her nose, while talking to me and another gas station employee. We both tried not to notice.

I watched as the Subway employee went to her station to begin making a sandwich for someone, watching for her to wash her hands. She didn’t. She put on gloves, but did not wash her hands.

After she makes your sandwich with her gloved hands, she takes the gloves off and put your sandwich in your bag along with the napkins.

Maybe you’re not much of germaphobe. Good for you. I was disgusted.