This post will contain LOTS of swearing and emotion. If it offends you, I’m gonna stop ya right here. If not, grab your popcorn and tea. Cause shit is about to get real….hood Mel coming out at ya.

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I don’t know what is in the air or what is aligned with the stars, but some real heavy energy shit is going on. If you care to read a bit more about what I’m talking about, click this.



Lot’s of heavy shit I told you. A lot has resurfaced in my own life with in the past weeks. After I wrote about my dad and relived the details in that, I thought I was ok. Me typing it out helped ease the emotions and pain from those memories. I was good.


My Uncle died. He looked like Dad on his death bed. Triggered.

The funeral and open casket was happening. Triggered.

Then the fucking walking the casket over to the damn cremation chamber and me standing next to the motherfucking thing…then they gotta have family push the goddamn button….

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That is the worst fucking sound!!! Why do we still do this shit in our culture? This is not healthy! This obviously leaves some emotional damage people!

thought I was handling my shit like a pro. Drinking with my cousins, laughing, going hippy talks with them. I was doing just fine.

Then I get home and I’m off. Something is not right with me and I can feel it. It’s lasting a while, but I can’t pin point what it is. I’m just OFF. 

Then last night. Oh lordy, last night. WHAT. THE. FUCK. I’m not going to blast all my dirty laundry but I will say this,

I had to find myself praying for some strength to pull my shit together and not go psycho. I mean PSY-CHO

Maybe it’s taboo to talk to people about your mental health. How you feel. How your thoughts are. How crazy you can feel on the inside.

Fuck that noise.

I have suffered from self-diagnosed depression. I say self-diagnosed cause I’m too fucking prideful to admit that I need help. I like to think that my suffering will lead to my healing. I am happy to admit that in the past years, I have been doing so well. I was shifted into a new mental space and loved myself a lot more. I no longer suffered from suicidal thoughts. I no longer play around with the idea of harming myself and putting myself out of my own man made misery. I was so proud. I felt like I beat the demons out of me. I no longer felt that the selfish idea of suicide could even come back into my soul space.

Until last fucking night.

The Devil came full force at me with that. He knew. He knew I would listen to the idea this time. That he could dangle it in front of my face. I flirted with the idea one more time. I played the scenarios again. I knew I was wrong. I knew it was wrong. But something about this twisted state I used to be in, at the moment, was the  most comforting memory I had.  He is a fucking asshole.

Why is it that when in our darkest hours, it’s hard for us to look for the light. When the light is the only thing we know we want and need. I prayed for myself as the dark feelings came over me. I prayed for strength to be the bigger person. For my kids. For my husband. For my family. For my self. When I went to ask strength for myself, I felt that my Higher Self/Guiding Angel/Holy Ghost (use whatever terms suits your beliefs) was able to grab my hand and lead me out of my darkness.

I snapped out of it and sobbed. Sobbed like a maniac. I was sure I was going to have the cops called on me. I cried for myself. I had allowed me to cry for me. All these other tears and emotions that I have been feeling are stemmed from feeling others pain. I really do cry for other people. But this time, this was for me. I let all my pain and emotions come out and allowed myself to kick my own ass.

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help me.
I went from ugly cry to psychotic real quick. But I ALLOWED myself to feel the pain. I knew I needed to understand the pain, so I could heal. So my situation could heal.

I have been shown that I have been a selfish prick.  How I lost my vision in myself and affected those I love so much. How while I am trying to share my truth and my journey to self love, I have ignored the ones closest to me. The hardest thing is when you feel you are trying to be a good person, but you never feel good enough.  The most ironic thing about putting myself out there is that I still shut people off. How I want to help those around me, I can’t even fucking help my own damn self.

Some of you may even wonder why the hell I would write this. I don’t know the full answer to that. Partly, because this is my best voice I have to express myself and because subliminally I’m asking for help. Help to feel like I’m not alone in this way of thinking. Help to see what I need to do to change my selfish ways. Help to help others. I know this will pass and I will be back to the happy Mel soon. The Universe had to shake things up and clear the way for a new Mel. But, damn Universe, why you gotta be so gangsta about it? Couldn’t my shifting be a lil bit nicer??





3 thoughts on “getting real.

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