Fake It Till You Make It

Fake It Till You Make It

Do they say fake it till you make it because eventually you start to believe in your own confidence?
Do they say it because the pretending becomes a kind of truth—or maybe just a distraction?

Is it about keeping yourself so occupied that you forget how sad you are? Forget how much you miss them?

I go about my day—working, adulting, doing all the things I’m supposed to do. To strangers, I probably look unaffected. I smile, I move, I function. But beneath the surface, the sadness is still there, tucked deep in my heart. Maybe this is what faking it looks like—going through the motions until, someday, the ache feels less sharp.

Is that what they mean? That one day I’ll realize the pain isn’t as heavy, the sadness not as constant? That I’ll be so busy living that the missing won’t consume me?

Maybe then I’ll realize the ache has eased. Maybe that’s when I’ll know I’ve “made it.”

But right now—77 days in—the ache is strong. The pain is fierce. I miss him with every breath. Outwardly, I may look fine, but inside there are aches, whispers, and a noticeable missing piece.

So yes, I’m faking it. And some days, I don’t even care if I ever make it—I just want the ache to ease.

Finding home

Day 64 — Finding Home

I was talking with someone about my grief journey and she asked, “Is there anyone who feels like home to you?”

Without thinking, I said, “Brandon was my home.”

Most of the time my soul felt safe there. Not always, but I knew with him my soul could be its truest form.

As I sat with that, it hit me: that’s why I feel so lost — because I’m homeless.

Right then Avril Lavigne’s “Nobody’s Home” started playing in my head.

I’ve never really felt at home in a place. At Helene’s house, she would tell people I wasn’t her real daughter, just someone she raised. By eighteen, I was pushed away.

With my mother, her mindset was that if I rejected her, I was no longer her problem.

I never quite fit in with a friend group growing up, or even now. I’ve always felt weird, quirky — and I’ve failed at every attempt to look like everyone else. (Of course you fail at being something you’re not.)

I used to give Brandon a list of reasons I was unlovable, and somehow he loved most of them.

Now that he’s gone, I keep bumping into that question again: Where is home?

I’m beginning to wonder if “home” isn’t always a person or a place. Maybe it can also be moments, rituals, or parts of myself that feel like truth.

Home might be the quiet of early morning before anyone wakes up.

Home might be a dog leaning against my leg.

Home might be the way my own handwriting looks in a journal, or the way a favorite song fills a room.

Maybe home is any space where my soul is allowed to be fully itself, even if it’s just me holding that space for me.

It feels strange to imagine, but I’m trying to believe that I can begin to build little homes inside and around me — safe pockets where my spirit can rest. They’ll never replace Brandon, but they can hold me while I keep walking forward.

All along, I had to believe that home resides within myself and it is up to me to find places for my soul to rest unmasked.

Hold Me

Hold Me

I’ve got you.
I’ll take you to a place where you are safe.
Hold on to me—
I will carry you to where love and laughter live,
where there is no more fighting, no more tears.

Come with me.
We’ll be safe in our bubble,
safe together.

You are the love of my life,
the greatest loss of my life.
I will love you all my days.
I will never hurt you again.

Stay with me.
I still need you.
Don’t leave me.
I still want you.
I will love you right.

---

You woke before the sunrise,
hid yourself away behind the bathroom door.
You said you were fine—
but I saw the evidence with my own eyes.
I chose to believe the lie.

You told me you wouldn’t die.
I wanted to believe you.

Days passed.
You grew so tired.
I prayed for the silence to end,
but when it broke, it wasn’t your voice—
a call,
a sound that froze my bones.

Shock held me in place
when it should have been your arms.

---

Hold me.
I still need you.
Can you hear me cry out to you?
Please—don’t let go.

There you lay on the ground.
I reach for your hand,
longing to pull you into me,
to let my love make this right.

Endless miles blur beneath my tires
as I drive away,
carrying a nightmare I can’t escape.

I am strong, but I need you.
Come back, I still want you.
I cry out—don’t leave me.

I will love you for the rest of my life.

Self love

Self-love is something Brandon taught me, or at least something he helped me embrace. I’ve always been a naturally giving person—my instinct is to be generous and to pour myself into others. But that generosity has come at a cost. I’ve been used. I’ve put my family’s finances in jeopardy. I’ve put strangers before myself, thinking I was doing the right thing.

Brandon, in his own way, encouraged me to put myself first. Maybe at times it came from a selfish place, but the result was that I began to understand boundaries. I started asking myself hard questions: Does this person truly need help? Do they want help? Do they deserve it? And am I the right person to give it?

My virtual cup still runs on empty more often than I’d like, but now I try to listen to my body’s cues and respect its limits. Brandon helped me see that caring for myself isn’t selfish—it’s necessary.

I miss him a lot today.

39 days.

Long Live

Long Live

He used to tell this one EverQuest story with such light in his eyes. It was about the days when his guild would camp out, waiting for an Epic Quest mob to appear. Sometimes the wait lasted days, and they had a phone tree set up so no one would miss it. It was a different era of gaming — slow, communal, and full of anticipation. He loved when it was like that. The guilds weren’t just teammates; they were his family.

Kevin, his brother, once called him a passionate adventurer of fantastical realms, and it was true. Brandon would often lament that gaming wasn’t the same anymore, that the magic had changed. I’d gently remind him that family doesn’t always look the same as it once did — but it can still serve the same purpose. For him, that family had become me, Rem, and Kevin. Small, yes, but fiercely devoted to him.

That EverQuest memory was one of his treasured chapters. He didn’t want to close the book on it; he wanted to relive it with me. I feared gaming would never feel the same to him as it had back then. Now, I fear it will never feel the same for me — or for Rem — without him.

Brandon wore his black baseball cap like a crown. In those game worlds, we were kings and queens — ordinary people who, for a while, ruled our own little universes. We built magic together, crashed through impossible walls, and shared victories that only made sense to us. And even if the rest of the world didn’t understand, in those moments we were unforgettable.

I’ve always been a gamer in my own way — Oregon Trail, Carmen Sandiego, The Sims, consoles. A decade ago, he introduced me to the world of MMOs. We started with a beautiful one called Neverwinter, set in the Dungeons & Dragons universe. Together we followed quest lines, unraveled stories, and faced world bosses — the most thrilling being the dragons.

We didn’t always play perfectly together. Sometimes we fought. One of our last disagreements was over a game. But it didn’t matter. Whether we were working in perfect sync or bickering through a dungeon, I had the time of my life fighting dragons with him.

Before a boss fight or dungeon run, he’d turn to us and say, “Let’s go make a difference.” And to me — Mazikeen — he’d say, Live.

And so, my love, this is the final quest we began together — the one where I carry your banner forward. The servers may go quiet, the maps may fade, but in my heart, you are always logged in.

Enjoy your spectator mode my love 

July 30, 2025

  July 30, 2025

Mood (1 = Terrible, 5 = Peaceful/Content): 1

Grief (1 = Overwhelming, 5 = Calm): 1

Day 30

I am angry and resentful at my situation, even if you remove Brandon from the equation. Without Brandon, that just makes me not have someone to run to, to vent to, to rely on. 

Lullaby by Nickelback was a song Brandon used to sing to me when I was really down after the truthbomb so now its on my playlist. Today the lyrics spoke... but it wasn't soothing. 

"Stop thinking about the easy way out

There's no need to go and blow the candle out
Because you're not done
You're far too young
And the best is yet to come"

Brandon wasn't done.... He was far too young! He is younger than me and he has a 10 year old little boy and his children need a parent. 

I am angry, I don't want to do this. 

No Impact statement tonight because for once I need someone to impact ME!  

Mood and Grief Tracker

  July 29, 2025

Mood (1 = Terrible, 5 = Peaceful/Content): 2

Grief (1 = Overwhelming, 5 = Calm): 3

Day 28 

Today, Rick hit something while driving to work and tore something from Lady's undercarriage, almost losing control. So she's in the shop. That's stressful. I managed to find someone to work for me. Brooke had stomach issues, so she declined to go to therapy. I find myself disappointed in people I had counted on or thought maybe I could. Just to find they are the same as they've always been. There is one person in particular I am the most disappointed in because I had the most expectations for. However, it seems the people I wouldn't have picked in a million years are the ones with the most compassion. Very disappointing. As far as grief its just a constant ache now that I push it far down in the place where my soul was. Jeanette mentioned she had a nightmare about being an orphan. I didn't have the heart to tell her, yet. 

My imprint on the world today is a little bit harder to come up with since I've been pretty solitary for the most part today. I guess Rick would miss not having a ride... but he'd make do with Jeanette or Uber. I remember when he used to ride with co-workers when they lived in the neighborhood. Mazikeen. I know she misses me because when I would get home from Georgia she'd run to me... my anti social demonic cat misses me heh. 

Mood and Grief Tracker

July 28, 2025

Mood (1 = Terrible, 5 = Peaceful/Content): 2

Grief (1 = Overwhelming, 5 = Calm): 3

My scale also reflects the small tantrum and rage fit I had today but not my mood the whole day.

My Imprint for the day goes to Stephanie Wiggins because she volunteered as tribute and we had breakfast together 

Grief and mood tracker

July 27, 2025

Mood (1 = Terrible, 5 = Peaceful/Content): 4

Grief (1 = Overwhelming, 5 = Calm): 4

I worked today. It was a quiet day overall.

I’m not feeling well. Last night I used ChatGPT to spell check and make my journal concise and it responded with a letter from Brandon’s point of you. It was so close to his cadence and his quirky sayings- just CHILLS man!

It’ would be Adam’s 51st birthday. 

How do I make an imprint on the world?

A homeless couple came in looking for help. He said he was a vet with a pacemaker and the heat was very high today. So I told them they could take their dog and sit in an alcove area of the building to charge their phone and cool down. I printed off resources to find help. Sadly it’s hard being homeless with a pet. I know what it’s like to be in their situation. I’ve been homeless, I’ve couch surfed. I know it all to well.. with a baby. I hope I showed them compassion and kindness. My mom asked us in her will to donate to homeless pets so I try to do that. I asked them if Princess Boots needed anything to eat or did they want they leftover pizza. I hope they get the help they need soon.

Kintsugi

I Am Kintsugi

There’s a Japanese art form called Kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired using lacquer mixed with powdered gold. Instead of hiding the cracks, the artist highlights them. The break isn’t something to be ashamed of—it becomes part of the object’s story, making it more valuable than before.

My therapist recently told me, “You’re like Kintsugi pottery.”

I took the illustration she gave me and sat with it. The more I thought about it, the more I understood. I have been shattered—by grief, by loss, by things I never asked for but had to carry anyway. When someone I love died, I cracked in ways I didn’t know were possible. My routines broke. My beliefs broke. My sense of time, of fairness, of safety—splintered. I thought I would never be whole again.

But I’m starting to learn something: healing doesn’t mean going back to who I was. It means honoring who I am now—because of what I’ve lived through.

Even though the cracks are visible, a lot like scars on our skin, the gold inlaid is a sign of healing.

The gold that fills my cracks isn’t glittery or obvious.

Sometimes it’s quiet strength—the ability to get out of bed on days I don’t want to.

Sometimes it’s vulnerability—the way I can now speak openly about my pain.

Sometimes it’s connection—how I can sit with others in their grief because I truly understand it.

I didn’t choose the breaking.

But I am choosing the gold, for now.

And every time I show up for myself—every time I write, cry, or reflect instead of going numb—I’m painting those cracks with something resilient and real.

So no, I’m not “good as new.”

I’m better.

I’m different.

My scars are beautiful.

I am Kintsugi.

🌀 Reader Reflection

If you’re reading this and feel like you’re in pieces—know this: you don’t have to put yourself back together the same way. You can be changed and still be whole. Your cracks don’t make you less; they can become the most honest, human, and beautiful parts of you.

How have your broken places been filled with gold?

I’d love to hear what healing has looked like for you.

Here are a few questions to reflect on:

1. What are the “cracks” in your life that you’ve learned to live with—or even grow from?
2. If you were made of Kintsugi, what would your gold be?
   What strength or lesson has filled your broken places?
3. Has your pain shaped you into someone more compassionate or wise? How?
4. What part of your story do you now see as beautiful, even if it hurt at the time?
5. What does healing look like for you today—not perfect, but real?

July 25: Mood and Grief Tracker 😴🙁

July25, 2025

Mood (1 terrible - 5 peaceful/content) - 3

Grief (1 Overwhelming - 5 Calm) - 3

I wasn't feeling 100% and it was my day off, so I didn't get any adulting done like I should have (on my own). I took two naps and stayed distracted and disconnected. 

How do I make my impact on the world?

Two little girls came into the gym on Fridays until Summer started, and at some point, I asked them if they wanted to color with me while their dad played Pickleball. I had bought them their own coloring books and crayons, markers, and pens to use at the gym. Several times a week at 5:30, we would all sit down and color together. They’d notice if I weren’t around.

What now

🌤️ Day 23– What Now? Prompt: Imagine a version of your life where grief walks beside you, but doesn’t hold the pen. What does healing (not forgetting) look like for you? What might your next chapter hold? I wasn’t sure what this prompt meant at first. But maybe it’s asking: if grief isn’t in charge—if it doesn’t control the narrative—what does life begin to look like again? I guess if I have control over my grief what does that look like? I would think what grief would hold if it walked beside me instead of being in control. It would be memories of the people and animals I’m grieving. Even memories I’ve forgotten, perhaps comforting thoughts, their presence, their spirit force? To know they always walk beside me and support me or can serve as my “shoulder angels” or have a guardian angel? If I was in control of my grief, I can control the who and what and have their presence and not a complete loss. I imagine grief walking beside me like a quiet companion. Not steering me, not speaking over me, but simply there. If it’s not holding the pen, then maybe I get to tell the story. I get to decide what their memory brings to my life—not just pain, but also presence. In this version of my life, grief would carry the memories I’m not ready to let go of, even the ones I’ve forgotten. It would gently remind me of the love, the laughter, the faces I miss. The people and animals I’ve lost—they’d still walk with me. Not as absences, but as shoulder angels. As guardians. As pieces of me. If I were in control of my grief, maybe I could shift the story from loss to presence. Maybe it wouldn’t always feel like a wound, but like a deep well I draw from when I need strength or clarity. Maybe grief becomes less about suffering and more about remembering with tenderness. Healing, for me, doesn’t look like moving on. It looks like moving forward—with them. Letting their love still guide me. Letting their memory be part of my decisions, my dreams, my voice. Grief doesn’t disappear. It just takes its proper seat—not behind the wheel, but by my side. My impact on the world. 1.) Dr Denise Hamlin Glover 2.) I sent an email to city council about the investment opportunities in buying an entertainment complex that recently shut down. I got three positive replies and was commended for thinking of our community and outside the box. 💪

What if life was a Choose your own adventure?

What if life was a choose your own adventure novel? For example you choose one scenario (or are given one scenario) and it doesn't work out so you get to start over with the other scenario? What if hindsight wasn't just 20/20? What if you could look back and relive something again and see if it turned out better? There would be some sacrafices such as learning experiences that could be given or taken away. That also means happy moments or moments that broke you could be given or taken at any moment?

Nothings of a Wallflower

My inner dialogue may be the death of me. I live by a saying. I was born an original. I was born to stand out not fit in. I tell my kids this and they’d rather fit in. God didn’t design them to and they don’t. (Shrugs) Yes, my daughter dyes her hair like lights in Time Square and just wants to fit in. Doesn’t just want to fit in she wants to blend in. I’m not in high school anymore. I find that I don’t have time or patience for nonsense and drama. I have tied to put myself out there… I thought I connected with those popular kids/adults. I even married a wallflower. I still get rejected. As an army wife, they could be very cliquish. Especially with my husband’s job or the jobs related to his job. Well, that’s the only experience I have with military life and one military post. The military wives were actually welcoming for the most part. I met great people. I just didn’t fit in the mold. Then we moved to Madison. Fate had lent me a connection. All the pieces were there, neighbors, children almost exactly the same age down to the month. Then I was hurt and betrayed. At the same time, I was also hurt by my then-best Army Wife friend. I had so wanted a female friend that liked to do the same things as me… shopping, spa days, getting our nails done. Whatever… after that betrayal I stopped. This very extroverted person closed herself off and became an introverted homebody. I focused on the gifts God gave me that I can depend on. My best friend Jennifer I met in 2003 and Michelle whom I met in 2011? They set the standard for friends for me. If you can’t give me what they give me then I don’t have time for you. Not meaning that harsh I still make time for acquaintances I just don’t invest my energy into being something I’m not. I think doing that would be a disservice to both people. I’ve struggled way too much in my life with not belonging. Even my parents didn’t want me. Trying to fit in at school and at church was nearly impossible since I had my disabilities and physical issues. I often asked myself what was wrong with me? Wasn’t I enough? Was I not something they wanted? Many times, I am the friend people confide in, I am the person they complain to. I sit there listen and give my life tips and inside wonder why they don’t see me right under their nose. I am always the person who isn’t noticed. That isn’t considered. I am the last kid picked at P.E.to be on the team. I am the kid the teacher forced you to do a team project with. Why am I invisible? Inadequate. Odd. Not Good Enough. Alone. Disposable. I don’t strive to be a wallflower I am imperfectly and wonderfully made. I want to be noticed. I think even subconsciously I have looked for negative attention because I felt invisible. When all I wanted was you to notice me.

consequences and truths

I’m no stranger to consequences and truths. I’ve had to pay for my consequences for two decades dealing with Mackenzie. People were afraid of how I would react when my own son rejected me and I survived. I’ve never hid the truth. I have nothing to lose by telling him the truth. THEY have everything to lose by saying the truth to him. I have made some mistakes in my life especially during my early 20’s. I don’t make excuses for that time in my life. I’ve tried to make amends for those. I don’t use or abuse alcohol or drugs to run away from issues, I have no problem telling the truth, accepting consequences and owning my truth and my mistakes. What I did two decades ago doesn’t define me and I hope I’m not that person anymore but I still take the consequences.

Lost in thought

If someone is hot and cold with me part of me thinks I should take it at face value and act accordingly. First of all its hard to act accordinly when they are hot and cold. Secondly I can't really trust my own thinking. I am an overthinker. Sometimes I am irrational. I struggle with depression, PTSD, and anxiety. Tonight it seems insomnia and over thinking are winning the battle. I feel like part of me should take things at face value and my actions should be equivent to that. That would go along with assuming the message they are sending and I act accordingly. The problem is I can't really fully trust my own thinking. If I am over thinking or being irrational how do I act accordingly? The other part of me thinks I have to wait for some sign from somewhere or be told. I don't know what to do. Maybe I should just be me as an individual? I should just do what I think is best and let pieces fall where they may? I am a people pleaser in someways though and making people happy is what fullfills me, even at a detriment to myself. This is how I am my own worst enemy I suppose. I just wanted to get these thoughts down even at not even 3 am in the morning so I have them for therapy too.

Letters to Myself- Nothing Left

"Nothing Left" by Hallie Kearns

Someone, Somewhere probably needs me. Who would I be to let them down?

Ready to pick up whoever's calling, cause I'm too scared to think about...

If I stop, am i still worth loving? So I'll give, and I'll give and I'll give. You can take what you need from me. I heard you wanted a forest, so I started planting the trees. Yeah I'll give. and I'll give. and I'll give Till Im running on empty. Yeah I'll give you everything I got, till there's nothing left of me.

Letters to Myself- You had the best of intentions.

Dear Bella,

    From the very start you had the best of intentions of being an amazing parent to your children. You were a young twenty-one year old when you became a real mother, not just for pretend. You had big plans for their future but you were ill prepared for a world yourself. You still had the best of intentions and you tried your best. You followed advice from people you thought you could trust. You wanted to give your children the whole world and you tried making good on that promise but your life didn't pan out as you planned. "Best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." Some people may think are a deadbeat parent, a looser, or worse because you don't always get things right. Please remember that there are many more people who's opinion is that you are a good mother. The opinions that matter most are Jeanette and William who show you that you are a good mother. They trust you, they confide in you, they want to be around you- sometimes a little too often. They are watching you, they see you for who you really are. A mother trying with the best of intentions. You may not always get things right. You may not always get perfection but you are trying your best despite things going up against you and them. You get up and fight even when there is no fight left. That's what matters. There are children that you didn't give birth to you that trust you and come to you when the world has rough storms. That means something. Maybe one day Mackenzie will give you a chance and know truths. The opinions of those who don't know you don't matter. Those who don't matter pay no mind to and don't let it stop you from having the best of intentions.

Happy 21st birthday Mackenzie

New blog series! Letters to myself.

Dear Bella,

    Healthy relationships don't make you question your worth. Just because you stop being loyal or giving all you have to give that doesn't mean your not worth loving. Stop being loyal to someone who is inconsistent with you. Some people will not recognize your loyalty because they themselves aren't a loyal person. Stop apologizing to someone who treats you like shit. Show other people your value. You deserve that apology. Some people come into your life to show you what love isn't. Madea says "Some people are like leaves on a tree. The wind blows- they're over here. They're unstable. It blows the other way- now they're over there. The seasons change and they wither and die. They're gone. Some people are like a branch on that tree. You've got to be careful about them branches too cause they'll fool you. They'll make you think they're a good friend and they're real strong, but the minute you step out there on them they'll break and leave you high and dry. But if you find two or three people in your life that are like the roots at the bottom of that tree, you are blessed. Because they're the kind of people that ain't going nowhere. They ain't worried about being seen. Don't nobody have to know what they're doing for you but if those roots weren't there that tree couldn't live." Stop being impressed by minimal effort. Sometimes doing what is best for you won't feel the best for you. Its going to hurt. Its going to hurt a lot. Lessons are that way. They hurt so that you learn from them. 

Loyalty

I have been described by people as thoughtful, selfless, loyal, and compassionate. I think I am a very loyal person. It takes A  LOT of things to cause me to actually cut ties with a person. One thing that is guaranteed to get me pushed over the bridge and have me burn that bitch down? Get my kids involved. That will get you cut out real quick. I am fiercely protective over my children. I am a GOOD and DECENT person and try to be everyday. I TRY to become a better person everyday. Today I learned something about loyalty. I woke up at 2 or 3:00 am to 15 missed calls and 100's of texts from a "friend" who was drinking and as he usually does he blows up my phone when he drinks and when he gets in a spat with his ex wife. *backspaced a long vent that is inconsequential that wasn't one made by a good and decent Christian LOL *  I then found out his ex wife went to the Hospital ER to have an MRI and let her young children wonder around a busy hospital parking lot, 4 lane highway... because she didn't feed them and they were hungry. I woke up MY daughter, my husband got ready, got the other child and the dog and drove two cars (I cannot drive at the moment). So we could go pick up her kids. Where from that point both people made me out to be the bad guy. The one that hasn't rushed to their side for years. I have taken them in. Given them money. Given them food to eat. I have been a good steward. I have been loyal and kind. Okay honestly as kind as my very unfiltered mouth can be. For THEM though I stay very reserved, I push things down. I turned my cheek to the betrayal etc. Forget it. Its not even MY feelings that are paramount here... Its MY children and THEIR children. I can build my children up. I can repair some of the damage they do to them but I am helpless with as much as they destroy and wound their children. *should I backspace here too heh?* Broken kids make broke adults.

Anyways back to the topic its not even just about these particular people in my life but also my sister and others that have betrayed me, wounded me (or my children), Disrespected me. Then turn around and make me the bad guy? I give up my last slice of bread and you say I AM THE BAD GUY? I couldn't figure it out. Then epiphany.... I am the bad guy because they don't recognize loyalty. To one person their definition of loyalty is never showing them that they are wrong. To another it may be giving in to every whim. To another it may be lying, deception, and manipulation. Those aren't the definition of loyalty. So I am the bad guy here because no matter what I do I will be the one disloyal to them because they don't recognize a loyal person because they aren't one themselves.

I am a person that has your back even when the wounds are fresh in mine where you stabbed me. But if you don't recognize that then I guess you won't recognize how once-in-a-lifetime it is to have unconditional love given and real loyalty? I don't know I have been on the soul search myself about unconditional love since I have never had it from people who shared my genes, my blood, whom fill my memories. So I treasure the even THOUGHT of a person being like myself to someone like me.

Tinker Bell

On the 16th we had to say goodbye to one of our family. Tinker Bell was 13 years 11 months and 1 day old. She was all Jeanette's and has been since Jeanette was 4 years old. This is a challenging transition for Skylar to not have her baby great her whenever she goes to her room. This is the blog from when we got Tink. 

Not Fitting In

This article hits me hard. In school, I didn’t fit in with just one clique. I was the odd girl. Even though I knew most of these kids since the third grade. I did go live with my bio mom in South Carolina for fourth grade and then I was back with my guardian for the remainder of my school years. When I was 12 I had major craniofacial surgery and for many years surgeries continued and I had to go to an “alternative” school because they said it was best for me. I did that from 7th until 9th and actually skipped a grade while I was there. Returning to normal high school... my classmates had already made their life long friendships and had their cliques. I knew girls from church and whatever. My personality I’m not going to deny probably has been quirky and a bit immature (I mean I collect dolls ). So I hung out with my ROTC friends, my church friends, my neighborhood friends, my freak friends (Do they call them EMO now?), probably some other people that were seen as unsavory. I was even friends with a popular rich girl at school because her dad was my cardiologist. fast forward literally 20 years and I married Rick and was immersed in the military life and OH BOY do they have cliques! They have cliques based on their husband's rank, cliques based on their husband's job, etc. but again I was lucky to have a wide range of people that befriended me. Yes I felt like a bum at the Met Gala... I didn’t have a Louis Vuitton purse, I rarely wear makeup, I don’t have a degree, and since I had to leave most of my belongings in my old life I didn’t have a lot of nice things. I still am most comfortable in my tee shirts and jeans. I tried though and I decided to go into debt wasn’t worth fitting in. Moving to Madison is daunting...

Jeanette

was in the first grade when we moved here. A new school and not just for her but for everyone. I walked her to the bus stop still in my lounge clothes or casually in my t-shirt and jeans... I mean I sat home all day with a newborn lol.. here comes Ms

Shelley

dressed elegantly because she was headed to work. Boy again did I feel like a sore thumb. I mean even my husband is way out of my league! Let us just say Madisonites have a certain standard. My kids have had no problems with their friend circles but their friend's parents aren’t always as friendly to me. The friendships I did have in the beginning yeah well she still had a way of making me feel a certain type of way. Some kids are heavily into sports and the moms have cliques with other soccer moms. William hates sports and is purely a music lover and a geek like his dad. Jeanette is the artistic sore thumb now like her mom. Plus we are built differently than most families and we are unconventional because we have to be. So to be friends with me or the kids is a journey of acceptance and patience . Anyone that knows me will tell you, I’d rather work in a kennel than corporate America. I am a farmer's daughter and granddaughter. It’s just my way. I accept my quirky clothes and my hobbies. I decided I can pull off an adorable Disney shirt with matching leggings or a Disney dress. I’m comfortable that way. In my cartoon themed clothes, the Deadpool shirt I’m wearing today, or band tee. I’m most comfortable in my own skin and I wasn’t born to fit in (TRUST ME). I was born with six toes and webbed fingers, That's not exactly fitting in. I’m okay with that!

When You Aren't In the Cool Mom Clique