Wednesday, February 15, 2017

AIDS Walk... Why?

It's been a long while since I've last blogged. And now, I blog for a good cause, please continue reading...

As most of you know, I am walking in AIDS Walk Houston this coming March. A lot of people don't know why I have decided to take part, and I think it's about time that I explain.

There are a few different reasons why I have decided to take part.

First, my family. There have been a few of my family members diagnosed with HIV. Some have been living with it for years, while others were diagnosed very recently. I've watched them throughout doctor's appointments and struggles and watched them make this disease their bitch. It's a marvelous thing, to see a family member find out that their disease is now undetectable. I want that for other people. The joy of receiving that phone call or the happiness of seeing that status update on social media. I want to bring awareness so that more families get these calls, or more folks see these uplifting posts online.

Second, the Lazarus House. It's hard for me to explain, but I feel very drawn to these people. They are good folks, the best in my opinion. They truly care for their clients and community. They provide a safe space and motivation for folks suffering from cachexia or disease related muscle loss. Cachexia is the devastating cycle of malnutrition and muscle wasting that accompanies numerous chronic illnesses like cancer, HIV/AIDS, lupus, muscular dystrophy, and even situations like spinal cord trauma. If you'd like to find out more about The Lazarus House and the amazing work that they do, please follow this link.

And third, there is a stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS and people think that it's not as bad as it used to be, or it's so treatable that we no longer need to bring awareness to it. That stigma is wrong. Here are just a few stats about HIV/AIDS...

United States Statistics:
  • There are 1.2 million people living with HIV in the United States. One in five are unaware of their infection
  • Every 9 ½ minutes someone is infected with HIV in the U.S.
  • African Americans make up only 13.6% of the U.S. population, yet account for 52% of all new HIV/AIDS cases and 44% of new infections
  • Young gay and bisexual black men are the most severely affected subpopulation for HIV infection 
Local (Houston/Harris County area) Statistics:
  • HIV / AIDS in Houston/Harris County
  • Estimated Houston/Harris County population as of 2015: 4,538,0281
  • Estimated number of Houston/Harris County residents newly diagnosed in 2014: 11,842
  • Number of African Americans diagnosed in 2014 for every white person diagnosed: 4.52
  • Number of African American women diagnosed in 2014 for every white woman diagnosed: 21.12
  • Percentage of African Americans women among newly diagnosed area women in 2014: 622
  • Percentage of residents living with HIV in 2014 who acquired it through MSM exposure: 54.12
  • Number of MSM residents who were newly diagnosed with HIV in 2014: > 8002
  • Age group of Houston/Harris County residents with the most new HIV cases: 15-342
  • Number of 15-24 year old African Americans newly diagnosed in 2014 for every white: 7.62
  • Age group of Houston/Harris County women with the most new HIV cases: 35-442
  • Number of male residents newly diagnosed in 2014 for every female diagnosed: 3.72
  • Percentage of Houston/Harris County residents living below the Federal Poverty Level: 17.42
  • Percentage of residents (all races) who do not have health insurance: 222
  • Percentage of those newly diagnosed who progress to AIDS with one year: 26.22
  • Number of new AIDS diagnoses in Houston/Harris County in 2014: 577

With a disease that is so preventable, these numbers are astounding. Especially when you think about them. You are going out to eat with 5 of your closest friends, according to these stats, one of you could be infected with HIV and not even know about it! We need more access to testing. We need accessible information. We need to educate about HIV/AIDS and safe sex practices. We need to encourage conversations to prevent ignorance about something so important. HIV/AIDS research has come a million miles since it was first diagnosed, however there are million more miles to go!

If you would like to help out, please consider making a small donation in my name. No amount is too small! Your support is appreciated! If you've made it this far on my post, please consider following the link below and making a donation! Thank you!

My AIDSWalk Donation Page

Lazarus House AIDSWalk Donation Page

AIDSWalk Home Page


#TEAMLAZARUSHOUSE 

Sources:
1 "State & County QuickFacts". United States Census Bureau. http://www.census.gov/quickfacts/table/PST045215/48201,00 Retrieved August 29, 2016.
2 Houston Health Department, HIV Surveillance Program. HIV Infection in Houston: An
Epidemiologic Profile 2010-2014. Houston, Texas; 2015.

Friday, November 21, 2014

Long Time Coming

Wow, its been over a year since I've had anything important enough to say that I'd put it here. Not sure why the writer's block, but now is better than never, right? I probably shouldn't even write what I am going to, because of course it all goes against popular opinion, but what can I say, I'm a rebel, don't judge me.

My topic is Rape. Sexual Assault. Molestation. However you wanna word it, they all pretty much mean the same thing.

A lot of people that know me know that I was raped, sexually assaulted, molested as a child for a very long time. It was done by somebody who I trusted completely, somebody I was programmed to trust and love unconditionally. No, there has never been any "justice" served in my situation because of one singular reason.... I kept quiet. I didn't tell anybody. And when I did speak up, nobody believed me except a hand full of family members and the others called me a liar. For an 8 yr old to get up the courage to tell someone that something like that happened is huge, and to be shot down and called a liar... well I wasn't in a hurry to speak up about it again. So what could I do, nobody believed me. I was 8 years old "collecting evidence" with a Q-tip so I could take it to the cops. I would put obstacles in front of my bedroom door so it would be just a little harder for him to get through. I was forced to take pregnancy tests on a monthly basis, although I was no where close to being voluntarily sexually active. But my family told me I was lying... they told me it never happened and that I had made it all up for attention. What purpose does an 8 yr old have to lie about something so important? The abuse continued until I was around 14-15. An opportunity for me to get away from the abuse had presented itself so I took it. I removed myself from the situation. It took me years to come to terms with what I had gone through. I suffered emotionally and mentally because of the whole ordeal. After awhile, I went to my Mom and told her everything. I started at the beginning and laid it all out there. She didn't call me a liar. She didn't say that I made it all up. She believed me. But what could we do now? There was no proof anymore. The evidence now long gone and never used against him because I was so scared of being called a liar again. So I carried a burden. I carried a weight around with me for a very long time. But one day, I decided for myself that I wasn't going to carry this with me anymore. I gave it to God and asked for guidance. I can say that I'm "over it" now and somewhat believe myself.

Now for the reason I've shared that with you...

I'm sure you've heard the speculation revolving Bill Cosby in the past few days, if not then you live under a rock. Accusations dating back all the way to 1967 say that Mr. Cosby is a rapist. Yet, instead of taking up arms against Mr. Cosby, everyone is so fast to judge these women coming forward. I've seen them called liars, whores, and gold diggers just to name a few. I've seen people say horrible things about them and praise Mr. Cosby. I am beyond confused folks, I'm not gonna lie.

Rape cases go unsolved everyday. The reason for this is the same reason that I never saw "justice". Women are afraid. Afraid of being called whores and liars. Afraid of being told that they deserved it; that they shouldn't have worn the clothes they did; that it was their fault. Now these women, after 30 years, are no longer afraid. They are opening up horrible closets they locked up tight long ago to tell a story they believe the world should hear. Mr. Cosby is not what he seems to be. I went years without saying a word about my assault, it doesn't make it any less true, and it SURE AS HELL DOES NOT ERASE IT!!!  

To all the people around social media that are defending Mr. Cosby.... I ask you to ask yourself, what if he had done it to your Mother? Your Grandmother? Your Sister? Your Daughter? Would you be so quick to defend him after that? One point that you do have is there is no proof other than the words of these women, shouldn't that be enough? What is there to gain from coming out with this 30 years later?  Other than to rid themselves of the burden they've carried, there is no reason. No, there is no proof. But who are we to say that it didn't happen and that these women are lying? You were not there. If it happened anything like it did to me, there was nobody there except these women and their rapist, Mr. Cosby.

I... I stand with these women. I believe them with every fiber in my being. I applaud them for coming out and telling their stories. In my honest opinion, they've showed strength and courage by speaking out against a man like Mr. Cosby. The people defending Mr. Cosby should be ashamed of themselves.

I leave with my final thought.... If you are a victim of rape - SPEAK UP! Tell somebody. You are not alone. I've linked up a few websites below if needed.

Rape Crisis Website

Safe Horizons Website

RAINN Website

Maybe I'll have some more important stuff to say later. For now, I leave you. Peace, Love, and Pixie Dust my friends!

<3

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

The Story of My Angel Baby

Hey folks!! I've found myself opening up a little more since I started writing my Shenanigans, and its been great to get so many things off my chest. As you can tell by the title of this post, its another opening-up-some-deep-crap kinda topic. I've never, ever spoken about this to anybody, not even my Hubs and he was there with me the whole time. So pop open a bag of popcorn and you might need some kleenex if you have a sensitive heart like me.

In May 2012, I discovered my periods were missing and my boobs were sore and I had a to go pee a lot. Hearing that those are some of the early symptoms of pregnancy made me both anxious and excited. I took a pregnancy test and on June 2nd, which happens to be Hubs' birthday, we found out that a little Owens was growing. We had discussed having children, and we had kinda decided that whatever happens happens. We weren't trying to get pregnant, but we also weren't trying not to. The idea of being a Mom has always scared and intrigued me. Scared that I would fail at something most women are programmed to do. Intrigued that this little life was in my hands, in my body, and the pull to love it more than anything in life.


After a doctor's appointment to verify that I was indeed in the family way, we told our parents and closest friends, all were very excited. I was about 6 weeks prego when we went to the doctor the first time. They did a ultrasound and could see the little speck inside. Being only 6 weeks, they told us that we wouldnt be able to hear a heartbeat until closer to 8 weeks. Family and friends began pouring their love and support out to us. Momma Mickie sent the Hubs and I books to prepare us. I read "What to Expect When You're Expecting" cover to cover within a week. I took my prenatals like clock work and ate healthier and even took a leave of absence from FishHell because the smell of raw oysters made me sick. Oh yeah, the morning sickness. I didnt think that I was far enough along in my pregnancy to be sick every morning... but just like clockwork, I was throwing up every morning. The doctors didnt seem to be too worried about it so they prescribed me that medicine that helps with nausea. It didnt help.... at all.

Our Speck :)
 

Our 8 week appointment comes. They put me up on the table to do the ultrasound. Hubs went with me for all of the appointments so he was there too. We see our Little Speck on the screen, but when she goes to check for a heartbeat, there is none. We dont hear anything. I kind of knew at that moment that the pregnancy was no longer viable. The doctors of course did another blood test to check hcG levels which came back positive and said that I was indeed pregnant. So we made another appointment to come back at 10 weeks. I broke down in the doctors office. I had that intuition and I knew that my Speck had stopped growing. As soon as I didnt hear the heartbeat, tears escaped and flowed like a river through a broken dam. Our next appointment would confirm what I knew at the last one. There was still no heartbeat. Blood tests then confirmed that I was no longer pregnant. However this little thing was still inside of me. That freaked me out a little, but the doctors assured me it would come out when it was ready. We set up our DNC appointment for July 11, 2012.

On July 10, 2012, I had a miscarriage. The pain I experienced was the worst pain I had ever known. Period cramps had nothing on this. I sat there on the toilet, and felt the exact moment my little speck took its leave. I cried and screamed. I couldnt breathe. The look on Hubs' face as he carried me to our bed and laid me down was just... painful. I felt as if I had let him down. His parents came in to pray over us. I pretended I was sleeping or just too tired to acknowledge them. I didnt want to be around anyone, not even Hubs. I couldnt talk about it. I didnt want to. Not to my Mom, my Dad, no one. I just kept everything I was feeling to myself. The hurt, disappointment, anger, sadness, despair, and even in the littlest, most twisted way... I was relieved. That was the kicker. What got me the most. How the hell could I feel relieved after what had just happened. But I did. Maybe it was because I knew deep down that I wasnt ready for my little speck. Hubs and I werent ready to be parents and God knew that and decided our Speck would be better served up there in heaven with Him.

The next day, we went up to the hospital to have the DNC procedure done. I informed the doctor that I had the miscarriage the night before. He said they'd go ahead and do it to make sure everything came out. Hubs told me after the procedure that the doctor told him there wasn't very much left. I woke up from the procedure feeling sore and wanting nothing more than my husband. Hospitals give me the heebie-jeebies anyhow, but being there for that reason, just freaked me out a little more.

I've always known what I would name my children. Or at least I had an idea of what I would name them. When we found out we were pregnant I automatically started thinking of what name our little speck would bear, because we couldn't call it Speck forever. Since we lost the pregnancy so early there is no way to tell what sex our little speck was, but I feel like I was carrying a daughter. That is something I've never expressed to anyone. I'm pretty sure our speck would have been a girl. And her name... would have been... Meagan Olivia. I think if I have a daughter in the future, I would still use this name. And she would know what a huge impact the name has on her Mommy. Meagan would have been born sometime in early February had I carried her to term. So, on February 2nd, the presumed due date, I went to my sister-in-law's house and held onto my baby nephew. He was born in December. We had found out they were expecting about a month before we found out we were. Meagan would have been 2 months younger than her cousin.

This here is the best Christmas present Garry (my brother in law) ever got... and mine too.. this is me and my nephew Daniel last Christmas

Things like this make me sad to think about. I've dreamed about what her life would have been like had I not miscarried her. I only think of it sometimes because I don't want to be sad all the time. I know the miscarriages are more common than most people think, and my case is nothing special. However, this experience made me grow and is special to me. It was the most painful thing I'd ever experienced, both physically and emotionally. I look up at the stars some nights and think of my Mema and Pepa holding little Meagan as they watch down on me. I imagine they take her to her namesake's (my best friend Meagan whom was killed in a car accident in 2007) cloud and she coos and giggles as they play peek-a-boo. God needed my Meagan in Heaven. I don't know why of course. I can only hope it was to teach me a lesson of some kind, which is normally the case in most trials He hands down. As happy as I would have been to have her here with me and Hubs, I'm just as happy to know that she is there, in the sky, watching us and loving us anyways. She is my Angel Baby, and is always close to my heart.

Thank you for reading guys. My wisdom for this post.... LOVE EVERY SECOND <3

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Throwback Thursday: Getting my Cousin into Trouble

Hey hey my southern fried junkies! Sorry for the absence.. I am going through a personal battle right now and haven't really been inspired to write. Today is Thursday, so we'll do a Throwback Thursday story. I'll try not to make it so long since you all have hopefully already endured the length of my last blog.

I'll take you back to some year I don't remember, I think it was 1995... We lived in Maryland and I think it was Lexington Park, but I could be wrong. Yeah, there's a good chance I'm wrong. Anyways, Maryland. 1995. Let's go...

My cousin Clayton and I have always been pretty close, in age and as family. He is 6 months older than me being born in April and I in November. When we were kids we were constantly playing outside because that's what we did back then, we played outside. We played Ninja Turtles and Power Rangers, I was always the Pink ranger, and he was always the White. Of course my brothers played with us too lol, we didn't leave them out. My Mema and Pepa lived in a huge house that had a big balcony off the back. It was a 2-story with a basement. There was a swing set back there and a trees that we used to climb. We really loved that house. We used to shoot down Daddy-Long-Legs under the balcony with our Super Soakers. We all are terrified of spiders but this was an awesome activity. One particular day we were back there shooting down spiders when I remembered I had learned a new word I need to tell Clayton about. I learned how to spell SEX. I then taught Clayton how to spell SEX. He then commenced in writing the word SEX with his Super Soaker on the wall under the balcony. We all laughed for a minute. Then I, being the little shit that I was, ran upstairs and immediately told on him. I went straight to my Aunt Margie and told her that Clayton wrote a bad word with his water gun. She went down and checked out the evidence. Clayton got in trouble. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Pepa used to have a paddle that had all our names on it and every time we got hit with it, he would put a check or tally mark next to it. If I'm not mistaken, Clayton got a tally mark for that. I didn't get hit with it as frequently as the boys did. I think it's cause I think I was his favorite ;) lol. But anyways, for some reason that is my favorite story of me and Clayton. Oh there are so many more. This guy is my best guy friend that happens to share the same blood line with me. Even though I got him in trouble that, trust me it wasn't the only time I got him in trouble, he is still someone that I know I cant count on when I really need him. He's proven that to me on more than one occasion. My life would be a lot more boring without my cousin Clayton, even if we don't see each other often. He's always a call away, and his is a voice in my head all the time. I leave you with a photo of Clay and I from 2009, I cant find the ones from when we were younger, they are most likely at my Dad's house. So we were much older and much drunker than in the story I just told you... but eh...

oh and HEY CLAY (if you're reading this) we definitely need to go dancing, I need my 2-steppin partner!!!


I leave you, as always, telling you to make sure you tell them you love them and I, your humble blogger, love you <3

Peace bitches!!!!

Monday, May 27, 2013

A Series of Unfortunate-then-Inspiring Events, Part 2

I'M SO SORRY!!! I had started writing this blog right after I finished the last one. However I am a master of procrastination, when you mix that quality and a full time job, I just dont have the time to write that I wish I had. So I'd like to say that I appriciate your patience in waiting for this. You wont be disappointed, I hope. so... Thanks for coming back for Part 2!!! Lets get to it....

On February 13, 2007 around 5:30 in the morning, I left Houston with 3 other people on a plane bound for Atlanta, Georgia. I was nervous, but not because of the plane trip. When we got to Atlanta, we werent allowed to leave the airport, and had to check in immediately with the USO. We waited for what seemed like all day, and still had a 5 hour bus ride to South Carolina to go. I could tell the bus driver was former military, because he knew what we were about to embark on. He stopped twice on the trip to let us smokers get our final dose of nicotine before we'd be forced to kick the habit. The last time we stopped I remember smoking 3 cigarettes in the 10 minute break and I gave the rest of my almost full pack to a homeless guy I saw sitting by the bathroom. The last leg of the trip was the most nerve-racking hour, I tried getting some sleep since I had heard the rumors of sleep depravation at Reception. I texted my friends and family and said goodbye, as if I was leaving forever or something. I turned my phone off as we pulled onto the base. When we pulled up to the Reception Battallion, to say I was unprepared for what was coming, yeah that'd be an understatement. This scary looking black lady came onto our bus and started yelling. We hurried off and were ordered to stand next to a wall as the bus driver threw our bags out from under the bus. We were ordered to put our hair up if it wasnt already, tuck in our shirts, stand up straight, and get our bags. There was no putting those bags down once we picked them up. We were ushered inside to a room that had long benches, no tables, just a long counter in the front of the room. We were instructed to sit down, and thus begun this process of reception. This night would be a long one. There was a roll call of sorts where they determined all incoming newbs were all accounted for. She talked a lot, that scary black lady, and at the late hour, I definately didnt catch everything she said. Besides, I figured if it was really important, it would be repeated, because in the Army, they say everything or give you 2 of anything you need to know. We eventually left that initial welcome sight and were lead other places where various things happened. Every inch of our person and property were searched for contraband and disposed of if found. We changed out of our civilian clothes and into the PT sweats. We separated important stuff that was deemed okay to bring with us into the new Army duffels they gave us, and our civilian bags were put in a room and locked. Eventually the night ended and we were able to get some sleep. They showed us to the barracks and showed us where to sleep. Then told us they'd be back in about 3 hours to wake us up. I remember thinking as I drifted to sleep, I hate this... and its only the first night.

The next week is a flurry of excitment and hurrying up to wait. There were doctors appointments, dental appointments, vision appointments, shots to be given, trips to the reception troop store, formations in the middle of the night for no reason, getting our uniforms issued, learning the Soldier's Handbook front to back, being tested on Soldier's Handbook, doing push ups if we failed test on Soldier's Handbook. There was paperwork being done, benficiaries being added, paperwork being finalized, dirty looks given by already-proven-themselves Soldiers, horrible sleep-depravated pictures being taken, a lot of walking around or marching I guess. They were teaching us all this so we'd be more "prepared" when we went "down the road" to our Basic training batallions. All the people that were with me, in my company, at Reception, would be in my company in Basic. I met a few women in Reception, that ended up being with me until the end. I say all the time that I wouldnt have made it to graduation without the help and support of these 2 women that I met on the first real day of reception. When I met them, I had no idea what kind of impact they'd have on my experience. Cindy McKeel, soon be dubbed Keelio... and Kira Holloway would become the strongest support system I would have, and best friends I would have for the rest of my life.

The day came we were shipped down the road to our company and split into our platoons. Keelio and I were in 3rd platoon, and Holloway was put in 2nd. Our drill sergeants were DS Nunez, the mean one; DS Jacobs, the mean and funny one; and DS McIntosh, the super mean and female one. I don't know if you are allowed to have a favorite basic training drill sergeant, but mine is DS Mac. She was a spitfire. She was about 5'nothing, maybe a buck-20 and black. She was fierce but she really helped me through the last few weeks of basic... but we'll get back to that. We all went into what would become our home for the next 9 weeks, our barracks. We sat in a circle and were given the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten, and then they yelled at us for a few hours about rules and stuff. Best part of that day (not) was when we did a bathroom break and I didn't have to go at the time. So like 30 minutes later, I made the humungous mistake asking to use the bathroom. DS McIntosh was the one to come down on me. I'm like 5'9 and she was right in my face. I did push ups for a while, well I TRIED doing push ups for a while. She eventually let me go, except it didn't really matter by that point, I didn't have to go anymore. After more yelling, more push ups, chow, and our forced hydration formation, we were allowed to go to sleep. There were 2 platoons in our barracks, ours and the 4th platoon girls. Our guys bunked with the 4th platoon boys across the parking lot...err, I mean company area. Of course we were bunked in alphabetical order, which was bad ass because somehow, even though H and M are a few letters apart, Keelio and I got to have top bunks right next to each other. I think that pissed some of the other ladies off because when we werent dead tired we'd sit and talk our heads off! In fact, I remember one stuffy old maid getting particularly upset one night because she was trying to sleep during personal time, it wasnt even lights out yet, but she bitched and bitched, not like we cared though.


 
Ok so I'm trying to not write this as day-to-day, but as a whole experience, so I might jump around a lot.

Nine weeks is not a very long time really, when you think about it, it's only 9 weeks, 2 months and a week, its only like 270 days, 6500 hours.... this was the longest 9 weeks of my life. After the initial shock of what was going on, I actually started to have fun. The first 3 weeks, Red phase, was the hardest. Just getting into the routine of waking up at 4am or earlier was a feat for someone who was used to sleeping until 4pm. PT was hard and the runs were way harder, but even though I was always the one to fall out, I really think it helped more. If you fell out of running formation, DS Nunez would take us, the weak ones, and he'd make us work harder. We'd sprint back and forth our company area until everyone else got back. I cant tell you how many times I had to do this, but I think I benefitted more from that than I did distance running, I'm not a runner. I am, however, a GREAT shot! When we started qualifying with our M16A2 rifles, I proved that shooting wasnt just for men. I was the only female in my company, Foxtrot 1/34, to qualify as Expert on qualifying day. There were 3 males that shot better than me, but for someone who had hardly shot a gun before, I think I did damn good! The obstacle courses were a challenge for me. I used to be scared of heights, well not heights, thats ridiculous, but the fear of falling from height, not so ridiculous. There was one obstacle that I had the hardest time with. Jacob's ladder. I'm sure you know what Jacob's ladder is, but I will enlighten those who dont. It's a ladder, a really tall ladder, the rungs are evenly spaced at the bottom but once you get about half way up, the rungs get farther and farther apart so that you really have to reach and work to get up them. I got to about the 4th rung from the top when DS Nunez started shaking the ladder. Dudebag. This scared the living shit out of me and I froze. After being taunted and nearly wetting myself,  I made my way up and over the top and back down the other side. It was huge accomlishment for me, but by far not the biggest one of the story.

The next 3 weeks, White phase, was more fun. Except that is wasnt. Our platoon didnt get 'smoked' very often during red phase, so I guess DS Nunez decided that wasnt ok. I dont even remember what we did to deserve it, if anything, but we got to go to the Beach. Haha, no not a fun-in-the-sun bathing suit sunscreen beach. The beach was a volleyball court, all sand, about 50 yards long. We were fully suited up, I think just getting back from a road march, when DS Nunez took us to the Beach. We low-crawled all the way across that thing, then high-crawled all the way back. The first trip across was much easier than the way back. This was the first time I cried in front of everyone in the platoon. I tried not to, but I couldnt help it. And I got yelled at more for it. After that though, I refused to let another drill sergeant get the best of me. I acted better, I paid more attention to detail and what I was doing. And another drill sergeant did not get the best of me. My peers however, that was a different story.

Blue phase is the final 2 weeks of Basic followed by Victory week, which is the week of family day and graduation and getting processed to move on to your next hell. We did all of our 'exit exams' during this time. We had a final field operation where we went on a 8 or 9 mile road march, followed by a few days of camping, more marching, participating in mock battles and gun fights, we guarded our FOB or field operating base, and I thought that it was really fun lol. This chick in my company, she was a restart, meaning she got sent to our company from another company because she couldnt graduate with them. My battle buddy was always Keelio, it didnt matter what we were doing, she was battle. I went and did everything with her. There was this guy named Horton, and he was awesome! I had no crush on him or anything, he ws just a super awesome friend. Our platoon was guarding the gates to our FOB and me, Keelio, Horton, and I think Coker, but I dont remember were up front having an awesome time. It was freezing but we were making the best of it. All of a sudden, DS Mac comes up and says me and Keelio have to go to the back, the restart chick had told her we were all 'bow chicka bow wow' in the middle of the night where every single person within a 10 mile radius could hear us, it was the middle of the damn night. So we had to go to a spot in the back and leave Horton there because of fraternization rules. I mention this part because it ties into the next part...

My PT test was the absolute hardest part of my whole Army experience. It was the sit ups and push ups, I had that part. What got me was the 2 mile run in less that 17 minutes. As I've said, I'm not a runner. Well, Horton, my very good buddy, totally saved my life on this one. I always credit Keelio and Holloway for getting me through those 9 weeks, and they did and totally deserve the cred... but Horton is the reason I graduated with them. If it wasnt for him, I could've very well been restarted and would've had to endure that mess alll over again without my Keelio, Holloway, and Horton.

The day before our final PT test, we were able to call home for a few minutes. I called my Dad because she-who-shall-be-called-Skanky had just given birth to Cheyenne a few days earlier. He told me that my best childhood friend Meagan had been involved in a car accident, and she didn't make it. I broke apart completely. Here it was a month after it had already happened, and I was finding out about it right before one of the most important tests I'd take that year. As much as I didnt want to, I had to push Meagan's death out of my mind. I would have to mourn her later so I cried on Keelio's shoulder and failed my PT test the next day by 45 seconds. Luckily, they gave us another chance to pass. The following day, I went out with the will to pass!!! I had to, there was no way I was getting stuck behind as my friends moved on. I was running my second or third lap when I heard Horton behind me. He told me "you're doing great just keep that pace don't let up". He stayed by me the whole time, all excruciating 8 laps. He continued to push me and tell me to keep going. I passed DS Jacobs on the last lap, Horton was just a few steps ahead of me, I immediately stopped to hear my time. He looked at me, I stared him down. It was the most horrible 10 seconds of my life, that seemed 10 minutes long. "16.63" was all he said. I beamed! I jumped for joy! I ran into Horton's arms and gave him the biggest hug I could muster! We fell. We immediately got up and walked away from each other like dudes that just hugged for too long. Every DS around us kinda looked at us with skeptical glances, but we were already separated and walking away that they didn't say anything. The next day, I was so proud of myself. In the chow line for breakfast, DS Williams from 4th platoon came up to me. This was our conversation...

DS: Who the hell are you?
Me: Private Hensley Drill Sergeant.
DS: What?? Nah, nah... Hensley is way bigger than you! You ain't Hensley!
Me:(trying not to smile) Ummm... yes it's me Drill Sergeant...

I wasn't sure whether to take it as a compliment at the time, but my Mom answered my doubts on Family Day. The day before family day, DS Nunez had told us not to bring our parents to meet him, he didn't want to pose for pictures, he didn't want to talk to any of them, he just wasn't interested. Of course, my Mom had to find him to ask where I was. I was standing right behind her about 10 feet. She had walked right by me, twice. The fact that she couldn't recognize me told me that DS Williams was serious when he told me I looked like a different person. I had lost a total of 70lbs during that 9 week period. I hadn't stepped on a scale or had the time to really look in the mirror so I hadn't even noticed my transformation. I felt great. We had to stay in post for family day but they had a dinner for us and I was with my Momma so I was having a blast. We hung out with Keelio and her mom and sister all day. It was a lot of fun.

Mom and Me during Family Day
 
DS Jacobs and I on Family Day
 
Keelio and I on Family Day. If you look closely you can see our awesome 'hand tans'.


The following day, April 24, 2007, we graduated from basic training. My Aunt Marie and cousin Michael came in and surprised. I was very happy to see her, my Aunt Marie became a huge inspiration to me during my time in the Army, I just wish I could've stuck with it and made her proud. Anyways, they thought it was going to rain, even thought it didn't, so we didn't get to graduate outside. Instead we had to cram into even tighter quarters and graduate inside. We were standing about 2 inches from everyone on every side... and it. was. HOT! We were all sweating profusely and I'll tell you what, all them boys so close and so sweaty and all their fumes mixing... vomit inducing. It made it better once we were done and we got outside. That day we were allowed to leave the base and explore the city around it, Columbia SC. My group went to the mall, where I bought the smallest pair of jeans I had purchased in years. And even thought we weren't technically allowed to change out of our uniforms, I did for a few hours because I had to wear those jeans! After a day of shopping and swimming at the hotel, we met up with Keelio and her family for dinner. We went to a restaurant and met up with these 2 guys we graduated with, H and A from 4th platoon and 2nd platoon. We all had a really good time and took pictures before we headed back to base for formation.

We graduated with 2 other companies, mine is one pictured that you can actually see

Aunt Marie, my cousin Mikey, and me on Graduation Day
 
H, A, Keelio, and I after dinner on Graduation Day
 
The next day we would be headed off to our AIT destinations. For some that meant hopping a plane, other that meant catching a bus. For me, Keelio, and Holloway - it meant jumping in a van and heading about 5 minutes across Fort Jackson. I wont go into what happened in AIT because its pretty much all unfortunate and sad, and it ended with me coming home with a honorable discharge after 8 months in the military.

Top: Me holding Hernandez from 4th platoon
Bottom: Holloway and Gowen hanging out on our last night at Foxtrot 1/34
 
Keelio, me, and Lovan making crazy faces on our last night in BCT

So I know this was a long story and I'm glad you stuck around to read it all. I hope you enjoy the pictures I've posted.

Side note: I see it as kinda fitting that I finally finished and published this on Memorial day, a day when we need to take time to remember those who have served and made the ultimate sacrifice for the freedoms we have. Freedom is not free, and every day our Soldiers pay the price for us to stay free. It's not only about thanking those who came back, but remembering those who didn't. Happy Memorial Day folks, be thankful a soldier has died for you.

Monday, May 6, 2013

A Series of Unfortunate-then-Inspiring Events, Part 1

I am about reveal a side of me that most of you never knew existed. This is something that I've had a hard time discussing. What happens in this and the next blog, completely changed my life. Please be kind, don't judge because I'd never judge your past.

The year was 2006. I lived in Grand Terrace, California, which is about 20 minutes north of Riverside. I had been kicked out of college in January and had been living with my Mom and stepdad working at Dominos. I was engaged to a guy. I drank a lot. He did too. More than me. So I ended it. I didn't want to be married to an alcoholic. I moved to Arizona to live with my Dad and she-who-shall-be-called-Skanky. After living there a few weeks, I found a job at a Payless. Not long after that, I wanna say like 2 weeks, my Dad woke me up at 3:30 in the morning with tears running down his face. My Pepa had had a heart attack. We left for Texas as soon as we cleared everything with our jobs and found a sitter for my stepsister Alexis, this was before Cheyenne was born, but not too long before we found out she was on her way. That car ride was stressful, we didn't know what we'd find when we got to Texas. We drove all day and pretty much all night. We arrived at Mema's house around 6 in the morning. After everyone woke up, we headed to the Memorial Hermann in Houston, where Pepa had been transported. We took our turns going back into the ICU to see him. When it was my turn, I walked slowly. I knew what I was about to see, and even though I tried to prepare myself for it, it was still a shock when I turned that corner. I saw my Pepa, the strongest man I had ever known, attached to machines and tubes. His eyes were closed and he wasn't there. It hit me and I sunk to the ground. My Uncle Chris caught me as my knees hit the ground. I cried in his arms, and he knew what I was going through. I couldn't visit my Pepa like this. I turned and let Uncle Chris lead me back to the waiting room. I ran to bathroom and broke down completely. That bathroom in Memorial Hermann received quite the beating that day. I called my Mom and cried to her. This was the first time I was really experiencing death. My Grandpa Mercer had passed away in 1994, I was 8 years old and unfortunately did not know him as well as I did Pepa. So it did not hit me as hard. I guess it was 2 days later when they agreed to turn off Pepa's machines that were keeping him alive. We called a preacher and the family gathered in his hospital room to say our final good-byes. The room was full of tears. I sat on my Pepa's left side, my Uncle Chris on his right, and we held his hands. We were the ones holding his hands when he took his final breath. A few years later during our evacuation from Hurricane Ike, my Uncle Chris and I talked about that day. We were the only ones to experience the heaviness of that moment for what it was. I've always felt guilty for being that person. I feel like there were so many more qualified people to be holding his hand. My Mema for one, or my Dad, my Aunt Margie... but no, it was me. It weighs on me sometimes, but looking back, that is one moment that I'd never take back in a million years. After Pepa passed, something inside of me slipped out of my control. I had always been a good girl. Of course I tried to get in trouble, and I was rebellious to an extent, but I never wanted to disappoint Pepa, so I kept my act straight for the most part. The day of his funeral I remember after it was over a bunch of us decided to go to the creek. Many of my family members are potheads and there were pipes going around. There was also beer. I had drank before, but I had never drank like this. I was drunk and my family was smoking, so I joined in. When it was time to go back to Arizona, I had found out that Payless had fired me. I guess after working there for only 2 weeks, being gone. I decided not to go back to Arizona. I didn't really have anything there now that I didn't have a job. So I stayed in Texas and after that, I loved the party. This all took place in the July/August area and come December, I had taken to my new lifestyle with great ease. I'm not saying that it was a bad life. I had a job and was making a little bit of money, I had a roof over my head. I really couldn't complain. I had some good friends. I was close to my Mema, but I was somewhat on my own. At that point in my life, I was lost. My whole life was a façade. I was in a place of darkness that felt as if it wasn't ever going to go away. I felt weak. I had lost a person who to me was a hero, the strongest man ever, my Superman. He was gone, never to wrap me up in a bear hug again, or to just sit across from me at the table. We, my cousins and I, would wait at the door to wait for him to come home from work. And now, he wasn't ever going to walk through that door again. As you can tell, to say I took his death hard, would be an understatement.


I needed to get away from this. I needed a place that would wash my brain of these thoughts and just start it new. I didn't want to forget Pepa, of course not. But I wanted to forgot the pain of losing him. One cold night I was sitting in my car with the radio up, beer in my lap, joint in my hand, and I was just sitting there, crying. Thinking mostly. Thinking of what I could do to change this, change what I've become. I decided to fall back on a dream of mine in high school. The ultimate form of brainwashing. Once upon a time, I had wanted to be the first female to be an Infantry soldier in The US Marines. Obviously in the physical and mental shape I was in, the Marines was a huge resounding NOOOO! So second best, The United States Army. I knew what I had to do. So I set things in motion. I talked to Mema about my decision. I'd also talked to my cousin Clayton because he was fresh out on a medical discharge. I also went down to the good ol' recruiter's office and had a chat with him. After these 3 conversations, and a couple more, I decided to sign up. I went to MEPS in Houston at the end of January in 2007, on February 13th, I was on a plane-then-a-bus to Fort Jackson, South Carolina....

What was to come.....

Stay Tuned for Part 2 of this one. It's a pretty long story so I decided to split into two sections. This was the sad part. Every story had a sad part... I hope you come back and read the next part, it's much more uplifting and it really gives you the feeling like you get after watching "Rudy". See you soon dears <3

XoXo

Monday, April 29, 2013

Qs and As and As and Qs

A couple days ago, I posted a status update on Facebook asking my friends and family to ask me some questions. Yes, I stole this idea from a page that I follow and thought that it was kind of creative. So I jacked it. Because this is the interwebs, and everything is a jacked idea. Even the idea of writing your opinions on a web page is a jacked idea. So I figured it was ok. Well, about 7 of my closest lovelies decided to take time out of their busy lives to ask me a question. Now I shall answer them. But first, THANK YOU to the 7 people that came up with something they'd like to know. You guys rock and I love ya to death! I don't have an order I'm going to answer these in, just random, so read on :)

1. Jose asks me "Why are you so gay? Tell us."
Jose... I'm gay because I was born this way! No really, I'm not actually gay. Well, I guess it really actually depends on which definition of the word GAY you are referring to.  I mean I am happily excited sometimes. And I also induce high spirits when I'm around other people who are equally inducing so I guess you could say I am pretty gay. Thanks for your question :)

2. My Daddy asks me "When am I going to be a Grandpa?"
Daddy, you know the answer to this question. Once again though, I will indulge you. We are not interested in the baby-having just yet. Maybe in the next 2-3 years we will start thinking more about it. We are happy being able to go do our thing, and have the money to do our thing. All that stops when the baby-having starts. Trust me, I wanna be a Mommy, but not until I know I'll be a good one. I'm sure you'll be one of the first to know when it happens though. So I'll let ya know :)

3. My good buddy Freddie asks me to describe my Dream house.
Take a ride with me real quick. Close your eyes.... well scratch that, don't close your eyes, you cant read with your eyes closed. Or maybe you can but your superpowers depress me, as I do not have them, so open your eyes! Ok back to that ride.... Imagine with me... we're riding down a red dirt road in Southeast Texas, trees line the road, we come to a driveway and turn down it, more red dirt... about 2 miles down the driveway we come to a house. This house sits on about 30 acres of beautiful Texas landscape. The house is big, 2 stories, wood siding. Huge wrap around porch lines with furniture for sitting and sippin lemonade and sweet tea on hot summer days. You walk inside and the walls are lined with family pictures. The furniture is all rustic and the décor matches. The living room is huge and spacious with a stone fireplace. The kitchen is next, huge with lots of cabinets. I cant have no one-ass kitchen with no storage space, one thing I wont budge on no matter where we live... I hate... HATE our current kitchen lol. Back to the house... Countertops are white marble. I have a dishwasher, and electric stove, and fridge, and they are all black because for some reason, I love black and white contrast in kitchens... yes, the tile is black and white checker pattern. Next is the Dining room, where there is a big table with lots of chairs. Surprisingly, I haven't put much thought into the dining room, except a big table with lots of chairs. There's a bathroom downstairs but bathrooms don't need description. I imagine the Hubs' Man Cave will be downstairs. That way if anyone goes flying out a window, there is a better chance they wont get dead. Not that that happens a lot, just a 'what if' that I've worked into my dream. Of course he will decorate his man cave, that's not my jurisdiction. Oh and I should mention the floors are all wood, no carpet at all downstairs. We go up the staircase to the first kids room on the right. Not sure the decoration or the color or anything as I don't have kids, and haven't thought that far ahead. There's another bathroom on the left. Down the hall a bit is another kids room. At the end of the hall is our bedroom, the MASTER SUITE!!! I've never had a master suite so this is going to be epic!! We're gonna have a bathroom too, and its gonna have a huge tub and stand alone shower with 2 sinks and a walk in closet big enough to be a room by itself! 

 
 
4. Alicia ask me "Do you have a crush on anyone, and Who?"
First off, Alicia... on top of me getting carded thrice in the past week, you ask me the only question I answered differently every time I was asked when I was a teenager. Now, as not a teenager, I don't really have crushes....on normal people lol. I mean I crush on my Hubby all the time, but I already snatched him up so I'm not sure if that counts. But if we're talking not-so-normal people.... girrrrl get ready!! Jason Aldean, Ryan Gosling, Jason Statham, Norman Reedus, Andrew Lincoln, the fabulous Neil Patrick Harris, Gerard Butler, Seth Macfarlene, Mila Kunis, James Marsters, the guy that plays Dr. Reid on Criminal Minds.... you see this could go on for hours! The only one that I'm ever allowed to have if he comes knocking is Jason Aldean, just like the Hubs can have Olivia Munn if she wants him... we have an agreement :)
 
5. My Mommy and Big Sister Tori ask me "When are coming to visit us?" (or some version of that)
Well guys... I wasn't going to tell you this until I knew for sure if it could and would happen but I really...REEEEAAALLLLY trying to make a road trip west this November. I have to do it at a time when I can take enough time of work to do it, which has to be my birthday and the weekend after it, and maybe that Monday after. Anyways, this road trip would include a night in Reno, then on to SoCal, hopefully a trip to Disneyland, and then the trip back. Tori, I know you live in NorCal... but I don't know we can make the trip up the coast or not.. if I could take more time off work I would, but I should get a vacation week next year so we will see what happens. As I said, I have no idea if this can even become a reality right now. We all know how many trips west I've tried to plan but haven't the funds to do it. Its to the point now that I am on the verge of not meeting 2 of Sam's babies and one of those babies is like 3 already. I miss my family and friends in California, and my Momma and brother in Reno, sooo much, I'm trying to get there I swear. 
 
6. Crisandra asks me "How did you meet your husband and how did you know he was the one?"
I love this question Cris! Any excuse to talk about the way we met!! So funny story, we met in a bar. In Cleveland. Called Buffalo Too. My aunt and I went to this bar all the time, I never found anyone worth keeping around, thankfully of course. I saw Tim as soon as I walked in, he was sitting at the bar by himself. I don't think he really looked at me though, we walked past him to the pool table, and ordered us some drinks. It was a Tuesday night, March 2010, which is weird because we normally didn't go up there on Tuesdays, Thursday was our night. Well after a few games of pool, we went to the corner table behind this couple. We sit down, I start looking for a song to sing because it's karaoke night, and this guy behind me taps me on the shoulder. He introduces himself as Robert and his fiancé Jessica is next to him. He says "Are either of y'all single?" I look at my Aunt and say "Well we both are, but she's a lesbian so good luck with that.." He kinda looks at me weird as if pondering something and then he says "Oh well its not for me, my buddy Tim he's pretty shy and I wanna know if he came and offered to buy ya a beer, would you let him?" I asked him to point him out, and turned to see the guy sitting alone at the bar. I said "Sure". He came over and said "Can I buy you a beer?" I said, "Sure, after I finish this one". It was easy from then on. We had a great time that night. We went our first date the day after. Had our first kiss the day after that. He made me his the day after that. My Aunt told me about a week after that "You're gonna marry that boy, ya know!" And about another week after that, we were sitting at his brother's house, just watching TV. I looked over at him on the couch. I just studied him for a few seconds, and then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks on my heart. It was like there was a GIANT neon arrow over his head blinking and screaming "HE'S RIGHT HERE DUMMY, YOUR SEARCHING IS OVER!!!" Just like that, I knew he would be mine forever and I wouldn't, couldn't have it any other way. 14 months and 2 weeks after that... he made me his wife, and now it's really FOREVER :)
 
 
Well, that's all folks. Thanks for tuning in this time and I hope to see ya back!! I hope the people that had questions got the answers they hoped for. I love y'all, and Good Night!!!

<3