So when I ask WHY I was open to meeting the 13 yr old? Well, she’s actually twelve. And awesome And has a younger sister. And I think my open spirit was actually meant for her sister.

Mia’s ten. I got mom’s permission to talk about her. About this. About bullying.

First off? I looked at Mia at one point tonight and asked her how it felt to be the smartest person the room. She giggled. ‘Cause ten year old females do that. But she really was the most brilliant at that moment. Her vocabulary blew me away.

It all started by reading a card.

I read one for her sister. Freaked her out that it was bang on. Read one for her mom. Also got a bit weirded out by it and then Mia asked if I could ask for a message. I’ve never done that but why not try? I told her I am not a medium but she should ask for any information she wanted to know.

It brought something to her that she cried about. Her young friend who died.

Mom left. Cards were aside for a bit. The young ones stayed with me.

Poor Mia. Her sister took over every situation in the conversation. At one point? I actually told the sister to be quiet, turned to Mia and said, “I bet this happens a lot, eh? Where you don’t get a word? Feel a bit ignored?”

She smiled. Thanked me ‘for recognizing the needs of a young person but that she was used to it so I shouldn’t worry’. What ten year old responds that way?

Tonight? While all the adults sat around the fire? Mia told me how the kids on her school bus say she looks like a tranny and call her pre-op. That’s so fucked up. When did ‘tranny’ become a slur thing kids say?

Not only is she a girl who wants to be a girl? Mia looks like she could be Selma Hayeks daughter. Her eyes are a bit wide set, strong jaw and beautiful long hair. Gorgeous. I Googled pics of Selma to prove it and it was agreed. Mia is a tiny carbon copy. And no matter what anyone says on  the school bus? She needs to know she is so beautiful.

I think she felt that way by the time she left.

We decided we are having a make-over day. Yep! We’ll do it up with make-up and hair pieces. They (her and the twelve yr old sister) wanna dress-up so I have some dresses I’ll try to figure out to adjust. Fashion show with pics. I love everything dress-up and pictures! (even when it is innocent)

And because I read a card for her? A card that REALLY spoke to her?

Mia wants to come with me to the river to collect flowing water and rocks. She asked if she can learn about my magic. She asked her mom if it’s okay.

We talked about ‘paranormal dreams’ (her words because she’s fucking brilliant) and how to channel energy. Her questions? I need to research to reply but she is coming over tomorrow to find out. Challenging.

A ten year old is making me work to answer questions because I care that she cares. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? LOL

And because she told me she is ‘very emotional and it can lead to anger issues’ (again, her words ) I shared with her that I also have issues like that. We discussed if she’d had her first period because maybe it was hormonal.  She told me not yet but doctors wanted her on meds for her emotions. She didn’t want them. It was like talking to a little version of me.

Only maybe more mature LOL

Ah, Mia. Such an open soul. Pretty sure she’s gonna be my motivation to keep it moving forward.

So when I thought I didn’t want to be friends with people in my park? Mia made me realize open hearts can be friends.

Suddenly I have a ten year old bestie. She asked if we could be. I agreed.




I received a last email from my most recent ex asking me (out of a few things?) to not blog about him. And I have agreed to not discuss anything about him personally, going forward, as long as he remains away.

So. I am single. I mean, I felt super single when I sucked clit the other night. But now? I AM single. SINGLE. The left alone by the ex type that finally feels comfie in their own skin kinda fucking single!

I feel like I should be sad. But I’m not. Maybe I should feel some remorse or regret? Nope.

I talked about it with some people today. They were trying to convince me I needed to be more angry and have more of a vengeful feeling. I don’t.

My ex’s and I have all had our own pasts. I have learned beautiful and wonderful things from each of them.

Most recently? I learned a lot about self respect. I learned a lot about my sexuality from being with the best lover I ever had. I learned so many real life skills (like survival style). He was the first I grew a garden for. I learned. I am grateful.

And I am single.

Such a strange way to describe me but feels so right. SINGLE!

Feeling Relieved

Paul is safe and staying with someone who came to gather his belongings. I feel confident this is over. I asked ‘if Paul had any medical messages that came to my phone could I pass them through that person’? He’s a very kind guy and he said that would be okay.

For the first time ever? I feel like this is really over.

I thought I would be in more tears. I thought his stuff being picked up today would agonize me but it didn’t. I was relieved. To know that even if I have important info for him it can go through another mediator was such an added relief.

He has a place and people who can help him. His life is up to him.

I want to move on and just take care of myself. I’m looking for a bigger space so I can have a bathtub to soak my pained legs and an electric oven so I can cook healthier.

I don’t use my propane stove/oven. Too small and propane scares me. So right now I make things in a slow cooker or fry pan I can plug in. Or someone lights my BBQ for me. I BBQ very well, just not the lighting part.

It’s time for me to just be alone and be Shaunda. For real. Without him contacting me and confusing how I feel about my life right now. I want to just take care of myself (health, finances, space, spirituality, etc). I can do it if I can be alone to work it out.

I really felt closure when his stuff got picked up. Peace. And definitely relieved.



the pack

He brought his pack to me. Not in person.

Apologized again, over and over again in texts for how he has hurt me. Let me know that what doctors say about his situation is terrible and he’s not willing to go out like his dad. He’s scared of the pain.

He left me his bank card, everything of value, anything I could maybe use….  and let me know that he made his decision.

I know what that means. We have both struggled with depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts…

We even had a plan. Oh yeah. Suicide is that real for me. My other health issues? His health issues? Neither of us wanted to go out like that. We had plans to help each other through passing when either of us made that choice.

He’s said it before. Made threats. And I didn’t put stock in it because I just wanted him to stay. Tonight? I told him I hope he finds help. I gave him the information for the mental health unit and begged him to go for his own sake.

Tonight? I also received his backpack, left at the desk for me. So I could have his things and drink the big jug of wine he left me to help me get through this while I read his goodbyes.

And his wallet with all his information. So no one can even find ID on him and let me know when he’s done it.

This is fucking with me so bad.

Standing My Ground

When things first happen it’s pretty easy to tell someone they can’t come back. You’re hurting and angry.  It’s when the shock wears off and the anger turns into sadness and feeling lonely that it becomes more difficult to stand my ground about not seeing him.

I have conflict in my head. I took it out on you. I hurt the only person who’s ever really loved me. For that I am guilty. I am sorry. I feel deep remorse.
I will stop accusing. I know you feel bad for everything, just as I do.
I’m so sorry. I’ll stop writing you.
Good bye my love, my wife, my life. I’m so sorry.
His emails and texts can be very convincing of his remorse. However they waiver between remorse and telling me things to make feel guilty, like reminding me of his health issues and telling me how cold it is sleeping in a tent.
And I want to run to him and make it better. Am I crazy? Stupid?
No. I am stronger than I think.

I sent him a reply this morning re-iterating:

You can’t do this. You can’t say something self-deprecating about yourself and then tell me “I am right.” I have never said you are not a good person. YOU assume I think that and I don’t.

Please stop apologizing. I forgive you for what happened. The demise of our relationship was not your fault. I don’t blame you any more than I want to be blamed. We both made mistakes. It ended. And lines were crossed that can’t be returned from. Your apology is accepted.

I want for you to continue to see doctors, work, find a place for yourself, get counseling and be doing well. Please do those things for yourself. Not for me, not for hope. But because you need to do them in order to be a healthy, functional person. When you have been going to counseling I would consider attending a few sessions with you if your counselor thinks that would be helpful.

But I am still reeling from this. Do what you need to do for you. I think that is best for now.

And if I find a place before you I will give you my trailer. I’ll let you know. Please tell me when you are sending someone for your things.

His response only proved to me that being strong is the right game plan. Says he doesn’t need his things where he has made a decision to go. Told me he read my blog about security and not to worry about him bothering me ever again. And he’s sorry that I am his next of kin.

I’m anxious. Crying. Totally depressed. I have no idea how to keep moving forward mentally. Being strong or standing up for myself somehow doesn’t help with the anxiety.

It kind of makes it worse because I get scared of the reaction to my words. I’m sitting here ruminating about whether or not the next of kin comment means I should be expecting some sort of suicide notification.

I am kind of angry that he has this much influence over how I feel and what I think about throughout a day.

And I am tired because being this emotional is exhausting.

But I am standing my ground.



My anxiety? It’s through the roof. There has been no incidence (other than him texting) and, in general? I have no real reason to be afraid.

But every time I hear a car door? Or my cat moves her head on the counter and the movement catches my peripheral vision? Or my phone bings from a message? I’m in a full blow state of panic.

In an effort to calm my mind, and to make sure the owners here know WTF? I went and talked to management.

I feel a bit better. Nothing that happened was loud enough it got reported. I am still a tenant in good standing. And? I am told they prefer I call park security if there is an issue (way closer than cops so all around better in my eyes) and let them make a judgement to call police.

My friend is here off and on over the next days/weeks until I know no one is going to show up and surprise me.

Paul left things behind. I am the type to pack them up and then find a way for him to have them. That is part of my goal today. Pack his things. I don’t want to see him so working out how to get those things to him is another situation for another day.

I am feeling safe. In case anyone was wondering. I feel secure even if I am anxious. This fucking anxiety is a bitch.

But I feel secure. While I dance to my tunes, drink some Merlot and pack him away.


The Last Fight

How did it start?

We planned to make love. He wanted to eat my pussy for hours before giving me his cock! And I wanted it. Prepared by shaving my everything’s, doing my hair and generally making sure I was sexy.

Before we got into anything though?

I had been thinking about a comment made on my blog about sex. (But… The SEX!) In general, I’d already been thinking about how sex was affecting our ability to make decisions about the truth of our relationship.

I’ve been told what I did was a woman move. Like that is a bad thing. Whatever.

I stopped kissing and looked at him. I said, “I know things have been weird. We’ve been so disconnected but we reach out to each other through sex.  I love you but I’ve been holding back my heart from sex because of our situation. Tonight? If we do this? It’s because I made a choice to give you back my heart. This will be making love and I need to know you’re all in.”

I’m a bit lost on how it went after that but we didn’t make love. We argued. He packed. I wanted to die. There was back and forth texts about it all before I passed out from wine and my meds. Kinda hoping I would die.

He came back and broke in to see if I was really dead. He slept in the bed.

I woke up this morning to him here and was thinking WHAT THE FUCK? He woke up, we argued more.

Then he hit me.

There is a lot I can tolerate. Name calling, swearing, having to support someone financially…..  but I won’t be hit.

I was in that kind of relationship once. I learned if they hit once? They hit.

And that was our last fight. He is gone. I will not let him back. I have people around me watching to make sure I am left alone. Cops are always available as a last resort. But I don’t think he will come back.

It’s over now. Great sex or not, no one gets to hit me.

But… The SEX!


spread open

Paul and I both agree that our amazing sex always confuses any kind of break-up.

We argue and decide he is leaving but we want to be amicable. Neither one of us wants  to hurt the other. He packs but stays. The constant view of him packed to leave me makes me anxious 24/7. (just an anxiety/mental health thing)

And after two days of being pleasant to each other?  While we wait for him to be able to leave but not be homeless?

It gets confusing.

He can tell my broken ankle hurts so he wants to rub it. I can see his back hurts and I want to put pain cream on it. He rubs my feet, I rub his back,  I make us dinner,  he fixes the plugged drain…  then we laugh at the same time over an inappropriate joke. It all leads to intimacy.

The minute we lay a hand on each other? Arguments and disagreements be damned. Just a brush against each other can light us up. Suddenly all animosity is forgotten and all we want is to be in each others embrace.

We are each mad for the other’s body.

magnificent dick n abs

I love his lean, strong muscles and long arms that wrap all the way around me. I love how tall he is and that I feel small in his arms. I love his cock and how it gets hard when he’s rubbing my feet. I feel him getting hard against my ankles. I love the shape of his face. I love the way his eyes meet mine.

He has long fingers that do dark and dirty things to me. He’s so ‘long’ everywhere. His toes can touch mine while his one hand is buried in me and the other is tangled in my hair while he’s kissing my neck, my breasts. He covers me with himself.

I love his body.

I know he loves my body.

The way he grabs me makes my eyes roll back in my head. It’s like he grabs hold of everything I hate (my fleshy, flabbiness)  and as he pulls me toward him with that flesh in his grasp? He looks right in my eyes and tells me I am the sexiest woman ever. He appreciates I don’t hide the things I hate about myself from him. He loves my taste and smell. I feel like I want to give him every thing I have ever held back.

We do things ‘lights on’! He LOVES all the fleshiness and he wants to look at everything as he touches it.  The things I hate the most about my body are what he makes me feel the MOST sexy about.

For example?

As much as I display it? As much as I touch it? I kinda hate my pussy.

I’ve lost a lot of weight. I have hanging skin issues everywhere. I don’t shave as often as I should.

I made the mistake of picking up a granny porn mag once (just to flip through as a joke) and suddenly? I saw myself and my flabby body in those pics. It was awful. I see my own flabby body in the many pics I erase before finding that one to expose to the world.

But Paul makes me feel like a goddess. Every day. No matter what I look like naked on the other end of a camera. He gets hard touching my feet. My feet! And when he touches me, anywhere, I want to give him everything because I know he only sees beauty.

It’s very hard to live with someone who you are so sexually attracted to when you are trying to amicably break up.  We can’t resist and it leads to feelings like we can make up.

So, how much does sex really play in the role of a relationship? How do you let it go?



I’ve learned servitude from preschool years.

I always wanted to serve. I always lived to help people. Servitude? I always thought of servitude as an act of voluntary service. So what is it?


noun: servitude

I thought of it different. I thought of servitude as a combination of gratitude for what you have and wanting to help others who don’t. I never thought of it as slavery. I don’t think by serving the needs of others I am enslaved to them. I help (serve) people as much as I can in any ways I can.

So I was surprised to learn what this means. If someone feels like a servant to you? They feel like they are your slave.

I only looked it up because Paul told me recently I treat him like a servant. “I guess i’m expected to behave as your servant, to be who you want me to be when you want me to be it? ” (direct quote from writing)

This was in response to many things I won’t go into but I can say, at least, treating him like a servant wasn’t at all what I thought was going on.

I thought I was in servitude to him. Not the definition I just learned, but in the idea that I just wanted to serve and help him in every way I can. Instead? He feels like my servant in the traditional sense of servitude (I can tell that from the rest of the note written that I won’t get into in this post).

I take care of him. I want to. My servitude came from love, not slavery.

I wanted to make sure he had his meals cooked, his clothes washed and everything else done. I wanted to make sure he had a roof over his head.

Here’s the thing about servitude and wanting to help. You can give it out as much as you want. But as soon as you ask for some in return? You’re a slave driving cunt who only takes. (how I feel after reading his note)

Paul never worked for a long time. In the five years we have been together as a couple he’s had a job for total of three months in AB and two weeks (as of two weeks ago) in BC.

Yes, he had all the property and means to bring us to AB because he saved from old jobs. That was all lost in the arrest and I was the one who worked to replace and recover. Yes, he has worked odd cash things at times to help us get by. However, he hasn’t worked longer than three months in more than five years to maintain it.

And when he had the opportunity to get that property back? He hasn’t been the one making phone calls and sending emails to recover his property, I have! He went and did the driving/moving work. He should be commended for his part. But I should not be cast aside because my only part was in all the phone calls, planning, set up and emails to make sure Fish and Wildlife officers would come in on days off to make it happen.

Different situation altogether? I worked for two months full time in a Christmas kiosk in a mall while he was in jail so I could afford to find us an address for him to be released on bail to in Alberta. I risked losing my disability income over working. I risked my mental health/anxiety working in a mall kiosk in winter season just so he could be out of jail.

While out of jail and awaiting court? He got a job!

And on the day his benefits kicked in? He quit because he couldn’t deal with his ‘female boss being so bossy’. The day his benefits kicked in. He couldn’t keep it up another month for our eyes and dental, but he blamed me for the next two years about his teeth and eyes.

My drinking was why we couldn’t afford to get that stuff done. I am bad at budgeting. Not him quitting his job. Not that he wasn’t working and we couldn’t live off what I make on disability. Me.

While still in Alberta I took a job. I worked full time+ as a nanny for a friend. She was a friend so I worked cheap. Basically I worked for $5/hr five days a week to make sure we had everything we needed like food and rent paid.

He? Not sure. He was always home when I left and always home when I got there. I did all the cooking and cleaning and laundry. I’m not sure he even left the bed in those months.

And get this? I was happy. I was okay with all of it and dealing with it as much as I could.

Until? I started being blamed for being the problem. Doesn’t like my attitude. Or how much I drink. Or who I spend my time with. Or how he doesn’t know where the money is spent. (Who’s money? How does he even get to ask?)

Our rent has never gone unpaid even once. Our internet and other bills? ALWAYS paid on time. The food I cook him is in our fridge so he can make it himself if I don’t. He never went without for someone who wasn’t working.

But if we did run out before my payday? I sure got a shitstorm of flack for it. Not an apology for not having contributed or an offer to work, just a crapload of ugly attitude and behaviour.

Disability pay is not an easy life and I like wine. So, yes, there are times at the end of the month we need to wait a couple days for laundry to be done or weed to be bought. Because I drank wine.

I wait on wine those days and I don’t complain. I wait on weed those days and wish I had some but accept I don’t. I don’t understand how it’s okay for others to complain about things they aren’t getting when they haven’t contributed to in the first place.

If I was in that position? I would be overboard grateful every fucking day that I had a roof over my head. I would respect their space, the way they want it kept, regardless of what I want/think.  If someone was paying my bills and also risking their health to go the extra mile. I would gladly be in servitude.

Paul has been working two weeks now. I am so grateful he found work he seems to be happy at and wants to stay at. It gives me a great deal of alone time to do the things I need to do around the house and take care of ‘us’. He also does do a lot to help us.

But to say I have been treating him like a servant? I was so angry when I read that. My servant? After all the things I do….  he thinks he is my servant? If he was my servant he would be fired because it regularly takes him three days to take out garbage when I ask. He has no clue about being anyone’s ‘servant’.

And how is this for a guilt factor? I feel a need to defend my own feelings and defend him by saying I feel like my attitude has been super angry about Paul when it comes to this topic.

I am angry and defensive but I want it said, “My anger about certain issues does not negate all the ways he does do things for me every day.”

Please remember, as you read my emotions, there are always two sides to a story. His side doesn’t get heard here. There are ways I am super sick, daily, that he helps with. There are so many more personal ways he helps me. I need those things and I am willing to work on the other problems to have those things.

I am not looking to disparage him, only to vent my own thoughts and emotions.






Narcissistic, Selfish, Cunt

I’ve been called this regularly. I made a half hearted joke about it yesterday.. “oh yeah, I’m just a narcissistic, selfish cunt”. He replied that I wasn’t a cunt.

What is a narcissist?


noun: narcissist; plural noun: narcissists