Monday, March 28, 2016

Mawwiage

I want to talk about marriage. Not just my marriage (although obviously a lot about mine, since that’s my most personal reference.)

I want to talk about the struggles, the evolutions, the comforts, the sacrifices, and even a few tips. Bare with me, and sit tight, my story about marriage is one hell of a bumpy ride.

I initially promised this for Sunday, as I’ve typically been posting on Sundays. However, in my infinite wisdom, I forgot this Sunday was Easter Sunday, and therefore I skipped posting and put it off for today.  I do these things a lot. I’m the flakiest, most unreliable person I know. It’s one of my true weaknesses. You know those awful job behavioral questions they ask now?? Well, when I was in college, we did a whole module on job prep, and mock interviews. They wanted us to be able to answer any question, and get any job. One of the questions would inevitably always be, “What are your weaknesses?” and you were supposed to be able to answer in a way that challenged your weakness into a strength, like, “Well, I feel that I can be extremely sensitive, however, I believe that creates an awesome platform for my empathy to show and really care for others.” Or some shit. Anyway…I’m sitting here watching X-Files and yelling at my children to get into their own beds because it’s a school nights. {{{Hallelujah and FUCK YEAH!!}}} I’ll go ahead and get to the point of tonight’s post!

Ok, I seriously just took a two hour break. Someone needs to stop me. SOMEONE NEEDS TO HOLD ME ACCOUNTABLE GOD DAMN IT!!!!

Let’s try this again!

Marriage. “Mawwiage. It’s what bwings us togevah today.” – The Princess Bride. (My spell check is losing it’s shit. LOL!!)


So earlier this week, I made a post on my Facebook page about Drew and I, a little bit about how we met, and what led up to our getting married. Instead of rehashing on that, I want to talk about the actual married part. I suppose a little bit from start to finish, but more so the parts that fall in-between. The not so “important” parts, and even the icky parts.  What I will promise however, is that as much as I wish I could share EVERYTHING, I can’t, but not because it would upset Drew (he’s very used to my antics) but because I’m a firm believer in keeping some of my story to myself. To own my memories. Everyone should have that right, and I reserve that in every aspect of mine. Despite what I’ve given you in the past, you don’t truly know everything, and that’s how I like to keep it. So let’s get on with it.

Do I start at the beginning?? I suppose that’s needed.


Drew and I were married September 23rd, 2007. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony, surrounded by close family, and it’s honestly, truly one of my happiest memories. We got married 3 weeks after we’d began “dating.” I say “dating” because we’d been best friends for many years, and room mates for some time. By the time we were “together,” we felt that we knew absolutely everything about one another.  We’d come together in a less than ideal way, but when we made our decisions, we stood behind them and followed through. Despite the pain we’d both experienced in the relationships we were in at the time, we knew we were hurting our significant others, but that we had to leave the relationships. We didn’t choose the best way to do that, but once it had all happened, we knew it was for the best. That’s the most uncomfortable part of this story.

After we got married, we lived in an apartment for a few months, before moving into Drew’s parent’s home. That wasn’t exactly the most fun thing I’ve ever gone through, but after growing up and learning how to get along with a much more stable family than the one I’d grown up with, things got exceptionably better. Drew and I struggled a lot during this time. I think mostly because we were so young and so unsure about how to make something work that we didn’t know much about. We didn’t fight much, but we also didn’t talk things out. We were children playing at a grown up’s game, and we were losing.

After 6 months of living with Drew’s parents, we knew our plan of saving money to leave and go to Philadelphia was failing, and we needed a better plan.  Drew decided that joining the Air Force was the best opportunity for us, and for making our lives better. At the time, I viewed this as terrifying and what could potentially end our marriage. Many years later, I recognize this as the greatest sacrifice Drew could have ever made for us, and I am SO proud of him and his service.

We soon got pregnant with Genevieve, and things sped up from there. Before we knew it, a year had passed, Drew was done with training, we’d gained custody of my brother, and we were headed off to Tucson for an unknown amount of time. 2 months later we’d be pregnant with our second and last, Dominic.

After Dominic was born, I ended up with some severe post partum depression. On top of that, I was medicated incorrectly, being pumped with synthetic hormones that I couldn’t handle and 2 babies and teenager that I didn’t kow how to parent. This was a disasterous recipe for making a marriage work. I became inconsolable, violent, and my triggers were unmangable and taking over every aspect of our lives. Luckily, I made friends right after, and built the best support system any military wife could ever dream of. Slowly I healed, and so did my marriage. Now we’re working on year number 9, and it’s a miracle.


So what are some of my best tips?

·      Never complain of your spouse to your own mother, they’ll never forgive them. Talk to their mother, because they HAVE to love them regardless. {I’ve been blessed with the best 3 mothers in law a girl could ever hope to have.}

·      Choose your spouse every day.  {I read an article a few motnhs ago about this, and it changed the way I looked at Drew.}

·      Go to bed mad. No bullshit is ever worth losing sleep over. The more tired you are, the less you’ll be able to process and solve problems. {Drew knows I’d rather sleep that shit off than stay up crying inconsolably all night.}

·      Make sure your spouse knows that you appreciate them. Point out the awesome shit they do that makes you happy. Look for those things everyday. {I don’t do this often enough, which leads me to my next.}

·      Remember that neither you nor them are mind readers, and that despite your feelings of love and gratitude, if you don’t vocalize them, your spouse won’t know your feelings. {Drew and I both lack this skill. We have to make a valiant effort to let one another know how much we mean to one another. We’re both needy as fuck.}

·      Have sex. Do it often, do it well, make sure you’re switching positions, and giving it your all. DO NOT force yourself to have sex if you don’t want to, but try and evaluate why you don’t want to. Just had a baby? Damn good reason. Got in a fight? Don’t fucking worry about it. But intimacy matters. Even cuddling, holding hands, rubbing backs. Human touch is essential! {At almost 9 years of marriage, Drew and I have more sex now than when we first got married. We finally have that freedom again, and we take advantage. Our marriage survived this long without consistent sex, and your’s could too, but try not to let it last forever. You deserve damn good sex.}

·      My last and most important: People change. People evolve. People age. If I had been warned if this before we got married, I wouldn’t have been horrified by the changes we’ve both been through. We could have evolved together. Instead we evolved separately and had to find our way back to one another. And thank god we did. Leave room for change, and be flexible. Learn that the world is not black and white, and that we need to be willing to negotiate in all things.



Have a happy marriage!




Sunday, March 13, 2016

Quitting Coffee and Finding Nipple Hair. My Life is Over.

Since I've been attempting to shift the blog for a long time now, I decided today would be as good as any to start. And start I will! Disclaimer: you're either going to love this in a "spit your coffee and laugh til your sides hurt" or you're going to hate it in "I think I just vurped and I'm highly disturbed way. Know your self and either read on or GTFO. You've been warned.

Following last weeks blog about ME!, it's going to be a toughie to follow up, but I'm going to do my best.  I've plugged in a bit here and there for the last year or so about changing the structure of the blog, and moving in a different direction, but I've been slow to follow through. Mainly because I don't know where the fuck I'm going (reoccurring theme in my life to be quite honest.) The obvious direction is a Mom Blog, because, what do ya know, I'm a mom! Buuuuut, as I've stated previously, I'm not just a mom, and while my kids do have their own god damn hashtags on IG, and they are hilarious, I don't believe that it would be enough to fill a blog. So my next option is Art...which would be great, but regardless of how much I enjoy my art, I'm not confident enough to create an entire blog about it, not would I know what to do aside from throwing up photos. So that's out. I sure as shit can't write about marriage and relationship advice, seeing as I make it through mine a day at a time, and at the end of the day, I lay awake in bed thinking about all the ways I could be a better wife. I can't really write about work, because I have this amazing knack for holding positions where I'm bound by tight HIPPA laws, and I'm really unsure about where the line is drawn when it comes to writing in a public forum (or private for that matter) about my roles in my positions. Believe me though, to be a fly on the wall for any of them would be life changing for you. I'll be figuring this out in time. So what the hell DO I write about? Well fuck, how about all of it!!


My concerns this week have been: eating cleaner (we will discuss this further below), drinking more water (the kind that isn't mixed with coffee grounds), yoga (in my living room for the sake of my dignity), quitting smoking (14 years and it's finally catching up), taking vitamins (I'm bloated like a fucking walrus), and lastly: why the FUCK IS THERE HAIR ON MY FUCKING AREOLA???????


Let us proceed!

- First topic- food. I fucking LOVE that shit!!! It's my life. I eat everything, everywhere, Green eggs and ham?? Fuck YES Sam I Am!! Thank you you annoying piece of shit! Seriosuly, I eat anything anyone offers me, it's a healthy sickness. I joke often about my love for food, my lack of "give a fucks" about my weight (really, truly: being skinny isn't a goal) and my cravings at any given moment. I just fucking love to eat. I love my husband, my children, and my food. In that order. 1. Sex 2. Results of sex. 3. FOOD!!!
HOWEVER.... I hit 27 a few weeks ago, and my body has begun to rebel. The acne I procured at 22 is here with a vengeance 5 years later, I'm so bloated that I can't fit into my stretchy pants (I have a lot of stretchy pants) and I have to poop a LOT. Which is fine, but this is extreme.
So I'm changing my ways guys, I'm giving up the shit food for 6 months. Maybe. We'll see. But I'm going to give it the gold star try. Pray for me, and all those who come in contact with me. Amen.

-Second topic-water. I DON'T fucking love water. Unless it's brewed with the beans of the gods, or fermented in the brown bottle. That's it, that's all my liquid intake. A couple cuppas a week late at night, when I'm attempting to convincing myself I'm NOT a functional alcoholic, and I DON'T need a beer. Other than that, I don't drink water. But with the acne that makes me look like my face is deteriorating and decomposing, I have to do something. I may not care about my weight, but my face?? Oh baby, it's ALL I GOT!!  Soo, I'm shooting for a half gallon a day, moving up from there, and trying not to die. My bladder is not thanking me this week.

Third topic- Yoga. If you've caught onto the last two topics, you can probably come to some conclusion that I'm not a fan of exercise, and care very little about my weight. But yoga is the exception. I feel open to this because it helps more with my mental issues than anything else (and god knows they're aplenty.) I'm figuring that if I can commit to yoga, I can do anything. I'm really not excited about yoga though, and that's why it's March and I styill haven't started. Soon it'll be October and I'll go "Ah fuck it, maybe next year." I'll keep you uodated. 

Fourth topic- quitting smoking. STOP RIGHT HERE AND READ CAREFULLY: I love, LOVE, smoking. It's my comfort, my security blanket. I don't smoke in my house, car, or directly near my children or anyone else who does not smoke. I try very hard to be respectful. Please, under no circumstances, try and urge me to quit smoking!! I understand you love me, and you want what's best for me, but I have the emotional capacity of a 12 year old, and just to be a brat, I WILL smoke another just to prove I'm not quitting. I do NOT WANT TO QUIT!  But I'm going to, I'm not going to tell you when, because I'll be really fucking cranky and I don't want to hear your shit. I won't tell you because I don't want you to hold me accountable to abstain. I won't tell you until it's been months of no smoking, because I know me, and I know that all it takes is one little break down, and I'll suck down a pack in a day just o calm myself. I HAVE to make it over the hump to quit for good, and I have to have a damn good reason to stay quitting. I'll tell you in a year. Don't ask questions, just don't.

Fifth topic- NIPPLE HAIR!!! Since I yelled at you on the last topic, I figured I'd give you something to laugh about, because your feelings might be hurt, and I really do feel bad about that. So really, nipple hair???? I'm 27 god damn years old. I get lip hair, thicker arm hair, faster growing leg and armpit hair, but FUCKING NIPPLE HAIR??? This was a WAY worse surprise than hemorrhoids (which I was NOT properly warned about and came as a nasty surprise.) So I'm doing all this top notch research *googling* and finding nothing. Not a damn thing. Either I'm in VERY early peri-menopause OR...I'm dying. Those are my options. So what do I do??? Do I shave them?? No. Under no circumstances, do NOT shave your nipple dudes!! You will get a rah that spreads the entirety of your tit, and it'll itch like a motherfucker for two weeks, especially if you wear a bra and work in a sweaty environment!! Just don't. Do you pluck them?? Yes, but apparently at the rate of one per week, and in the same direction at which you remove lug nuts from a tire. Again, just fucking don't. trim them, and leave them the hell alone otherwise. And convince your partner that it's the new sexy, and at nearly 30, he should feel lucky my facial hair doesn't match his. 

Happy Sunday loves!!

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Who Is Liz?

Who is Liz? Well, that sounds like a "Who the hell is she anyway?" type questions, which makes me giggle.

But really, who am I?  How many hats do I wear? What's my life (read all past blog posts and you'll know!)

I'm sitting at work today, and I open my Notes app on my phone to make a list for a Walmart trip after I leave, and I find a note that I wrote a few weeks ago, but have little memory of. Then it hit me! I had just fallen asleep, and I woke up with this deep need to make a few notes about who I am. What makes me, me! Today, I want to share those notes:

-I am first and foremost myself: Elizabeth Marie (Adolph) Kimbel. I was born February 10th, 1989 in Shady Grove, Maryland, one county over from where I grew up, in Prince Georges County.

-I was born to Charles (Charlie) and Laura (Holder) Adolph, the oldest of what would become a 4 sibling household.

-I attended school in PG County from first grade on, until we left Maryland in my "would be" sophomore year of high school.

-My father died of a massive heart attack when I was 12 years old, in May of 2011. It was the most devastating moment of my life, because I lost the most important person in my little world, and equally gained freedom from someone who could have ruled my entire life (and essentially did, even after death.)

-(Please see all past logs to understand) I was sex trafficked and exploited (both self and pimp controlled) for a total of 3 years, 9 months of that spent on the streets. This has become the epicenter of my life, because as a recovered Survivor of domestic child sex trafficking, it's become my heart to work in the anti-trafficking world.

-I moved to Mayville, Chautauqua County, New York when I was 15, weeks after my pimp had been arrested and was being tried in court. I was devastated, traumatized, and filled with anger and rage. Even still, I met my two best friends. Kristen and Drew. I married one of them.

-After a long series of abusive relationships, drug addiction (sober from cocaine 11 years, pills 9 years!!) I dropped out of high school officially, moved out on my own at 17, worked 2 jobs and 14 hour days, and gave up being angry at the world, at God, and at myself.

-On a beautifully sunny day in September, I married my best friend after being together for 3 weeks, and it was the greatest decision of my life.

-Drew joined the Air Force, we had babies, took custody of my brother (another of the greatest decisions I ever made!), I recovered from the bulk of my trauma, and then we moved back to New York after living in Tucson, Arizona for 6 years.

-I lost all contact with my mother through a series of angry arguments, a life time of her inability to take care of her children, and my inability to forgive her. This still hurts me every day, and I still forgive her everyday. I doubt we'll ever speak again, or that my children will ever know her. This has shaped me into the mother I am today.

-I received my GED in 2012, attended college for Medical Billing and Coding and graduated in 2013, worked in a nursing home, and left because I was also building my career as a Survivor Mentor and Advocate, left that as well to move home, and now I work as a DSP with some amazing humans, for some amazing humans, as well as working in a DV shelter with more amazing humans.

-I come home everyday to the 3 most amazing humans though. My husband of 8.5 years, Drew, who remains my best friend, my lover, and the father of my beautiful babies. My babies, Genevieve Charlie(6) (who has her own hashtag #shitgenevievesays) and Dominic Andrew (4.5). I talk to my baby/brother Paul daily, who has my mama heart in knots most days, but also makes me incredibly proud of the amazing man he is.


So that's it. That's who I am. That's my life in a few short paragraphs, but who the hell am I really???

-Well, I'm a fucking feminist, with the mouth of a dirty tattooed sailor with 6 tats of my own. I work my ass off with an ever growing work ethic (and perpetual laziness always tempting me).

-I love listening to Irish punk rock, gritty Delta Blues, and any other genre that hits my soul for the day. Some days it's The Distillers, others it's Tay Tay.

-I love dancing: in my kitchen, with my husband, my babies, at work with our seniors, or in the yard by my damn self.

-I crave books that stick to my soul like thick oatmeal sticks to my insides. I want to cry and laugh and laugh cry. Books are everything, and I desperately want my babies to love books, else I'll have failed as parent.

-I paint. Anything. I fucking love it! It's become my happy place, and I can get lost in it for days. I paint because I want pretty shit, and I don't try to get better so I can be a pro, I just want prettier shit.

-I always thought that working with victims of trafficking and domestic violence would make me a better human and mother, but it's been my experience working with seniors that live with develpomental and intellectual disabilities that have done that. I know I'm a better mother and human because of what I do everyday at work.

-I exaggerate about little things, stupid shit with no consequence. I take big things very seriously and honestly. There's an invisible grey line for me.

-I feel sad and lonely often, but I'm equally content and happy, to the point of happy tears, with my life and all those in it. I need my alone and sad time, to feel the range of emotions I have a right to feel, but if I were more spontaneous and less lazy, I'd have less time to be sad.

-I thrive on recognition. No matter how big or small, I want to be given credit.

-I'm sensitive and I cry at the drop of a hat. I don't like criticism, and I take things hard. HOWEVER, I'm also easily paranoid, and I would rather cry about it for a week, than for someone to avoid telling me something, and spend a week being passive aggressive, because then I just get pissed. Go ahead, just let me cry please.

-I'm also paranoid that I'm highly obnoxious and unlikable. I care a lot about my likability.

-I'm nosy as fuck.

-I try to love myself daily, and usually I can convince and even exude my sexiness and desirability. By the end of the day, I'm too tired to give a fuck.

-I often daydream. I love living inside my own head.

-I'm flaky and unreliable. I never remember making commitments, and I feel guilty as soon as I make any, because I'm either going to flake, or become anxious and miserable about having to follow through. I love my people though, and would do anything...even if it takes me forever. I always hope my good intentions are enough, and that they mean something. Probably why I require recognition to be happy, so that when I do follow through, I know people are happy.

-I have a driving/making appointments/anything to do with talking on the phone anxiety. Paralyzingly.

-Speaking of paralyzing, I'm TERRIFIED of zombies and deep dark water. And any scenario where my children could be harmed or killed. I have the worst nightmares about losing my children.

I feel like the above describes all the bad about me, but I also feel that this is my transparency. I'm also an artist, a girl who loves glitter and motorcycle boots. I wear a lot of black and floral. My head is full of beautiful designs, for everything from canvas to bedding. I love painting my nails, eating chocolate, watching shit TV, and being with my friends and family. My children go everywhere with me, but they're becoming more independent. they need me less, but still need me. My husband and I are finding one another again, making time, and loving every moment. We're still broke, and scared, and unsure, but we'll be ok, because we always have been. I miss my brother like crazy, and I want to hug him and make life better and less scary, but I can't, so I listen to his music and watch his movies, and then I talk to him about them, because I know that's as important as listening to the shitty details.


I am me. I am Liz. I am beautiful, and smart, shit, I'm pretty fucking sexy too. I'm sad and happy together all the time. I will be for the rest of my life. I could be labeled as a "wife, mother, sister, sex trafficking survivor" for the rest of my life, but I'd really rather just be Liz.





Human Trafficking Awareness Month

We're coming up on the last day of Human Trafficking Awareness Month, and my 27th birthday is in 11 days! With the two being so close in time, it's left me thought about the wonder and irony. How amazing that I can not only celebrate the month of awareness about something that could have very well killed me (and tried) but I can also look forward to a birthday I may have never lived to see.  I've said many times in the recent weeks about 27 being no big deal (it's not 21, amiright???) BUT it IS a HUGE deal! Here I am, 15 years after my father passed, my life fell apart, my absolute rock bottom, going through survival sex to get what I needed, going through 2 pimps who trafficked me and finally finding myself on the other side of all of this.

15 years later, and I am 8.5 years married, the mother of two incredibly beautiful and bright children, the sister to three amazing humans, and related to many beautiful souls who have lifted and supported me through all of this. I have a resume I can truly be proud of, an education I never imagined I'd obtain, and a life I wouldn't trade for all the world depsite the stress and exhaustion. I am FREE. I am ALIVE. I am WELL. I am BEAUTIFUL. And above all, I am worth more than any amount of money or gold or diamonds can ever offer. How amazing is turning 27???