I know I’m hella late getting my share of the posts up but I have been wanting to put this one up for a while so I figured I’d start here.

Now we all have our pet peeves and random things that just annoy us but take a look at this and see where I am coming from. I got this email from work about the upcoming education fair and when I read the email I couldn’t help but think that SOMEONE didn’t get far enough in school.

I’m a quitter and proud of it

I’m laying here on my couch with two blankets covering me. I’m so tired I’ve allowed my toddler to run around playing on her own. I haven’t done anything since the oldest left for school and the hubs went to work. Maeby is making a mess, but I’m trying not to care. I need a break.

I’m giving up.

My anxiety has been shooting through the roof lately and it’s causing me a lot of problems emotionally as well as physically. It’s gotten to the point where every little thing annoys me or pisses me off and I can’t take it anymore.

I know it’s bad because I find myself annoyed when Maeby gets in my face just to smile, Niki hands me a drawing she made for me, and the hubs tries to talk to me. Something is wrong. How could I be annoyed by even the cutest things my little girls do? And how wrong is it that when the hubs wants to talk to me, I secretly want him to shut the hell up? That’s not me. Normally I find myself trying really hard to get him to talk to me. Does that sound bad to the rest of you?

So I’m quitting some things. Now usually I’m neither a quitter nor an asshole, but sometimes it’s necessary. Here goes.

I will quit holding back

I’m going to continue to tell people the truth, but without sugar-coating it to protect their feelings. By doing so, I’m being fully honest with them. If they want my opinions and advice, they’re going to have to deal with it even if they don’t like it. Which brings me to the next thing I’m giving up.

I will quit worrying about things left unchanged

What bugs me to no end is when someone comes to me for advice, refuses to take it, and goes back to doing things the same way expecting the situation to magically change. If they’re not going to do anything about it, I’m just not going to listen. If they want to continue to live miserably, I don’t want to hear about it anymore.

I don’t need to stress about someone who won’t make the necessary changes to better their lives. I’m busy trying to make positive changes to my own life and I don’t need other people’s problems getting in my way. More specifically, the problems of those that won’t do what needs to be done.

People need to quit complaining and do something about it. It won’t be easy and feelings may get hurt. But honestly. Would you rather live miserably knowing you could have done something to change it? Or would you rather take your chances at a better life? Sure, you may end up in another unhappy situation, but making the next set of necessary changes will be easier. Sometimes it takes a few tries.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying my friends and family can’t come to me for help. I’m all for helping those willing to help themselves. They just need to actually do it. We all need to make changes when things aren’t right.

That brings me to the next item on my list.

I will quit caring about what others think

I’ve got a problem with letting other people’s opinions about me and my choices get to me. There are times when I won’t do what I need to do because I worry about someone thinking I’m a bad parent, wife, person. I’m done. If I feel my choice may make a promising impact on my family’s life, I’m going to try to do it. I may run the risk of doing things wrong, but at least I’m doing something.

I will quit staying quiet

When a problem is difficult, and the chances of making someone upset are even very little, I stay quiet. Not because I don’t want to say anything, but because I want to find the right words. The problem with doing this is that too many times I set it on the back burner of my mind and forget about it. That is, until the problem rears it’s ugly head again but it’s gotten worse. Sometimes I do this so many times that it gets out of control and I explode. All the wrong words are said, relationships forever wounded (if not completely broken), and I’m left with yet another piece of my heart gone.

This has happened so many times in past relationships from boyfriends to close friends, as well as amongst family. I’m tired of it. I’m not going to lose one more person. Or another piece of my heart! I’m going to try to speak up early on and quit staying quiet.

I’m done. I quit. These are a few things I believe I’ll be proud of quitting. My body and soul will thank me. I just hope that the people affected by this change will thank me as well.


The relationship I have with my mother has seen its fair share of ups and downs. Over the years, it’s unfortunate that I can count more downs than ups, though. If I could go back in time, and figure out just where things went bad, I’d change them. The tension is always there, but the distance between us seems to sedate it. I was the quiet kid. Placed in several dance classes by the age of 5, clinging to my mother’s side in crowded stores, and preferring to stay home instead of hanging out with my cousins, if my mother chose to do the same. At that stage in my life, nothing could alter my decisions about wanting to be within the same vicinity as her.

Things did change. When I started middle school, and began opening myself up to new ideas, and new friendships, I became aware of just how much fun the world could be outside my relationship with my mom. I realized that my friendships meant almost as much to me as the bond between mother and child. I was excited about this. It was chance for me to “grow up”, and figure things out for myself. I know this hurt my mom. I started keeping secrets from her. Secrets that my closest friends told me, and made me swear not to tell anyone else. At the time, I felt some sense of urgency to become independent. I wanted to wake up every morning with my own agenda. Sometimes, this didn’t include spending time with my mom, but I saw nothing wrong with that.

When I was 15, I was prescribed my first set of anti-depressants. I won’t go into detail about why I started seeing a therapist, but it was then I realized that my stability had the power to turn order into chaos with a blink of an eye. My mother wanted me to stay home on nights that I wanted to go out, and this upset me. Why couldn’t I have a “normal” teenage lifestyle? I wanted to see my friends, I wanted to spend time with boys I liked, and I wanted to experience life. I guess you could say that this was when our relationship started its downward spiral. A spiral that is nine years in the making.

When I first started dating my ex, my mother warned me about him. She didn’t like him, or the things he did. Of course, I saw none of this. I wanted to prove to my mom (and perhaps myself) that he wasn’t “that guy”, he wasn’t set on “using” me. I spent close to five years in the relationship with him. Denying the evidence of things he did to hurt me. This is what changed my relationship with my mother forever. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t see things the way I did. It was frustrating that she would threaten me when I went to go see him. She told me, with tears in her eyes, that I wasn’t the girl she thought I was. I wasn’t the daughter she raised. Rebellion was my constant companion. I disregarded everything she said to me, and wouldn’t come home for days. The most important thing to me then, was making sure that the commitment to my ex wasn’t all for nothing. My instability spun out of control. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping, and I even stopped talking to my Mother all together. We lived in the same house, but never spoke a word for over six months. I would leave before she woke up in the morning, and came back home after she fell asleep. I was angry with her. Angry that she wanted to control my life, and dictate every breath I  took.

Long story short, my mom was right about my ex.

After I severed ties with him, I tried to work towards forgiveness from my mother. Nothing could have prepared me for what she said to me on the day that I told her I was sorry for everything I put her through. She told me that it didn’t matter, and that she still loved me. Unconditionally. How much pain had I put her through? I knew the answer because I was hurting too. I was hurt for the way things ended with my ex, but mostly because I knew my mom hurt right alongside me, and I negated her feelings for the past few years. An overwhelming sense of guilt sent me back into myself. How could I have been okay with putting anyone before her? I tried to make my amends, and spend time with her, but when she would bring up my past, I would get angry and defensive. I became an empty shell of the person I used to be. Work was the only thing that made me get out of bed. I couldn’t sit in the same room with my mom and have a decent conversation without tensing up, wondering when she would bring up my mistakes, and what they did to her. Eventually, I decided to move away. In October of 2005, I made the biggest and most sporadic decision of my life. I gave everyone a month’s notice about the fact that I was packing what I could, and moving to Seattle. This broke my mother’s heart, but I knew that if I chose to stay, things would not get better. We would pass each other in the hallway, without a second glance. Maybe I was running away, but I didn’t care. All I knew is that I could not stay.

It has been almost four years since I’ve left home. I am a different person, with different values, and a stronger heart. Things with my mom are slowly traveling on the road to recovery, but I know for sure that time is the only cure we have. I destroyed the bond I had with her because I thought I was right. Now, I know my biggest priority is and will always be my family. I would walk to the ends of the earth for them. Everything I do in my life out here, isn’t done without first considering my family.

If I could tell my mom just one thing, it would be that I am still sorry for all the hurt I’ve put her through.
And though it may not seem like it now, she will always be one of my best friends.

Leaving home

Some people love being home. Others need to get away. Include me in the latter.

Guam is my home. I love it there. It’s where I was born and raised most of my life. It holds a piece of my heart bigger than any other place I’ve ever lived. When I think of Guam, I think of my family and friends. So many memories, good and bad, that made me into who I am today. I’ll miss it always.

Except too many people know me. Shut up! That’s not a good thing.

If my life was the way I wanted it, and I was happy with who I was, I would have been happy with that fact. The problem was, I wasn’t happy with my life and the person I had become. It’s difficult to change when everyone knew me and the things I’ve done. My past followed me like a case of herpes and my future was affected by it.

Can you Imagine it? My past is the herpes. My family and friends are the ones telling everyone I had it. “Watch out, she might have another outbreak!”

No. I don’t have herpes. Come on. Focus.

Anyway. On an island so small, I couldn’t get away to recreate myself. My mistakes wouldn’t be forgotten or forgiven. Someone was always bringing it out into the light. Too many people looking over my shoulder. Questioning my actions and reactions, causing me to do the same. It was too easy to fall back into my old ways when no one would allow me to.

Getting away was a good thing.

After six years away from home, I’m a different person. I tried to retain my good qualities while ridding myself of the bad. I just don’t think I would have been able to back home. I needed people who barely knew me, but knew me enough, to tell me what an awful person I was and why. What I was doing wrong was what I needed to hear, but for one reason or another, my loved ones wouldn’t tell me.

I will always love Guam. I just can’t live there anymore.

It’s too restricting and I’m the kind of girl that needs freedom. If I want to hop into my car and drive hundreds of miles away from where I am right now, it wouldn’t be possible living on Guam. There’s no place to hide and sometimes I just need to. The scenery never changes and I’ve seen it all. Over twenty years, and way too many drives around the island, I’ve seen as much as I could see.

It’s also too laid back and slow-paced.

Once in a while that’s fine, but after a while, I can’t handle it. I always need to be on the go. Need to keep moving in order to stay sane. I need to move fast, so living by “Chamorro Time” and being two hours late all the time wouldn’t happen. Having people show up two hours late drove me insane. I live on an island where it take 15 minutes to get to most places. So why is everyone always so late?

I’m happy where I’m at right now. Maybe it’s because I know that I have options. If I wanted to, I could make a change. I could move to the other side of the country and nothing would be familiar. No one will no my name. If I want to be near people that remind me of home, people that do know my name, I could find them and move where they are. If I want to stay where I am a few more years, that’s not a problem either. I’m happy just as long as I have options.

I will always miss and love Guam. I just need to be on my own.