#journal blog
“the opposite of love is fear.”
ig: cawefee
Something very simple.⬛
ig: cawefee
I’m addicted to adding little pearls to every flower stamp I see.♀️
ig: cawefee
A simple spread.
ig: cawefee
ig: cawefee ☁️
“to let go.”
ig: cawefee
In love with how this turned out.
ig: cawefee
A big thank you to my neighbor for randomly giving me a bunch of stamps.So many beautiful floral designs.
ig: cawefee
Blocking Granny Squares on a homemade blocking board. ❄️
ig: Cozy.Creative.Lifestyle
June 6, 2020
So I think I’m just going to jump right in. A lot is going on in my life. My dad had a stroke recently and now everyone (meaning my family) expects me to take care of him. I’m constantly ridiculed and criticized about how selfish I am. But am I really selfish because I don’t want to take care of a man who barely took care of himself? Before he had a stroke I would suggest he go outside and take a walk or tell him to stop smoking but I always received extremely hostile backlash. I tried to help him before any of this even happened and now it’s my responsibility to be a caretaker? My family basically told me to stop living my life to take care of my dad. MIND YOU I’m twenty fucking three!
October 5, 2021
Why am I so unhappy? Postpartum depression maybe. Literally nothing makes me happy but my son. He’s the o my thing that being hot into my life. But besides that if I’m not around him or if he’s sleeping I’m miserable. That’s how I feel 90% of the time even is he is up and about laughing which I love to see him doing there’s still this sadness deep down underneath that smile. My baby doesn’t make me sad or unhappy. I know what is it sort of. Recently I’m expressed my feelings or sadness on to my so called partner. The conversation started off with him asking me what’s wrong because I guess I’d been moping around all day. I told him that I haven’t been happy lately and he told me yes I have. I told him I was not happy and he asked why. I didn’t know how to properly put my answer into words so I tried my best. “I just need a break.” He took this to heart thinking that I meant from him but what I really meant was from everything. I’m a mom 24/7 and he’s a dad less then half of that, I need time to myself to figure out who I am again. I expressed this to him and all he said was okay. Okay. And this was weeks ago, he still hasn’t even tried to put in any effort to make me happy. I feel so alone. I have to fake being happy around everyone because I don’t want to seem like I don’t know I’m just a sad sap but I am. I cry every night and he doesn’t notice. And for me to actually think I was in love with him. I fouled myself. I loved him and I still do but I’m not or ever have been in love with him. He was right when I was pregnant and he said we barely knew each other. I will never regret my baby NEVER but I do regret who I had a baby with. I wish he was more caring and actually took what I wanted into consideration. “Oh baby I see that you’re overwhelmed with taking care of the baby. Let me wash the bottles and clean up the room.” No it’s never that. I do everything! I wash the babies clothes, I clean his bottles, I bath him, I dress him, I make his doctors appointments, I put him under my insurance, I get him everything he needs, I feed him, I wake up in the middle of the night to change him, I put him to sleep, I clean up after all of us. Best part is I came to love with him and his family, so we’re staying in his bedroom. I try to clean to you the room and he gets upset about me straightening up. What kind of… you know what? Never mind. I just want to happy and feel appreciated. I’m freaking tired of being sad. I need my own space, my own home for me and my son because I can’t rely on his dad to do anything for us. And honestly I don’t know why I’m going so hard tonight maybe because I’m just up thinking when everyone else is sound asleep. Anyway I’m about to go cry again.
It rained again. The last four days, it poured rain like bullets and flooded the sidewalks and gutters of my street. I sat downtown in the middle of the night waiting for the bus in the pouring rain, and I reveled in the familiar beat of each drop against my body. I slept with my window open and a lullaby upon my leaking skylight.
This morning, I woke to smoke. In my lungs, in my room, in the sky. Not from my home or anyone nearby, not enough for anyone else to notice yet, but I saw it. What could be so dry to still burn after four days of heavy rain?
