New place

I've moved. I'm keeping this site for public posts and the other for private.

If you didn't get the email with the link and the password, please email me at crystaldawnmckee@gmail.com

Coming Soon

I've been without a phone the last week and had no way to post.

Michael never responded about hosting the site so I'll figure it out by the weekend and email all of you the info ...

Thanks for your patience

Strange Rationale

Ok, there's a hiccup. Poor Kat worked all this time and found out that Blogger only allows 100 private viewers in case you're doing something illegal or preying on kids.. We're way, way past that in email addresses.

Kat had some good ideas, anyone else?

Kat

A wonderful, sweet reader offered to set up the emails and privacy settings for me and she's using her own time to do so as I write. Kat, thank you so much. It would have taken me weeks to do the work you've done.

I didn't deny any requests (you're all invited who emailed and commented) so when it goes private, if you can't get in, please email me at crystaldawnmckee@ gmail... There are going to be misspellings and accidental omissions with the number of emails she's working through so please don't feel you've been left out - you haven't. Just let me know and I'll get you in the list.

I will probably go private Sunday.

Thank you for all of your inspirational emails and comments. I'm glad to have you all back.

Knocked Down

If this plays out like I think it will...and I'm hoping for the best but expecting the worst...I don't think I have the strength to fight my way up, again.

2013

The popular sentiment is that today is a day to start over. It’s a day to start walking the path to a new and better you or to forgive yourself for the past years mistakes or not make the same ones or some such shit.

New Years has never really held any significance to me. What am I going to resolve to do today that I didn’t do with the last 365 opportunities I had? Absolutely nothing. When I’m backed into a corner or weary of where I’m at, I make the choice to change my life and it doesn’t matter if it’s a Monday or middle of the summer. I just do it…usually.

This past year has been different, though. It’s been tragic and terrifying and very, very lonely, and the obstacles that have landed in my life over the past month have really made me think long and hard about where I’m going. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve looked around during various years in my life and wondered, “How the hell did this happen?” I’m at that point, again, only this time, it’s with the absolute certainty that it wasn’t all my doing. My situation (and I mean generally and more recently. Some of it is 95% poor choices and 5% bad luck and some just 100% stupid decisions. I’m speaking in averages) is about 25 percent poor choices, 25 percent being too open, trusting and forgiving (which I guess would fall under ‘choices’) and about 50 percent ridiculously bad luck. My sister asked my Mom a couple of weeks ago if I have a black cloud that just follows me around from place to place and sometimes, I wonder, too. If I’m being tested, I’d like a potty break, please.

I know that in order to write freely and openly, I have to do it privately, but it still irks me. I’ve never been one to hide from the ugly truth about myself and I’m not about to start now. However, I owe it to Chris and my kids to not be so candid about everything that’s happened so I really feel I have no choice. So, why not just write a diary to myself? Well, I used to harp about how this blog was for me and blah blah blah and honestly, that’s bullshit. It is for me, but it’s for others, too. It’s for those who are in the same or similar situations who can read and not feel like they’re facing their demons alone. Nothing has given me more of a sense of purpose than A., being a mom and B., finding out that the things I write could actually help someone, even if it’s infrequent. So, I write and I don’t hide my warts or try to make anyone think I’m something I’m not. I have darkness in me, the capability to really hurt people that love me and trust me and to do so very callously and with disregard. I’m ashamed of that, but it’s true. I didn’t think I could do the things I’ve done, never would have imagined those traits to be hiding in me anywhere, but they were…and I use past tense because I know that I will never behave that way, again.

In order for me to let go or forgive and move on, I have to relive all of it and I guess I’ve chosen to do it here. When I’m writing it’s almost as if another part of me takes over and I can process thoughts and make observations in a way that I’m never able to do otherwise. It helps me to answer the questions about myself and dissect all that’s happened and the behavior that I’m afraid to face in any other setting.

Since I’ve decided to make this private, I do have one condition: I got a lot of really lovely emails from a lot of people about wanting to read my blog and I thank you. I read everything I get. I’m afraid that some of the illusions you have about me will be shattered, because I’m not holding anything back, and the admiration or respect or whatever you call it will turn to disgust. Please, please, just stop reading. No matter how much you want to, please don’t write me or comment about what a horrible person I am. I’m choosing to allow you in and that’s all I ask. I don’t have a thick skin and I never will. Some of the emails and comments I got after the last debacle devastated me, and I can still recite them, word for word. I have punished myself far more than anyone else ever could and I do so daily. Karma or God has also intervened and I have (and still am) paying dearly for the things I did and the people I hurt, so, please. No venom. I’ve never claimed to be pious or perfect, I’m far from it and I know this. I only share these things in the hopes that I can heal, maybe forgive myself and possibly help someone who might be facing the same painful situations, from either side of the table. Everyone copes differently and this is my coping mechanism. On a positive note, however, I don’t really drink anymore and I’m not on any mind altering medication so there won’t be any midnight posts that where I confess a bunch of crap that ends up being a drug-addled, patchwork delusion, thereby vilifying and effectively ostracizing myself from the blog advertising community. I found out that Chris had been going through my emails and deleting hateful ones and I don’t have the privilege of having someone look out for me, anymore, so please just accept that I’m a great, big pussy and your meanie emails will make me cry and tear my hair out so leave it at that.

With that said, I have an enormous list of email addresses to add to the reader list and no internet or computer at home so I’ll compile the list and privatize this as quickly as possible. And then I’ll take you into my life, again, and in doing so, expose myself to the very bone and the darkest places in my soul. Not much of it will be humorous, I’m afraid, and some of it will have to be guarded because … well, to put it simply, it could affect the legal outcome of an upcoming trial (and, no, I did not go to jail or set kittens on fire or kill a nun or anything like that. I wish it were so black and white).

After my Dad died, I tried several times to write and be light-hearted and it was forced and terrible. I simply wasn’t ready. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like I am and I hope that, if nothing else, it serves some purpose for me or for someone.

I haven’t written anything (except some 2 page essays for my English class) so my writing has suffered but I think it will come back to me. I hope the ride is worth it…and I hope you wear your seatbelt. It’s really rough terrain.

Thank you for asking to come with me. I’m honored to have you along for the journey. And if you have to pee, go now, because I’m not stopping every five minutes.

Still Here.

It's going to take me some time to set this up because I got about 5 times the response I ever anticipated. I'm simply astounded that so many of you were still watching out for me. It really means a lot.

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday.

Harmony stayed up until midnight on Christmas Eve (well, technically Christmas morning) and the last thing she shared with me before finally falling into a coma was about the visual beauty of Reindeer poop. "Purple balls, mommy. They glitter."

No clue, here, either.

Wow.

I checked my inbox earlier and all I can say is, holy shit. I literally had no clue there were so many of you still out there caring about me and my family.

Thank you.

If you left a comment, please make sure I have your email address because that's how I have to give you permission to view.

Like I said, I don't have a computer or Internet, however, I'll do my best to post at least once a week... For me, this time. I need to let go of this stuff. Writing has always helped, but knowing there are people out there who genuinely care and worry... That's incredible medicine.

It will take me a bit to add everyone and then we'll begin, I guess.

Take a deep breath with me and I hope some of it still makes you laugh. Never, ever a dull moment in my world.

Secret Handshake

I still don't have a computer or internet, but after Christmas break, I'll be using the library at school and I am going to be writing about the events of the past year. I need to.  Keeping this inside is too poisonous.

In the interest of protecting my family and my heart from the venom-filled haters, I will be making the posts private. 

Blogger doesn't allow you to do this with certain posts; you can only make the entire blog private.  So, if you're interested, please leave a comment with your email address or email me at crystaldawnmckee@gmail.com and tell me about yourself and why you want in.  I'm sorry to be so picky but I just don't want to give access to anyone who could potentially use it to hurt me or my family...

thanks.

My Own Worst Enemy

Ok, so I have access to crappy internet for a few minutes. Before it crashes on me, again, I'll touch the highlights: * made a huge mistake and got a divorce. * car died. * got fired. * lost everything. * living with a man who will, I'm fairly certain, end up killing me in my sleep. * kids are ok. * I am not. * but I will be. Dammit. * finally went back to school like I promised my Dad I would. * got my first tattoo. * haven't broken any bones in almost two years. * am trying to write, again. * trying to live, again. * trying to laugh, again.

New Family Member

I found a baby bird in my driveway last night.

I took him inside, put him in a box with warmed towels and Harmony and Virginia stood watch over him.

A few minutes later, Harmony came running down the hallway and gleefully exclaimed, "Momma! He's pecking the side of the box!"

"Mmm hmm, he is?"

"Yes! I'm going to name him Pecker!"

Pecker McKnob. Does it get any better?

Lunch Portion

I have no Internet or computer at home, so my only option is to write from my phone on my lunch breaks.

Chris sent me a picture message the other day. A local license plate that simply read "Finley".

I was the victim of a violent bug suicide...it chose to go out by flying directly into my forehead, stinger first, while I was on the back of a motorcycle. A week later when my eyes were still swelling shut, I went to see a local doctor for the first time. His name? Dr. Finley.

Yesterday in the course of my breathtaking day as an insurance drone, I ended up having a long conversation with a woman who is married to a fairly well-known and successful author. "Send me your information and I'll have my husband pass it on to his agent."

I have a hard time lately believing in fate or divine intervention of any kind and I'm probably experiencing things that are just coincidence, but, whatever. I need some hope.

And I'll start by hoping that fucking bug is dead as dog shit.

When She Stops Believing It Will Break My Heart

Harmony is certain that I have a direct line to Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and every other mythical creature that permeates our holidays.

Chris and I are still adapting to the kid sharing thing (neither of us can quite get used to not seeing her every day) and Sunday, she spent Easter with his family in Arkansas. Since I didn't get to see her, I planned a small Easter egg hunt for her on Tuesday morning before I took her to school. I stuffed eggs, put her to bed, realized she was still awake so I crawled out the window into the backyard like a lunatic and carefully placed brightly colored eggs and glitter nail polish and travel size bubble baths all over the yard.

There's only so much shit you can stuff into those tiny eggs, so I improvise.

Tuesday morning when she noticed the first egg through the window she squealed in delight and then that maddening but impressive logic of hers took hold. "Mommy, I already got stuff from the Easter bunny. Why did he come again?"

I wasn't sure what to say. "He had extra stuff. There was a drawing, you won."

"But shouldn't he give it to kids who didn't get anything?"

"He has a quota to fill."

"What's a quota? And why would he come on a Tuesday?"

"He had time off, his Union required it, health conscious parents are asking him to deliver tofu and bean sprouts so you get junk food. Just enjoy it, baby."

Still confused, but excited by the prospect of another egg hunt, she finally relented and went in search of goodies. She always misses one or two and I had to get her to school, so I stood by the ones she overlooked and urged her to keep hunting. One egg was simply impossible for her to find and she finally threw her hands up in frustration. "Momma, just call the Easter bunny and ask him how many eggs he put out so I make sure I don't miss any."

"The Easter bunny doesn't have a cell phone, honey."

"Everyone has a cell phone, Mommy. Santa has one. You call him every year when I'm bad."

"Right, but that's Santa. The Easter bunny is old school."

"Then how did you know he was coming today?"

"Um. He ... sent me a letter."

"I wanna see!"

"You know what, I just remembered he does have a cell phone. Calling now."

Ever tried to make a fake phone call to the Easter bunny while a very savvy 5 year old stands by your side, scrutinizing every word? Hoping that no incoming calls shattered the deception, I finally completed the fake call and told her to look for one more. After a few more minutes, and me all but standing on the damned thing, she was frustrated again. "Mommy, call him back and ask him for a map of where he put everything."

"Honey, he can't text a map."

"Sure he can. Have him take a picture of it and send it in a message."

I sighed and pointed. "There Harmony. There's the egg."

Techonology is ruining the magic.

Full Circle

Here I am again. Back at my old job, the one I had when I started this blog, single mother, again and more confused than ever.

I think I've left this blog sitting here, unattended, because I don't laugh as much anymore. I don't find the humor in the most mundane shit like I used to. Then I started thinking, maybe it's because I'm not looking or noticing.

I don't know but I do know this: writing got me through a lot of things when nothing else seemed to help. I don't care who listens or hates me anymore, I have too much going on in my real life to be mired down in that crap any longer.

Maybe I need this again. Maybe I need handfuls of pills and therapy and a monkey to talk to. This is cheaper.

What Day Is It?

I've been working long, long hours and with the start of the school year, helping Devon move into his dorm (dorm schmorm. A dorm should be bare, ugly floors, funny smells, it's either too hot or too cold, you can hear your next door neighbor fart and unidentifiable rodents. His is a hotel room, literally) I haven't even checked my email in a month.

Yesterday morning, I was trying to get Harmony to hurry up so I could get out the door. "Put these feathers in my hair, first!" she squealed.

She had picked up some crafting feathers from a friend of hers. I was not pleased. "Which one?"

"All of them."

"There are five...six...seven feathers, Harmony. You don't want all of them."

"Yes, I do."

"Honey, no you-"

"Yes, I do! I do! I do! I want all of them! All!"

Rather than argue with her for twenty minutes, I braided each feather into her hair and then shooed her into the bathroom. "Go take a look and hurry."

She came back around the corner with a disgusted look on her face. She looked like a porcupine. "I don't like it."

"Right on, now get in the car, we're going to school."

Oddly enough, she didn't even mention the feathers this morning.

We'll Get You Covered. Even Though I'm Sure You'll Sue Us.

Last week a local new station did a piece on a company that has been taking peoples insurance checks (ostensibly to replace their roof) doled out after the recent rash of storms and then disappearing with the money. Hundreds of people got scammed, a good portion of them elderly.

I met one such gentleman last week and this got me thinking: What can we do to help out? I now work for an installation company so I approached my boss and told him what I had in mind. He is a terrific guy with a great, big heart and he gave me the go ahead.

I called the news director for the channel that had done the piece and pitched it to him: Basically, we donate labor and materials and do one free roof a month for the next five months to victims of this scam. Those winners would be determined by a drawing or whatever is fair. The news directors response to me? "So, let me get this straight. All of these people, all these victims who have damaged roofs and no money to fix them and you want to do one a month? For, what, five months?"

I was speechless. "Um, yes sir. Each job averages about ten thousand dollars so you're looking at us giving away fifty grand. We just need a vehicle for the promotion of it and that's where you come in. I'll be happy to do a mock up, write the press release and all of that so you don't incur any cost except the ad spot."

"Meh. Shoot it over to me and I'll take a look at it but I'm not promising anything."

When did giving an inch become expecting a mile? JUST FIVE ROOFS, YOU CADS?! HOW DARE YOU GIVE ONLY FIVE ROOFS AWAY!

I need a hug and a time machine. I don't understand this world I'm in.

Caylee Anthony Law

Ok, so the widget is way to big for the sidebar and I don't give a shit. I want that sucker as visible as possible.

Go sign this petition, please. It isn't about what this woman did or didn't do to her daughter, only God knows and will be the judge of that. But to not report your child missing is...heinous. My four year old wouldn't be missing for more than five minutes without me screaming down the police, national guard, ninjas, bloodhounds and that guy that lives in remote areas and eats bugs and shit to live. He seems like he could find anything.

What astounds me is that there are people AGAINST THIS. How can you be against a law that would basically put you in jail if you don't report your child missing? Am I crazy or does that seem like it would be something childless people would rally for? (and I'm not pointing fingers at people who have no children, there are millions who are just as appalled and hurt by what happened to this little girl). But I just can't imagine a parent not agreeing with the petition to change this. It never should have happened this way and it's not fair to Caylee to just let this go as if it were an oversight or a one time mistake. Bullshit. It wasn't a mistake, it was negligence. Plain and simple.

If you have a child, it's your responsibility to protect them and nurture them. If you can't do that, give them to someone who can and will. You had the baby and the fucking stork didn't bring it so kiss my ass with the whole "Can't take it anymore, must rid myself of my children" crap. I'm so tired of people killing their kids (and I'm not saying she did) because they can't handle it anymore. DROP THEM OFF AT A POLICE STATION OR A HOSPITAL. No child should be murdered, but my God, no child's last moments should be the image of the person they trust and love most in the world ending their life prematurely for no other reason than you're cramping their style or ruining their dating life.

I can't tell you how many times I've thought about getting in my car and driving away. But I don't do it. I understand that this is the most difficult and frustrating job in the world, but they didn't ask to be here. I get angry, upset and yes, sometimes I wonder, just for a moment, what my life would be like if I hadn't had children. And then Harmony comes in the room for no other reason then to tell me she loves me before going back to play and I feel like crap. But everyone has thoughts. Never once have I ever envisioned hurting my children. And if you do, that's okay AS LONG AS YOU SEEK HELP BEFORE YOU ACT UPON IT. Otherwise, you're a coward. And your children got the shit end of the stick for ending up with you.

And Then I Changed My Mind.

What's In My Heart Today

Anniversary

I started this blog a year ago. I did so in the midst of emotional turmoil, abject loneliness and extreme confusion.

I had been writing in a forum run by a pseudo internet celebrity. My writing was tentative at first. I had never exposed myself to criticism (and the attacks I had witnessed were swift, merciless and without restraint) and I was wary.

When my writing was well received, I was hopeful and flattered. When it came along with a sort of respect and admiration that I had never known before in my life, I was shocked and grateful. I've always been an extremely solitary and shy person and the attention I was getting was unprecedented. I blossomed because of it. I became less timid and more able to be myself without a pint of liquid courage beforehand. I started to believe I was really good at something for the first time in my life. I felt like a part of a group, and that was something I had never experienced, either. I had never really had friends at any point in my life because of my nomadic upbringing. This was all new and glorious to me.

When the internet "celebrity" chose to viciously attack me (for reasons that remain, to this day, unknown) and my character, I was exposed to the basest of human nature. People I considered friends, people I had spent time with, who knew me intimately, stood by mute. Some even joined in and ingratiated themselves to him at my expense. I was literally heartbroken and sick. The fact that the attacks were unprovoked and unwarranted made the whole ordeal even more agonizing. My parenting skills were mocked. My physical appearance was torn to shreds. No part of my life was sacred. I was called vile and disgusting names by people who had never even met me.

I was mostly confused because I've never been a confrontational person and although I have been known to poke fun at people, if I were to truly hurt or offend someone who didn't deserve it, I would be contrite and ashamed of myself. My mother raised me to be kind. I try to live up to her expectations because she's the sort of parent that I very much want to be. I naively assumed that others would be the same way. I was horrified that so many people took such great pleasure in my pain.

Now, kindness should not be mistaken for weakness. I will stand up for the helpless, the down-trodden and I will most assuredly demand my pound of flesh when I am wronged. I spent a great deal of my life accepting the way that people chose to treat me and consoling myself by believing that it would come back to bite them later in life. At some juncture, I decided to use my own fucking teeth and bite them myself. When I insisted that he confront me personally, he ignored me, called me more names and then simply blocked me from having any access to his forum. I was never given the opportunity to defend myself or confront the idiots who assumed they knew all about me based on a skewed version of me presented by people I stupidly trusted.

When I finally accepted that there was nothing more to be done and I sat back to lick my wounds, a marvelous thing happened. The "lurkers", the people who had been reading but who had never commented, came to the surface. I began to receive emails from people asking me to write somewhere else; I was missed. Granted, my inbox wasn't overflowing, but those handful of emails went a long way toward pushing me here.

But I was hesitant. This blog is very much a part of me. Although I sometimes embellish for comedic effect, you are all witness to the details of my life that I don't even share with family. I share with you all, virtual strangers to me, the happiness that has been so scarce in my life and is now in abundance, and if you read between the lines, you sometimes see the anguish that I still suffer on occasion. It was difficult to fathom sharing with the world the details of my life because when I write about things that mean something to me, I don't leave anything out. If this blog had been written 5 years ago, you would see a constant darkness and melancholy in every entry. I fight those demons and keep them at bay, and, surprisingly, most of them have died a quiet death in the last year. My incredible fiance, my beautiful, affectionate son and my relentlessly joyful daughter have healed me in ways I cannot adequately describe. Having my own family and lavishing my love on them, the ones that deserve it, instead of a bunch of traitorous, opportunistic fucksticks has made me whole.

Now, I tell you all that to tell you this: thank you. Although I'm the world's worst at acknowledging others, I want you all to know that your words, your comments and your occasional emails have kept me writing and doing what I love. I typically don't link people only because I don't want anyone else to feel pressured to link me and I want my blog to be linked by virtue of merit and not a popularity contest. But I read all of you. Not daily, sometimes only once every couple of weeks, but I do read you. I see you. I keep up with what you're doing and how your life is going and though I don't always comment, I hurt for you when you hurt. I'm glad that the alpha's on the other forum proved to be such a bunch of shit-heads (and there were those who weren't. But they were few and far between and they know who they areworstname) and that I've been fortunate enough to encounter such an amazing group of people that I've, oddly enough, developed quite an affection for.

Here's to 2006. May it be full of laughter, love and success for each and every one of you.

Now back to the funny shit. You're making me cry.