Forgiveness through Perseverance: Let Go & Live

I've always been a hypersensitive person when it comes to interacting with others. I am able to sense others' emotions, especially when they are hurting. I can also tell when a person is hiding something. or if they are not being truthful. I like having this ability, because it helps to protect me but, at times, I hate it because I can feel things that I would rather not feel. Usually, when I "get a hunch" about something, I'm right. Sometimes the sensitivity is strong, sometimes it's very vague. When it's vague, I ignore it sometimes, only to find myself in situations I'd rather not be in. 

My ability is not magical. It's inherent and it's in all of us. It's called intuition or, more commonly known as, "your gut". I often tell others that they should listen to their guts because it will protect them, and it's true. It will protect you, if you allow it to. The problem is that, most people do not allow themselves to be guided by their intuition. 

It's amazing how total strangers have approached me, expressing their problems, concerns and issues with their lives. I can't tell you how, on many occasions, I have met a person for the first time and we just "clicked" and became a friends for life. Don't get me wrong; there have definitely been times when I have met people who just did NOT like me at all... until they got to know me and realized my genuine concern for others, my sense of humor, my loyalty and my tendency to "tell it like it is". 

I am far from perfect; "nobody walking this earth's surface is", according to Jay-Z, but I am secure with myself. I love myself and the things that I stand for. I appreciate all of the experiences I've gone through-- both good and bad. They have taught me lessons and made me a strong woman. 

We all have made (and continue to make) mistakes in our lives, but what is important is accepting that we are human and that we do make mistakes. As long as we forgive ourselves and learn from our mistakes, we continue to evolve. Sometimes, we make the same mistake(s) more than once. It doesn't make us "bad". It makes us human.

Sankofa: Adinkra symbol: Learn from your past.

Our life experiences shape us and influence our behaviors. Every "bad" thing that has happened in our lives has happened for a reason. These incidents can affect us in different ways. We should not allow these things to affect us adversely, as that would be counterproductive. We should not blame ourselves for the bad things that have happened. We should find and focus on the good things that come forth as a result of these "bad things" that have happened to us. 

Don't beat yourself up. Uplift and encourage yourself and others. When you do good, you look good. When you look good, you feel good. So be good. 

The ADHD-er on the plane...

Soooo... I flew to Atlanta this past weekend. I left Friday night and was supposed to come back Monday (last) night, but missed my flight, so I ended up leaving this morning instead.  I don't really feel like going into that right now; I wanted to share the ADHD thoughts that ran rampant in my mind as I flew down south.

First, as the flight attendant gave instructions on how to save ourselves "in the event of an emergency", the microphone she was using was very low and there were people talking as she spoke. I had been fiddling around with the "personal item" that I had placed under the seat in front of me, so, initially, I hadn't noticed she was even talking, but, when I did, I realized that maybe I should pay attention to this announcement. You know; in case there actually IS  an emergency. As I attempted to tune in, I became perturbed with the lady who sat behind me, who was discussing which type of crackers her children wanted to eat. I got mad as hell because if she was willing to sacrifice hers and her children's lives by not listening to the instructions on where to locate and how to properly use the oxygen and flotation devices, that was her decision, but she was distracting my attempt to be attentive so that I could save my own life--- "in the event of an emergency".

When we reached the "it is now safe to remove your safety belt and move around the cabin" elevation, I realized I had to go potty, so I got up and started walking towards the back of the plane, not realizing that I was only five rows away from the front lavatory.  As I reached the rear of the plane, the flight attendant turned around quickly, almost knocking me over with a tray full of watered-down, overly-iced half cups of soda. I moved back, just in time, to avoid her, then I proceeded to the restroom. The first thing I noticed was how narrow the door was. I lost almost 40 pounds this year, and I couldn't even imagine getting in there without incident had it been 7 months ago.  "And how the hell does one join the "Mile High Club" in this little-assed space???" I asked myself. As I grabbed a tissue to secure the door, I thought, "Damn. THAT is a narrow-assed door." As I was "handling my business", I wondered how people in wheelchairs use the bathroom on the plane. Are they given complimentary adult diapers? Are they asked if they have to use the restroom several times before takeoff? Or do they just wizz all over themselves? I assumed the answer was the latter of the three, as I finished up. I was delighted to find both a red and blue button on the sink, indicating that one could actually adjust the temperature of the water to his or her preference. "Fancy," I thought. I was even more impressed with the scent of the Southwest Airlines Antibacterial Soap... It was just delightful.  When I got back to my seat, I sniffed the back of my hand until the scent went away, thinking, "If they sold this in stores, I'd totally buy it... They should have a matching scented lotion."

Just as I sat back down in my seat, the flight attendant came by, taking drink orders. I asked for a ginger ale.  Shortly after she took the drink orders, the other attendant came by, offering pretzels or peanuts... I took both. "Hell, somebody's not gonna want theirs," I thought.  I ate the 12 pretzels and the 16 peanuts that were in the tiny bags and washed them down with the rest of the watered-down ginger ale ice I had in my clear plastic cup. Just as I took the last sip, the first attendant came by with a trash bag. I wondered how they knew when to pull out the trash bag and start collecting... Was it a certain amount of time after the drinks or snacks? Did they watch and wait for the very last person to finish his or her "refreshment"? What was their secret??? I was intrigued.

 It's funny how the smallest things can happen around an ADHD-er and it absolutely amuses them, like a cat that's playing with a toy mouse on a string.  It's annoying sometimes, but it's a hell of a lot more entertaining than being "normal"...

A.D.H.D... Strugglin'!

Whenever you hear that someone has a disability, normally, the first thing that pops into your mind is someone with a physical disability who walks with a limp or uses a wheelchair to get around. There are other "invisible" disabilities people have that are mental or emotional like. Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADD), Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD), bi-polarism, schizophrenia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder... The list goes on.

When my son began kindergarten 8 years ago, I often received notes and phone calls from his teacher, assistant principal and guidance counselor, telling me things like "He can't keep still... He blurts out the answers to the questions... He always wants to be first... He's constantly fiddling with something... He won't stay on his square on the carpet." I thought that he was having trouble adjusting to the structured environment of school, since he'd never gone to daycare or pre-school. These calls and notes were very frequent. For the next 5 years, his subsequent teachers would have the same complaints/concerns until, one day, the guidance counselor suggested that they conduct a study on him where myself and his teacher at the time had to fill out a lengthy questionnaire about his behavioral habits. A school psychologist sat in class and observed him for about 6 weeks. Finally, we had a meeting and they told me what I had suspected they would: My son most likely has A.D.H.D.

I hated hearing that. I felt like he was being stigmatized. I felt that he was just "being a boy". I didn't want to medicate him. I spoke with his father, some other family and close friends, as well as a coworker who, surprisingly, informed me that her son had also gone through the same thing and she had felt the way I did. She said she was dead-set against medicating him, but she decided to try it, at least.  She did and she noticed that his grades improved and he was much more focused. The only downside was that the meds suppressed his appetite, so she had to make sure he was eating.

I decided to try it. I mean, what if this was what was keeping him from reaching his highest potential? He had been participating in sports and music classes at school, which I had read are a big help, but his involvement in those activities just wasn't enough, so I decided to try it.  Within weeks, I and his teachers noticed a dramatic difference. He was more focused in class, didn't yell out answers or talk out of turn. I thought, 'Hey; this isn't so bad after all.  Then I had a revelation:  I, too, could possibly have this disability, so I decided to see a psychiatrist.

I went to the psychiatrist and he asked me several questions about my health, family, behavioral habits, etc... It took about 45 minutes. Once he was finished, he confirmed that I, too, had A.D.H.D.

It's crazy because most of my personality has been based upon this condition. People know me for my tendency to say whatever is on my mind and although it may be true, it's usually quite curt and blunt and tends to hurt others' feelings.  Most times, I wouldn't even be bothered if I hurt someone. After all, "I was just being honest."  People like to hang out with me because I'm fun, and I will talk to anybody. I think that, too, is attributed to A.D.H.D. At work, I was always walking around, socializing with people. My work would always be done quickly and efficiently, but there was just "something" about the whole being-constricted-to-a-chair-and-cubicle thing that made me want to explode.  I have to ALWAYS be doing something. Even when I am sitting still, my mind is going a million miles a minute. I hate it, because either I can't concentrate on something long enough to complete it or I OVER focus on one thing and have trouble moving on to something else. I just HAVE to finish it, or it will drive me absolutely nuts!!!

It really sucks because, for the most part, I have always been a valuable employee. I learn quickly, am efficient, love to help others be better at their jobs and I am always willing (and wanting) to learn something new. The only thing is that I have had an issue when I feel that something is wrong, I speak up about it. Whether it's the way things are done or the way others are (mis)treated. That's never been the issue. The issue is how I've expressed my concerns. If the other person wasn't receptive to my concerns, it heated me up and I had trouble letting go.

Since I started taking medication, I am more focused. I stay in my seat much more at work. Situations that would have previously gotten me "riled up" don't affect me the same way. It's crazy; I hear the thoughts in my mind and I even still want to respond a certain way; I just don't feel compelled to, and it has helped me immensely.  The only thing is that, had I tuned into myself earlier in life, it would have saved me  a lot of heartache. I would've gotten promoted. I wouldn't have hurt others' feelings. I would not have taken a small situation and turned it into a fiasco. I wouldn't have killed my son's first pet--- a beta fish. Yeah; I admit. I did, but I couldn't help it. When my son was a little less than 18 months, he'd waken up in the middle of the night, asking for milk, so I got up, got him a cup of milk and I fed the fish while I was downstairs. When I woke up the next morning to get his diaper bag ready to take him to my parents' house, I opened the fridge door and saw the beta, belly-side up, inside the refrigerator. Then, I noticed that the milk was on the counter... SMH. I couldn't believe I'd done that. Just last week, I came home on Wednesday and my sister asked me if I'd put the bag of cherries in the cabinet. I thought, "What the hell kinda question is that???" I went in the kitchen, and there were fruit flies swarming around the cabinet. I opened it, and damn if I didn't see a half bag of $1.99-per-pound bag of bing cherries in the cabinet. ****!!! I HATE when I do that... I had gone in the cabinet a whole two days earlier to get a sandwich bag to put a few cherries in it to snack on at work. I must have put the cherries in the cabinet then. I obviously hadn't taken my medications yet that morning... Oh well, maybe, I will start taking it as soon as I wake up to prevent such incidents.

If you think you may have A.D.D. or A.D.H.D., there are a plethora of tools to use to determine the possibility. Then, see a doctor. You could start to gain control of your life as a result. 

Do you and your child(ren) have A.D.D. or A.D.H.D.?

Symptoms and Treatment

Runaway-cation 2012

Soooo... I went on a runaway-cation this past weekend because it was much-needed. I was at my wit's end, dealing with the undulations of life. After talking to a few friends, it was suggested that I just "go away", and I thought, "Go away? I can't just go away." I didn't have much money and I wasn't sure if my car was capable of getting me anywhere outside of a 40-mile radius without blowing a tire or some other unfortunate event that seems to always happen to me.

Anywho... Thursday morning, I decided, "Eff it. I'm going. IDGAD that I only have $28 dollars until I get paid next week. Either I'm "going away" or I'm going to be way gone and I left early Saturday morning, headed to the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia) area, not knowing exactly where I'd stay, how I'd eat or even what I'd do for stress relief. After all, that IS the reason I left in the first place.

One friend knew I was coming and had already made plans to hang out Saturday night, but I ended up surprising a friend with a visit. While there, another friend whom I'd known from high school was returning home (to the DMV area) and she contacted me to see if I was still in town. She met me and my friend at a bar and as we were chatting, we realized that she lived in the same exact city as my friend I had surprised... Then, she realized that they lived off the same exact main road, in the same exact neighborhood. What were the chances? I LOVE it when things like that happen. I ended up staying one more night, so I could hang out with my other friend, and we had a blast, reminiscing and catching up. 

I really enjoyed my "runaway-cation" and it definitely relieved my stress. It goes to show that it really is good to know people. If I hadn't, I don't know what I would have done... Maybe aimlessly walk around the nation's capital for 3 days? Naaaah. I'll pass...

The wrong type...

I saw a post in a group on Facebook earlier today where a young woman said that she is attracting the wrong type of guys, then asked what she needs to do to change it... Well, the whole "type" issue is one thing and self-esteem and other factors affect this too, but let's just talk about this "type thing" for now.

There are many women in their mid 20's and older who feel like "it's time". They have been bridesmaids in a few friends' weddings and watched them have babies, now they are feeling "sappy" and over-cognizant of their biological clocks. As a result, they tend to rush into things with rose-colored glasses... Don't you dare deny it. Most women, including myself, are guilty of having done this.

Some would say that you are being "too picky" and, truth is, you probably are. The first mistake we make is having "a type". WTH? When I hear these words fall off a woman's lips, it's like hearing nails screeching down a chalkboard... people eating with their mouths WIDE open, flip flops popping... It severely irritates me. Why? Because I know that, when asked what a particular woman's type is, she is liable to start rattling off some bull$hi+ about physical characteristics, then status and/or material possessions and, while those things may be important, they don't (or shouldn't) take precedence over other attributes like:


1.) He has a job WITH benefits... If he owns his own company, that's even better. - I know that sometimes, people go through some low points in life but, in the long run, it will cause you more strife than happiness if you decide to "relate" with such a man. Seriously, WTH are you going to do when 6 months go by and his @$$ is still at home unemployed? I mean, you really can't say much of anything without being a hypocrite. After all, his @$$ wasn't working when you met each other. How can you expect more than what he came with by default?

2.) He has his own reliable transportation.  If you meet a man who is driving someone else's car, other than his, just let him drive past you, unless his car is "in the shop", but be careful; when the car is "in the shop" for longer than a week, he's most likely being dishonest. Driving his mama's or his babymama's car won't cut it, either. Gas is not cheap; what are you going to do once his mama or babymama gets mad at him and takes her keys from him? Pick him up yourself? I'LL BE DAMNED! <---Not an option.

3.) He has his own residence. Preferably, without a roommate.  How the hot ham and cheese are you going to spend one-on-one quality time with him if his mama keeps coming up to his room over the garage asking him if he ate  the rest of the meatloaf from last night??? Roommates aren't SO bad, but if he is over 25, he needs his own spot. The reason why is because roommates will blow up your plans. Imagine having plans to spend time with your "boo" on Friday night. He's mentioned a home-cooked dinner with a nice wine, scented candles and some cuddle time on the couch watching Netflix... You've been excited ALL effing week. Then, Friday comes and you get to his house and the damn roommate is perched on the couch, watching old re-runs of Family Matters and doesn't appear to be leaving ANY TIME SOON. There go your plans!

4.) He pays his bills,  child support and has gas in his car. If  you notice that a man does not handle his financial responsibilities, there is a problem. Either he is irresponsible and just wants to use his money to "hang out"; he is forgetful; or he just doesn't have the money because he's NOT WORKING. In any case, he is not "the one", so keep it moving.


If any of the above elements is missing, you are bound to get hurt anyway, so just know that. One of these elements WILL get in the way of a healthy relationship. 

Be weary of character flaws. If he has a habit of being late to meet you, "forgetting" to call you, changes plans often, smokes weed/drinks alcohol excessively, doesn't take care of his children-- if he has any--chooses to spend time with his friends over you, etc... Duh! Cut him off. Women act so oblivious to $#!+ like this. You know good and damn well, he is dissing you, but you want to ask your friends what they think about the situation-- as if they are going to have a varying position. And the effed up part is that you are so stuck on this dude that you "can't see it". Oh; you see it. You might not want to see it, but you definitely do, and when your friend reiterate what you "see", don't go all willy-nilly and get mad at them; they care for you more than he does... You ALREADY know WTH is going on, Girl. You are NOT his priority, so why make him yours? Don't.

The most important thing you should do is remember your values and desires. Why settle when you don't have to? There is no time limit on when to get married/shack up for life. Whatever you do, don't try to fit a guy into your mold (idea) of a perfect man. If a person wants to change, he/she will do it in his or her own time. Besides, it's more genuine and liable to "stick" if he/she changes own his/her own... 

Ride or die, Chick!

I get so tired of hearing people say things like, "A real woman will stick by her man, no matter what." "No matter what?" WTH does that mean? When I see it most of the time, it's in reference to a man who doesn't deserve the supportive, strong woman who is in his life. It's an excuse to squeeze the life out of her until she takes her last breath (of tolerance).  Don't get me wrong; there is nothing wrong with being a supportive mate, but there is a time and place for everything, right? 

Women: If you have a boyfriend/man/husband who, at one time was "handling his business"-- i.e. working FULL TIME, has reliable transportation, his own place, pays his bills and takes care of his children (if he has any) financially, physically and emotionally-- and he lost his job due to no fault of his own-- say layoffs or injury-- I can understand you encouraging  (not supporting)  him so that he gets himself back to a better place in life so that he can "handle his business". On the other hand, if you meet a man and he is not "handling his business" in ALL the aforementioned areas, or someone who has a "main chick" (read: NOT you), it's advisable not to even "go there" with him. You will save yourself lots of time, money, depression, stress and, in some cases, collect phone calls from jail. The quote, "I can do bad by myself", is true. Think about it: You are working hard every day, coming home, cooking dinner and taking care of your children's needs, just trying to get some quiet time to yourself, even if it means it's not until 10 or 11 o'clock at night. Okay; I know what some of you are thinking: "My man has dinner ready when I get home and he helps with the kids... blah, blah, blah." Good for you. 

You DEFINITELY shouldn't allow yourself to be "The Side Chick". It's one thing for a man to be dating more than one woman at a time, but if one or more of the women in his life is his wife, girl/girlfriend/woman/fiance/"babymama" or has some sort of title, like "Wifey", "Boo" or "Baby", it's best not to even "go there with him". ESPECIALLY if he lives with her.  

Living life is not easy nowadays, and everyone should pull his or her own weight for the benefit of his or her own emotional health. When a relationship is severely one-sided, the person in the relationship who is contributing the least is made to feel insufficient. You've seen it many times, and may have even been a participant in an argument in reference to such subject: "IDGAF! GTFO of my house! Gimme my damn keys! Get our sh*t and go! I don't need your a$$!", etc... When you pull your own weight, you still have your dignity, should the relationship come to an end. 

Don't allow yourself to get in that situation, because sometimes you fall so hard you can't get back up and who wants to spend the rest of her life, trying to fix something that shouldn't have been broken to begin with? You could be doing so many more positive and progressive things with yourself instead of wasting time with someone who stifles you. 

There is nothing wrong with being a "Ride or Die Chick"... Just don't die, trying to "ride", Chick! You feel me? 

Experience is a good teacher, but it's a fool's way to learn...

I started this blog 3 days ago, but got distracted because I'm A.D.D. and I my meds had worn off, but here I am, still thinking about it, so I have to get it off my chest. 


The Babymama/Babydaddy drama (Going forth, the two shall be referred to as BDD and BMD) is a constant one, unfortunately, and I'm not safe from the drama. First, let me ask you a few questions. You can answer them by posting a response or you can consider them rhetorical. First of all, do you consume alcohol? Secondly, have you ever blacked out? Well, I can answer "yes" and "yes" to both, unfortunately. The reason I got off task the other night when I began to write this is because I wanted to make certain that I was using the correct terminology, for one, and to make sure that what I had experienced wasn't some sort of freak occurrence.  


WTF do drinking and blackouts have to do with BDD/BMD? I'll tell you. You may laugh. You may be disgusted. You might think, "DAMN! That sh*t was f*cked up!" And you'd be right to think THAT.  


I feel like my story has to be told, and I know that there are tons of other people that this has happened to.  


Okay... I am warning you; I'm stepping into confessional now... *takes deep breath* 


I will try not to be so long-winded... 4 years ago, the love of my life had broken up with me. We just were in different stages of our lives and were not able to progress in the relationship. It hurt, but after two months, I met someone and accepted his phone number, even though he was 7 1/2 years my senior.


I was hesitant, but I met up with him and was a nice guy. He didn't have himself "together" and I was still in love with my ex, which I told both him and his mother on several occasions... "I like you, but you don't have yourself together, and if my ex calls, I'm out." 


We "became intimate" a few weeks after meeting and during the act, the condom "fell off". I didn't realize it because he was not, uh... "gifted". When he "got there", was when I realized it, because I felt it, and immediately asked WTF he was doing. He told me that he wanted me to have his baby. I told him that I had a 9-year-old son for a reason; I wanted to be married or at least in a committed relationship and DECIDE to have a baby, and don't ever do that again... Anyway,  we probably "went there" two more times and I told him I didn't want to be intimate with him any more because of the first incident. A few weeks later, I got the call from my ex, so I left him... Like I said I would. About three weeks later, my ex and I were together, but two weeks later, my ex decided that he still wasn't ready for the type of commitment I wanted, so I broke it off. Again. I decided that I needed time alone. 


About 2 weeks later, I went to a party and had no one to watch my son. "Mr. Nice" had a brother around my son's age, so I asked him to watch my son and he did. I remember going to the party and I remember getting back to his mom's house to get my son, but that's it. About 4 weeks later, I found out that I was pregnant. I naturally assumed that I was pregnant by my ex the whole time I was pregnant, which was difficult. We went to counseling several times per month, trying to learn to deal with a pregnancy in a broken relationship.


After I gave birth, my ex said he wanted a DNA test, "just to be sure". I told him that it was fine with me; I had no reason to think he wasn't my daughter's father. Anyway, the DNA test was done and came back that he wasn't the father. I was shocked. I didn't know how that could happen. I felt like I was on an episode of Maury. I said that if he wasn't, then "Mr. Nice" had to be, but how??? I called "Mr. Nice" and told him that the DNA test said she wasn't my ex's, so she had to be his, but I couldn't understand how, because it had been at least 5 or 6 weeks since he and I had been together before my ex and I rekindled. That's when-- here's the kicker-- "Mr. Nice" told me that he "got [me] pregnant on purpose, to keep [me] in [his] life forever". WTF??? I thought, "Who DOES that?" I instantly became distraught because I realized that this guy, who wasn't even taking care of himself (or his older daughter) was my child's father. 


What's messed up is that I don't remember anything beyond getting to his house. I don't remember the drive, taking off my clothes, putting them on... NOTHING. Now, the problem is that he swears up and down that I knew the whole time and that I was just in denial and wanted to "put the baby on" my ex, which is some bull. 


I had taken the morning-after pill TWICE with my ex-- someone I loved (and still do) because we weren't ready to have a child, so why in the world would I intentionally go through with a pregnancy by someone who "didn't have himself together"? I am college-educated, had been employed with benefits for over 10 years and had already dealt with the lack of financial help from my son's father. There was NO WAY in hell that I would have intentionally gone through with that. If I had any idea that I had been intimate with him that night, I would have hauled a** to the nearest drug store to get those morning-after pills.


Instead, due to my heavy drinking (which was brought on by the depression of breaking up with my ex) I blacked out. I could have hurt or killed myself or someone else. And now, I have a 3-year-old daughter whose father doesn't bust his a** the way I do to help take care of his child. It sucks. 


I'll tell you one thing, though: I haven't blacked out since, and I'm very careful of how I consume alcohol.  I read that blacking out is not due to the amount of alcohol that is consumed, but how quickly it's consumed. It's very scary to think about, in retrospect. I know this is just TMI, but I needed to tell my story. 


I don't care what people think of what I went through. Whether they believe me or not. I'm human and I make mistakes. We all do at some point or another. I drank TOO MUCH. Someone knows someone who who has gone through a similar situation... You, more often, hear about men who are "trapped" with babies, but I'm here to tell you that it happens to some women, too.


I love my daughter. She is beautiful, smart, thoughtful and lifts my spirits when I'm down.  It's a constant struggle, trying to take care of her needs, with little/untimely help, but I do it. I still feel compelled to smack the life out of her father for what he did, but I restrain myself constantly.  

My grandmother used to say that experience is a good teacher, but it's a fool's way to learn. She was right.

It's been a long time coming. I have so much to say, but it's pinned up in me like a person with bubble guts who's 20 minutes away from home and is repulsed by the thought of using a public restroom. Grab your baby wipes; I'm about to let go...

I'm "friends" with this matchmaker on FB, who writes columns for Essence.com a few times a week. Anyway, I saw where he had posted a link to one of his articles and I soon found myself opening up 8 other tabs of his articles to view. He had some good articles about where not to go for a first date, how to determine if you are ready to marry, etc. Don't get me wrong; I was enlightened by a few of the articles, but in the back of my mind, I was just pissed the hell off. I was pissed because, at 35, I am still unmarried. I mean, I have two children out of wedlock (But who the hell doesn't?) but I have never been married. And it's okay. I have definitely had the opportunity to be (unhappily) married.

Understand that I was not pissed because I'm unmarried; I was pissed because there is so much emphasis on being married by a certain age. The way I see it, I'm lucky. Sh*t, since I graduated from high school 17 years ago, I have been in 5 weddings and attended 4 others as a guest, and you know what? All but 2 of those couples are divorced.

Now, see, the reason I feel the emphasis is unnecessary is because it doesn't matter if you had your children while married, then you got divorced or if you were a heathen-- like myself-- and had them out of wedlock... When you are in the mall, shopping (or trying to shop) and hollering at your children to "put that down" or "leave that alone", no one sees that you were once a wife AND mother; all they see is that you are a mother.

Even  married women complain about how, even though they are married, their husbands do not help out much and that they "may as well be" single moms themselves.  Let me tell you "May-As-Well-Have-Beens" something: No Matter How Much Your Husband "Doesn't Help", His Ass Is Helping You More Than My Non-Existent Husband", so shut the hell up! Sorry; I had to say that.

Anyway, my point is that I may be 35 and never have been married, but I'm fine with that. I would much rather be never married than be divorced or in a screwed up marriage. Hell to the no!