He’s engagaed… AGAIN

He’s engagaed… AGAIN

He’s engagaed… AGAIN. This is not the first, second, or third time. 

Maybe this time it’ll work out. Maybe this is the woman he’s been waiting for all his life. Maybe he’s finally ready to settle down and be a husband. Not a father, but maybe a husband. 

Ooooorrrrr, since he just became pastor of a church 😐, maybe he needs her to be his slave like my mom was. 

But what’s going through her head? Why is she willing to say yes to this man who has no relationship with his children? I’m sure he’s lied to her too, but the type of person I am, I need background info. I guess she just doesn’t give a fuck, she about to be a “Preacher’s Wife” -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter

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Thinkin about him… 

Thinkin about him… 

Yea I said it. I’ve been thinking about him lately. I wish our relationship would work out, but it takes two. I’ve been through too much shit with him to just let him in. Nah I don’t want to talk to him. Nah I don’t want to write him. I’ll just think about some good times and try not allow them to lead to bad ones… but they normally do. The good times never lasted. It always went from good to bad, sometimes before we left the damn driveway. -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter

She’s there… the improved old me

She’s there… the improved old me

When I look, I can see her. She’s there. I can see through myself to the person who I use to know. The person I was proud of. The person other people wanted to know. If I look hard enough I can see her. But if I don’t look hard, I see who she’s become. The complacent, overweight, scared and scarred girl who’s having problems becoming a woman is what’s outside. It’s troubling. Hopefully temporary. I can’t stay like this forever. I crave success. I can see it, feel it, taste it, hear it, smell it. What the fuck am I missing to get it. I need to get who I was back, but better. –RealityOfAPreachersDaughter

“Beat my ass for the cause of Christ”

“Beat my ass for the cause of Christ”

“Beat my ass for the cause of Christ”- that’s what it seems like you’re saying…

I guess it’s ok for you to stay with a man that beats the hell out of you and your kids because it’s for the “cause of Christ”. That’s what “Jesus” would want you to do right? Jesus doesn’t believe in divorce, so let him beat you and your kids ass until they get grown and resent you for staying. “Why you let us go though this?” Let him beat your ass until he kills one or all of you. Protect him because he’s “the man of God”. This man was called of God, so you can’t say anything against him.

This is all bullshit! Leave his ass immediately -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter

What do you really want

What do you really want

I haven’t had this issue in a while. I usually have it when I’m stressed. It takes a lot out of me. It makes me weak. It’s scary. I don’t always tell my husband. I don’t want it to keep me from having kids. I don’t want to go to the doctor. I just want it to go away and never return.

This is why I stay away from people and their drama. I don’t handle it well. 

This is why I stay away from him. My father. It makes me crazy. 

This is why I do art, music, dance… it takes my mind away from the crazy shit in my life. 

I don’t want to die. –RealityOfAPreachersDaughter

The Story Is Mine 

The Story Is Mine 

Everyone has a story. When that person transitions to another life, that story sometimes dies. Sometimes other people tell that story… which is why I’m determined to tell my own story. The most of my thoughts are unknown unless I choose to tell them. My “WHY” for doing what I do is only known if I let it be.

So instead of having someone else tell my story when I die, or while I’m alive, I choose to tell it myself. 

I’ve been watching documentaries lately, and many of them were done after the person moved on. Sometimes I think about the genius thoughts they kept to themselves. The personal struggles that no one knew of. There’s always more. –RealityOfAPreachersDaughter 

Bad Attention

Bad Attention

I wanted attention from him, but the kind I got wasn’t what I wanted. I needed him to be my father. To love me like he loved the other little pretty girls. 

I wondered why he didn’t care for me very much. Was it because I didn’t look like him? Was it because I was a girl? Was it because he resented my mother?  Was it because he thought I wasn’t his daughter?

I don’t know, but I could never allow my children to be treated like he treated us. Maybe that’s why I still don’t have any. –RealityOfAPreachersDaughter