Sunday, May 29, 2016

A Time to Give, A Time to Take


I’m celebrating 90 days of sobriety today. For some reason it feels like a much bigger accomplishment than 60 days. I’m not sure why.. maybe because 90 days might actually be the longest I’ve ever gone without alcohol since I first started drinking. Even when pregnant, I did have the occasional glass of wine... convincing myself it was “good for the baby”. But these days, I’m not even cooking with wine. My how the times have changed. 

I won’t be celebrating my accomplishment with my twelve-step program, however. I’ve decided to continue my journey on my own. Well, not on my own, exactly. I still have tremendous support from my friends and family. And, of course, this little face is my biggest cheerleader, even if he doesn’t know it.


I’m not saying I’ll never return to meetings. I can definitely say they are beneficial and I certainly appreciated the additional support while I was getting the ball rolling. However, there are some things about the meetings that I’m just not incredibly keen on. And believe it or not, it’s not the religious aspect. That’s easy to look over. I mean, shit, I scroll pass tons of “pray for this” and “amen to that” posts on Facebook every single day. 


A woman at one of my meetings shared a pretty humorous story one night. She talked about being out with friends and when the waiter brought over the Rusty Nail someone had ordered, the woman knew immediately that the drink was prepared incorrectly. It was missing Drambuie. She could tell just by looking at it. She then went on to talk about how she used to finish everyone’s drinks at the bar, incredulous that someone would actually leave alcohol in a glass. It was a funny story. Also sad, and very real to alcoholism. It was memorable and a good share.

Two weeks later, at the same meeting, that woman had an opportunity to share again. Without missing a beat, she told the same exact story. Word for word, with the same inflections in her voice, the same pauses for laughter. I subtly glanced around to see if anyone else was visibly reacting the way I think I was. No... still engaged. Still laughing. Did it only bother me? 

In the other meeting I attended regularly, everyone shares every time. One man in particular has been a part of the program for over 20 years. He got sober very young, before he was even legally able to drink. After he shares, he always finishes with the same proclamation: that his life just keeps getting better and better. I remember thinking, when I first started going to this meeting, about how awesome things must be for him. He must have such a wonderful life. Through more shares, I found out that he’s been married and divorced multiple times, he’s lost a child to drug addiction and has another that is currently addicted to heroin. But his life just keeps getting better? I don’t understand... 

The sponsor thing has always been a bit of a hot button for me as well. I was told by someone recently that her sponsor was upset that she wasn't being in service enough. She wasn’t attending enough meetings, offering up herself as a sponsor and, in general, giving enough back to the program. You know what that reminded me of? Church. One of the reasons I stopped attending church was because I was always being asked to “be in service” which I never really liked doing. Okay, maybe that makes me a bad person. A “taker” instead of a “giver”. But are you saying I don’t deserve the benefits of either organization because of it? I mean, there are countless people who can’t wait to donate their time. Is it so bad that I’m not one of them? After all, I thought the only real requirement to be a part of the program was simply a desire to stop drinking. Am I to understand that the longer I attend, the more likely it is that it won’t be enough?

Like I said, I’m not saying I’ll never attend again. There are things I really, really like about going. I love the support, the camaraderie. I love the sharing, as long as it’s genuine and not scripted or practiced. I love the fact that people have chosen a different path in order to better their lives. I love being a part of that. But I don’t want to sponsor someone. I don’t want a sponsor myself. I don’t want to sit on a committee. I don’t want to show up early to hug everyone as they walk in. And I don’t want to attend a meeting every single day, or multiple times a day. 

I just don’t want to drink. That’s it. 

There is one lady that I met who checks in with me from time to time via text. I guess she’s the closest thing I’ll probably ever have to a sponsor. I hadn’t been to a meeting for a couple of weeks and got a text from her asking if I was staying sober. She was concerned that by missing meetings, I had a higher chance of relapsing, which I’m sure is common and therefore, a genuine concern. I explained that I had surrounded myself with friends and family that were supportive of my goals and that I was focusing on my move and getting the next chapter of my life underway. I also promised that if I felt the urge to drink, if the pull became very strong, I would definitely go to a meeting. And I meant it. 

But here I sit, after packing more boxes for my quickly approaching move, and I’m looking around the room with sadness. I’m getting ready to move me and my son out of the house I brought him home to. Not really “taking him away” from his dad, but taking him to a different home where he won’t be with him every day. While I’m not exactly going to be a single parent, since I know Johnny will still be incredibly active in Xander’s life, we will be co-parents, not a cohesive family unit. We will share decisions, but not each other’s lives. I will live my life and he will live his. And I know it’s the right thing to do. But that doesn’t mean it’s the way I wanted things to work out. It’s not how I pictured things. And it makes me sad, it makes me lonely, it makes me frustrated. However, it does not make me want to drink. 

So, meetings or no meetings, here I am. 90 days sober. I’m waiting for my life to start getting better but as long as I stay the course, I can’t see it getting worse. I don’t miss the drink, I really don’t. But I do miss smiling and the meetings have not brought that back into my life. I hope maybe I can find that somewhere else down the road. Luckily, my sweet boy does plenty of smiling for both of us right now.


I will still celebrate today. It’s still an important milestone. And I don’t ever want to discourage anyone from doing whatever they think they need to do to move past their addictions. Meetings, therapy, exercise, meditation, family, whatever. Everyone’s journey looks different. It’s the end result that is the most important. My new life is more important than my vice. I don’t know if that means it’ll get "better and better"... but it is more important.

And knowing that makes all the difference.


Thursday, May 12, 2016

The Older I Get, The More I Like The Merry-Go-Round


Today was a pretty productive day. 

Xander actually slept in this morning and since he is my alarm clock, I got to sleep in as well. Unfortunately, it made us late for breakfast plans with friends but luckily, my friends are awesome and waited for us. 

After breakfast, I dropped baby off at home with his dad for a nap and went and got my oil changed. Then, I squeezed in a pedicure and some frozen yogurt. I got groceries and gas and headed home. 

I made lactation cookies and threw together some pasta for dinner. I made baby food for the next few weeks. I did dishes. I prepared dinner for Xander and fed him. He did some house laps in the walker. Afterwards, I loaded him up in the carrier and we took my dog for a walk. We stopped by my parents’ house and visited for a few minutes. 

We got home and I gave him a bath. We sat on the floor in the living room and played with some toys and sang some songs. Then we went in the bedroom, I nursed him and put him in his rocker and he peacefully went to sleep. 

We had a really nice day. 

I’ll tell you what I didn’t do today. I didn’t cry. I wasn’t angry. I didn’t wake up with an anxious mind and stomach. I didn’t stress about my next step in life and I didn’t worry about what I was actively doing to expedite said step. 

I just... lived my life. 

Now, unfortunately, there is a lot of work to do that can’t go ignored. 

My parents and I have decided to pool our resources, move out of our small and pricey homes and move into a larger, more accommodating home together. For so many reasons, I am excited about this decision. 

I’ve lived with my parents a few times throughout my adult life, but in the past, it’s because I was sucking at the whole adulting thing and needed help. Now, we are both making a conscious decision to share space, picking a house together and setting up a new life where we can all be a little more comfortable and more available to support each other’s goals. 

Sounds great, right? 

Well, between dealing with flaky realtors, ridiculous application fees, credit challenges, high deposits, houses renting before we can even get call backs, crazy work schedules, family troubles, continued relationship stress, more credit issues, thousand dollar vehicle repairs and finally, a clogged milk duct (which, thankfully, did not turn into mastitis), my parents and I can’t seem to catch a break. 

It’s enough to drive a person to drink! 

(Too soon?) 

We are handling it all, of course. I mean, what option do we have? Run away and just hide from everything? Ha! 

(We totally considered that.)

I like to think that all of these challenges are just so when things do start going our way, we can appreciate them more. But really, I think it’s just Life being a super dick and my best bet is to try and not lose my shit before something positive finally fucking happens. 

So besides the occasional wave of loneliness, I really enjoyed my nice day today. Thank goodness for my baby as he definitely keeps me grounded and sane. I smiled when he tried peaches for the first time, I felt success as we nailed a back carry and I laughed out loud as he tooled around the house in his little bare feet. For me, it’s good to have something as important as him to care about so that I don’t spiral too much into the land of negative thoughts. 




And now I’m off to bed. I'd like to wake up to some good news tomorrow although these days I’m prepared for anything. What’s that saying that keeps popping up? "I never said it was going to be easy. I said it was going to be worth it." Here’s hoping there’s some truth to that. 

Because I'm a little over this roller coaster.



Tuesday, April 5, 2016

"You Must Have Chaos Within You, To Give Birth To A Star"


There is a scene in the movie Watchmen that keeps coming up for me as I go through a pretty turbulent time in my life. 

Spoiler alert. 

Dr. Manhattan has left Earth and is establishing a life on Mars. He no longer cares what happens to humans because their recent behavior has shown him that their lives don’t matter to him anymore. The new Silk Spectre (Laurie Jupiter), Dr. Manhattan’s ex-girlfriend, is trying to convince him otherwise. He tells her she doesn’t understand and she asks him to show her. 

The original Silk Spectre, Laurie’s mom Sally, had an altercation years prior with another vigilante called The Comedian. After a photo shoot, The Comedian follows Sally into the room where she is changing and attempts to rape her. She fights him off and then others hear the scuffle and come in to help her. Years later, she ends up sleeping with The Comedian after all. Let’s just say that their relationship is... complicated. 

Through this discovery, Dr. Manhattan shows Laurie that her father is The Comedian. A man she has grown and been taught to hate. She falls to her knees and sobs. It is this, and only this, that gives Dr. Manhattan his epiphany. 


My life is a little chaotic right now. Johnny and I have decided to separate and I’ve asked him to move out. He is handling his struggles the way he always has - with alcohol - and it is making an already difficult situation even more stressful. Especially as I continue on with my sobriety. 

So many of my relationships have begun or been maintained through the fog of alcohol. I could look back and have so many regrets. I mean.. I DEFINITELY have some regrets... but when I look into the eyes of my sweet boy, I know that even though it hurts me to see another relationship end, the two of us needed to come together at this time in both our lives to create this perfect little person. And it's impossible to have regrets when I look at this. 


Of course I wish the perfect little family was there as well. But it’s not. So it’s my responsibility to make sure my baby never wishes things were different. I hope that Johnny will come around and be the dad I’ve seen before and know he can still be. But I can only control my actions so that’s what I’m focused on. And since I’m making these important decisions with sound body and mind and not after another week-long bender that ends in heartache and tears, I feel more confident that I’m finally making moves in the right direction. 


I’m pretty frustrated that life has to suck so much sometimes. But like attracts like and I’ve done my fair share of making irresponsible and chaotic decisions, leading to erratic and stressful situations. I’m hoping that my new choices will help bring positivity and happiness to me and my son. He deserves it. We deserve it. 

I deserve it.


Monday, March 28, 2016

I'll Get The Non-Alcoholic Drama Please

I celebrate 30 days of sobriety tomorrow. I’m feeling pretty grateful for my strength and determination. I literally take it day by day and I find it to be a lot easier to handle that way. Life has certainly challenged me, though. If I didn’t have this gorgeous child to focus my attention on, I may have lost my shit a few times and been a little more tempted to say “fuck it, dude. Let’s go drinking.” 


My meeting tonight was interesting. The topic was God. Or as many people in the program look at it, Your Higher Power. I quietly chuckled to myself... such a sense of humor your so-called Higher Power has... 

The sharing began. One by one, I heard stories of God. Some women shared about growing up in religious households. Others shared about having very little exposure to religion in their lives. A few talked about being God-fearing women. But everyone came together in giving their God credit for their sobriety. 

It’s a good sized group and with under an hour designated for sharing, not everyone has a chance to talk. As the time winded down, it looked like I was in the clear. I mean I could always pass but that's not really my style. But not getting picked to share to begin with? I was probably better off this week...  

As one woman finished, it was announced that there was only time for one more share. 

“You know who I’d like to hear from?” the last sharer announced, “Tina.” 

Guess I should’ve seen that coming. 

* * *

“Hi, I’m Tina. And I’m an alcoholic. I’m also an Atheist. 

“I’m laughing because it’s so appropriate that this subject would come up this week. You see, I made the cardinal sin of social media this week: I gave my opinion on something. Even worse, it was on religion. A work colleague, who has recently been exploring a newfound love of religion, called me out on my beliefs and after a conversation that started out as fairly adult turned snarky and passive aggressive, things ultimately ended in an unfriending. 

“Probably the worst part about being an Atheist is that when a situation presents itself where it’s appropriate to announce my beliefs, I typically get looks of sympathy. Like people feel so sorry for me that I don’t believe in God. 

“I grew up going to church off and on all the way into my early twenties. My parents weren’t overly religious. My alcoholic grandmother was very religious. She said I was going to hell because I wasn’t baptized. That was some of my earliest exposure to religion. And alcohol for that matter. 

“The older I got, the less church and its teachings made sense to me. I studied a few different religions but it all seemed to be one big made up story designed to make people feel better. And that wasn’t enough for me. So I turned away from religion and put my faith into things I could see, feel, touch and believe. Science made sense. Proof made sense.

“At the risk of sounding cold, there was really no love lost in this unfriending situation although I’ve had to run some interference at work as there is now a suspicious rumor going around that I ‘hate Christians’. Luckily, people I am truly close to have more respect and understanding of my beliefs and vice versa. However, it reminded me of the concern I had when I first considered attending these meetings. I avoided them because I figured everyone would ‘God’ me to death and I would feel alienated. Not only has that not happened, but this particular meeting has been one of my favorites and I’ve genuinely enjoyed listening to everyone’s shares. 

“I may not believe in God, but I think I can understand the concept of a Higher Power. For me, it’s my son. He just turned six months old. He is definitely the reason that I started coming to these rooms. However, what I’ve come to realize throughout these past 30 days is that the reason I keep coming... is because of me. Because I deserve it. 

“So thank you all for sharing and for being here. It makes me proud to have chosen the same path. 

“And no, I don’t hate Christians.” 

* * *

I drove home with a smile on my face. A real one. Which felt nice as there hasn’t been much to smile about lately. Home is rough. I’m sad about our situation and am not sure we can recover. I’m already working on a budget so that I can afford to stay in the house by myself. I have a shared-baby plan in my head. I’ve moved into the nursery and have been sleeping in there. Yeah, that kind of rough. 

But I’m still celebrating 30 days tomorrow. And there is still a lot to be happy and hopeful for. My son is still my everything and I know every decision I make is for him, even if it’s hard for me. 

I still don’t believe in God. But I do believe that my son was given to me for a reason. I was too stubborn, angry and depressed to do anything productive with my life before him. Now, I have every reason in the world to be great. It’s way more difficult, but that usually results in higher rewards. 

But I know I can't please everyone. And as far as those that don't like me or are uncomfortable with my beliefs, with 454 friends still left on Facebook and countless more in the real world, I don't believe I'll be missing that particular drama.


Sunday, March 6, 2016

I'm Tired of Being Tired

Last week at this time, I was getting ready to make dinner. We ate together before a friend of ours came over to watch Xander so we could get out for a few hours and play some Golden Tee and unwind. Date night for mom and dad. I’d been looking forward to it all week. 

Unfortunately, we showed up to the bar and immediately started drinking scotch. I mean, really? Why not just have a few beers? We’d been on a scotch kick for the past few weeks so I guess we figured, why stop now. 

I got wasted. I picked a fight with Johnny. He left me at the bar (because I refused to get in the car) and I walked home. It was only across the street. But still... I walked my drunk ass home. 

It wasn’t the worst I’d ever been drunk. Not at all. I didn’t black out like I did a few weeks ago when I got drunk at the bowling alley and Johnny had to carry both me AND Xander into the house. It's not the first time he's had to carry me. I didn’t get sick and then wake up next to the toilet, surrounded by vomit that didn’t quite make it in. That’s happened many times. And I didn’t start talking to someone else at the bar, end up going home with him and not remembering much after. That’s definitely happened before. It’s been years... but it’s happened. 

I like drinking. But I’m tired of being drunk. 

Any readers been here since the beginning? When I first started this blog almost six years ago, I was getting ready to go through a life change. I was turning 30, I was miserable and I wanted to try something different. If you go back and look at my first handful of posts, they talk about quitting. Quitting everything. Drinking, gambling, smoking and sex. I was going to quit everything for a full year and see how much more full my life could become. 

I lasted less than a month. 

The longest I’ve ever gone without drinking since I turned 21 was when I was pregnant with Xander. And when he got here, one would hope I would just continue not drinking. Get my shit together and be this awesome, sober mom. But, I didn’t. Part of it was a little of a “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” thing with Johnny as I resented him for continuing to drink so much, even though I kept asking him not to and everyone assured me he would change once Xander arrived. But really, I like to be drunk just as much as he does. So how could I really be that mad? 

But, I’m tired of the fights. I’m tired of the walks home. I’m tired of the hangovers and I’m so very tired of how much I hate myself the next day. 

I’d love to drink socially. But I’ve proven to myself time and time again that I can’t.

I’ve avoided 12 step programs for many reasons. I never wanted to admit the kind of problem I had. I also had a pretty negative association with these groups as I’ve always understood them to make you a victim. Admitting that you are powerless over alcohol. I mean, I’m in complete control, nothing is more powerful than me... she says as she takes another shot

But mostly, it’s the fact that I’m an atheist. Everything about 12-stepping is God, right? All that “God grant me” stuff and the Lord’s Prayer. Certainly I wouldn’t be accepted. Geez, if an alcoholic isn’t welcome in one of these groups, then I might as well just say fuck it. 

But I can’t. He needs me. Almost as much as I need him. 

In the past, I’ve talked myself out of quitting because I didn’t want to be boring. Drinking made me interesting. It made me funny. It made me confident. It made me feel sexy. 

All lies. It made me angry, sad and more depressed than ever. And I no longer feel the need to impress anyone. Except him. And boring is totally fine if it means I’m alive and present to be there for him.


So I went to my second meeting on Friday. I went by myself to a meeting close to my house. Actually, it was held at the hospital where I gave birth to my perfect little man. I was hoping it was a sign that I belonged there. My friend wanted me to go with her to another meeting but after an emotional week, I was feeling a little judged, a little like some assumptions were being made. I wanted to be somewhere no one knew me. Where I wasn’t afraid of being completely honest. 

I was so nervous and uncomfortable walking in. But as the people trickled in, one by one, and created this intimate group of ten or so (the normal, apparently, for this particular meeting), I started to feel like I had made a good call. I shared. I talked about my concerns as I’ve written them here. They were all so understanding. I got a 24 hour sober coin. It got passed around the room so everyone could touch it and give me their positive energy. They came up to me after the meeting and told me not to worry about my beliefs. I was reminded that the only requirement to be there was the desire to quit drinking. An anonymous member even bought me some literature for my journey. They hoped I would be back the next week. 

I cried in my car before leaving. I was so relieved and touched. 

I’m going to go to another meeting tomorrow. It’s at a church so I’m hoping I don’t burst into flames upon arrival... but it’s an all female meeting. I was told I was welcome to bring Xander as a few of the women have brought their babies before. One woman told me her kids were raised in the program as she joined at 20 years old and was now well into her 50s. Sober for 30 years. And still showing up. 

Things at home are still strange. Johnny is not tired the way I am. He is helping in that he is waiting until I’m asleep before he drinks or sneaking drinks when I’m in the other room. It’s okay.. I’ve decided to quit worrying about anyone’s battle except my own. I can’t change anyone but myself. And while I don’t like to look at myself as a victim, I’m not too proud to admit that I can’t do it on my own. 

So, I’ll keep going. I’ll probably work on the steps. Anything to help. Because while I may be tired of being drunk, picking up a drink is a very, very difficult habit to break. 

And I’ll keep sharing. I imagine my blogging will increase. I hope not to alienate or lose too many people... but again, my battle is bigger than those who wish to go on without me. 

We get the one life. That’s it. At least that’s what I believe. I don’t want to spend the rest of it tired, hating myself, wishing I had a way out. I want to be happy when I wake up, satisfied with the woman I am. Proud of the mother I’m becoming. I want to walk out into the world every day and say, “yeah... I got this shit.”

I want to be better. That's my journey. 


Monday, February 29, 2016

It's Been A Long Year

I came in off a dead end street. 
Walked in slow and took a back row seat; 
I knew I had nothing new to say. 
So many people looking so burned out 
I couldn't help feeling bad about just
Having to be there anyway. 

A friend of a friend from work came in. 
I never have known what to make of him, 
He'd always seemed to be so insincere to me. 
You know I've always been afraid of a 12 step crowd; 
They laugh too much and talk too loud 
Like they all know where everyone should be. 

It's been a long,
A long, long year. 
How did I get here? 

They were talking in a circle, I was by myself 
Everyone was telling everyone how they felt; 
It felt like so long since I'd been young. 
As the circle kept moving its way to the back 
I was wondering what I was going to say. 

In fact, I still didn't know
As it rolled off my tongue... 

It's been a long,
A long, long year. 
How did I get here? 

I didn't say a word all the way to my car 
But a little later on that night at the bar 
I was telling everyone how strange my day had been. 
They said "Brother, all you need is another shot" 
So I threw one down and said "thanks a lot" 
As I thought to myself "Well, here we go again". 

It's been a long,
A long, long year. 
How did I get here?

- Long Year, Todd Snider

* * *

It was basically how I expected it to be. The meeting, that is. I wasn’t required to share. Everyone was perfectly content allowing me to just be present. The friend I went with introduced me to a few people and filled me in on things as the meeting progressed. She offered me coffee and brought me a cookie. 

Someone I knew was there. Someone I knew from the past that I hadn’t see in a while. Someone that I saw when I was at a bar getting drunk. Out of all the meetings in all the places on all the different days, there he was. I didn’t know how to feel. I hadn’t planned on sharing anything but having him there made me feel embarrassed. But then I remembered he was there too. He didn’t share either. 

For an hour, I listened. I drank my coffee and listened. There wasn’t nearly as much God as I thought there would be, which was a relief. I mean, there was the Serenity Prayer to start, of course. And then the Lord’s Prayer to conclude. I didn’t say either one. I don’t care that everyone else did. 

Comfortable isn’t really the word I’d use. But it was okay. It was easy to be there. I related to a few things that were said and felt like I was supposed to be hearing them. I felt compelled to say something but didn’t. I wasn’t ready to share my story. 

At the end of the meeting, even if you didn’t share, they went around the room and everyone said their name. And as the words left my mouth, I knew that I had just made a decision that was going to change everything. 

“I’m Tina. And I’m an alcoholic.”


My reason

Friday, February 26, 2016

You Know What? I Don't Even Care... Just Fucking Vote For Someone

This motherfucker...

Okay, so my Facebook feed has been filled with a lot of anti-Trumpisms these days. It may seem like I am an un-supporter out of nowhere. That’s not the case. It’s just that I kept thinking of his candidacy as a joke. Totally and 100% laughable. Good times, lol. All that shit. And now, out of nowhere, Donald Trump is very likely going to be the next POTUS. 

Obviously, if I had my choice, I would not want this to occur. I mean, he’s racist, he’s sexist, he appears very ignorant to me, he feels superior to everyone and he takes no shame in being filthy, disgusting rich while so many struggle to have just enough. He truly is everything I want my son not to be. The idea of him running this nation is enough to make my stomach turn. And then throw up my last seventeen meals.

But what am I going to do? I’m not ACTUALLY going to move to Canada if he gets elected. I’m going to sit back and watch the ensuing shit show. 

Or am I? 

That may be what frightens me the most. Could there possibly be no shit show?

Eight years ago, I remember sitting in the Suncoast bowling alley, watching the polls as they reflected a winning Barack Obama. I remember sitting down on the steps and crying. I was overwhelmed with relief. Finally, we would have change. We would have something different. We would have a President that cared about the betterment of our nation. We would finally be rid of this hatemongering Bush administration. Things were looking up. 

I remember sitting there, feeling like change was truly upon us. And then my big brother walked up to me, scoffed at my tears and said, “do you really think this is going to make any difference at all?”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m still an Obama supporter. I see the things he has done right and I don’t hate him for the things that he has done wrong. On a personal level, my life is better after having him in office. Maybe not life-changing, but I certainly don’t feel cheated as an American with him in office. But, has he given me the confidence to believe in politicians again? Has he made me feel like the world is a better place to raise my son? Would I want more presidents like him? Hmm... 

If you forced me into a corner and asked me which party I belong to, I guess I’d have to say I’m a Libertarian. Socially liberal while fiscally conservative. And Atheist. Good God that I don’t believe in, can we PLEASE elect a leader who won’t bring religion into the White House. Anyhow, I suppose that’s a completely different election. 


Here he is, making fun of a physically handicapped interviewer
Does it really not matter? In the big scheme of things? Will it not matter if Trump is our president? I mean, it could be interesting. Well, of course it’s going to be interesting. But could he truly do irreparable damages? Will Congress let him get away with that? Based on what I’ve seen the last eight years, there are enough opposing party members around to make sure Obama gets very little accomplished. Actually, that’s our M.O. lately - spending an entire presidency making sure the one we didn’t want elected gets very little done. Such efficient and productive politics. No wonder we are reverting to old school cases of racism and sexism. I almost feel guilt over my relief of giving birth to a white male. Yeah, pretty shitty, isn’t it?

Very appropriate, you ignorant monkey followers
I suppose the part that really bothers me is how embarrassing it’s going to be to have Donald Trump representing the United States. But in all actuality, we deserve it. We’ve become such a shit nation. A bunch of passive aggressive crybabies that feel entitled to things we have not yet earned. And now, as a result, we get some rich, arrogant and immature piece of shit looking like he’s the BETTER choice than all the other usual suspects running for president. The talking heads of Washington. We deserve this for being gluttonous and ignorant. Such a sad, sad state of affairs. 

I’m voting. I mean, duh. Anyone who takes the time to say how much they despise a certain candidate and then wakes up on Election Day and realizes it’s too much trouble to drive down the street, stand in line and drop a ballot deserve to be ruled by an ape. 

But I dunno... maybe I’m more ignorant than I realize. Maybe we have become the kind of country that needs a ruler like Trump to make any kind of difference. Maybe a year or two from now I’ll be eating my words, admitting I was wrong. Agreeing that you have to be a bigoted asshole in today’s bigoted world to really show change. Maybe the passive aggressive nature of previous presidents has driven us to this. Maybe, just maybe, this gigantic piece of negative, angry and self-righteous turd can lead us to something great. 

And if so? If he succeeds? 

Then, and only then... that's when I’ll move out of the country.

Ryan Reynolds said it's okay. And Deadpool is way more popular than any candidate running.