Why is this ok?

We live in a nation where it is ok to video violence and get paid for it.

We live in a nation where video pornography is being taxed.

We live in a nation where childrens services only act when the child is murdered and they are exposed.

Why is all of this ok?

We live in America, land of the free, home of the brave. However, here we are suffering the longest shutdown in US history, hundreds of thousands of government workers struggling for their next bite to eat, but yet we don’t stand in unison to fight. The brave suddenly become the cowards and the hidden. Where are those loud voices now??

45 is about to declare a national emergency amongst our nation, giving him the ULTIMATE power. Power that only a villain could desire. This will allow him to receive at least 7 billions dollars giving him the opportunity to fund his 5.6 billion dollar wall.

On June 12, 1987, President Ronald Reagan sent a message to Mikhail Gorbachev saying, and I quote “Mister Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”. It was during this powerful speech that President Reagan said to remove the Berlain wall which divided the city for 26 years. President Reagan powerfully ended his address by saying “Yes, across Europe, this wall will fall. For it cannot withstand faith; it cannot withstand truth. The wall cannot withstand FREEDOM!”

Freedom. That is what our country represents, does it not? But yet we find ourselves incarcerating wrongfully accused people for DECADES or more (people/NYS vs. huwe burton; people/state of Indiana vs. kristine bunch) because it is much easier to set the blame on someone then to make sure the actual guilty party is convicted! Better yet how about the hundreds of thousand of non-custodial parents living in NYS who once had promising careers but because of the 17% attack on their paychecks for each child, not only have their lives been ruined but their sanity taken as well!!

WHY IS THIS OK?? Why is it ok that police officers JUSTIFY the KILLING of young black men with PROMISING FUTURES ACROSS AMERICA!!! WHY IS THIS OK??

Yes I am angry. I am LIVID!! I am livid because this place that I live in, this place that I call home is full of CRAP!!! The contradictions that exist amongst our very own is humiliating. The media controls all of our minds!! We would rather video a woman being savagely raped instead of picking up any type of defense mechanism and SAVING HER LIFE!!! A life that not only was brutally sabatoged by the individual who sexually assaulted her, but also a life that now could possibly end because you, yes YOU, chose to record it, instead of stopping it.

This is not ok. It will never be ok. But this nation we live in, is so consumed by media, entertainment, violence, that we look passed what is ok.

Kudos, America. You have won the greatest nation of the year award.

Lonely lives matter…too.

On October 6, 2018, I was diagnosed with bipolar one. I struggled all my life with mental issues, but never knew exactly what the pinpoint of these issues were. It wasn’t until I moved to Pennsylvania that I was able to get evaluated by a mental health institution who, in my opinion, knew what the hell they were talking about. When living in NY, I was told I was ADHD and they put me on adderall. I was on 20 milligrams and it did absolutely nothing for me. I would fall asleep all day and not complete any committments. I was never sleeping at night and my days were horrendous.

Then I came here and I started therapy in New Jersey. It’s more group then individual and it has benefited me in many ways. I’ve learned how to cope with my issues and control my emotional roller coaster so that my feelings aren’t all over the place. I’ve learned how to use positive affirmations to ease my mind and worries, breathing techniques to help control my anxiety, and so many other skills that have made life…somewhat easier.

But it doesn’t always work. The fact is that I am a mess. Being here has opened a lot of creepy doors. I’ve heard, learned, and seen so many things within my family, my past, and my present. Supressed memories now vivid in HD in the front of my mind. Nightmares are back, the body aches and pains, the migraines, but worst of all, the depression.

Yesterday was a bad day. The crazy part is, I didn’t know I was sad until it was time to head to Trenton to pick up the father of my boys. It was 8:22pm and I got into my car, put the key in the ignition, turned it, my hand dropped, then it started. The tears. The waterfalls just began nonstop. I got to the Trenton train station a few minutes early so I decided to call my mom. I usually call her when I am sad and we talk, but this time no. This time was different. I couldn’t talk to her. I could not open my mouth and seek comfort from her words. So I pretended everything was ok and hung up.

That’s when I realized how alone I was. Nobody. I have no one. I don’t even have myself. I am strugglng to find a purpose, and I have no idea where to start. I don’t know what my purpose is or if I even have one. I realized that I have fallen back into a depression and I have no clue why. I just wanted to cry. Crawl into bed and sleep so I didn’t have to feel this horrible emptiness that is consuming me.

My boyfriend got in the car and he assumed that I was sick. I looked at him and he just panicked. He begged me to tell him what was wrong and I didn’t have an answer. How can I tell you what is wrong with me when I don’t even know myself? I turned to him and cried and said “I wanna go home.” Like, NY home, not PA home because at least in NY I knew I would be surrounded by so many people that there would be no room for me to feel this way. There would be no time for me to feel down and cry. I knew that at least if I were home, I would be so busy entertaining others that I wouldn’t be able to entertain my feelings and drown in this invisible hurt and pain.

Today is no better than yesterday. Today is probably worse and what makes this more dreadful is the fact that I am alone. I don’t trust anyone not even my family because since bringing them in and introducing them to the reality of my bipolarism, I feel like it’s just leverage for them to blame every single thing that goes wrong in our lives on me and I have not been proven different thus far.

Conquering this illness is very hard. Especially when you’re alone, because all you want to do is submit to your emotions and do the absolute opposite of what you should do. There is a dark cloud over me that never goes away. I’m struggling to break it into pieces. I am trying to conquer these demons, and I am trying to find my purpose. Life has thrown me so many curve balls. I am tired of trying to catch them and figure things out. I don’t know who I am anymore. I wish things were so different. I didn’t ask to be this way. I didn’t ask to go through everything I went through.

I just want to be normal.

Celebrating your joy…alone

Growing up in my family, there was a celebration for everything. If it was big sister’s birthday…there was a party. If Dad got a raise…there was a party. If Uncle got remarried for the third time…there was a party. If Paco got his 5th divorce, had his 7th baby, got engaged again, and his mistress got a boob job…party.

We had a celebration for everything. It was the best part of growing up. The food, the games, the family and friends all together. It was all so wonderful. As I started getting older, the parties became fewer. Until there were none. Our family had many dents and bruises, issues that, till this day still need to be addressed, but remain untouched. As family problems increased, the bond of our family decreased. Until eventually ceased.

I grew up with thoughts embedded in my brain that I was the main point of all the problems in our home. So it was natural for me to always feel down about myself and assume that I would never amount to anything. Until one day I did. I got my GED, I got my first college degree, I left NY for a better life and am actually doing very well…but yet, I celebrate these joys alone. At least, thats how I feel.

My daughter asked me a few weeks back if I felt as if I needed validation from family members in order to feel better about myself. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that question. I did know how to respond to it however. I told her I didn’t need validation or recognition, but a pat on the shoulder, a congratulations, and most importantly, the words “I am proud of you” would have made a great difference. I think that the reason I felt like I wanted to hear those words (Not needed, but wanted) was because I’ve felt all my life like I was a failure. Like I wasn’t worth pursuing any dreams, goals, or aspirations. Because that was what was embedded in my brain. “Marlyn, you’re a piece of shit and will never be anything more!”.

Sad huh?

Yeah well, it’s the truth. Even after I received my college degree, I still felt alone in my joy. Even today. Today I have achieved so much but yet feel so little. As if I haven’t “done enough”. But what is enough? When is it enough? When will reaching the highest of your goals be enough to finally feel happy? That will always remain an unanswered question, at least for me.

I’ve been given praise for positive goals and milestones that I have reached, but have always celebrated my success by myself. Although sharing my happiness with others, I guess it just wasn’t enough for me. I have and still feel that some people were just not that happy and could care less for what I have overcome.

But I move forward and continue to pursue my ultimate goals. I am not done yet. At 41, I still have so many things to finish and I will finish them. I spent the majority of my life extending my hand to others that I have always forget about me. Now that I am working on myself, there are people ot there who still feel doubt and what I do is never enough to prove them different.

These are just feelings that I hold inside and now with the world. So to hell with those who don’t care to feel joy about my joy. Even if its just a bottle of hair oil that was too expensive for me to purchase, but managed to because the item had so many great reviews and being that I have trouble growing my hair, I feel joy that maybe, just maybe, I finally found a product to help it grow again.

So if you have something to celebrate, something you’ve struggled for years to achieve, go for it. Don’t be ashamed to celebrate alone. It’s your joy, your happiness. Never let anyone steal your thunder. Be the calm that conquered the storm.

With Love,


Dream a little dream…

Fame…what is it? Is it when you are on a celebrity status, a business mogule, an entrenpaneur? Is it those five minutes on Fox Five News of you being interviewed for saving a cat, or giving money to the homeless. How about buying all the girl scout cookies from the scouts in front of the supermarket?

Heroic and fame…two different words, two different categories, two different definitions however yet, they mean almost the same!

We all have heros right? Aw come on!! You all know you do!! Whether it’s a parent, an astronaut, a basketball player, or the President of the United States!! (Please tell me he is not your hero lol).

I have two heros. My childhood hero was Wonder Woman…who am I fooling…she still is! My second hero, my idle, my superstar, my predescessor, my big Sister Marisol.

I did a lot of wrong shit to her as a child. For christ sake, I wore red to her wedding…who does that??? I stole her car when I was 14. I will never forget that. She threw a high heel at me the following morning. I even went the lengths of breaking into her apartment when I was a teenager. I was homeless at the time and it was raining hard thundering and lightning and my dad refused to allow me and my then infant daughter back home.

I did so much foul shit to her but yet, she never stopped caring. Never turned her back on me and let me tell you, she’s turned her back on quite a few and never even bat an eyelash!! But me, never. She stood, and till this day, still standing.

When I was a little girl, probably up until I was 14, I played with Barbies and believe it or not…I wanted to be a school teacher. Now, those of you who know me, know that I HATED SCHOOL FOR A FACT!!! I was NEVERRRRRRR there!!!!! Cutting was my best class lol!!!!!

School was so boring, I hated the teachers, school books, most of the student body, the front office, guidance, and best but not least…ALL THE PRINCIPLES. I remember one year, my father came to the school in Hauppauge, NY dressed in a three piece suit looking like Telly Savolis, you know the cop from Kojack?? Yep that was my Dads twin. Except my dad is like 6’2″. No lie. He’s a big dude. Well, to make a long story short, the Vice Principle caught me in the lunch room cutting class. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, made me spill my milk, and dragged me into his office. He was this white guy with really red cheeks. Ugh he was so ugly. Anyway, we used to get this little quart cups of milk and I had mine in my hand. When he dragged me, I knew it was over for him. And I made sure that he knew that lol!

When he dragged me out and my milk spilled on the brand new sweater my mom MADE FOR ME (embarrassing), I told him nice and calmly….”Ooooooohhhhhh you’re in troulble now, my daddy is gonna kick your butt!’ That man screamed at me and told me shut up! He said “Shut up, your dad isn’t going to do anything but sit there and listen like all you spics should!!’

Let me just veer off real quick. Im the youngest of four sisters. I am the most spoiled by my dad, I am my dads favorite….get where I am going with this?? LOL

Anywho, once he made that comment to me, I laughed and he said “What the hell are you laughing for?” I told him that the more he talked the more he was digging a deep grave for himself. He didn’t believe me. Next thing you now, here comes daddy!!! He had a light gray three piece suit on, his sunglasses on and walked in with great confidence, even though he was pissed!

As he walked into the front office, he kept yelling
“Where’s my daughter!!! Where the fuck is my daughter!!!” School staff tried to calm him down but eh….nah didn’t happen. They sat their asses down and shut it up right quick lol! The principle then walked into the front office and I was against the wall in his office but I could see outside his door. Now mind you my shirt collar had been stretched out from him grabbing me and I had red welts all over my neck and arms.

So pops walked in and I jumped up and down screaming “Daddy, Daddy!!”. He grabbed me and looked at me and asked “Who did this to you?”, I turned looked the asshole principle dead in his face and said….you’re gonna get it now!!! My dad LOST IT! He whipped that mans ass so bad, when I tell you WHIPPED!!!! Sheesh, Dad became butcher of the year lol!!!

Ok so back to my story. I wanted to be this school teacher, grade school to be exact. I would have all types of worksheets my teachers gave away at the end of the school year. They were Summer Practice sheets. I had mine and collected tons of others. I really wanted to be a person that little kids looked up to. The problem was…..I HATED SCHOOL!

My sister however, she always emphasized to me how I needed to get my crap together if I wanted to live a great life like her. I ignored her. It’s what little sisters do. As I got older, I dropped out of High School in the 10th grade, worked odd jobs here and there, I started doing drugs, hanging out all night long not coming home sometimes leaving my little baby girl with my mother. All this wrong I was doing and yet my Sister Marisol never ever lost faith in me.

I struggled on Long Island, New York. I was drinking, hanging, on drugs. It was a horrible life. It came to a point where I grew so tired of the bull crap. I used to tell Marisol almost every year, “I’m leaving!!”. Yeah I lied.

This year though, I don’t know. Something just struck me hard and told me pack your shit and go be with your fave. And in a matter of 4 days, my entire home and family were packed and I left NY. Now here I am in PA.

Since being here, my thoughts of being a teacher have resurfaced. Not an elementary school teacher, but a college professor. I also want to take my blog to another level. And I want to come out with a clothing line! But I sometimes doubt myself, thinking that I am so stupid to think things like this could happen to me. But that Sister Marisol of mine…..she always finds away to bring my dreams to life. She has this confidence that what I want will happen. She doesnt care what any one elso thinks.

She’s always supporting me, drying my tears, making sure I have myself together. I’m her biggest fan. And to be honest, it was her idea for me to move from NY to PA!. She knew that I would find my peace here, and I have!!!

Marisol is a very different type of woman with limited time on her hands. But I will say this, She always takes a minute or two to just kiss me on my forehead and say…

“Make all those Dream come true, Only you can make that happen if you want it that bad”

~Marisol Culley~

So I am working on them now thanks to my big Sis Marisol. I have a lot of ideas and goals and dreams that I am determined to turn into reality and with her infinite amount of encouragement and support, I will make my dreams come to life!

“Don’t think it, but speak it into existence”

With Love,


Battling Obesity

When I was a teen, I was a fragile little thing. At 18, I weighed a measly 100lbs wet! Yes I was skinny and frail. At 19, I became pregnant with my now 21 soon to be 22 year old daughter. Her father was my first heart break. When I was pregnant with her, I gained and lost weight. But I was very tiny carrying her. She was only 4lbs 14oz when she was born. She was also born towards the end of my seventh month of pregnancy. I was high risk with her. I was dialated early and my amniotic fluid was leaking towards the end of my sixth month. I only gained 11lbs when I was pregnant with her. After giving birth, I weighed a solid 99lbs.

Can we say “Olive Oil”?

However, I was quite the opposite. I ate like it was my last day on earth. Little did I know…I was headed there. When I was younger my mother would tell me “You eat with your eyes” and “Keep eating like that, and it’s going to catch up with you!”. I would brush it off and carry on with my careless eating habits.

As I got older, I started eating even more recklessly. I would wake up at 1:00am and grab a pack of oreos and a tall glass of milk and eat the entire pack. I would eat Hershey chocolate bars for lunch and Milano cookies for dinner. My eating became an outlet for me. Every time I became upset or angry, I’d grab a cookie or candy.

As I started heading into my twenties, my weight began to take a toll on me. I didn’t care though. My family would warn me and try to help me control my eating. I didn’t want to hear it. I loved food and it made me feel good. I didn’t want to stop. It was my outlet. I needed an outlet and that was one of many that I later found.

In my late twenties early thirties, I became very over weight. I found myself weighing a whopping 280lbs. Not only was I now a plus sized woman, I was also becoming a sick woman. I developed high blood pressure, varicose veins, back problems, blood clotting, sleep apnea, etc…

At the age of 35, things became severe. I became very ill. I was constantly hospitalized for different reasons. My primary care doctor had finally had enough and referred me to a bariatric doctor. This was probably one of the most scariest moments in my life. I didn’t know what to expect. I had never thought to myself I’d be in this predictament. After several tests and labs, the bariatric doctor told me I needed to have a “Gastric Bypass” done. There were no options. I wasn’t able to diet, I couldn’t have the lapband or the gastric sleeve. He straight up told me that I needed to have the bypass done in order to lose all of my weight or I could possibly die.

I was at a dead end. No choices to be made, no alternatives. It was this or death. I had three children to think about. A fiance who stood by me and took my kids and I in at our worst. I could lose it all if I didn’t change my life. My habit of poor eating. I was addicted to food!

It took three months to prepare for the operation. Several visits to different doctors, visits to a psychiatrist, group therapy, visits with a nutritionist. It was the most exhausting three months of life, but my back was against the wall and I needed to do what I had to. I had to give up all my favorite foods, learn to eat differently, and learn HOW to eat properly.

On January 30, 2012, I had gastric bypass surgery. My recovery took more than a year. But in that year I lost 187lbs. I literally lost all of my weight and then some. Now in 2018, I weigh 165lbs. I have managed to maintain this weight for 4 years. The first two years were the most difficult. I became pregnant with my last child eight months after surgery. I wasn’t supposed to. My GYN had me on the wrong birth control and I became pregnant. It was the worst pregnancy out of the four. My son was draining me. I was a battery that he would use and use. He was born on time and healthy at 7lbs 11oz, but I was sick.

Now I eat better. More protien in my diet. I don’t binge eat and I take my time eating my meals. I drink tons of water and more vegetables. I’m getting into exercising every other day until my body is accustomed to it. I’ll have a snack from time to time but not things like candy bars or cookies. I can’t remember the last time I had an oreo! I don’t eat fried foods a lot, maybe twice a month at most.

Most importantly, I learned how to prevent myself from raiding the fridge when I am upset or angry. I now write. I express myself through my words with pen and paper and I absolutely love it. I sleep better at night, I have more energy throughout the day. I am up before the sun and not sleeping in all day. The change has done right by me and I love every second of it.

My weight gain came from my depression and all the things that I have endured since childhood. Things that I have held in and on to for years. I am working on bettering my life still and I am still working on eating healthier because success does not come over night. You have to work towards success if you really want it. I’m not bettering myself and my eating habits because I am obsessed with looking good. I am bettering myself because I have a will to live.

Over eating is a disorder and a disease believe it or not. People have many outlets and believe it or not this is one of them. The same way eating food and throwing it up or starving yourself is an illness, eating even when you can’t anymore is too.

Don’t ignore the signs.

With Love,



Once upon a hit…

Domestic violence is a huge problem in society. It exists more in the lives of women then it does in men. It’s not hugely recognized with men because there is this stigma stuck with us that men are able to defend themselves as opposed to women. But it happens. Men are battered as well.

I grew up in a home where my father openly beat my sisters and I. My mother tried her hardest to defend us, but she also “Stood by her man”. There were three of us only that lived with mom and dad. Remember in my first blog, I mentioned that my oldest sister was not from the same mom, so she really didn’t feel my father’s wrath as much as the three of us did. My second oldest sister left home as soon as she graduated high school. Returning only temporarily after college. She grew tiresome of the constant negativity and decided to pursue a better and brighter future, here in Pennsylvania. A very smart decision on her part.

My third oldest sister however stood for a while. I will admit that she did take several blows for me when my dad went into one of his rages. She did suffer greatly. I stood home with both my parents until the age of 22. My parents became tired of my inability to be responsible, hold a job, and care for my daughter. That didn’t stop my dad from putting his hands on me though. When he hit us, he’d hit us as if we were men on the street. He didn’t care.

I remember once my sister jumped in the middle of him trying to hit me and he beat her with a cordless phone. My childhood friend ran from my home across the street to hers and told her mother. The police showed up shortly thereafter. My father was placed in handcuffs and taken to the 3rd precinct in Bay Shore, NY. The police were no strangers to our home. They were there constantly, if not for my dad, for me! During this particular incident, I remember my mom sitting on the front stoop crying and I was standing next to her. One of the police officers were in front of us just staring at my mother with no remorse. I remember vividly him asking her “Why do you allow this man to beat your daughters?”. Her reply was “It’s discipline”. That cop yelled at my mother from the top of his lungs when she answered with that statement.

Because of the way we grew up, I knew no better. I thought that hitting was a way of life. So any relationship that I was in, I sought to be hit. Boy was I wrong. It became so bad that during my relationship with my third son’s father, he would literally beat me until I bled. In front of my two oldest children. I grew so tired of it that I started to hit back and that was how our relationship continued for several years.

My parents left the state of NY. One year my mother came to visit me while I was in this disastrous relationship. She came with my sister from Pennsylvania to visit. We sat in my living room, my sister and I on one couch and my mother and my ex on the couch directly across from us. We started talking about abuse in relationships. Vividly I recollect my mother saying “I never raised you girls to tolerate a man hitting you!”. My sister KNEW at that point I was going to lash out. She put her hand on my ankle and squeezed so tightly as to say “Shut up, let her vent”, but I just couldn’t. I looked at my mother dead in her eyes and said “You say you didn’t raise us to be hit by a man, but yet you allowed our father to beat us like men!”. She couldn’t say a word. Shock rung though her. She looked at me with such surprise, as if she couldn’t believe her own daughter would respond that way…

Well I did, and I never regret it. It wasn’t until I met Tony, that I realized that hitting wasn’t love. I tested his waters several times before. I tried to get him to hit me because that’s just what I was used to. He never did. He never raised his hand to me. Not even his voice. Tony never argues back, never looks for a fight and if we disagree on something, he will bring it down so that it won’t escalate any further.

Being hit is not fun. Walking around bruised and sore is no more fun than being hit. Worse, the emotional scars that one carries for the remainder of their days is horrendous. I know, first hand. My father and mother are still married till this day. It has been well over 50 years. My dad has changed so much and recognizes that he did his daughters very wrong. My dad also revealed years ago a very frightening family secret. He was brutally abused by his mother. Far more worse than what he did to us.

So you see, abuse is a learned behavior. This might not be a scientific fact, but it is my opinion. We learn what we grow with. If you eat a cherry by it’s stem first, your children are likely to do the same.

There is help out there for battered PEOPLE. Not just women, MEN AS WELL!!! Break the cycle and learn to love yourselves before you lose yourselves. Going through life with external and internal scars is a horrible way to live. Just look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself “Do I deserve this?”. No matter what you feel you’ve done wrong or how bad it seems, no one deserves to be hit.

Stand up to hands up.

With Love,


It’s never too late

In life we tend to make many mistakes. We hurt many people, including ourselves. We don’t always realize the hurt and pain we cause until it comes back to us ten fold. I can attest to this. I’ve hurt many people throughout my life, including myself. It has affected me in many different ways.

I’m 41 one years old and it wasn’t until recent years that I started owning up to my bullshit. I began apologizing to people for things I did as a teenager. Hurt and pain lingers. It dwells and some people can’t let go because it has affected them in the worst of ways.

Mistakes don’t necessarily need to be hurtful. It can be things that you later regret. Things that you feel you should have said or done. Actions that you felt you should have taken. Today…I felt that regret. That pain. The hurt. The hurt of not opening up when I should have. Now it’s too late. That person will never know.

My old college professor reached out to me a few days ago and said “Marlyn, it’s never too late. Express yourself. He will hear you.” Now, I’m not a religious woman. I’m more spiritual than anything. But when she said that to me, I took heed to it and did what she said.

I lost someone very special to my heart. This person will always have a special place there. I attended their services this evening and as I approached the casket I knelt down and shed tears and spoke how I felt. Giving me closure. Although the loss truly is painful, the fact that I was able to finally let out my feelings felt relieving.

Hearts can be cold and not so forgiving. However, relieve yourself of the burden of the mistakes you’ve made and find closure in seeking forgiveness. If it’s vice versa then find relief in forgiving. Why lose countless nights of sleep holding on to grudges or being angry, or even holding onto words that you could have expressed long before?

Wipe away that mind blemish and put an “H” on your chest and handle your business. Life is too short my friends. Tomorrow is promised to no one. Not even an ant.

With love,