Balls of steel

I'd like to think I am. Solid steel, never waver, no tears, no pain. 

If some people haven't read the "About me", I'm 22 years old. And this has thus far happened.

I was born ('cause that's traumatic enough), my parents got a divorce, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, my mother died of cancer, I move in with my dad, my mother's boyfriend commits suicide over IRS and gambling debt (HA! Irony sucks!), my grandfather passes away, I find out my father adopted me, my dad gets diagnosed with cancer, he passes away, I graduate from high school.... keeping up yet? I essentially had a nervous breakdown and ran away from home, got pregnant, married, survived marriage from hell (it really wasn't), had my son after almost dying on the table. My husband and I got into a bad-ass argument, left my husband, met my boyfriend, left my boyfriend and went back to my husband, lost my job, car, apartment, sanity. I start seeing my boyfriend again, husband leaves. (Don't blame him) Became homeless since the first time since 2005...

The good parts; got a job, moved in with boyfriend's family, had visitation with son, got a better job, shit hits the fan, I get my son and then got an apartment.

So here I am... alive. Sorta. My husband and I are on speaking terms, not killing each other and keeping it real for the kid. We're trying to figure things out without really talking to each other, it sucks. The court system believes that we can work things out with a restraining order that I told them not to put on. We can only talk about the kid.

I really sound ghetto right now and I want to apologize but life sucks.

Things aren't all cute as kittens and giggles and kisses around here. I work hard, like 50 hours a week hard. I love my job, I'm a moron for that too but it's a good job with good people working for a good company. What else can a gal ask for?

Why the hell am I writing all this and making everyone believe that I'm a ghetto redneck bitch from hell?

Because I've just been that way lately. Not towards people, but towards life. I haven't been able to write good things lately, just shit is starting to creep towards the fan and I don't want everyone alarmed.

When it hits, I'm going to be right here. Writing is my tool to sanity. I've got almost 3 dozen half written journals in the bedroom that I have yet to finish, a half written memoir of stuff that doesn't make any sense if you read it from front to back and a head full of words. 

So... to clarify, I'm not steel. I feel like I am but I'm not. I hope ya'll can understand... yo.