Category Archives: Custody

Home alone for the holidays

​There was only a short moment of video time to light the candles on the first night of Chanukah. There were no little voices on Christmas morning. No bright eyes or happy smiles to delight in the joy that Santa brought. My soul is missing their sweet faces. My heart is aching for them. Hours after I woke up I heard them for a few brief minutes. I tried to pile on the love as they distracted lyrics told me of all the joy he brought while they were there. Over a hundred miles away. 

I try to take solace in the fact that in two days they will be back in my arms. That we will still celebrate and it is only a day we missed not the spirit of the season. But I won’t lie, it’s not the same. To spend so much time raising to wonderful, amazing children and not be able to partake in their excitement hurts to the core. To have to split their lives in two, though logical is hard. And I want them to experience both sides of their parentage. I want them to know they are loved all over. I want them to know how many lives their being alive touches. But selfishly, I want them all for myself. They are my joy, my world and the light of my life. I am so proud to be their Mama. And this holiday season, this empty home has been hard on the heart. I can’t wait for them to come home.


Eliza Dushku is so hot

I had a long winded rant that I was going to go into, about life and why this week was going to be really stressful but I happen to be sitting in front of the TV and while the TV is generally not a distraction…Eliza Dushku sauntering on, during try-outs for Bring it On is just fucking distracting. Now I knew for a long time that I had weird feelings when it came to girls, that I wasn’t sure why I got that tingle in my belly when I had sleepovers just like when I played football with the boys but I never really thought of when I had a sexual awakening. Thinking about it now, I am not really sure I can pinpoint it, it had to have come sometime in high school, I mean that was when the experimentation (meaning kissing girls for fun and sport) really started. But Eliza Dushku…

I remember the first time I saw Faith on Buffy, there was something about the feisty, sparkly, sassy extra slayer that just got my juices flowing. Now, looking back on it I can totally tell you that I was highly attracted to her but then I think it was a mixture of that and wanting to be her. Which kind of ties into what I was thinking about before. What I have been thinking about for the past few days. What I want to be when I grow up. Now I am not still fantasizing about being Eliza Dushku…meeting her, yes but not being her. When I am talking about growing up, I am obviously and adult and I do realize that….and I am not talking about my career path. I am talking about the kind of person I want to see reflected back at me.


I have taken time out in the past few days to reflect on things that have been going on around me, I have been told to take a deep breath and write what I am feeling if I come up to a blockage to write through it and keep writing till I felt comfortable. I fought against that notion until this very moment. I have only thought about writing for the past few days and here I am. Now all I have been feeling is that the winds of change are blowing and if I don’t put my umbrella in the draft I am going to miss my chance and life is going to start passing me by. I have been thinking about my plans for the future, for what life is going to be like in the next couple of months, weeks, days even. A lot of stuff is happening…So let’s catch up.

This week, the kiddos are gone on another mini vacay with their Nanny so I could get stuff done while they had fun. This week is looking towards being super stressful. Back into court with the ex, figuring out exactly what is going to happen with all kinds of custody things. Hoping it turns out fine but I feel like in some ways I am being set up. Seriously…who asks the main parent to pack specific full wardrobes for children for a ten-day vacation and returns the bags with the clothes untouched? Was it a test? T make sure they have clothes? My children are well taken care of, they are healthy, well fed, happy and well adjusted. They are going to be involved in music lessons, piano and violin, drama club, sports, gymnastics and Hebrew school this year. They have so much going on and I am not going to let ANYONE ruin that. So that is all going to be taken care of on Thursday, hopefully, it is all worked out amicably….Because I don’t want to have to go through a whole court battle, it won’t be ok for them and they are all that I care about.

After this mess is cleared up we continue to gear up for school, now it has hit me that I am really doing this on my own. Now I know I have been on my own for the past 7 months, trust me that hasn’t failed to fall on my shoulders but this is different. This feels new, like a new leaf, new responsibilities, and a whole new book. Maybe because it finally is a new year and as a Mom, the start of a new school year is the real beginning. Maybe because there are so many adventures on the horizon and I finally feel up to the task of doing it myself. Maybe because I have realized that I have the ability to do it on my own and it is actually a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. Either way, the new school year is a big deal and that is approaching rapidly.

Also my house, I am rearranging, throwing out, reorganizing and getting rid of the old. I am done with things that have bad memory and juju attached to them. I want my kids to look at things and smile. I want to curl up in my bed and have it be my sanctuary because I am a fucking princess. I don’t need a prince to tell me that.


Then we come to my surgery, as of the 26th I will be making my last appointment with my surgeon before we schedule my gastric sleeve surgery. I am totally excited and totally terrified all at the same time. I can’t wait to continue on my journey with a new tool in my bag that will help me become a new, healthy me. I am terrified because I have actually become half convinced that I will not recognize myself anymore. I have so many thoughts in my mind about what is going to happen with the surgery that I give myself a headache. I know it it is going to amazing and wonderful and incredible. I also know it is going to be a huge lifestyle change, it is going to be a whole new me and I have to accept the fact that I will look different and I will feel different and I will get different attention. I have to be ok with that. I think it is the different kind of attention. I don’t know what it will be if it is going to happen and that is the biggest part that scares me. I think I am scared people won’t love me for who I am anymore but for what is on the outside. But I shouldn’t worry about it so much because I still know who I am and I love that person….Are you still keeping up? I think I lost myself about a paragraph ago.

So ahem….now that we have caught up on what will be going on I will leave you with this. I have finally got the courage under my wings, and a voice whispering in my ear, and a foot kicking me in the ass to really get on board with my book project. It is still in the futzing around stages right now but I can tell you it is going to be amazing. I can also tell you that I have been working on my bariatric blog and that has been going pretty fucking well too. I am going to go back to watching Eliza Dushku shaking her ass…and I am going to pick out a whole new bedroom set while doing so. Because I am starting a whole new book and this sassy slayer gets to start shaking it in style too.


This is NOT a Love Story

The first of many books I stated, let me know what you think


This is NOT a love story! And what I mean by that is that this is some mushy gushy story about love triangles, about some guy or girl shaped my world or any of that nonsense. Though if I really think about it those aspects are in there. However, this is NOT a love story. I will not let you categorize it as such, much like Disney categorized Frozen as a sisters story when it WAS a love story. This, at least I think is more of a suspense thriller, but most people would disagree…Granted most people can’t see inside my brain. Hell I can’t even see inside my brain. Ok off track here a little bit. Anyway, now that we are clear what this isn’t, let me tell you what this is.
This is MY story; yeah get your chuckles out now. I know what most of you think of me, even some hell probably some of those who I’ve chatted up in the grocery store line. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I am not a conspiracy theorist or any of that nonsense, I just know what mask I where when and how people judge me in relation t such. Hell, I’ve burned some of those masks years ago and people still remember them. They are seared so hotly into people’s brains that I will never be who I am today but always who I used to be. So, this is a story without the mask, or at least I hope I can be brilliant honest and make it through. This is the story I should have typed a thousand times in a thousand different ways and I didn’t…
I have a lot of good excuses why I didn’t, but nothing that really gets me out of it. I have 5 fucking stories on my computer, 5! And they each have at least 2 chapters…One of them even had a PROLIGUE! And they are genuine stories that I hope to finish someday, but I can’t put my heart back in the place it was when I was writing them, does that make sense? Ok so by now you know that in person I have many masks, I make a lot of excuses and totally judge books (and movies) by their cover (and tag lines…see first paragraph). Let’s add to the stack shall we? I often go off on tangents that no one can follow (be prepared), I can be very sexual and potty mouthed, and sometimes I just out and out lie…Granted I think it’s more of a retelling of the story in a more fanciful fashion but when push comes to shove, I lie. If you have to ask why at this point I would tell you because I like to. See I told you a suspense thriller would be more my story.
So here I am baring my soul, to the world. Or at least I hope to. In this story that is not about love, though there is love in it. A story full of stories, full of unheard truths and confessions. Maybe I’m repenting for some bad shit I did in a past life, but all I got from all the oogie boogies down in New Orleans where that something really bad happened in a past life but they couldn’t tell me. I think I am writing my story because it is time, or that I am running out of time. No I am not suicidal, I am literally running out of time, I was supposed to write 50,000 words by the month of December and as of right now my word count is 607. I think if I can pound out 50,000 words in two days I would be incredible proud of myself but incredibly worn out. But I made a promise to someone in New Orleans that I would finish a book by the beginning of this year and I broke that promise. I hate breaking promises. So now it’s time to promise myself I will finally finish what I have started. For once in my life have something to look back on and say hey you…look at that, not only do you make beautiful kids, bake a mean apple pies and have a gay harem that puts the world to shame…but you wrote a fucken book. Go team you.
Now that I have gotten a minor introduction out of the way I guess we should start with my childhood right? I don’t have a lot of memories as a kid, but I have flashes of them, if that makes sense. I look through photo albums and I know faces and names and not a lot of details. Every once in a while a very clear memory will pop up in there and I will blurt it out, but those memories are so sporadic, sometimes I wish they would either stay or go away completely.
©S.R.Gray 2016

Maybe Dumbledore Isn’t Always Right – Rebecca Ethington

One of my favorite authors and closest friends posted this on Facebook a few days ago. I found it so profound, and you don’t usually find stuff like that on FB anymore. It summed up so many things, what ifs and lonliness, bullying, and just not knowing when to reach out and help someone or when to ask for help for yourself.

Never be afraid to reach out and help those in need, never be quick to judge because you never know what that woman behind that mask or the man behind the curtain are really like. Sometimes it isn’t east to click your heels together three times, sometimes their is no faerie godmothers. But there is always you, and that is good enough for me.


“There is a scene in the final Harry Potter where Harry and Dumbledore meet at a place between life and death, and in that space they see a piece of Voldemort’s soul – this quivering, whimpering, ugly child, shoved underneath a bench.
And Harry, tries to go to it, convinced it needs help. And Dumbledore tells him not too.
I’ve always hated Dumbledore for that. Yes, Voldemort is evil, did he probably deserve what’s coming to him – yes. And I am in no way comparing myself to that quivering whimpering child, hidden away in pain.
But we have all been there.
We have all been so full of loss and heartbreak, and agonizing defeat, and sadness, and rejection. That we have all been there.
We have been that forgotten child in the corner, a deep part of us just shaking and crying and desperately hoping that someone would just come over and pull us out of the dark and hold us while we cry and comfort us until it all goes away.
I know I have.
And chances are, when you are there, you don’t know how to ask, or maybe you don’t have anyone to turn to anymore. You are alone, and you can hear people talking on a bench and your crying out for help, but they don’t come to find you.
So take this with a grain of salt. But you know those “whiny” posts everyone complains about on Facebook? Yes, some of them are just negative people. But what if some of them… just maybe… where people so lost and alone and scared and so desperate for help that they are asking for help the only way they know how. That maybe they just need that hug, or that phone call with a real voice.
I can’t believe I’m going to say this… but maybe sometimes we shouldn’t listen to Dumbledore. Because maybe sometimes they need our help, our compassion, our empathy and our love. Don’t be afraid to reach out – because people are people – but they are also human. And in this crazy world, we can’t do it all on our own.” – Rebecca Ethington


We Have Apples

So there is this wonderful mental illness blog that I follow by Rachel Griffin called We Have Apples. A little bit ago she had put up a post asking for pictures, both uplifting and at our times of trouble to put in a music video for a project she is doing. Let me give it to yo in her own words (it pasting it from her site)

“As a lot of you know, I’m a singer/songwriter in New York City with a fabulous life…. and a mental illness! (the two can go together! And errr.. it wasn’t always that way! LOL) I am so passionate about mental health awareness, ending the stigma, and connecting with other warriors like you! I am also writing a musical about these topics.More about the mental health musical I’m writing, We Have Apples, can be found on the website. You can also hear songs there. (But the song for this video is not released, yet- You’ll be the first to hear it, though!) If you want, you can sign up for the show’s mailing list to be kept posted on the development!:)

I was just selected as a Dramatists Guild Fellow, which means this year I will be working on developing We Have Apples with Broadway professionals!

More about my career as a singer/songwriter at: Rachel Griffin Website. This info I’m giving is not because I want to brag, but I want to tell you a little about my career so you know this song and video we are going to make will be high quality and could do very well! 🙂 I’ve won two National songwriting contests, recently wrote a song for an internal Macy’s campaign, and I have a publishing deal for a few of my pop songs.”

Well I participated in this as mental health is a very important subject to me….Obviously. I am keeping my fingers crossed that I will get to work it Rachel in the future. But here it is…..My debut in a music video….Pass and share it is so important!!!!

What am I fighting for?

Well whilst I can’t answer this directly on here just yet as it was a question posted for gishwhes.  I will say, things have not been peachy and there are days I feel like I am fighting for my life.

Borderline, Bipolar, Narcisist and Stubborn and Hell

So these are topics I have just touched on but with everything going on in my life I figured I would delved just a little deeper into who I am what I am about and yes, swallow my pride and ask for help….

I am a 31 year old Mommy of 2 amazing kiddos. I have 4 autoimmune diseases and no I will not get into them right now but they ar all chronic and I identify as a spoonie.

I am on disability. My 8 year old son is an aspie and he is the smartest person I know. My 6 year old daughter is a precosious diva who is just as smart as her brother and snarky to boot. I also have 2 angel babies in heaven.

I have been a single Mom since I gave birth to my son even though I was married at the time and when my ex husband left me when I was 3 month pregnant with our daghter, we became the 3 musketeers. We are a very tight trio that love everyone and love to be love. But I am fiercly protective of the kids.

I have had m ups and downs in relationships since thier father. I have been mentally emotionally and physically abused. I have hidden it from the children.

I have found the man of my dreams in my Charming and I know and I knew 13 years ago that he was the one I was meant to spend my life with,

All these things are for another very veyr mushy and serious blogs in the future….

Today we discuss me.

In 2011 after a horrible incident in my place of employment I went into an out patient day program and was diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder with Narsicistic tendencies.. Before I go into what these mean to me I will give you the clinical definitions –


About Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

Brief Overview

Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a serious mental illness that causes unstable moods, behavior, and relationships. It usually begins during adolescence or early adulthood.

Most people who have BPD suffer from:

  • Problems regulating their emotions and thoughts
  • Impulsive and sometimes reckless behavior
  • Unstable relationships
  • To be diagnosed with BPD, a person must experience at least five of the following symptoms:
    1. Fear of abandonment
    2. Unstable or changing relationships
    3. Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self
    4. Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors (e.g., excessive spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating).
    5. Suicidal behavior or self-injury
    6. Varied or random mood swings
    7. Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness
    8. Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights
    9. Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

Borderline Personality Disorder

  1. Narcissistic personality disorder is a mental disorder in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for admiration and a lack of empathy for others. But behind this mask of ultraconfidence lies a fragile self-esteem that’s vulnerable to the slightest criticism.

Narcissitic Personality Disorder

What Is Bipolar II Disorder?

Bipolar II disorder (pronounced “bipolar two”) is a form ofmental illness. Bipolar II is similar to bipolar I disorder, with moods cycling between high and low over time.

However, in bipolar II disorder, the “up” moods never reach full-blownmania. The less-intense elevated moods in bipolar II disorder are called hypomanic episodes, or hypomania.

A person affected by bipolar II disorder has had at least one hypomanic episode in his or her life. Most people with bipolar II disorder suffer more often from episodes of depression. This is where the term “manic depression” comes from.

In between episodes of hypomania and depression, many people with bipolar II disorder live normal lives.

Bipolar II Disorder


Alright now that is out of the way, this is what it all boils down to with me.

I have been defined as you classic case of Borderline. Hence the name of the blog. Everything to me is black or white, I love to love and then push away because I asm scared of hurting others. I judge everyone and have a fear of getting judged. I am constantly feeling invalidated and grew up in an invalidating environment, and before Charming I sought validating through intimacy and sex which is one of the lesser sought validations. I am a bonafided flirt, and apparantly even when I don’t realize it I hit on every thing that moves. I have had very unstable relationships and I have to keep myself from being reckless,even though I want to. Impulse control is really hard for me. I will delve more at later times.

When it comes to Narcisim, I am a Narcisist. I am the kindest most gentle one you will find, I am totally insecure, I hate mirrors, and I don’t think I am the best. But I will try to one up you at every story you tell, I have to be the first the best and always have to have the last word. I monopolize conversations and everything is about me. ( once again the blog)

My Bipolar is the worst and the irst diagnosed, My mood swings cycle rapidly, when I am manic I have to keep my purse hidden and my car keys becaus e if there is any money I have to kee from spending it. I have racing thoughts, I don’t sleep and most people can’t keep up with me. When it comes to the switch flipping, I crash hard and fast and I just cant pull myself back up.

There is a reason I am telling you all these things. The reason I am tell you all these things is because I have to come to you, and I hve ask you for help I don’t like asking for help, needing help or wanting help. I don’t like not having the upper hand and I have been so proud that i have been able to support everything on my own for so long. But I have no been able to make everything ok recently. My world came collapsing down and it isn’t that I won’t make it out on top, because I always do but I am scared I finally fell into a chasm that I won’t be able to clime out of. I a m scared that Trip will come after the kids again. Scared that the kids may get taken away. cared of my future and I have never been afraid of that.

A good friend of mine wrote a gorgeous post about it earlier. I will give you the pink to her page and then I will repost it on my own as that seen to work as well too.

Everywordyousay wrote a it with the link to what is going on with me. If you could share the link or help out that would be great. I am going to be post a little more late today.

All my love




Heartbroken (Conclusion of I Can’t Breath…..I Hope)


real dad

As I wiped the tears away from his little face and held him in my arms and tried to explain to him that he did not have to wear a cape to be a superhero I internally cursed his fathers name. We had not planned ahead for this day, Charming and I had assumed they were making stuff at camp not that we would have to send them dressed as super heroes. And our boy, well he always wanted to be different. I call him our boy because he is. Charming is more of a Dad to him than Trip will ever be.

real dad1
Trip…Oh Trip. I don’t even have words anymore. After all the put us through, the kidnapping, the court battle, the drain in money. The child support paid whenever the hell he felt like it during the month(he couldn’t get in trouble as long as it came during the right month). The arrears that were smaller than the damn vet bills he paid for his and her dog and still, STILL, he couldn’t be a real fucking father to his children. 

At first it was every other weekend. And for a week last summer, because by the time the papers wee written up that was all that was left. But he didn’t want Labor Day, which was his. Then Halloween, he wanted the weekend before, cool that’s cool we had a rockin Halloween just the kids and I. He had them for Christmas and I gave them to him for New Years, because I felt it right since i had them the year before. 
I dread the holidays, I dread that I will have to give them up on the important ones, I missed Passover this year because he got them for Easter and it was the same weekend. *sighs* I have to drive so far to meet halfway and considering I don’t make even half as much money as she does it is a strain on my wallet. When the holiday falls on a Sunday they are supposed to be brought home, guess how often that happens?

Then it started to get weird. He finally got a job (oh by the way he lived off of her for YEARS because he could so technically she was paying child support not him), and he doesn’t get his schedule till the Friday before ad so I have to move my whole schedule around just in case. I refused.
Mind you I have done it once or twice but it has led to late pick ups (which I was always reamed out for mind you, so now I am always early), or canceling visits. Instead of spending the weeks after school let out with him they stayed with my mother for two weeks, and instead of being with him for Fathers day he ditched them. For his dog, her son and her grandson. At that point he hadn’t seen them since Pixies recital and even that he was late for *shakes head*

He turned around and instead of taking him for a week, he took them for two days over the 4th and then told me he would be working out of town for 3 weeks and didn’t know when he would be around again. He doesn’t call, doesn’t try. But he fought so hard to be a father….Why? Why try to take our lives away? WHY?

So as I wiped the tears from my little mans face and explained to him that the cammos and gray shirt represented the real life heroes that protect our country everyday. That Charming and various family had all chosen to be everyday heroes are so much cooler than superheroes, he continued to weep because he just wanted to wear a shirt like his Father in the Navy.

I was heartbroken. I found a shirt, it wasn’t his fathers, it was from my Wolf who had given it to me as a souvenir a long time ago. But he didn’t need to know that. The tears stopped flowing and he saluted me. He told me now he was a real superhero like his Father. I bit my tears back.

As I hugged him goodbye I told him that he was MY superhero, because everyday he struggles to figure out how people work, he struggles to be accepted and make sure that he is understood. He fights so hard to just be him. And that makes him MY superhero. He kissed me goodbye when there was a knock at the door, his parting words were…

“I love you Mommy, you will always be MY Superhero”

all my love


I Can’t Breathe Part 3

So here we are, I have no money…Just what my mother has in her bank account because she has come to my bedside to pull me out of bed and out of depression. She brought me to NYC to remove me from the situation. I saw friends that I hadn’t seen in years. But I didn’t leave the house. I counted the minutes the seconds, that I would text Trip so  he would give me permission to call my kids. It was only a week and I felt no different, I had no energy and they had to force me to eat. So back home I came.


We spent the afternoons downtown, eating yogurt at the same cafe, stopping by the attorney’s office to go over the facts. We were the only one’s at court that day when the judge practically laughed at HIS attorney. She had no clue what she was getting herself into. The abundance of things that had been withheld from her were numerous. She had no idea what was going on. The judge said he would look into things and that was that. My lawyer was feeling positive, I felt like puking.

We met up with my son’s BSC at Starbucks and then Angel, Mom and I went to Wild Wings. As I pushed my food around my place the text came in. It was over. I could get the kids. I knocked my soda into my mothers lap. I ran out the door to call and make sure it was true. I couldn’t believe it. After the brokenhearted son I heard on the phone last night (while he hid in the closet so he could take it off speaker phone and no one could hear our conversation) begged me to take him home, At that point I had no words for him. Now I could come and get him.


But there were choices, when, which car, do I call the police, do I go alone or do I take my mother.?

It didn’t matter, nothing else mattered. 4 hours later and they were in my arms, Trip watched through a window as his other half gave me everything (well my mom because I was busy holding the kids).


That case was ended last year, I have full custody and he has visitation rights. Every other weekend nd alternating holidays. I have to drive halfway to meet them unless a holiday falls on a sunday and then he can drive them to me. After everything I still have to share my kids. Who half the time don’t want to go. He took them, a snatch and grab, when I was in the hospital, and I have to let him have them….Oh did I mention 4 non consecutive weeks during the summer…But this wasn’t the end of the broken hearts. This wasn’t the end of what story just the middle. There will be one more part. And I will write it today. I promise





*Note* This story is not over, there is just one more part to writ about, and this part is the current part. It is day by day. It is the right now, it is the heartbroken me that sits here before you right now and tyes at these key and wants nothing mre than to paste a smile on her face and say it is all going to be ok. So the last part of the story I shall write….Will follow shortly Heartbroken

I can’t do it all on my own…

…I’m no Superman


I didn’t author last night, I sent out surveys I needed done as research but I didn’t author. And maybe I have been watching Scrubs too much. And maybe I was just trying to stay awake till Charming came home from the ER for his back.

I had so much inspiration yesterday, so much that I wanted just plug in and write for hours. I had a play list, I had the groove, I came home and it all got flushed down the potty. Yes I said potty. Deal with it.


I don’t know what hit me but it didn’t seem so important anymore. Like Noone would listen or no one cared. Like there were bigger things going on to deal with, even though it was stupid o’clock at night and I couldn’t do anything to change my destiny at that point anyway.

Charming was in pain, binge watching Scrubs, the kids weren’t listening and just unruly and I gave up. I gave up before I posted that. And tonight I gave up before I started…because why does it matter what I wrote.

Big deal. Three stories. Solid ideas but hoe and why do I feel they can make a difference. I should be figuring out the graphics for my editing page and getting testimonynials. Selling my photography. Posting more on Craigslist. Seeing if I can work on disability. Eviction looms. Money is nill.


I got yelled at for my friends making me an anon go fund me to try and help. By my mother. So my ex doesn’t try and take the kids again. But if it weren’t for him this would be happening. The judge would laugh at him anyway right?


It doesn’t matter. I’ve just pissed Charming off because all I wanted was quiet to blog and he started cracking jokes when he came in. So now I’m a bad guy. I don’t know anymore guys. I’m falling. Into a hole. And I’m scared.