What can I say?

This year sucks just as bad as I thought it would. The biggest downer being, that my roommate, and best friend, Thomas, had a massive stroke in Feb. He’s recovering at a rehabilitation hospital. It’s slow going, but he is recovering. I don’t know if I’m recovering. I’m putting on a brave face, but I know he’s never going to be the same guy who had the stroke. Let’s be real. I’m worried about that, and everything else. I just don’t know how I’m going to keep it all together now that he’s not around. My mind is so foggy, and I have all these things I have to be in charge of now. I’m lucky to be here though and still be able to try. I’m doing the best I can with what I have been given.  I’m learning what I can, and I’m keeping up with the physical stuff as much as I possibly can as well. It’s all so difficult, but I can’t complain when I’m fortunate enough to be walking, talking, and eating on my own. At least he’s saying some words now, and he’s moving his right foot a little bit. He’s even laughing, and cutting up, making others laugh too. I don’t think he’s lost his sense of humor, and that’s a positive in my book.  Somebody said, “Treat this like a marathon, not a race.” That’s how this recovery is going to be, slow and steady. He’s going to get a bit better every week. People want me to keep them updated on the weekly, but there are only going to be minor changes. I guess they never heard the saying, “No news is good news.”

Eating Better Means Being Better

I’m a lazy fuck. I’ll admit it. I can’t be bothered to cook for myself. I’d rather do it the easy way and eat a bowl of cereal, or slap two pieces of bread around some meat and mayo, and call it a day. I’m boring like that. It’s the snacking that kills me.

I like healthy things that are simple, too,  like sweet potatoes, avocados, broccoli, and spinach. I want to get back to eating healthy and being better. Not doing like I’ve been doing and binging on everything in sight, chips, ice cream, donuts, candy, and cookies.

Not to mention all of my unhealthy mukbangs, with large portions. I only do it twice a week, but it adds up when you figure in going out with friends also. I don’t plan on discontinuing my mukbangs, but I would try to eat healthier options where possible.

I want to take responsibility for my health and start paying attention to what I put in my body and make a conscious decision to make better choices. I’m not saying everything I eat will be perfectly healthy, but I’m making a promise to myself to do better. It’s my life we’re talking about here. It’s the only one I have, and I need to respect that.

Happy Fucking New Year

I’m ready for it. Another new year, all hopeful that it’s going to be a great year, but we all know it’s going to be just as shitty as the last one. Sure there may be some bright spots, and on an individual level, we may not have anything to complain about, me included, but let’s face it, 2017 was a pretty shitty year. Not nearly as shitty as 2016, but still pretty fucking shitty.

For me, it’s all basically the same from one year to the next, from one day to the next. I live my life in a bubble. You see, I’m not like other people. I stay in my lane, which is, indoors, watching tv, playing video games, and minding my own fucking business. You might think that adds up to a shitty life, much less a shitty year, but as for me, I’m content, perhaps even a smidge happy. That seems to piss a lot of people off. People think I’m so sad, and miserable in my little self-imposed prison. People don’t know me very well.

I’m a hermit, an introvert, dare I say, a bit of a misanthrope.

I don’t care that there’s this big wonderful world out there to see and experience. I’ll get there if I want to. There’s no reason I can’t travel if the funds were available to me to travel. I’m not a wealthy person though like a lot of you aren’t. If I were a wealthy person, I could do near about anything I set my mind to. Alas, I am not a wealthy person, as of yet. Time will tell.

Anyway, I don’t think I’m missing much. I’ve seen it all on tv already. It’s beautiful, but fucking dangerous out there, and contrary to popular belief, I do not have a death wish. I love my life, and I have a lot to live for. I’ve got great friends and family. I’m good.

My problem is, I suffer from depression. It’s a big hairy monster that sneaks up on me and wraps it’s big lumbering arms around me for a hug almost every day. I can’t escape it.  It’s my lot in life. I have anxiety too, and a cornucopia of other mental illnesses to contend with. How can a person be on the edge of tears, or feeling like her world is falling apart every single day, say she’s happy?

Those are the questions that plague me going into 2018.

I’d also like to continue my journey to better mobility. It’s slow going, but I’m on the right track. I’m getting better every day, and for that, I’m proud of myself. I guess I am a bit hopeful going into 2018 seeing as I’ve improved quite a bit in 2017 already. I lost upwards of 30 lbs, and I’m walking a lot better than I was.

Perhaps 2018 won’t be so shitty after all. Let’s hope not.
Happy Fucking New Year!

Just thinking out loud

I’m not ready for Christmas. I hate the holidays. I don’t celebrate them. I don’t want anything to do with exchanging gifts, or a tree, or all of that mess. I’ll participate in preparing a meal if that happens, much to my discomfort, but if I plan on eating it’s only fair to help out.

I used to celebrate Christmas, when I was a kid, and when I had my kids and they were little. I’ve not celebrated Christmas since 2003. I don’t miss it. I don’t celebrate birthdays, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving or any of the holidays most people observe each year with joy and fondness. I have no love for it anymore.

That’s what happens when you get older, sometimes. You lose that desire to throw your money away on unnecessary things that promote capitalism and corporate greed, just because it’s wrapped up in a neat little bow and shoved under a shiny tree.

Post-Thanksgiving Thoughts

I don’t think I want to cook again anytime soon. It was hard on me. I realize how messed up my back actually is when I try to do something strenuous. The pain is excruciating. It’s hot, and I need help, or I panic, and it’s just plain miserable for me. I don’t like it anymore.
Cooking used to be just one more thing I “USED TO LOVE” that’s fallen by the wayside. I used to love a lot of things, and now such a limited selection of things amuse me. Television, movies, music, video games, YouTube, Social Media, and sometimes reading. I used to paint, and write, and carve, and do things with my hands. What happened to being creative?
I miss that. I want that. I want to build something tangible that I can touch and feel, and show to people. I want to let the demons out, the pain out, but it’s stuck in here with me, and I don’t know what to do with it. I’m numb and hollow, and I feel nothing anymore. I feel things, but I don’t know if those feelings are real, or some selfish need for attention. Is it love or is it a cry for help, look at me, I’m needy. I’m confused by my own feelings and thoughts. I just feel like a husk these days, going through the motions like my soul is almost completely drained out of me. Like I’m dead already.. That’s why all these holidays and traditions don’t mean anything to me anymore. Nothing means anything to me anymore. I’m broken, and I don’t know what it’s going to take to fix me.
Love? Real love with a person who’s whole, and can teach me how to live again? I don’t know. I can’t wait on someone else to save me. I have to be happy in the now, and I feel a sort of happiness. I smile, and I laugh, and I fake it. I go with the flow, and I don’t complain about it all. I find the good in everybody and everything. I am content with the cards I’ve been dealt. Yet I still feel this void within me, yearning, longing for something that’s missing.
Back to Thanksgiving, and cooking.. the thing I once loved, and now loathe. Perhaps it’s because if I cook I go overboard, and cook too much food, and overeat. Perhaps it truly is because of the pain I’m in, and I fear that pain. I just don’t want to do it anymore. Christmas is coming, and I’m going to think about doing my stuffing again, but I don’t think I’ll do it this time out. If I do, I will do it in advance, so I’m not feeling so stressed out.  I’m sure it will be fine. Not as many people are coming this time, either.
Anyway, I’m happy. I’m hanging in there, and that’s all that matters.
Happy Thanksgiving.

Today’s Ponderings on Traditions Past

I used to love to carve the pumpkins. Halloween doesn’t mean the same thing to me anymore. My YouNow folks want me to dress up for Halloween, but I don’t think I will. It’s sad how little I care about all the Holiday traditions I once cared so much about. We’ll at least have candy out for the kiddies. They usually come here.

When I was a kid we put a cardboard skeleton on the door, hung a ghost in the magnolia tree, lit up this crazy bull skull my granddaddy wired up with lights and painted to look scary AF, and did all the things one would do to make your house spooky and welcoming to kids for Halloween. We rarely got many kids, because our house was facing the highway part of the neighboring subdivisions I grew up in. There was a North and Southside split in the middle by a highway. I lived on the Southside.

We celebrated all the Holidays and I remember them fondly. Easter dresses, with Easter Lillies, painted eggs, and the hunt. The big Thanksgiving feast with all the family gathered around the table. Christmas time with bonfires, singing carols, the Nutcracker on TV, or It’s a Wonderful Life. Christmas Dinner, Santa and trying so hard to go to sleep, but listening for sleigh bells till the wee hours, cookies and milk. Christmas is my favorite holiday. I have the best memories of Christmas time with my family.

I don’t know why none of this matters to me anymore. It’s like these things were just for the children. I celebrated Holidays with my ex-husband before and after we had children. He was like a kid in a candy store when Christmas or Halloween came around. He wasn’t a bad guy. Neither of my past lovers were bad guys. I hate when people make them out to be bad. I was just as much to blame for anything that went down as they were.

The difference between Walter and Tommy is that Walter loved Holidays, and Tommy hated them.. so I never celebrated Holidays with Tommy, and got out of the habit. It was just me and him, no kids, so why bother? It just became normal for me to let those days roll by without a thought sometimes, but mostly I’d have a nice big meal to celebrate. A big Easter dinner, a Christmas dinner, a Thanksgiving feast.. and there were always leftovers to pick at for the next week which was nice.

Now Tommy is with Susan and she loves to celebrate Holidays too… so it’s two against one. Things could get interesting around here. If I can pull myself out of my general funk, and malaise..and my simple state of not giving a fuck, maybe it’ll feel like a family Holiday again.

I already feel like they are my family, now..and I also have my kids back in my life, and God willing I’ll be able to visit them soon. I hope around the Holidays. I’m praying Mary and the kids get in a place of their own so I have a somewhere to go visit. If not I’ll stay in a motel for the time I’m there. Whatever I have to do, I want to hug my babies by Christmas.

Hi, I’m Candy Godiva

…and this is where it gets real. I need to talk about my feelings somewhere. I need to expose my dirty laundry and get to the nitty-gritty of who I am, and what I’ve become over the years. I’ve actually become a pretty okay person. I believe.

I’ve been through a lot in my life, and I feel like my experiences could be of service to the world at large, so here I am, sharing. Sharing is caring after all. I’m not quite sure where to start. I’ve shared so much of myself across the internet, perhaps I’ll just link to some of those blogs, and video.. or video. I did one video talking about my early childhood, and adolescence where I was feral, and malnourished, to becoming an ungrateful, willful brat.

I also need to talk about my grooming and sexual abuse. My dysfunctional family of addicts and the mentally unstable. My need for male attention, being a daddy’s girl. My promiscuity, and subsequent sexual escapades that followed up until my 18th year where I met my first husband. I need to talk about my children and the struggles after they were born. My exodus, and forays into pornography, and the internet reality. My beliefs in God, Extra Terrestrials, UFO’s, Faeries, and other spiritual, elemental, and ethereal beings.

All I know is there are a lot of things I need to get off my chest. If one of my stories can help one person, then it would be worth sharing. I’m a super morbidly obese woman, living in las vegas, Nevada, with two teenage children. I’m an ex-porn actress and web model and now I do mukbangs on YouTube, as well as live shows most of the week on YouNow. I’m in a complicated friend-relationship with a sweet man who lives way too far away from me, and I’m hoping that we can come together really soon. I’m practically living for that day. My children are living with their grandmother in Louisiana, and I’m also living for the day I can go visit them and give them great big hugs.

Introduction and The Origin Story of a Once Feral Child