Happy Fathers Day!

There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of my father. Even after almost 32 years since his passing at the young age of 50, he’s still always on my mind and in my heart.

I’ve been talking to him all of these years, because I truly believe that he listens to me prattle on about this and that.

He’s shown me a few signs that he’s still around, especially when I specifically ask for guidance. (He’s been on call 24/7 these last few months.)

He still has the power to help give me the love and strength that I need to keep on fighting.


My handsome dad on his wedding day.

I visited his grave for the first time in years last week with my new boyfriend. I dropped to my knees and started to cry, brushing the grass and dirt from his gravestone. The cemetery crew does an excellent job of keeping everything tidy, but I just felt compelled to trace his name with my fingers.

Happy Fathers Day! Remember, if it wasn’t for them, none of us would be here.

(And not all men are assclowns.)


Into the Whatever

I’m going through a tremendous period of growth and if I survive it, I’m gonna come out smelling like fucking roses.

I hesitate to write about some things nowadays, from the biggies to the minutia details of my life. Maybe that is partly due to spending over the last 5 years blogging my stoned little heart out.

Back in my day (my kid hates when I say this, so I use it quite fucking frequently) I posted something at least twice a day. I wrote about the stupidest subjects, whatever I could think of. All I cared about was blogging and it turned out that I was pretty decent at it, which doesn’t happen all that often here at Merbear’s World.

So, I’ve been holding back on certain personal topics, because I am now weary to write about everything and anything.

Which ruins my idea to start a weekly series similar to something that one of my original blog friends just hatched from his squirrel noggin this week.


Happy Anniversary, you damn fuzzball...

Anyways, there are some things that I need to let fly into the whatever the fuck it all is:

I just found out that my therapist is retiring in 5 weeks and I am terrified.

My mom is extremely sick and I am constantly concerned about her well-being.

My daughter is struggling with the same mental health issues that I have.

I’m having a rough time of it financially, which I usually try to just joke about, but in reality is anything but humorous.

It’s not easy to lay down all of your cards for your friends and family to read, let alone strangers.

It takes guts and the desire for truth in all its ugly, naked glory.

My Little Miracle

My daughter is 21 years old today!

I became pregnant with her at that age, but I was 22 when she had to be delivered almost 6 weeks premature in order to save both of our lives. Labor was induced, but the whole ordeal lasted a total of 5 days, with me staying on the ICU maternity ward for 24 hour surveillance in case I started to stroke out or have a heart attack due to my sky-high blood pressure.

She’s my little miracle.


B at 2 months and an extremely young me.

I remember the day that this photo was taken, my mom came over for a special photo shoot, which is why we’re both dressed up.

I’m taking her out to dinner and if she wants, I’ll buy her (her first) legal drink. I don’t think that she enjoys alcohol all that much, but you know, tradition and shit.

Happy birthday baby girl, I love you so much.