I’ve changed. A glorious change.

I decided to go back and read some social media posts from a few years ago.

I have changed, a lot. I don’t know who that person is, much like someone who hasn’t seen me in a few years is saying of me now.

They don’t know who I am. I am not the same.

In some ways this is good. I am a much tougher lady than I was two years ago, but in that, I care a lot less. In fact, unless it happens to somebody I know, I tend to not care. Back then, I had hope. I believed in love.

Ask me that now, and I will laugh at you. Love is nothing. Its tolerating a person you have known for a while. Its someone you don’t mind tolerating. That’s all love is.

I used to think it was so much more.

How naive I was!

Although, I am glad I have changed. I no longer blindly trust. I no longer let people take advantage of me. I stand up for myself. If I don’t want to speak to someone–I don’t. I used to speak just to be nice. I don’t care if I am nice now. People have come and gone since then, but those who have stuck around, despite my drastic change, I know truly care about me, unconditionally, and they get the same from me. All the “love” and support I can muster without looking like I used to.

My political stances have changed. Everything about me is different.

And I can pinpoint when all this happened. Late March of 2016.

He destroyed the person I used to be. I am so much better off. I didn’t see it that day. I was broken. But if I could travel back to that day and speak to the girl that once was, I would tell her, “just you wait and see who you will be in two years.”

She probably wouldn’t recognize me and I barely would her.

And I thank you so much for that, Gorenov.



The Final Stage of Grief: Acceptance

I have been through these five stages several times this year. In fact, I think I spent the entire year in these stages.

My grandfather passed away in February, but you know what? With him, we knew it was coming. The denial, bargaining, anger– that all happened while he was still alive.

“No, he’s pretty healthy for 85! Maybe you should get a second opinion!”

“Well, yeah, but if this doctor does this, then it should be fine.”

“Why am I demanding you take him to a doctor? I get he’s ready, but SEE A DIFFERENT DOCTOR! Why am I being selfish? Because I don’t want to lose the last living grandparent I have, THAT’S WHY I AM BEING FUCKING SELFISH!”

Once he passed, the depression set in, and to be honest, I still have my days where I see or hear something that reminds me of him, and I tend to tear up.

Then there was Jackass Whorinova and what he did, including the stealing from me bit (I know I seem like I am not over this, but I promise you, I am. I don’t care about what happens to him. If I passed him on the street, I’d not even look up. What I do care about is my money. Everybody cares about money, and if it’s stolen, you want it back. And if there is an easy way to get it that requires filing police reports and sending his name off to an embassy, then you’ll do it, and not feel remotely bad about it because¬†it’s money. It is the root of all evil, clearly. He used a person for money, and I may very well ruin a couple of lives to get that money back. I should care more, but I don’t. I am dead inside. ūüôā )

Then the worst death of somebody who “we” were all very close to. Our “Mohican.” It destroyed me just as much as her. I still wish to not speak much of it, because it is not wise to speak of the dead. It’s an old “tradition” where you cannot speak much of them, or say their name too much¬†because they won’t “pass on” to “the other side.”

Just know we miss him terribly. She misses him the most. I find it odd that wedding bells are ringing, yet nobody seems too thrilled about it. In a way, it’s like watching a brother and sister become roommates. There is a love there, but it is not that type of love. It is merely fulfilling a promise, and she is doing it because that’s what he would have wanted, and this man is her last connection to the man she had.

When it comes to him, I’m not sure we will ever move past the depression stage. Perhaps this marriage counts as acceptance. I fear it will be a long time before any of us could possibly know the answer to that.

This year has left visible, permanent “scars” on all of us.

Myself? From all the crying I have done, I have large bags under my eyes that will not go away, even when I sleep well. (Are there any make-up pros, or beauty bloggers out there that could tell me how to conceal them, or perhaps give me some insight on the absolute best product to help minimize them? Please? Please?) They make me look much older and tired. I look weary, and it has affected my confidence. (I haven’t taken a selfie IN MONTHS. I’m a girl! We love selfies!) And not to be rude to “her” but she doesn’t look much better. We all have the bags under our eyes. The light in our eyes– it’s dimmed quite a bit. Sometimes I look at us and feel that we are stuck, just going through the motions of day to day life, and none of us really knowing what for. It’s like we are waiting for something to spark that life back inside of us. We want to live. We just need help getting excited about it.

Don’t take this as we are depressed. Truly, we aren’t. It’s just a rut. Everybody has ruts. Only this rut has been the length of an entire year. I hope, I pray that next year is better. I believe, if you ask me, that the gods have toyed with us long enough. We have suffered enough and I am about ready to slaughter the neighbor’s cow¬†and toss it onto a burning pyre to get some good luck for next year.

However, ruts are a part of life, and we really should try to be more prepared for them, but sometimes, there’s not much you can do to prepare.

To make matters worse, my least favorite holiday, Christmas is coming up. Oh let me tell you how much I hate Christmas.


I hate it because people have lost sight of what’s important about it. Used to, it was all about getting to see your family that you don’t get to see much, but here lately, it’s about nothing but who gets the best presents, who spent the most money, etc.

I know some people who will spend their bill money to purchase gifts and they always ask me to borrow come January.

Christmas is the same time every year. Plan accordingly OR buy cheaper shit. I don’t understand the mentality of “Oh, we have to buy expensive things for every single person we know!” I never will.

Because this January, don’t you dare ask me to loan you money. You can just sit there in the dark, clutching your eviction notice. I have tried explaining repeatedly why you should set a price limit, and a who gets what limit. You never listen! Just don’t buy people shit if you can’t afford it. If they get mad, fuck them. You don’t need that in your life! You don’t need a person who cares ONLY about the gift as opposed to you showed up to see them.

So don’t do it. The bank of J. Theberge is closed this January.

Remember, I’m dead inside.

I do have a kerosene heater you could borrow if it gets too cold in your dark house.


Dearest Ex Bestie

I suppose we are even now. I warned that I’d not speak of you again, but I was reminded of something today, and now I can’t stop laughing.

See, I lied to you too. ¬†I’m sure in a while you’ll find out what it is in regards to.

Oddly enough I lied to her too, only because the sentimental part of me felt she shouldn’t suffer because of your idiocy, and cruel nature.

Then I lost someone dear to me.

That’s when I realized, during my hiatus that I don’t care, but today I heard his voice in the back of my mind, kindly reminding me of what I lied to you about.

Then I laughed. It is deserving after all, on both ends. You deserve this. I deserve to laugh.

This life isn’t the end. He will always be with me, whether in my memories, or spiritually. I will always have him. I will always have my brothers and sisters (blood isn’t the only thing that makes people family). You know, these guys around here once called you a brother. So did he. That’s the part you should feel bad about, but you don’t. You’ve carried on like you have done nothing wrong.

And that’s why I laugh because I lied to you too. You deserve any bad that happens because of that lie. Karma is a funny thing.

And laughter is the best medicine. It’s what keeps some of us going. So don’t mind me. I’m too busy laughing.

JCHS Class of 2002. Indians forever.

Firstly, yes our mascot was the Indians, and if anyone shouts racism, or cultural appropriation, I will find you, and throw something at you. Consider the fact many of us are native descent, and your whining is hearby moronic.
But that’s not what I came to speak of.

No. As you all may be aware, last week, another classmate of ours left us. He was rear ended by a, what I presume to be a distracted driver, while on his motorcycle. He didn’t make it.

First up, put your phones down. I am merely speculating at this point, but it’s a known fact that drivers using their phones cause too many accidents. So, put your phone down. It can wait.

However, I must gloat on my class. We graduated fourteen long years ago, and the man who passed, didn’t actually graduate with us. He had to leave in the middle of high school to care for his ailing mother, who passed in 2001.

And now he is with her. Finally able to see her like he has been waiting to do for the past fifteen years.

Even though he didn’t graduate with us, he was still an Indian. He was still a part of us, and we all reconnected once social media became a thing. He wasn’t any different. So, when we heard of what happened, our class banded together, once again, taking donations, mainly for flowers from our class as a whole, but we hoped for a little extra to give his family to help with costs. He was young. Just 31 years old, and at that age, we all presume we have a lot of time left, so nobody thinks of life insurance, or pre funeral planning, and funerals are expensive. I’m not sure how much the average cost in America is, but I once read that it was around $6,000. Even his obituary had an in lieu of flowers, asking for donations to help with costs, and we didn’t expect to raise as much as we did.

After it was all said and done, we purchased a $30 arrangement, and was able to give his family, $315 to help with costs. I know in a sense, compared to costs, maybe that’s not that much, but it was more than we anticipated, and because of all of this, I am so proud of my class.

I have shared this quote before, and it fits here. Rest in peace, Mark. Enjoy the Yahtzee game with your mother. We will miss you.

“That which belongs to fellowship and love, that which belongs to the circle, remains with us. The wheel turns. As life is a day, so our brother has passed into night. Nothing is final, and we who remain behind know that one day, we will once again share the bread and wine with our brother.
O’ blessed spirit, we bid you farewell, for you await a new destiny.”

People don’t forget. Nothing is ever forgiven.

You know, Red Dead Redemption is full of amazing quotes for a game that features a dumb cowboy for a protagonist. Don’t get me wrong, its one of my favorite games, and I love the Marston family, but one has to admit he lacks brains.

Today, I thought of something. Its been near two months since I last spoke to that Macedonian moron. That half ass apology on April 2nd doesn’t count, and I realized, aside from some deaths (I am not speaking of it. Its not wise to mention the dead) my life has gotten significantly better. No longer has my time been consumed by a moron with horrible music taste (only listening to ONE genre automatically makes you have no taste. Sorry.), who hasn’t played any good games (RDR? Chrono Trigger/Cross, FF6, Dragonage origins, Fable 2, Earthbound, Mother- -he’s never played them), and frankly he has the personality of a dustbin. He’s about as deep as a July puddle in Arizona. That leads into- –

The fuck was I thinking? I know what he was thinking (*cue Shane McMahons theme*), but my lapse in judgment is embarrassing. Not just that, but really he wasn’t that attractive either. I tried boosting his ego (he faked low self esteem) by saying he was attractive. Silly girl. Really, you aren’t that attractive, but at this point you could be 1990s Brad Pitt, and what you’ve done makes you uglier than an exploded pimple. You’re evil, sir. Evil enough that I can bad mouth you to the world and not feel remotely sad about it. Maybe when a real apology pops out of your mouth I’ll bad mouth others.

One question though, is there trouble in paradise? I hear the relationship is on the rocks (you will never be privy to who I get my info from. I know more people than you care to believe). I had to laugh when I heard about that.

But enough wasting my precious breath on you.

I spoke to a real friend, and I’ve decided to do a list of the best things to come out of every country I care to name.

Example: Britain could be tea. Ireland could be Guinness. Germany could be bratwurst. Denmark would be Aqua (Barbie girl song), Sweden might be Abba, and Macedonia would be… … uhhh. .. Vlado Janevski?

Clearly the list will be more comprehensive and should be fun to put together. So, stay tuned for that. Also, my next THIS IS DEEP, is coming. So, prepare yourselves!

Be well, guys!

Put your scissors down, Atropos!

More losses.

I am really starting to hate 2016.
Firstly, my idol as a teenager, the 9th wonder of the world, and first female intercontinental champion; WWE’s Chyna, was found dead two days ago. It upset me tremendously. She was my idol. I respected her more than the other women. While they were doing bra and panties matches, she was fighting men, and tossing them like ragdolls. Her physique was unlike the others. Instead of a slender, feminine frame, she had muscles and strength and that’s what drew me to her. Unfortunately, her stint didn’t last long for various reasons but she left a lasting impact in the business. She paved the way for intergender competition (I do wish they’d do it more). Her downfall was horrible to watch. She went from being an idol, to making porn and getting involved in substance abuse, and it affected her behavior. That being said, she was a wonderful person. She did a lot for the women’s division and whether you liked her or not, you have to respect her, at least as a champion.
According to various sources, she had been dead for days before she was found, and that’s heartbreaking, to know she died alone, and God knows what was going through her head. All we know is it was a possible overdose, intentional or not, nobody knows, but it pains the soul to know that days went by before she was found. I will always remember her for the woman she was in the ring. In fact, one of my favorite matches was her hardcore match with Jeff Jarrett where she won the IC title for the first time. That’s right, she held it TWICE. She was also the first ever female participant in the royal rumble. When I think of women’s wrestling, I always think of Chyna. Its a tragic loss. I must say, I pray she finally gets the recognition she deserves and gets put in the hall of fame. HHH and the other corporate members can no longer say porn is why she is excluded and not being considered, since now Sunny has done porn (with her HOF ring on, and this is after she tried to sell it) and she remains in the HOF. Time will tell, but if any woman deserves HOF, Its Chyna.

Then the next day, we learned that iconic musician Prince was found dead in his home in Minnesota. I admit, I was not a Prince fan, and I only liked two to three songs of his, but I will not deny how talented he was. He was influential, and from my understanding, an overall wonderful person. Even though I was not really a fan, admittedly the loss is devastating.

Then today..
Dear God, today, the third day in a row…
Firstly, I went to a small high school with less than 500 students in the whole school. In fact, my graduating class had less than 100 students. We all knew each other, and while we didn’t always see eye to eye, we usually got along. It was rare to see a fight, and truthfully, we never really had exclusive cliques. We all held a common love for each other, whether we agreed or not, and I have been told that makes my class and school unique. So, when one classmate dies, it really does affect us all. We all usually know the person well, and it saddens us all, leaving us devastated.

Today, we lost a man named Mark Baier. He was killed in a motorcycle wreck in Marion, Illinois on route 13. I do not know the specifics, nor do I care to, but I pray he didn’t suffer. It devastated me to hear he was gone, and while we didn’t talk as much as we did then, I still cared for him. I still felt close to him, as did the rest of my classmates. He was a wonderful person, with a heart of gold, and truly, the world lost a good man. Our class is banding together, as we usually do, even 14 years after graduating, to send flowers and offer prayers and help to his immediate family. I believe to some, that makes us weird, but to me, it makes me proud to be from Johnston City, Illinois.
Oh Mark, I know you won’t see this. Right now, you are probably joyously reuniting with your mother, who passed while we were in school. I remember that. You were devastated. Now, you can finally see her, like you’ve wanted to for so long. While I wish we could keep you here with us, perhaps you are happy where you are. I am rambling, but dammit Mark, we will miss you so damn much! We loved you. We love you still. Fly high, Mark. We will not forget you and we will see you again some day.

A note from Miss Theberge

“I am not well, readers. This is going to take some time to process. All I keep thinking is, “but.. who will I talk to,” or, “but who will be my tag team partner?” So many questions, and they will forever remain. No real answers will come. I was never a fan of, “God needed them more than we did.” That was always such a horrible response to anybody who loses someone, especially younger people.

I’m currently burying the hatchet with someone. I can’t go through with any of the litigation. I cared too much about that idiot to make him suffer, if you want me to be fully honest about it. I tried to, but things kept me too busy to worry, and then there’s that stupid part of my soul that doesn’t hate him, as much as he deserves it. There’s that stupid part of me that still cares, even though he’s not that good of a person. He’s not terrible. Just not good.
The person I lost liked him a lot, actually. I never really got the idea on why, and now I won’t ever know. I should have asked. I won’t hear from the ex friend, even now when I have lost someone who liked him, and it seemed as though the feeling was mutual. Not that I want to hear from him. I need time. Although a damn sympathy card wouldn’t kill anyone. But now I’m getting angry. I’m not even sure if the five stages of grief applies to me. I bounce all over the place in times like these, which is why I tend to pull away from everyone.

Should have. Could have. Wished I. . .
That’s how these moments happen. You lose someone, and it boils down to wishing you had done something different. We always say make sure you always let people know how you feel, lest you never get the chance. No day but today, right?

Still, I’m going to miss him. That much is clear. We all will. I may say I don’t want to talk, but I need it. Don’t listen to me. I just don’t understand why it had to be you. Out of all the people that could die, it had to be you. And that’s not fair at all.

A friend showed me a Cherokee song last night. I have always known this song, but she reminded me of it. I cried. I cried a lot. It was Amazing Grace, so not really a Cherokee song, but it was sang in Cherokee and it was beautiful, just like you were, and I’ll always be reminded of you with that.
Until we meet again, brother.”