To the One Who Thinks He Owns Real Estate in My Mind

All the Things I Hold That You’ll Never Own

It’s funny—my last blog post poked the bear a little. I could tell Daddy Number Three (hi, Brian 👋) was super butthurt about the things I had to say.

Oh, the betrayal, Brian.

I’d cry for you, but that would require guilt—

and you don’t deserve any of my tears.

Here’s the truth: you think you own real estate in my head, but what you’re actually watching week after week is me fumigating the place.

Every word I type is another eviction notice to the demons you left behind.

Meanwhile, my life is full in ways you’ll never understand. I worked for this. I built this. My kids, my career, my marriage—they’re the blessings I earned.

Keith is one of the greatest gifts in my life. 

When he found me, I was shattered—fresh out of an abusive marriage I was pressured into way too young. I came with daddy baggage and a shit mom to boot. That was the hardest hurdle for us to get over in our marriage—not our love, but the noise from people who didn’t want me happy, who shared blood with me.

Keith never flinched. He even supported me when I tried to have a relationship with you, Brian. He watched me walk through some shady situations, and instead of mocking or undermining me, he stood by me and did his best to keep me safe.

That’s the difference between a man and a manipulator.

You can’t compare to him—not even in the fantasy world you live in. Keith has never hit me, never called me a bad mom, never chipped away at my worth. Fourteen years later, he’s still the one I think about when I wake up and the one I fall asleep beside with peace in my heart.

That’s what respect and real love build:

something lasting,

something solid,

something worthy of passing down to your children.

My daughter once told her friends she didn’t care who she married one day, as long as that person loved her the way her daddy loves her mommy. You’ll never be able to give anyone that kind of example.

You like breaking people.

I’ve watched you do it to my stepmom and to my sisters. That’s your legacy. But mine? Mine is a family that thrives because Keith lifts us up instead of tearing us down. He scrubs toilets, drives the kids to youth group, cooks dinner, does laundry, and still has energy left to hold me when I need it.

He provides more than money—

he provides safety, love, and strength. 

I’ll bet no one’s ever pulled your pastor aside to say what a great man you are—but my kids did that for him. He’s a saint—and when he’s not, he’s at least striving for it. You could never be that.

He’s the one who owns real estate in my head.

The truth hurts, doesn’t it?

It should.

You built it.

You made your bed, now lie in it.

Meanwhile, I’ll be over here with my beautiful family—the one you’ll never have a claim to. My almost-13-year-old daughter, hilarious, smart, and caring, with a soul that lights up a room. My almost-16-year-old son, chasing his dream of flying F-35s with the brains and grit to actually do it. And my husband, who keeps striving, loving, and building with me every single day.

They live rent-free in my head, Brian.

And they always will.

Because good ALWAYS wins, and happiness always outweighs the wreckage bad people try to leave behind.

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THE DADDY DUMPSTER FIRE