Keep Out or See Yourself Out

There comes a point where playing nice is no longer an option. True growth means recognizing when it’s time to stop trying to water dead roots and start digging them up, dragging them out, and throwing them into the fire.

Losing my mom on May 4th woke something up inside of me. Going through the raw reality of that loss stripped away every single ounce of my remaining tolerance for bullshit. I am entirely, completely over it.

This line has been a long time coming. For years, clear boundaries were never fully set, and the lines were allowed to be blurred by many people—including myself. I see exactly what was done, I recognize my own part in allowing it to happen, and I am done now. The accommodating version of me is officially dead. I am entering a season of zero-tolerance clarity, and to protect the life I am actively building, I am drawing a permanent, unbreakable line. This line isn’t drawn in the sand where the tide can wash it away—it is carved in stone around myself, my husband, my home, and my peace.

If you don’t like my boundaries, that is a you problem, not a me problem. I am putting them up clearly and laying them out right now so there is absolutely zero room for confusion, misinterpretation, or debate. If you cannot handle these terms, there is the door—don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out.

And let me be crystal clear: if you are reading this post and thinking to yourself that this is specifically about you, then go look in a mirror and ask yourself what needs to change. This wasn’t written for just one single person; it was written because a collective line had to be drawn. If my boundaries hit a nerve, that is your conscience talking, not my problem.

Radical Autonomy: You Do Not Run My Life

Let’s lay the ground rules for my personal autonomy right now, because the days of anyone thinking they have a vote in how I exist are completely dead. For too long, lines were blurred, and people thought they had the right to micromanage my everyday existence. That ends today.

• Fix Yourself First: Before you even think about opening your mouth to comment on my choices, look at your own life. Stop trying to manage my world when your own reality is a disaster. You need to focus on getting your own life perfect, getting your own shit together, and fixing yourself first. Until your own life is flawless and your own mind is healthy, you have zero room, zero right, and zero authority to utter a single word about mine.
• Hands Off My Personal Choices: You do not get to dictate my life to me ever again. You do not get to tell me what to eat, how to dress, how to style or do my hair, or what clothes are “acceptable” for me to wear. My body, my appearance, and my daily choices belong entirely to me.
• Complete Freedom Over My Mind and Creativity: You absolutely do not get to tell me what I am allowed to read, what I can write, what I watch, or what music and genres I listen to. My mind, my imagination, my hobbies, and my creative expressions are mine alone. I will consume the art, books, media, and information I want, and I will write exactly what is on my soul without asking for your approval or filtering it for your comfort.
• My House and My Assets Are Private Property: You do not get to tell me how to decorate my house, what furniture to buy, or how to run my home. You don’t get to tell me what car to drive, how to spend my money, or how to manage my assets. If you don’t like the environment I live in or the vehicle I drive, keep your eyes on your own property.
• Stay Out of My Career: You do not get to tell me what job to have, where to work, or how to perform my job duties. I am the one putting in the hours, doing the labor, and managing my career. Your unsolicited professional advice or judgment is entirely unwelcome and completely irrelevant.
• Keep Your Nose Out of My Voice: You do not get to dictate what I speak about, how I speak, or what language I use to express myself. I will speak my mind, use my voice, and share my truths exactly how I see fit.
• The Final Word: You do not get to tell me anything about my life, my path, or my daily decisions. If you feel an overwhelming, toxic need to control, critique, or supervise how another adult moves through the world, go focus on your own life. I am entirely off-limits to your management.

Personal Relationships: Respect My Marriage, Drop the Drama, or You’re Dead to Me

My life is not a soap opera, and I am completely done hosting your stale history, old obligations, and toxic behavior. If you want any form of access to me moving forward, hear this loud and clear:

• Protect My Marriage or Lose Me: If you call me, you have NO right to tell my husband to shut the fuck up or call him names. You also do not have the right to tell me to fuck off. If that is how you feel, then don’t bother reaching out to me at all. I will no longer tolerate the blatant disrespect toward the man I love or toward myself. If you cannot speak to us with basic decency, you will be cut off instantly. END OF STORY!!!!
• No More Trauma-Dumping or Past Garbage: If you want to talk about your drama, your non-stop trauma, or keep rehashing old trauma, I will hang up on you with no questions asked. This shit gets old. Furthermore, I am completely, entirely done hearing about past marriages, past divorces, and old relationship titles. I will no longer tolerate the terms “ex-wife” or “ex-husband.” I don’t give a flying monkey’s balls who was married to whom. Yes, I fucked up on shit. Ronnie fucked up on shit. It’s done, it’s over, and we no longer live there. If you want to stay trapped in that wreckage and keep living in those dead years, go ahead—but you will do it completely alone.
• Zero Tolerance for Domestic Abuse and Cruelty: You do not get to call your children, your spouse, or your significant other names, or treat them like shit on the phone with me. I will not sit there and be an audience to you abusing the people in your life. You should be happy and grateful you have them around you.
• The Self-Pity Party is Cancelled: Do not tell me you are “all alone” unless it is truly, factually true. Look at your own damn life, see the people who are actually standing around you, and start appreciating them for once!! Stop with the fucking self-pity party—I will not attend, I am not buying a ticket, and I am not handing out sympathy.
• Your Opinion of Me is Irrelevant: Stop telling me who you think I was or who I am now. Who I am is not who I supposedly was in your mind. I wasn’t even the person your mind wants to believe I used to be. That narrative is tired, old, and completely inaccurate, and I’m not entertaining your outdated mental drafts of me anymore. Take me exactly as I am today, or don’t take me at all.
• Absolute Privacy on My Personal Life: You do not get to cross clear lines when it comes to my personal life with Ronnie. You do not get to hear about our private, personal life—and you know exactly what I mean—unless I explicitly choose to share it. I have never been a person to openly share my sexual life with anyone, and that is a strict, iron-clad boundary. Consider that door permanently shut and welded closed.
• No Re-runs of Toxic People: Do not talk to me about people who are no longer in my life—whether they walked away or I walked away from them because they were toxic. I don’t give a shit about them, I don’t care how they are doing, and I don’t want their names crossing your lips in my presence. They are completely gone from my world. Let them stay gone.
• Sobriety is an Absolute Prerequisite: Do not talk to me if you are drunk or on drugs. I want real, genuine, coherent conversations with a normal, mentally healthy person—not a drunken person talking shit, repeating themselves, or slurring incoherently. If you call or text me under the influence, you will be ignored, shut down, or blocked. End of discussion.

Our House, Our Rules: We Aren’t Moving, and We Aren’t Adapting for You

Let me make one thing crystal clear right now: Ronnie and I are NOT moving. This is our home, this is our life, and that discussion is permanently closed.

• Get Off Your Asses: If you want a relationship with us, if you want to see us, then you get your asses on a plane or you pack up the car and drive to see where we live. We spent years living on the East Coast making things convenient for everyone else; those days are dead and buried. You can get off your asses and put in the actual effort to travel here to our space, or you can stay right where you are and accept that you won’t see us. End of story!!!
• The Furbabies Own the House: When you do come to our house, let’s be explicitly real clear: there are eight furbabies here. This is their sanctuary and their home. They live here; you are just a temporary guest. They will not be locked away in a room, and they sure as hell will not be forced outside into the heat just to accommodate your comfort or make you happy!! If you cannot handle sharing space with the animals that we love and protect, do not knock on our door. End of story!!!
• Dress and Act Like a Civilized Adult: My home is a place of peace, not a trashy playground. When you come into our house, you show basic respect by showing up dressed appropriately—not in skimpy, dirty, filthy, nasty clothes that belong in a laundry hamper. Furthermore, leave the loud, obnoxious, dramatic behavior at the state line. You do not get to bring chaotic, screaming, attention-seeking energy into my sanctuary!!!
• The Kitchen is Not a Diner: You eat exactly what we serve, period. We are running a home, not a restaurant, a commercial kitchen, or a 24-hour diner. I am more than willing to cook or bake what you can eat if you have a legitimate, diagnosed, life-or-death allergy—but I am not catering to picky whims, fake drama, or demanding preferences. You eat what is put on the table with gratitude, or you can go hungry and find a vending machine.

My Time Belongs to Me: The Schedule is Fixed and Weekends Are Closed

I am on the phone all day long for my job. I spend hours solving problems and talking to people, and my voice and mind are completely fried by the end of it. The absolute last thing I am going to do is clock into a second shift and stay on the phone for hours afterward just to entertain you or fill your silence. My time is non-negotiable.

• The Weekend Lockout: Weekends are completely, 100% non-negotiable. Weekends are reserved strictly for Ronnie and me, and if we choose to spend time with friends, it will be with the friends that we actually hope and want to spend time with. Weekends are NOT for sitting on a phone for all hours of the day talking to people out of obligation. The phone is off.
• The Daytime Blackout: From 6:30 AM to 3:00 PM Arizona time, I am locked in and absolutely not available to talk to you. Do not call my phone. If it is an absolute emergency, text me, and I will look at it and answer after my shift is done. My work hours belong to my job, not your boredom.
• The Post-Work Blackout: Do not call me the second 3:00 PM hits either. Period. I need time to decompress and shake off the day. I require my me-time, my quiet time, and time to just sit out in the sunshine, breathe, and enjoy being by myself without a voice buzzing, complaining, or demanding things in my ear. If you call me right after work, you will go straight to voicemail.
• The One-Hour Cap: Once I am finally available on weekdays, you can get up to one hour of my time maximum—sorry, not sorry. My life does not revolve around being your personal entertainment system or your free therapist. I have my own life to live. I need time to do my own thing, play my games, write, and do my crafting. If I am talking to you for hours on end, I have zero time for myself, and I am completely done sacrificing my peace and my hobbies to play your sounding board. If I am talking to you for hours on end I have no time for me. End of story!!!!!!!

Grief is Not Your Conversation Piece: Stop the Obsession

My Digital and Spiritual Space: Unfiltered, Unapologetic, and Guarded

My online and personal spaces are an extension of my daily life, and they will be curated and policed just as strictly as my physical home.

• I Am a Witch—Deal With It: I will post whatever I fucking want to post. I am going to be completely, honestly open about being a witch. I am not a Wiccan, so stop saying I am Wiccan—I am a fucking witch. I am not putting a softer, prettier, more acceptable label on my craft or my beliefs just to make it more digestible or comfortable for your narrow mind. Furthermore, do not tell me how to be a fucking witch either—walk your own path and stay out of mine. If you have an issue with who I am, what I believe, or how I practice, the exit is right there. Click unfollow and keep it moving.
• Immediate, Unwarned Blocking: My comment sections, direct messages, and feeds are spaces for constructive, meaningful interaction—not dumping grounds for uninvited noise, entitlement, unsolicited opinions, or negativity. I reserve the right to clean out my digital space without warning. Unsolicited criticism, passive-aggressive boundary-testing, or energy-draining commentary will be met with immediate removal and blocking. I owe no one a debate, a trial, or an explanation for keeping my environment clean.

A boundary isn’t a negotiation; it is a declaration of what I will no longer tolerate.

I am not asking for permission, nor am I inviting a discussion on these terms. The old patterns are completely dead, the ground is cleared, and I am moving forward. To those who respect this space and want to grow alongside it, I appreciate you more than words can say. To those who cannot or choose not to operate within these terms: find the door, hit the road, and see yourself out of my life for good.in these terms: find the door, hit the road, and see yourself out of my life for good.