Story

My name is Ashley, and I know what you’re thinking. Here we go again, another sob story from someone looking for a handout. And yes; that’s EXACTLY what this is. I am not going to pretend I’m here for any other reason than I’m broker than broke, and I’m not going to mislead anyone on my intentions. If you’ve remained in your seat for this long, allow me to provide you with some on-trip entertainment. It’s messy, it’s pathetic, and it will likely make you roll your eyes and question my decision-making skills. Please keep your arms in legs inside the vehicle at all times, and thank you for choosing the Hot Mess Express.

Out of respect for your time, I will briefly explain. I’m a disabled, since 2009, single mom. My wasband had himself a lil secret girlie, and I found out because he isn’t the brightest crayon in the shed. This girlie, because of course the chat tracked her down by a first name and place of employment, confirmed everything and even went as far as to divulge more egregious detail.

As bad as this was, I’m sure you can guess what happened next. If you guessed “blamed Ashley for the affair and continual emotional  manipulation”, you win! I don’t have a prize for you, or else we wouldn’t be here requesting your pity.
So, naturally…I left.

I left with a $528 monthly income. I left with my dignity. I left. And until I can get through a welding certification, off disability, and into some semblance of stability; I will struggle-bus through.

But Ashley, doesn’t he pay you child support? Well, funny you should ask. He WAS paying child support. Was, until he quit his well-paying job without another lined up, and without having found another since April 14.

So here I am, swallowing my pride, because I would like to treat my children and myself to a nice lil weekend of fun. They deserve it. They deserve everything, and I can’t provide that yet.

Thank too for reading, and if you feel so inclined, thank you for donating.