The Unconventional Kat

"It's too bad more women don't speak up or come forward when they are assaulted." I hear it time and again.  People think that if more women spoke out against their assailants that the environment would change and everyone would be more compassionate towards the victims.  Sadly, I know first hand why women choose to not only stay quiet initially, but permanently as well.  It is the exact reason I chose to stay quiet about my assault and now that its out in the open, my worst fears have manifested all over news and social media. Victims are publicly crucified when they come out.  They not only suffer emotional and sometimes physical trauma from the assault itself, but once they come forward, they are raked over the proverbial coals by people they have never met, some whom they have met once or twice, and sometimes even their closest "friends."  People take a personal stance against the victim and call them names, accuse them of ulterior motives, post slan

"Home is where the heart is."  We've heard it time and again, but for me, nothing has ever truly felt like home.  I've spent my life pursuing the elusive concept of "home" without success.  Three marriages didn't give me the feeling of security or peace either.  I've been places where I am happy, or that I really enjoyed, but nothing ever felt like home.  I was always anxious to find the next "home" thinking that it would be the one.  Until now, but it has come at a price. For those who have been following my story, my three kids and I launched from traditional "sticks and bricks" living in a 4 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath house on half an acre earlier this year to live in a 30 foot 5th wheel trailer to live the nomadic lifestyle.  It wasn't initially ideal and there were challenges, but this was what I had wanted.  I expected some challenges, but I was truly looking forward to it as it would solve my financial struggles, but mostly

As you can clearly see, its been a seemingly millennia since my last blog post.  Forgive me, for I have sinned. Actually, I have sat down at my computer many, many, MANY times and started to write my next essay.  I get through a few sentences and then quit.  I am struggling right now against doing the same thing at this moment.  But I think I will continue... The first part of this year has been a hell of a ride.  Well, if you consider a "ride" being strapped to a running chain saw in a tornado while covered in stinging nettle a ride. Ups, downs, curves, stops, starts....blah, blah, BLAH. There have been days where I feel like a normal human being, but after about 7.8 seconds, reality hits and I remember that I am far from normal. And this ain't no ride! Where to start? Well, how about starting off by saying we shoved away from the pier on May 31st into the ocean of uncertainty.  The last few months in the house brought me every emotion I have ever felt and

Phones, tablets, laptops, game consoles, headphones, full time job, long commute, various extra curricular activities - all under a roof that spans over 2200 square feet and many doors capable of shutting us off from each other even more.  The American Family has become a mere shadow of what it once was, and mine was no exception. When I learned I was pregnant with my first child 16 years ago, I was enrolled in private interior design college, worked full time for an architectural firm downtown San Diego and was on my way to a high falutin' career in interior design, with an emphasis in historical preservation.  I have always adored the old west and the great American frontier.  The adventure of the unknown, the insecurity of day to day living - it is all so romantic to me, no matter how difficult life must have been.  I dreamed of going back in time and being a proud homesteader with a ranch somewhere in the Western states. Pregnancy does odd things to a woman's brain, but

When the decision to live full time in an RV was made, I got some raised eyebrows, "You are going to do WHAT?" some sympathy, "Oh, I am so sorry that you are having to do that,"  some support "You go girl, that sounds awesome!" and some criticism, "Why would you do that to your kids?" or "Do you have any idea what you are getting yourself into?"and the best one, "I don't think you know how hard its going to be.  You are in for a big surprise and will regret this." That last one always sticks with me. "Harder than what," is what I want to ask.  Will it be harder than laying awake at night trying to figure out how I alone am going to come up with another $2400 house payment, $100 propane payment, $125 electricity payment, $135 water bill payment, $125 HOA payment and a $55 trash payment?  Not to mention food, kids' expenses, technology and communication bills, gas, insurance, etc, etc, etc.  Every.......thirt

It was sometime during 2013 that I knew I was headed for my third divorce.  Yes, third.  My first marriage was a quick one back in the early 90's, my second produced my three darling children and my third was, well, a solution to survival as a single mom of three young kids.  It served its purpose for both of us at the time, but it was time to go our separate ways after trying every avenue possible to save our marriage, our finances and our friendships.  All three were lost. It was an enormous emotional struggle for me as I saw people I called friends take sides and no longer associate with me.  We had a very public divorce since we both were so very active in our community with volunteering and in business.  It was hard on both of us.   When he moved out almost a year ago, we were very behind on our mortgage and the utilities.  I had a job, but no clue how I was going to bring everything up to date by myself, nor how my income could possibly keep the bills paid each month.  Th