Lost time - corrected for typos

I feel like the time for childhood games is over... I feel like I missed a lot of it because I was working. Though it made me stir crazy, I can see why some moms choose to be housewives. It's so they won't miss anything, and they'll have time to make strawberry poke cakes. I still have the recipe, but if I try to get her to bake with me now, she looks at me like I'm nuts and says, "mom I'm on a Skype call.". How incredibly sad. I'm glad she's gaining independence, but I invested everything I had in her, and now I'm all alone most of the time. I know this is an incredibly selfish way to feel, but I just miss her. Having a teenager is like pre-empty nest syndrome... Because they're still in your house, and they're still kids who will ask you to make them pop tarts because they only taste right when you make them, but they're absent in so many other ways... Especially mentally. They're somewhere else entirely. I know that despite bouts of psychosis, severe mood swings, and disabling asthma, I'm still very lucky to be so closely bonded to my child. I know that most kids her age have broken free from words like "mommy", and actually wanting to go shopping together, sleeping in my bed when she's scared... Etc... But I still feel like she's so distant. Maybe it's partially because my mother is gone, too... A change I still can't fathom... She was my soul mate. So maybe things are actually the same between my daughter and me and I just have a void now. The last thing I want is to try to fill that void with a romantic relationship, especially since I really do need someone to take care of me. I am easily breakable, and it's likely my cancer will return at some point. I've been to the ER four times in the past two months. I have a green card, I see a psychiatrist every three weeks, a therapist every week... And my daughter has even more appointments and hospital visits.
My knee is all screwed up right now and it's uncomfortable. I don't know anything...

I forgot?

I only crave chocolate when I'm lonely. I spent three hours on my phone discussing CNA stuff. Things like realizing that you're memorizing your own BM to chart later. I messed up my knee at work. Some masochistic part of me craves CNA work. We have a client right now who should be in long term memory care. The hospital lied to us. That's how we got her. I've done a lot caring for her. In fact, that's how I hurt myself. The place where I work doesn't have the necessary items/staff for that kind of care, which is why we don't take clients who need it. I've enjoyed taking care of her, and worry about what things are like for her when I'm not there. She cries because she knows she doesn't belong there, she hits because she's terrified, she paces because she feels lost, she hates that someone else is taking care of her... I do just fine with her, of course. I was the first person who got her to eat or drink anything substantial. She thanked me, and gave me a hug. She hasn't spoken a coherent word to anyone else. I don't know... I love my job, but I'm considering picking up a shift a week at an LTC/rehab place.
I need to go lay down. It's 2:15 am... My knee has to be positioned perfectly or it gets stuck wherever it is. It's pretty much stuck already. I would say at about an 80 degree angle. Whatever.
I fear losing my job because I've called in too many times already.
I like giants. My daughter knows every single word of this song. I like that. She's got good taste. I worry about how much and what kind of influence that the rest of her family has on her.
It's weird that I'm writing this slowly. I usually write much faster. I have things I want to invent. Not giving away my ideas here, but I need these things and I can't be the only one.
Yesterday? I think it was... I had so much energy... I couldn't sit still to do anything, though I desperately needed to, I was wide awake, despite little or no sleep and even less food, I was so irritable that even reggae wasn't soothing enough. I even tried IZ, but everything around me was just so irritating...
I miss my mom.
I have the munchies... I miss my kid.
I want food, so I have to end this.

This night

This night, a deep slumber
Following days of altered consciousness
Momentary wakefulness, amid a sea of dreams
Thoughts incomplete, disorganized, head a total mess

This is incomplete, too.

Titles, labels... what's the difference?

Things are stuff. Today I was reminded that when I'm engaged with a client, I have to make sure I'm passing attention to everything else, too. I find it funny that the person who said it must not realize my background or work experience. My whole life enabled this magical power.

I can't English today so I'm done even though this was short and boring. I have to get up early anyway.

Hostilities

I'm thinking a lot about my daughter's relationship with her dad and step mom, and theirs with me right now... I think my daughter may have actually called him (which she never does) to arrange plans for Christmas... This got me thinking that maybe she enjoys visiting more than she lets on (which would be ok). This also led me to wonder what she says about me, which made me wonder if *she's* the one talking all the shit... Every time I repeat anything she's said to me to anyone, the two of them say I'm shit talking them. What if my daughter is purposely (or accidentally) causing all of the issues between our two families..? Then what? There's been a war going on between us for years, but it intensified and escalated (despite all of my efforts to deescalate the situation) since my mother passed away. She's been incredibly disturbed since my mother's death, and was horribly traumatized by it.

Then I think of reasons this notion is ridiculous (to fact check, a skill I slowly and intentionally learned)... I thought the phone call took place on my watch, perhaps while I was sleeping, but the record shows my last call to him was immediately followed by a call to my therapist, which means I talked to him. But why wouldn't she just tell me she called him? She would've mentioned that...
She says horrible things about them that they don't seem to know she's upset about when confronted, but whenever she's upset with me, she readily tells me, or I can get it out of her easily. Her face gives it away such that anyone paying attention could tell. That's consistent with her stories of them... I've gone out of my way to build a relationship of trust and comradery with my child. They've done nothing but lie to me for all the years I've known them, including her childhood. Even I've seen them fight. She used to come to me for advice on how to put up with his shit. I'm sure he talked her out of that. She puts up Facebook pictures that blatantly rub my nose in the bad history I had with him. He is most likely a pathological liar. No one I know has ever believed anything he had to say, even when they first met him, many people he knows feel the same way. Nobody takes her seriously, including my sister, who is her best friend. She refers to them as the bitch and the asshole (yet sides with them on everything, including his child support).

Nah... It's totally my sister. Not my daughter. I can trust her. My sister, on the other hand, I've never been able to trust.

The crazy

Every woman in my family since my grandmother has been bipolar. We're not the mild kind, either. My grandma used parking lots as demolition derbies when I was small, for example. She and my sister are probably the most extreme examples, but I'm probably biased... Other people always seem to think I'm crazier than I do (though I do get the occasional, " but you seem so normal!". I'm very vocal about my mental illness. I think there is a huge stigma that strangles treatment, and there is a general consensus that we're all murderers or something, too)...

Anyway... Original point... The women are batshit crazy, and the men just sort of abandon us, which beats the alternative, I suppose, since we've all attracted many just terrible - think being pushed down stairs and hit with huge ashtrays - boys. I call them boys because we've known few men. Men flee us. Boys stick around and cause further trauma. In fact, the ones who abandon us typically treat us like crap before they vanish... Even family.

Dust in the wind is playing in my house right now... It reminds me of death and other losses of life. My grandmother wanted this song played at her funeral. One of the last serious conversations I had with my mother were planning her funeral arrangements. Then, a few short days later, my mother died. This song reminds me of both of them (my grandmother is in a dementia ward, 20+ years into frontotemporal dementia, still in stage 3 - average lifespan is 8-9 years) and I can't help but bawl the whole time it's playing. I only miss my grandmother part of the time, probably because she threw me down stairs, hit me with ashtrays, hit my mom, etc. She did teach us to fight though, it would've been boring for her to fight us if we didn't know what we were doing...

The train has left the station, leaving me in a pile of dust. This cycle of crazy has been going on a very long time. My solution for my life is to choose to not deal with it. I can live without a partner just fine. I have friends. I don't need anyone any closer. Certainly not right now. Although there was a man at the cash and carry today that made me kinda silly... That's the last thing I need, though. 

Being bipolar kinda sucks. My psychiatrist has decided he'd prefer to put me on depakote because I'm still cycling off cliffs. I told him as long as he puts me on only weight neutral stuff, I really don't care. 

I got a fantastic energy drink for free with my groceries the other day. I didn't think starbucks would ever make anything I would like. Weird.

This is getting stupid.

My daughter is most likely bipolar also. What a surprise. I just wonder why none of the men in the family get it. Maybe they do, but they aren't around enough for us to know. I'm done.

Actual conversations etc:

"Well how many times have you tried to move her out of state??" Once. The answer is once. I had a job there, and gave him 3 months notice.

"if her asthma medications are working so well, why does she have to keep taking them?" He followed this gem with "it's all just a money making scam. Everybody knows doctors get paid based on how many drugs they prescribe"

"i'm sick of all these doctors (one) prescribing all these drugs. She's a just child."
This is during a psychotic episode. All of the meds she currently takes are for asthma.

"i have a legal right to all of her record, including notes from her counselors."

"i have a legal right to refuse to have her put on medications"

"i have a legal right to refuse to give her medications"

"it's your fault I owe so much child support. You should forgive my debt so I can get a license again (hasn't had one since age 17, before I knew him)

" it's all your fault that my daughter doesn't like me. You talk shit about me" just blatantly not true...

" I'M NOT YELLING! You're just not listening!" Spoken while yelling...

"stop chewing on your fucking arm and get your ass off the couch and come with me. You're being stupid" his response to our child literally chewing a hole in her arm out of fear and anxiety because he wouldn't stop.

When I tried to move to California for a job (the only time I've ever "tried" to move her anywhere out of state), his response was "you can't keep me from my child. She's mine!" We hadn't heard from him in a year. I'm pretty sure I didn't legally even have to tell him, since that's considered abandonment...

Oooh here's another one. "i talked to a nurse I know and she said Teresa's on way to many meds"

Mmm and "you cheated on me so why should I pay you anything? It's all your fault we're not together" I never cheated on him, or anyone else for that matter

"she needs to be on less medication." Right after all of her meds were reduced. "i have the right to know exactly what's going into her body at all times. I have the right to know every single medication she's on, what it does, and why she's on it" which sounds reasonable, except for the fact that he'd just been given an ROI and spoken to her Dr.

Oh and step mom "sicotropic drugs could kill her" her misspelling, not mine. " if you knew anything about them, you'd know that" bitch, I'm a mental health technician, a cna and someone who carefully researches every medication either of us takes (from reputable sources) before any are taken.

"marijuana kills cancer cells (it does kill some types, I'll give them that), so why wouldn't it cure asthma?" There is some research that this could be true, but I still don't need a high kid. There were times when we refused to drop her off there because the whole house was full of pot smoke. With their toddler there. I should've reported them. I could lose my license because I didn't.

"How do you even know it's my kid?" This could be a legitimate question, except that we lived and worked together when she was conceived. We literally saw each other 24 hours a day

"everyone I know is telling me that you're only pregnant because you wanted to trap me and take all my money. It's probably not even mine" this was after he begged me to have his child so his dying mom would have a grandkids she was allowed to see

"can I just sign my rights over and disappear?" I wish I'd said yes.

Here's a great one taken directly from a text that my daughter's step mom sent that my daughter says is 100% bullshit:
"There are two sides to every story. No I don't believe in meds unless necessary and often they do more harm then good...psychotropic drugs can cause infertility and even death just to name a few.  Oh course were concerned! She crys in my arms too !...about how depressed she is at home and how she can't make u happy...and how she's scared to leave u because she thinks you might kill yourself....I think there is a bigger picture here... We need to put aside the shit and do what's best for Teresa and that means not talking shit about each other!!! That's why I don't bring these things up.. ..she's stressed because she feels she can only please u or dad and has little say in what she really wants" I'm not even depressed. I've actually been in a manic state for a few months now (or at least I would be if I wasn't so well managed on medications). I have a full time job that I love, that pays our bills, that I love working at, a beautiful child who I love more than anything, and several animals whose company I enjoy daily. There are many people depending on me, especially my daughter. She knows I'm not going anywhere.

"it's not an asthma attack, you just need to calm down" says step mom after taking away her inhaler and giving her water instead. "You're too dependant on that thing".

"i believe that the body has the ability to heal itself from anything... All you have to do is believe you're healed".

"you shouldn't be so attached to your mom"

Oh - Step mom:
"I don't think he (my daughter's dad) should have to pay any child support because he puts a roof over everyone's head and buys you clothes and stuff for here (their house)". This one was spoken to my daughter. The two of them often use her as a messenger, despite my objections to it. And anyway, nobody's putting a damn roof over my head. He's just using his new family as an excuse to not pay child support. Plus, his house is off limits to me.

She's not allowed to call me for any reason when she's at his house, nor am I allowed to call her. He says it interferes with their bonding time. He refuses to take time off while she's there because work is the only place he's happy.

I'll add to this as I remember things and as he says new stupid shit.

Daughter came home and reported, "i know the real reason you and dad broke up. It's because you were cheating on him. Corissa told me so". False. I've never cheated on anyone. I told her it was false and she didn't appear to believe me (which is unusual for her because she knows I'd never lie to her). Lying is a waste of time and energy. I believe this was an intentional attempt to drive a wedge between me and by daughter. She was dropped off at home around midnight, and reported sleeping from sometime in the morning until 9pm. 

Really? Not surprised.

I always thought I couldn't cook because I'm one of those people who burn pans and mess up pasta. I can fuck up an English muffin. Then I saw someone I know post a picture of red beans and rice, and I remember that I can cook that. I can also cook boxed rice, macaroni and cheese, I can even make that one from scratch, I can make bread, I know how to make tortillas. I know how to turn dried whole beans into refried beans (and they're good), and can do the same thing with really any bean... I can make kidney beans taste good. I make killer grilled cheese sandwiches, and amazing cookies. I do know how to cook. I just don't know how to make rich people food. I can make top ramen taste like it's real, and white rice into fried rice, I even know how to cook ground beef, the only raw meat I've ever handled. I know how to make churros, taco shells, tortilla chips, hard candy, coffee syrups... Cream pies (those are made with jello pudding). Potato tacos... I'm giving myself the munchies now.

Grr...

Don't come at me with guns raised high and not expect a fucking fight. You don't get too bully me anymore. I'm not putting up with it. I'm sick of your drama and all your bullshit. There's a reason I left you in the first place. This is it. If you need to scream our whatever that's fine, but you *seriously* need to find something else to spew hate at because I'm fucking done.

Boredom sets into the boring mind?

I want to go do something SO BADLY. But I'm here with my child who should be sleeping. Most likely, the voices are telling her not to. I need something physical to do so badly that I actually looked for my crochet set. I found a few rolls of yarn, but that's it. So I'm writing. I'm really stoned. So stoned that I *actually* fell down. If you know me (which most likely you don't), you know that I *do not* fall. Ever. Not even while unconscious. After losing waaay too much blood during childbirth (to the point of requiring a transfusion), I walked my ass to the bathroom to pee because they had pumped me full of fluids through an iv. I passed out as soon as my ass hit the seat. I had both hands on the guard rails and *did not* fall. The nurses were amazed. I told them I'd had *tons* of practice passing out. True, no exaggeration. So today, I FELL. Bizarre... I think I'm getting old. On the other hand, every med I take causes dizziness and interference with balance... That's probably what it was... Xanax and ativan. And geodon. And lamictal, and metopralol. And meloxicam. Weed probably doesn't help, but has never been a problem before. Geodon has a side effect of orthrostatic hypotension. Maybe? I was jumping down from a high and unstable place. That's never been a problem ever. Ok, this is boring, so we'll talk about something else now. Or more accurately, I will talk to you about something else.

I have this client who is driving me nuts. I usually get along really well with other people who have bipolar disorder, so I thought it odd. I think I reinjured my wrist... But she's an extremist Christian. I get along with Christians who follow the teachings of Jesus, even though I don't believe in it myself... But people who actually practice the good parts of their religion are often very nice people. Anyway... She literally has a holier than thou attitude, and is highly expressive of it. She walks all over our facility telling people that their meds are poison that makes everyone crazy, and that they shouldn't take theirs. She's charismatic in an odd and dark way, so there have been many shots given lately. She called the police on her husband for sex trafficking their children. They were taken out of their home while her husband was thoroughly investigated. I'm not sure they're back yet. She is currently telling everyone that they need to convert or we will use medicine to kill them and they'll go straight to hell for not fighting against the devils here. She picks fights with everyone over stupid shit. She's openly and very vocally racist. She is a right-wing political extremist. Let's just say I find her triggering.

I don't know what to do with her because every conversation we've had has been highly toxic. I've only ever tried to help her, and exclusively by listening. But 90% of what she says offends me. We've had paranoid schizophrenics that I've been able to at least communicate with, but this one I can't reach on any level. She's constantly attacking one of our other clients. She singles out everyone who was born in another country. And anyone who she knows is not Christian. Like me. Again, this has gotten boring.

My phone is nearly dead and I'm not going to be able to charge it. My neighbors just got home. The dog rocks.

Trump should be called "chump" or "dump". I just thought of a new smear campaign. "Dump the chump!" Yeah I like that. Or maybe "chump the dump". I've been donating to Bernie's campaign and color of change. I like that bernie's funding is not massive corporations and other dirty sources. Still, if I had to pick between any idiot in the red party and Hillary, I'd pick her. Yeah, this is boring, too. I feel boring right now.

So I'm laying here on the couch unable to sleep listening to death metal and my kid tells me I'm not dark enough for her to want to hang out with. So I told her some stories of my past. I actually have more street cred than most people realize... I probably told her more than I should've, but it's too late now. It sucks that she doesn't want anything to do with me now. I'm glad the dog loves me... Whatever.

The voices are telling her to hurt me again. Hopefully medication will make them go away. Geodon is a really effective antipsychotic used for both bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, so it would cover her with without the weight gain of like, every other antipsychotic. She has already been labeled "obese" by her Dr, but I think all that is just bullshit.

That homework from my therapist was supposed to cover both good and bad and after reading it, I've come to the conclusion that there hasn't been much good. So where's my fucking sunshiny rainbow?? What the fuck? Oh well I guess. Some people have it worse.

Speaking of which, it really pisses me off that there are people dying of curable illnesses, they way diamonds are obtained, world hunger, the failed pile of shit they call the drug war, hatred everywhere, animal abuse including the way they're "farmed", there's a bunch more. I wish I could fix it all. But sometimes I feel like I can't even fix me. Therapy helps a lot. It's amazing what having someone to listen can do.

I'm sore from that fall. I think I might've partially dislocated my knee. Oh well. It's the bad one anyway. For sure, I'll have some bruises tomorrow. I've lost 15lbs in the week or so I've been on geodon. I'm now only about 25lbs over a good weight. It certainly looks better. I hope I don't plateau before I hit the target. For fuck's sake, I'm not even tired. This is the part that sucks, taking an hour nap in the afternoon instead of sleeping at night.

The fish tank still needs adjusting. I can't believe a piranha is surviving that shit. I need to take care of that like yesterday.

I have the munchies,but I'm not actually hungry. Boring.

This whole rant has been boring. Sorry not sorry.

My therapist wants a timeline

1982 - born. Anaphylactic reaction to penicillin was discovered.

1984 - fled father's drughouse in portland after Dr said someone was probably sexually abusing me.

1986 - discovered mom's drug use (cocaine at the time), moved somewhere and kept moving every six months until we got to lake tapps (in 05)

1987 - got my first guitar, male babysitter sexually abused me, joined girl scouts (don't remember leaving??)

1989 - kicked a dude's ass for trying to rape my mom (nuts, then cast iron skillet)

somewhere between 88 and 92 I was sexually abused by my mom's dad, probably for a while. I don't remember.

1990 - mom met her life long best friend. sister was born and I took care of her at night while mom slept because her dad was in jail (she didn't know I was taking care of her) lived in buried off ambaumb.

1992 - broke wrist saving a little girl from falling into concrete in icy weather lived in east hill in Kent.

1993 - started smoking, weed too.

1994 - psycho grandma broke a chair over my back, dislocating my shoulder. worked with another 12 year old to run a babysitting business (started paying rent) then was a live in nanny for several months (for a prostitute) Was often scared in our neighborhood because I was one of the only white kids. Got caught shoplifting (at the same exact store my mother and uncle did at roughly the same age) because I was sitting in the middle of the aisle with my friend eating their candy. was kicked out of gym class for cutting. Mom took me to a psychiatrist, who I wouldn't talk to because he was rude. He put me on Prozac, which made me psychotic. then I sold it.

93-01 experimented with many drugs

1995 to 1996 -got my first electric guitar and some lessons, moved to federal way, got expelled, got caught shoplifting (cigarettes, mostly) again, this time because I didn't care. Again. got a lifetime ban from that Fred Meyer hahaha

moved to federal way into a place with bullet holes in the door, mom got married, baby brother was born, took care of him at night so mom could sleep (she didn't know). got expelled, started dating a guy who quit high school and was working full time at pizza hut

sent to Truman, got expelled

kicked out of home by mom's husband. Crashed with "friends" for a few weeks, then stayed on the streets. Mostly u-dist, sometimes downtown by yesler with the other homeless people. Sold drugs to eat. There are vents on the street there that let off heat, so I slept above them in a black garbage bag someone gave me during the cold months, got hassled by cops a lot (still do)

1997 - moved in with psycho grandma, who kicked my ass a lot. Called cops on her once and she convinced them I was just a brat trying to get her in trouble and caused all the bruises myself

1997 - started dating abusive asshole who beat and raped me regularly

1998 - first job, was immediately promoted to management, moved in with him and got engaged to him

Late 1999 - mom helped me escape and got me into a place where the landlord didn't care that I was underage. Lived in Seattle on my own, working 60 hrs a week
Briefly dated (kinda) a nice guy who was premed, then dated a woman afterward. I think she was a nice person with a lot of issues. we stopped talking to my mom's dad when my sister spoke out about him sexually abusing her (i never did).

2000 - let my then abusive girlfriend live with me, then fled to Kent with a friend who kept in contact with her (also leaving my job behind), dated some random guy for a few months (found out later that he had a kid and the mom had a restraining order against him because he beat her, but I could've taken him in a fight), moved back in with my psycho grandma, worked at dennys and godfathers to pay rent at psycho's house

2001 - got my ged, met daughter's dad (at work), got pregnant, got engaged. Put on bed rest due to pregnancy complications. Grandma decided she didn't want to work anymore, so we moved in with my mom and her asshole husband. Watched my little brother after school. Got attacked by psycho grandma, and moved into daughter's dad's mom's house with him. She was terminally ill

2002 - daughter's paternal grandma died. child was born! (two weeks later), delivery was terribly complicated, literally broke parts of my back

2003 - diagnosed with thyroid cancer and went through treatment and my mom went through interferon treatment alongside my cancer treatment until 2004
State denied to pay for my cancer treatment, so the Seattle Indian health board did it. I owe them my life.

2003 - lived with a psycho bitch for a  few months who eventually came to my mom's house and threatened my life because I was spending more time with my mom than I was her, had to wean my daughter cold turkey so I could start cancer treatment, daughter's dad tried to sign his rights away but I was an idiot and talked him out of it

2004 - worked at safeway, (stayed w safeway for two years before being bullied out of my job).

2005 - got first driver's license & car

2006 - finally ended ridiculous engagement with daughter's dad because we only heard from him once a month, he didn't want her, and he wasn't helping at all, started college for the first time (with a 6th grade education), my mom got divorced (after 10 years of marriage) and bought a house with an asshole

2006 - moved in with alcoholic abusive asshole who hit and raped me regularly... Paid all the bills alone. Douche. Uh... Was diagnosed bipolar during acute a mania and put on seroquel. It made my head foggy. Did some illegal stuff... started college again at a (different) school in Tacoma for something I wasn't that interested in, cops were constantly harassing me. guilty by association, I guess. Daughter had to sleep in the living room because there was constantly gunfire (gang related) on the street facing the bedroom window

2007 - fled that guy (he stalked me for 3 years after), leaving with no coat, no shoes, no bra, literally fought my way out with my daughter. this was after I paid 3 months of his bills to help him get back on his feet. He couldn't get a job because he was constantly drunk. Continued school even though attacker decided to attend the same school (since I'd fixed his outstanding student loans. I also paid his child support for him because I'm stupid), moved back in with mom and her fuckface boyfriend who treated everyone (including her) like shit.
Between 06 and 07 was in four car accidents, three with me as the driver, all injuring me, one I caused on purpose in 06 because dude wouldn't let me merge. I felt bad on impact and apologized profusely. My insurance reimbursed him and I saw him a few months later in an even better truck. I was happy for him, and sorry for the bullshit I caused him

2008 - finished program, but didn't have a chance to complete the math to graduate (needed a year, but was maxed out in child care hours for the program alone), got a job as a chemist in Redmond somehow, moved to Mountlake terrace, then Duvall.

2009 - brothers dad died on Halloween, psycho grandma was put into a home due to dementia and other psychosis

2010 - daughter jumped off a ten foot concrete wall onto more concrete, landing head first and missed her birthday party. great grandmother died 6 months after becoming totally paralyzed and unable to speak due to a massive stroke. I had been driving to portland every weekend to see her, lost my chemist job because my daughter had fucking pertussis (so did I, we think former step dad might have too, but his family refused an autopsy because they're idiots)

2011 - started an unsuccessful cleaning business, while attending yet another college full time. Worked in L.A. for a while for a guy I was engaged to. He was an ass. He screamed at my sister the first time he talked to her, not even letting her speak. I ended things immediately, and changed my locks because he was stalking me. couldn't afford my apartment anymore so my mom bailed me out of my lease and I came to live with her, got cna cert (paid for it myself with ui benefits, also paid rent, as I had since age 12), got a job at a healthcare center. started dating a guy at work, who turned out to be a horrible person (i knew that, I was hoping he'd change, in fact, I knew with all of them). I was "with him" kinda for about 6 months.

2012 - moved here, after mom discovered stupid fuckface was cheating on her (for years, apparently. they were together 10). That guy is a complete narcissist. started dating another guy at work, who was a great person, but regarded me as an option. I went in meds after he talked me out of killing myself for the billionth time during the same mixed state. I only saw him once a month. We were together two years

2013 - left job because of horrendous working conditions made worse by narcissistic ex. he told everyone we never dated and that I was just a psycho stalker. he's still with the girl he was cheating on me with. went back to school again. managed to work out all issues my mother and I had

2014 - mom died. crushed me. did NOTHING for a year. found out mom's dad is dying of cancer. good for him. no one cares. met my dad's side of the family. they seem nice.

2015 - guy I was dating stopped talking to me a few days before my birthday. got a new job as a peer counselor and here we are. the rest I don't remember. Oh yeah, I worked full time during all of this (age 12- now), except the 5 months during pregnancy (when I watched my brother to save mom money on childcare) and the 18 months I was breastfeeding my daughter, and briefly was on unemployment while running two business and going to school.

Past shit

It occurred to me that this would make more sense as one, living document. That way I can keep track of all my stories. I don't really have anyone to tell them to, so this is all the more important, especially with the way my memory is becoming. So I'll just add bits and pieces as they come to me. 

It wasn't always perfect... I was born to a 17 year old mother, who grew up immersed in abuse and neglect. She'd raised her brother in the best way that she knew how, though her knowledge was limited. She had no positive role models until after I was born.

Her mother was a manic depressive pill popper, swallowing every drug that came her way, save for the lithium she was prescribed, because it made her "fat". She never weighed more than 150 and was 5'6" with a thick frame... She was bulimic, she was abusive, she stole other people's pills, her depressive episodes left her lying in bed alone in the dark swilling Nyquil or nearly overdosing on barbiturates. Her manic episodes were punctuated by fits of rage that caused her to intentionally wreck cars... She constantly threw things... Her thought process was heavily skewed, and often literally psychotic. My mother was constantly taking care of her, performing CPR and first aid and making sure she was still breathing, and calling 911 when she was unresponsive... She was in a terrible marriage to my mother's father, who spent most nights wrapped up in the legs of other women. He was accused of molesting children repeatedly, and they often moved to avoid scrutiny, but the accusations persisted. Her friends would pass on information that she'd dissociate quickly... He was rarely home, and was a hardcore alcoholic.

My mother was abused for her entire life, until the last two years of it. She couldn't remember most of her life, likely because it was too hard to think about. She went to Catholic school in the 70s, when they still used corporal punishment... All she could remember If that was pain, suffering, and a lot of hail marys.

Her parents divorced for obvious reasons when she was relatively young. My uncle must've been about 6 or 7, so she'd have been 12 or 13, but I'm guessing... She was shuffled back and forth between the two homes, because neither parent wanted the responsibility of taking care of them. The only semblance of normalcy she ever saw was a long term relationship between my grandmother and a woman named Harriet. That was the only time she ever felt like she was part of a real family. They went on outings as a family, they ate dinners together, they got to be on swim teams and did all that other shit I'm not even familiar with... The catch was that Harriet hit my grandmother. She was terrible to her. So, it didn't last.

More shuffling... My grandmother went to Disneyland without her and brought her back a fucking pair of ears. And for some reason people don't understand why I don't visit her as often as I should. She was incredibly selfish, and now she might be in there somewhere, but she doesn't know who the hell I am, though that's probably a good thing. She hated me... Anyway...

Her father took her to Hawaii once, mainly to impress the woman he also took. She took amazing pictures of Maui sunsets and endless coastline... But the woman's daughter stole them, and left her with her crappy ones. That week was still one of the happiest she ever had. Maui was her favorite place on earth.

When she hit about 14 or 15, she got into drugs. Hard drugs. My mother was a meth addict by the time she was 16 years old. She met my father sometime around then... He was into heroin. He was an addict. He got her into heroin. She quickly fell into a deep addiction. And who can blame her? Or him? Heroin is the best feeling on earth... I don't know his back story, but I know that I was likely conceived without consent, and my only memory of him was watching him hit her so hard he knocked her into a wall. When I was shown a picture of him at age 3 I ran away screaming and crying. I remember it. I had no recollection of who he was but I was scared to death. I shouldn't let the Wilsons read this...

My mother moved back in with my grandmother when she found out she was pregnant, luckily sometime in the first trimester (or I would've really been a drug baby). She took care of herself, and took care to ensure that I'd be born healthy. She even quit smoking. After I was born, we moved somewhere in Portland with my dad. His house was the drug house of the area at the time. People would drop by just to shoot up and leave. He sold, he used, they sold, they used. Many drugs were involved. Mostly heroin and meth.

When I was about a year and a half, my mother looked around one day and thought she didn't want this for her child. Later that night, my father beat her ass again. She waited until he fell into a heroin induced slumber and took off with me. She ran to my great grandmother and great grandfather's house. They took good care of us, but my mother was having trouble detoxing and kept going back to it, stealing from her family to support her habit. When the cops showed up one day, she knew... So she dropped my little baby ass off at the neighbor's house and was arrested, tried and convicted of larceny. She spent only one night in jail, while I was at the neighbor's house. I don't know who posted bail. Probably my great grandmother. She was sentenced with community service and probation because she'd never been in trouble before. The scheme that landed her there was cooked up by my father and his sister. It was for writing bad checks, mostly from her own account. They convinced her to do this herself because she'd get in less trouble.

Eventually, we moved in with my grandmother, psychotic as ever... My mother cleaned up, for a while. My grandmother did not. Eventually, they were sharing pills. She'd get pissed about something stupid and start hitting my mother. Eventually, she'd get sick of it and we'd move out, but she couldn't make enough to scrape by, and she was in and out of drugs for the entirety of my childhood (i was on the streets at 14, as far as I'm concerned, my childhood ended there).

I remember being about 5 when I woke up in the middle of the night and went to the bathroom and found a line of coke with a razor blade on a small mirror waiting for someone... It was loud, but when I was discovered, I was quickly ushered back to bed. I don't think I even had a chance to wash my hands.

There were times that she was clean and available, and it was wonderful... She was a fantastic mom when she was there. She really struggled with drugs though. She'd be clean for a couple years, and then she'd meet some stupid boy and it would start all over again.

When I was 8, my mother got pregnant with my sister. Her father was arrested for driving drunk on a suspended license for the umpteenth time, so he was in a while. While he was gone, I caught her crying over a teddy bear he'd given her that sang "you are my sunshine". She didn't see me. I still cry whenever I hear that song. I couldn't stand to see her in so much pain. We were on welfare and food stamps for all of my childhood.

After my sister was born, my mother took a little bit of time off to breastfeed, but didn't get long. She went back to work, and picked up a second job to pay the bills, since it was just us again. She'd often be so tired that I'd wake up to my sister's crying before she did. Knowing how tired she was, I'd get up, change her, make a bottle, and take her to bed with me. Her diary says that I always wanted her to sleep in my bed. I don't think she realized why.

Something would always happen though. My sister's dad was released, and we got a bigger apartment, and he promised that this time, things would be different. We lived there for three weeks before he was arrested again. We moved. I don't remember where. A lot of it is a blur. I remember always hating when she had a boyfriend. At the time, I thought I was just being selfish and not wanting to share her, but now I realize it likely had more to do with feeling abandoned because she was either partying with him (whoever he was) or working. I didn't see her much when there was a guy around. We moved roughly every six months.

When I was 11, we lived in burien and I finally had something set up for myself. I had a great teacher, I was playing soccer at school every day, and really wanted to get on a team. I was a seriously fucked up kid though. When I first started at that school, I was bullied for cross dressing, but that didn't last long.  We lived in the same building as my mother's best friend and her child and then boyfriend. I loved that girl, but one day I played too rough and got too mean and she never looked at me the same way again. She still doesn't seem to like me. One day when I was watching my sister, she wanted to pick cherries off the tree above mom's car. I put her up there and then got distracted by the boyfriend's niece, who I thought was cool. My sister fell off the roof of the car and had a huge gash going all the way up her thigh. I sent someone to get my mother while I checked her out. My mom was pissed.

We moved again. This time back to Kent. Goddamn I hate that place still. I would burn it to the ground if I could. I started drinking, smoking cigarettes and weed. I was 12 the first time I tried meth (in Kent), 13 when I started having sex (we lived in federal way in a townhouse with bullet holes in the door), and 14 when I started doing heroin. My mother had gotten married to a man who had gotten her pregnant again by this point. Wait, I think I was 13 when that happened... I don't remember. Anyway...

Her husband hated me. Sometime in 7th grade back in Kent I managed to score so high on my academic tests that they decided to test my iq. Then I didn't have to attend any classes but math. The rest of the time, I graded papers for upper classes. It was fucking boring, and I did it in 7th and 8th grade. I was expelled from both schools for things like selling drugs, setting shit on fire, egging people's offices... Etc. I was fucking bored. I got caught shoplifting a few times on purpose, because I didn't care.

Back to 1996. He *hated* me. He was a long haul truck driver, so it worked for a little while. My mother suffered from extreme post partum depression, so when my brother woke up at night, I took care of him without her ever knowing. I started sleeping through math class (8th grade). I felt like I couldn't take it anymore. Her husband came home and told me to get the Fuck out for some reason or another, so I left. When he left, I came back. My mother asked him to start doing in town trips - whatever the fuck that's called... I'm tired and I don't remember. He stopped doing long haul and I was fucked. He was beating my sister and I couldn't do anything. I stuck up for her, but he kept kicking me out. The only other place I could go was my psychotic grandmother's house. She broke a chair over my back when I was 12 and that was not an isolated incident. So I crashed at a friend's for a while. I did a lot of drugs, particularly heroin.

I almost overdosed one day. I think that was the first time, because someone else shot me up. My mom carried me home while pregnant somehow. She put me in a cold ass shower and said don't you fucking fall asleep. She seemed terrified I'd die. I remember her calling someone while I laid there, fully clothed under icy water. Then I remember nothing until the next day.

I wasn't supposed to stay there, and the friend's house wanted rent?? Wtf?? From a 14 year old?? Anyway... I took a bus to Seattle and hung out, strung out on the ave. I didn't ask for money, at least not without a knife, but people willingly gave it to me. I can't remember what I did with it. I was cute, so drugs were usually free, and I sure as shit wasn't eating. Probably cigarettes. I lived on the streets of Seattle for a year before finally giving up and moving back in with my grandmother.

As I expected, she was HORRIBLY abusive. I walked 10 miles a day just to be out of her house. Then she started working 16 hour days, so I was only gone half the time. If I forgot to do the dishes, I'd come home to find my shit all over the grass outside her 2nd floor apartment.

Ah jesus this is long and I'm tired.

Growing up

As I was growing up, I lived in a gang ridden cesspool... Several, actually... We moved a lot. Being tough was the most important thing in the world.

As a small child, I always dreamt of going to college in the big city and making a real life for myself... Doing something positive for the world. I had no idea what I wanted to study, or any concept of what happens after college, I just knew I wanted to go. I wanted to learn something, and I wasn't learning anything at school.

As my teen years came screeching into the picture, I lost sight of those goals. I was disillusioned with the pathetic offerings of the local public schools, and too bored by the curriculum to bother attending. I got in trouble. I got expelled a few times. I remember playing a game with friends as a teen where we'd punch each other or do other intimidating things to one another and whoever flinched lost the game.

By the time I was 16, I was a junior high dropout. But I no longer wanted to live that rough lifestyle. I was in the city (a small city, disappointing eventually) and working around 60 hours a week to support myself. I was a good kid, and a good assistant manager of the restaurant I worked at. At least mostly. I made some ghetto kid mistakes, but overall, my intentions were good.

I have animals all over me demanding my undivided attention RIGHT NOW. Maybe a little bit of the story will come later.

3/16/15

I've decided to start writing my story. I think it's important to get it out there, especially since at some point, I will likely forget it. Dementia runs in my family, and probably skips generations.

My mother had me when she was 17 years old. She had been living in Sheridan with my great grandmother when she met my father, who was a heroin addict. As soon as she found out she was pregnant with me, she quit everything, including smoking. I don't even think she drank coffee. She was very careful while she was pregnant with me. She always was a worrier. After a long pregnancy, she gave birth to me in Seattle, on capitol hill, during a freak snowstorm in March.

After I was born, she somehow ended up in Portland with my father again. We lived in a drug house until I was a year and a half, when she fled late one night because my father was abusive and she didn't want me exposed to him or his drug problems. She quit everything again... She tried to live a better life for me. Between there and five or six, I really have no idea. I wish I could ask her. I do know, however, that she was loving and attentive. Somehow, she still had a great deal of regrets about my childhood. I always knew she loved me. There are lot of chunks of my childhood that I can't remember. I remember being 3 or 4 when she taught me how to read. I read everything I could find. I was a gifted child.

I remember watching Bob Ross with my mother, and trying to paint alongside him. I remember playing with that weird bubble stuff that was around in the 80s. I wonder what happened to that stuff... It came with a straw, and you'd blow bubbles in it.

Anyway... I remember being in kindergarten. I was friends with this boy, he was the only black boy in my school, now that I think of it. We got along really well for the first half of the year. We lived in Kent at the time. Then one day, I was playing with him with scissors in class and I accidentally cut the sleeve of his shirt, just a little cut... He was so angry with me that he started yelling at me in the middle of class. I felt so bad that I cried in front of everyone. He stopped being my friend after that. I was also friends with a girl who was in girl scouts with me. Her name was Jessica. Her mother was very strict, and used to hit her with a paddle. My mother and I felt terrible for her. This was in 1987. We moved once or twice that year, I don't remember... Jessica and I were fast friends. We mostly got along, but we had terrible fights, and often wouldn't speak for days. Nevertheless, I remained friends with her for much of my childhood, even through MANY moves. My mother couldn't stay in one place long. She was restless.

I remember one guy she dated who was completely psycho. I woke up to the sound of her screaming one night and found him trying to rape her in the living room. I hit him. I don't remember how or where, I think maybe with a pan? but he didn't dare hit me back. After that, my mother for rid of him, and then we moved. It was harder to keep Jessica around then because we had been living in the same apartments as her. I remember playing in the sandbox with her, and finding cat poop a lot. Before we moved, we fed all the neighborhood cats. My mother was always an animal person. Anyway, I can't remember where we moved after that, but Jessica and I were in girl scouts together, so I still saw her. My mother would often transport us both to scout meetings. Jessica's mother was strange. I remember she made the starchiest tasting macaroni and cheese, and made Jessica clean her plate. I had a major appetite, so I never had any problems with that while I was there. One night during a sleepover, Jessica got in trouble for being too loud or something and got paddled. When I saw what was going on, her mother threatened, " you're next". She didn't hit me, but after that, I didn't stay over there anymore. I told my mother everything, at least almost.

Another set of people my mother knew... Laurie and her crazy husband... They had a son named Ryan who wet the bed. He would talk me into playing Dr during the night. I was not comfortable with what was happening at ALL, but I didn't think I could stop him. So I let it continue. I'm not sure when I told my mother what was happening, but we stopped hanging out with them when I did. Before we stopped hanging out with them, they would take us camping. I always had problems around smoke, and would cough so bad I threw up. I now realize this was asthma. We would make smores and hot dogs, which was awesome. I actually had fun, other than the coughing. My mother did not remember these trips when I asked her about them last year.

When I was 7 or 8, my mother started dating my sister's father. He is crazy, or at least a sociopath. We lived with him at this place in Kent for a few months (that apartment later fell down the side of the hill it was on in a landslide), but he got arrested, leaving my mother all alone to pay the bills. She worked two jobs. One of my clearest memories from that time was this: she had a bear that he bought her that sang "you are my sunshine". She was sitting on her bed holding it one night, and bawling her eyes out. I was crushed to see her so sad, and I still cry for her every time I hear that song, even more so now that she's gone. I never did find out why she was crying, or even tell her that I saw her. I just remember crying for hours because she was so sad... All I ever wanted was for her to be happy.

This is making me cry and I have to wake up soon, so I'm going to stop now. But I will write more memories soon.

Life, I guess...

There is a profound sense of loneliness when you lose the kind of closeness that most people never find. I understand now, why my great grandmother would sit at her end of the table and burst into tears looking at the empty chair facing her. When your life is so entwined with another's that you can read each other's thoughts... I don't mean you can guys, or you can read their facial expressions... Far beyond that. When you can actually hear their thoughts in your own mind and converse that way... Most people never achieve that kind of closeness with another human. Even your dog requires visual cues.

I'm grateful that I once had that... That I experienced it, and that I know it's possible... But it's a gaping hole. Like half of you is just gone. I know we're all supposed to be while on our own and all that bullshit, but this is a voluntary sort of I'm whole, but here is half of me... It's a trade of soul parts of sorts. And it leaves an indelible mark on your soul. You are shaken until your whole is gone and all that remains is tiny crumbles, flour. You become weary, more so than before... If you thought it was all a putrid pile of wreckage before, you're in for a serious wake up call, because that thing - that connection... It was probably all you had. I don't believe it's possible to connect so fully and completely with one person when your mind is filled with the noises and static of so many others... Maybe you can connect thus way with a few at a time, but certainly not a large group. The clarity of a quiet mind is required to create such a level of connectedness... It is nirvana... The ultimate relationship, sailing together as one, into the sunset, drifting away from the rest of the world without concern.

It's possible... It's real... It happens... And it kills when it ends.

Horse and dog dream.

I just had a weird dream. My neighbor was helping me with mom's car and a cat that wanders our yard was walking around and he shot it with a bb gun or something. Then it turned into the cutest little dog and I was like wtf? I told him I loved that dog and how could he? I kicked him in the nuts. After a day or so, the dog's side was totally open like Sage's was that one time when he filletd himself on the fence and i decided I was gonna take him to the vet but I was pretty much broke. my account balance was accurate as of today. My best friend appeared, and helped with like $300, and the neighbor gave me $200 something because he felt bad and I came up with the rest, got the dog fixed up and brought him home. Then, there were these wild horses that were visiting me through a broken spot in my fence and they were around like forever. Then one day they just weren't. A few days later, I noticed them in another yard, just laying down. I called them over and they came to me. A little while later, some scary neanderthal looking bitches came over and threatened me and my best friend and pushed us around. Thankfully, my daughter was in her room. I pushed back, but they were like rocks. They said the horses were theirs now, and they didn't want me around and I should move. Me and the neighbor and my best friend tried to figure out how they got up to my back door and saw a slight weakness between two locked fences. We thought that was how they got in. We could barely move it. Then I noticed the huge hole in the fence where the horses came through and went that's probably how they're getting in. I wanted to build the horses a stable and fix the fence. The yard was huge, so I could fit one. I looked at places to put it, and then I noticed that part of my wall outside the house was the front of a barn door. The neighbor said we could make it into a little barn for them, and taught me how to scoop the poop out and stuff. We all started building it. And then I woke up.

Weird. I don't know what else to say.

It's weird to feel so sedate, yet so anxious at the same time... My thoughts have kind of slowed, but not all the way. I find myself staring off into space frequently, getting lost in cartoons, getting lost in thought. Some thoughts are jumpy... Incomplete and adhd style. Others in clear hyperfocus.

I feel something gross in my stomach, tense muscles and breathing, great rate acceleration, a jumpy feeling and my skin crawling. However, I'm glued to the couch, unable to do anything.

There are moments of lucidity, generally when the thoughts are interrupted by outside stimuli... They don't last long. Soon, the fuzzy feeling takes over again. The fuzzy feeling is better than the irritability and shaky, jittery feeling that came before it.

I don't know what else. Lost. Lost. Lost.

Sleeping

I don't know why sleep has been so elusive lately... I fall asleep, and wake up every couple of hours. I have no idea what's waking me up. I just know I'm tired all the time and it takes 12 hours to get a decent amount of sleep. It's getting really frustrating. I can't get anything done.

I guess it is ok because because each time I wake up, I get to see my kid. She's sleeping funny too. I guess she didn't get any sleep at her dad's. No surprise there. There's a lot going on there, and nobody there really sleeps much. They each get a few hours a night, and often at different times. I still don't understand why they don't believe in schedules. Children need some form of structure, especially when they have to get up for school in the morning.

Sorry about the boring post... It's hard to think of something interesting at 5 am.

We have this guy at work... The first night he arrived, he was literally climbing up the walls trying to get out. First, we found him outside doing sit ups on a tiny pipe up by the ceiling. Thigh impressive, we were afraid he'd hurt himself, so we went to stop him, but then he dropped straight into his ass. He was fine.

Next, he bent our outside gate so far that he got out... Almost all staff came out and ran after him. Someone convinced him to come back inside. He came, begrudgingly... He paced around the the common areas for a couple of hours ranting about being in jail (we're not a jail). Then, he was found climbing a high wall (like 8") up to a window, which he then tried to open. Again, we had to talk him down. That made for a very interesting shift.

He's a very sweet kid, who is unfortunately very ill. He opened up to us over the next couple of days, with small amounts of antipsychotics and told us that the voices in his head were so intense... Coupled with the outside noise, he just couldn't take it. His mother was upset about something and was in his face bothering him to do something and he threatened her with a knife. He confessed this while coming very close to tears.

Later, we were talking about my daughter hearing voices and he spent around twenty minutes explaining to me that just like him, the federal government was using the voices to torture her and ruin her life. He asked me to promise that no matter what she did to please not kick her up, because being with us has been a traumatic and depressing experience. Sometimes, he thinks the government is controlling his thoughts and other times, he is depressed and remorseful... I feel so bad for this poor kid. I don't know what I would've done in his mother's shoes, especially since schizophrenia often comes on very suddenly, but he is very clearly suffering. Right now, they have him on 2 mg of risperdal, which wasn't even enough to prevent me from seeing things, and I'm not schizophrenic... The first line of defense with schizophrenia is normally something a little more hardcore, like Zyprexa. I hate seeing him suffer the way he is. I hope they change his meds soon. I've never even heard if using risperdal for schizophrenia...

Anyway, I need to go find my child.

Where am I?

I often disappear from everyone. I've written about this before, but I'll go more in-depth today as I'm doing it now. I get into these mental states where I just don't know how to respond to anything. It's like my brain's on vacation on fucking Pluto. I can't gather my thoughts well enough to participate in a real conversation, and if I do respond, the most likely answer will be "i don't know". And that's because I don't. I probably don't have a fucking clue what we're talking about, even on a surface level.

I have recently exposed myself as the owner if this blog to a couple of select people, and if you're reading this and I'm not saying anything, this might be why.

I feel panicky and spaced out at the same time. I don't really know how to say it so I'll just start throwing words around...

I am trembling right now, especially since I'm considering who may read these words... My brain is full of stuffing... Like from a stuffed animal. Parts of it actually hurt. Just a little bit. Like there's overactivity or something... It feels like electricity. I feel like an electronic stuffed animal. I'm not real, I'm not really here, and I am unsure of how to effectively process and respond to incoming stimuli.
I feel like I'm wandering through a dense fog... It's night time, and I'm alone in the woods... I can't see much of anything, it's very cold and so, so dark... The wind is making strange noises... Or at least, I think it's the wind? I'm terrified that it isn't.
I feel frozen. And freezing, and I do not mean that literally, even though it's cold in here.

Numb? Maybe? I don't know.

Toxicity of my brain

I'm having another one of those days where I'm afraid to talk to anybody because I might poison them. I don't feel like I'm in a dark mood or anything, I just feel like maybe I'm trying too hard to be in a good one.

I hate being depressed because there's a lot of selfishness embedded into it. If I could escape it, I would, but the darkness continues to suck me farther down into the black hole and toward oblivion...

I like it better when I can take away the pain of others, not subtly cause it. Mania, on the other hand, hijacks my sense of reason and reality entirely... I feel selfish for being mentally ill, but I logically know that it isn't my fault...

I'm trying to think of where I am when I'm in that healing place where I can relieve the weight from the shoulders of those around me. I have come to the conclusion that it almost always happens as soon as it's needed, regardless of my mental state. Even when I think others are plotting against me, if one of them needs a shoulder, suddenly mine works.

Ok, enough of that crap. I do a good job. Enough already. See? I'm in a mixed state right now, and I'm randomly experiencing every possible symptom from both cycles. I hate this. I try not to let illness define me, but I'm either manic, mixed, or depressed. There is no "normal". What is normal, anyway?

My thoughts were moving a lot faster than my hands were able to move for a while there... I honestly have no recollection of what I just wrote. Oh well.

Moving on, what was my point? Did I have one? Probably not... Is it making sense now? The reason I feel like I shouldn't be communicating with another person right now? It probably wouldn't work. I'm somewhere else. In my own puddle. Puddle of shit? Possibly. It's pretty dirty looking, that's all I know.

So I will spew my verbal vomit forth into the internet, because, well... Why not? Isn't that what humans do best? Spread poison everywhere? All kinds of poison. I wish I could fix the world. I watched the news today... Does it show?? A little bit?? War, famine, poverty, homelessness, starvation, dehydration, deforestation, the ozone holes, murder, rape, genital mutilation, gross crimes against humanity and human dignity, genocide, slavery, other humans dying of preventable illnesses because there's "no money" for prevention, extinction of species, stigma against sick people of all kinds - still... Have I left anything out? Yes. A whole lot. Those were just off the top of my head.

I can't go anymore.

Oh for fuck's sake...

I took my sleeping pill 2 hours ago and I'm still awake. I have to get up early tomorrow. I might just stay the fuck up. Why the Fuck does my phone always want to capitalize "fuck"?? Is it really that important? My hand is numb, my brain is full of noise and music and words and I don't know what the Fuck to do with myself. I might go drink tomorrow's ?? (Damnit if I haven't woken up yet, it's still yesterday or something to that effect) coffee... Coffee sounds fantastic! I wonder if emojiis will show up... Testing testing 🎶

Gears and fears and other people's beers.
Sanity is a carefully held illusion.
Let's see what happens when I write based on autocorrect. This could be interesting.

Fancy Nancy who feels so ansy...
Score one for me.
Vero is my hero.
Dos
Which witch is which? The one in a ditch?this is making me itch. What a bitch that witch was...
That was pretty good.
Sorry the story goes on and on and on like a defective bomb.

If you haven't guessed, the game is to blindly type the first word and let autocorrect do what it does, and then write from there. I had fun. Now I'm done.

Fuck. Loo. yeah that's what I meant, autocorrect. Thanks.
I have had significantly less caffeine today than usual. That might actually be why I can't sleep. Or maybe I need to get the Fuck off of this antidepressant.
I love creedence... I ain't no fortunate one, no...
My mother said my dad loved this song too. I wonder if he's alive sometimes... Not sure I care. Haven't seen him since I was a baby and my only memory of him was him slapping my mother so hard her head hit the wall.. that's it. I don't want to meet him.

Lean on me.. when you're not strong, blah blah blah. Pandora. Panda ora. panda orca. Orcas are beautiful. I can't slow the words, but my body is glued to the couch and I'm not happy. So fucking sad, so full of mental energy... I got hired on part time at the place I was on call. That's awesome. I can't believe they really think I'm good at something. Or that I'm even remotely stable.

Buffalo soldier, dreadlock Rasta...
Things and stuff and more blah blah. My brain is full of cotton. With a lot of tiny spiders in it. There crawling all over and whispering things in there. If you know your history... My sister is 1% African.
I'm Mostly Irish. That's a lot of capitals, Mr autocorrect. Ok then. Where was i? Somewhere about cotton. It feels like it's coming out of my ears. Like I'm a stuffed doll. Maybe that's why my body isn't moving. Because I am doll parts. Hahaha

Holy shitballs this is getting long. I don't think I care. At least I was nice enough not to make it a huge chunk of run on sentences this time. Youre welcome. I don't wanna hear this song, Pandora. Panda orca. Skip, skip, skip... Is what they called my sperm donor. That's a better song.

It is currently 3:00 in the fucking morning. I WAS sleeping 12 hours a day on the previous antipsychotic. I have to be somewhere at 11 because it's thanksfuckinggiving, which I hate for a variety of reasons. Happy fucksgiving everyone. I'm glad I have a friend to go to today. My mom and I used to bitch about the horrendous history of fucksgiving. We always hated it. She made enchiladas every year, I made cookies. I make the best fucking cookies. I can't cook worth a shit, but damn I can bake.

Ok, I think I'm going to go somewhere else now. Once again, thanks for reading my shit. I thoroughly enjoy taking verbal dumps. Thanks for caring.
~END TRANSMISSION~

? rant about nothing

I haven't seen my therapist in like a month and I've really been needing her... I've been working and sleeping. I sleep a lot. 12 hours per day, most days, thanks to my meds... I switched to a different antipsychotic though, so maybe it won't be as bad. So far, I'm a lot less tired, but a lot more overstimulated. I think that needs a hyphen... Oh well. Fuck I hate commercials.

I don't think I had a point, really... I think I just have something to say, and I don't know what it is yet. We'll see. I'll be as surprised as you are. Everyone is too busy for me. I need the time alone anyway, I guess... I'm so godamn sad. That's all i can think to say. My brain is full of half thoughts today. I feel like it's a jumbled, boring mess.

I'm just sad. The dog is awesome. I'm irritated. And I can't sleep. See, boring, barely complete thoughts.

I will take a sleeping pill and it will carry me away into a drugged, heavy slumber, with strange dreams. I had a sleep walking incident a couple days ago... That was weird. I can't wait to slip into a half coma type state... I love sleep. It's like a mini death. Relief from daily life. My dreams are often entertaining, too. I've been asking other people about their dreams, and telling them about mine... Most people dream of only a few things, I dream about something doesn't every day. Often, it's about daily life with some metaphors and symbols about deeper things... Sometimes they're vivid, other times, I dream in gray with one color. It's usually red or blue.

Dreams are interesting to me... I'd like to learn more about what they mean. Mine are often fairly obvious. Other times not so much. I think the tacos were me not knowing how to live without my mother, considering the fact that I kept asking her how to make them and then she vanished.

Self-medicating with television and weed will only get you so far... Eventually, I have to face reality in all its absolute horror. I know that so many have things worse, and that the world is a fucked up place... It keeps me up at night. That's part of the horror. I can't watch the news. If there was a god, I can't imagine they'd allow the kind of suffering that this planet carries daily... Still, I'd like to think there is something after death. Otherwise, we all went through hell for nothing. My theory has always been that we are currently in hell. Where we go when we're done here, I have no idea... I believe in reincarnation. I believe I've seen a few too many lifetimes.  My soul has been exhausted for some time.

Do you believe that music can save your mortal soul? I believe it can while you're on this hell called earth, life, existence... After that, I don't know. But I can't wait to find out. I hope my dreams have shown me a few glimpses, because what I've seen is immeasurable love and light. A utopia. My phone almost never guesses what I'm going to say.

I think this is long enough for a pointless ramble. Maybe the sleeping pill will inspire something more interesting.

Obituary

I meant to have your obituary in the paper for today. I finally wrote it. It took me nearly a year to find the right words, and I'm still not sure I was quite able to articulate them. I did the best I could though, and i guess that's really the best I can do. That's what's on my mind today.

My kitties are cuddling and it's very cute. I'm learning more about the issues that center around the mental health system... I knew of some of them already... Jaded and irritable providers, very little funding, massive stigma, etc. This, I knew about.

What I was not aware of, however, was the entire population of people who end up under court orders in inpatient facilities and other programs. Many of these people are homeless and simply found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, and didn't quite have the coping skills to escape. Our maybe it was resources they lacked, or they were victims of circumstance. Very few of the people I see are violent offenders of any kind. They just don't have good support systems. And when they're released, they're often released to the streets. I hate this about this world. I hate the "it's not my problem" philosophy... I think that's one of the biggest sold the world is currently facing.

It's incredibly sad, for me, at least,too see people in situations I would've certainly been in had I lacked an adequate support system. It makes me wish I could take them all in, house them, offer them the opportunity to take care of their hygiene needs, help them find jobs and gain the support they need so desperately... I wish I could fix it all...

Small

I feel so small without you here
So lost and alone in the dark
This song is not worth your love or your beer
I wish I could think of something better to write
Everything I can think of right now sounds trite
There are no words to express this loss
This love, this closeness
Telepathic conversations, cheese sauce
I miss it all... I haven't shaped my brain around it
I feel like I'm wandering through a terrible dream
Life without you is nothing more than pointless shit

So far, this sucks.

The gambling ring

I had a dream that mom and I were working together in a small town grocery store. A couple that lived in our apartment  building asked us for a $1000 loan to start their own business. I was super against it, but mom really wanted to help them so I paid them and she paid me back. There was a whole debit vs credit card transaction made. Then they started their business and it was a game where children bought poker chips and placed bets with them. Teresa begged us to buy her a box before I figured out what it was and mom bought them for her. I said mom, you just got my child started gambling... And then the phone rang and woke me up.

Tacos and meds

I had a dream where I was trying to eat tacos. I was in a huge white kitchen and asking my mom how to make beam and cheese tacos. My daughter was there, and she was talking nonsense. I was frustrated because people kept interrupting me and asking for things and I hadn't had my meds yet, and people were distracting me so I couldn't get to them and I was having benzo withdrawal and a doctor told me it was no big deal and I said but I could die and he said that's ok and all of a sudden I was like 45 and had two grown kids and I was checking on them while they were brushing their teeth. I said I was just checking on you and they said too late...

Strangely alright

I'm sitting in a mental hospital, working an overnight shift. I'm tired, but jittery... Depressed, but spinning. My mother is gone, my sister is ?? my daughter is probably sleeping. It kills me to be without my mother, but in this moment, I'm strangely alright.

That phrase was borrowed from one of my patients.

Thought of the day

Having a child with the wrong man brings heartbreak over and over and over. Even after you two split up, he'll disappoint her, which will break your heart too. You'll make exciting weekend plans with her, and suddenly, he'll call and get her to change her mind so she goes with him instead. And that'll break your heart. You were looking forward to this weekend all week, and he just prances up and steals her. Heartbreak. The hours spent trying to explain why daddy isn't around. Heartbreak for you both.

It's just bad. All bad. If I knew then what I know now, I might not have a child... That's sad. But one thing's for sure, I wouldn't have a child with an occasional father.

More dreaming

This time, I dreamt that I was in charge of a major supermarket chain and decided to start delivery service. I asked all the managers what their costs would be too deliver, and what their profit margins looked like. They told me they could deliver for free without losing much profit, so I decided to undercut Safeway by pricing my delivery service at less than half their price.
That's all I remember.

Dream

I had a dream that I went back to my old college to pick up a transcript, and I had to talk to one of the counselors to get it. I have history with this counselor. She was there for me when I went through some really rough times. Anyway, when I met with her, she kept talking like I was going back to school. I tried to explain that I just needed the transcript for a job, but she wouldn't listen. She told me that my mother had "cleared some things up" for them and that they wouldn't help me with anything when I came back. I explained about my mother and told her I didn't have anybody to watch my daughter, and she was very rude. I think her face even changed, but I can't remember. I left with the transcript, ranting to myself on the way back to my mother's car (which I'm driving now). People were starting, but I didn't care.

In another dream, all I can remember is being really happy with my mother and my grandmother. My grandmother had her moments when she could be really fun (mostly she was abusive toward me and my mother, but sometimes she was a lot of fun). I remember something about dancing with her in a parka (over both of us) and telling her she was really fun. Then, it faded out and I remember thinking, "well that was a nice dream". Something else happened after that, but I can't remember what... I think I was crying.

Too much

It's all too much. There are too many thighs circling my head, too many things to remember, the to do list is too long... I am immobilized and incapable. Alone in a pile of rubble that used to be my life. Lonely, broken and sore, I stumble on. My tribe is gone... Disappeared into the nether. I don't know what to do, or even who I am. Or where I am. Is this real? Is life real? Is the universe real? What is life? What happens after you die? I know I can't wait to find out. Clarity is gone and I am in a dense fog.

Life goes on, sometimes

My best friend's mother was recently diagnosed cancer... The doctors can't figure it out. She will be having surgery, then chemo for the rest of her life. They said it isn't curable, but it is treatable. She has uterine cancer, and another type that they can't identify in her lungs. I love this woman. She was my work mom, while we still worked together. She is a universal mother. They are thinking that the type they found in her lungs is an incredibly rare one that my friend couldn't remember the name of. How strange that they found two different kinds. I am not really sure how to help my friend cope with this news, other than to not invade her time with her mother, and to help her stay busy... (She deals by keeping busy - that was her request). I am saddened by this news, and can only imagine what my friend must be feeling... Especially since her father just went into remission from lung cancer. Her sister is permanently disabled and currently unable to walk due to a military injury... One of the things we have in common is that our lives and families are buried in the ashes of tragedy... And yet, we go on. I'm really worried about her, and about her mother.

Letter to my mother

You weren't only my mother... You are my soul sister... The relationship that all others will be compared to, even though none will ever live up to it. I figured out why I have no interest in relationships... I figured out why my first instinct is to wear your ashes on my ring finger.

I don't wanna bother dating anyone who I can't connect to the way you and I were connected, even if that means I end up alone. That's a tall order, considering we shared dreams at times. Telepathy is hard to come by...

I have so many regrets when it comes to the time we spent together... Had I known how little time we had, there would've been less fighting, for sure... I always hated fighting with you. It only left us both feeling guilty, alienated and alone. We made up well though. A hug, two heartfelt I'm sorrys, and then we moved on. What do you want for dinner? I don't know... Whatever's easiest.

I miss you so much. That statement doesn't even begin to express how empty life is without you. Every accomplishment, every decision, everything I build or make or do... It feels like nothing because I can't share it with you. Nothing means anything anymore. I feel so lost...

I have to go to a jeweler to have everything ash holding soldered shut so we can wear it. And get the ring resized. Idk what happened there.

Quantum mechanics states that things that were once connected still are, and that everything is interconnected... I find this thought comforting, because it means we are still connected, even if only in some small way... But it doesn't compare to a Friday night on the couch watching tv with you. I love you, Mom.

To Mom/ a short letter

This is just things I'd be talking to you about if you were here. I have a job interview tomorrow. Lynn's helping me dress for it. I have a pretty good chance at getting the job, provided I wake up in time for the interview... It's part time and well paying. I also applied for a job as a peer counselor/mental health tech and they want me to schedule an interview, so I'll be doing that tomorrow, too. The home care one is mornings, which worries me... The other one is on call, so I'd have more flexibility in terms of hours, or so I hope. It's at a facility I've been treated at before.
I miss you so much... Kimii's at a trampled by turtles concert. Devil makes three played too. She's having a lot of fun. I need to go to sleep but I am too anxious about the interview.
I've been thinking a lot lately, and I think if I won millions of dollars, I would wanna be a counselor... So I might do that instead of respiratory therapy. It takes about the same amount of schooling and I might be able to do it online. I'd need one math class - Yuck! - and some more social science credits, and a couple pe credits. So no big deal. I do really well in social science classes, as you always knew...
I'm borrowing your jeans and shoes for the less formal interview. And your belt.
Somebody's texting me. And I gotta go to bed. But I love you, and I miss you.

Growing up

As I was growing up, I lived in a gang ridden cesspool... Several, actually... We moved a lot. Being tough was the most important thing in the world.

As a small child, I always dreamt of going to college in the big city and making a real life for myself... Doing something positive for the world. I had no idea what I wanted to study, or any concept of what happens after college, I just knew I wanted to go.

As my teen years came screeching into the picture, I lost sight of those goals. I was disillusioned with the pathetic offerings of the local public schools, and too bored by the curriculum to bother attending. I got in trouble. I got expelled a few times. I remember playing a game with friends as a teen where we'd punch each other or do other intimidating things to one another and whoever flinched lost the game.

By the time I was 16, I was a junior high dropout. But I no longer wanted to live that rough lifestyle. I was in the city (a small city, disappointing eventually) and working around 60 hours a week to support myself. I wad a good kid, and a good assistant manager of the restaurant I worked at. At least mostly. I made some ghetto kid mistakes, but overall, my intentions were good.

I have animals all over me demanding my undivided attention RIGHT NOW. Maybe a little bit of the story will come later.

Missing you today and every day

I still can't believe you're gone. It's been 9 months... I miss you every minute of every day. I take xanax and ativan to dull the piercing anguish of your absence... It helps distract me from the memories of finding you, and the memories of the autopsy photos I had to view because the county is incompetent... But it doesn't make me stop missing you. I don't think anything ever could. I don't know if there's a hole in my heart, or if it's completely destroyed... I believe it is shattered. I am trying to put the pieces back together, but don't know how without you. You were my glue... You were the only person who was always in my corner. No matter what, you were there. I feel completely destroyed by your absence. You made the world a safe and fun place for me, a place full of possibilities... Now everything seems pointless without you... You were the center of my life. What do you do when the center of your life, of your heart, suddenly drops out? The floor suddenly disintegrated out from under me... From all of us... I miss you so much I feel like I'm dying of heartache... I don't know what to do without you.

Absence

It looks like I haven't written in a while... I've been lost in the deep dark crevices of depression and haven't been able to crawl out. Strange, that's usually when I write the most.
Her absence is a sucking void that nothing fills. What was once a thriving, loving relationship between mother and child, and of two soul sisters is now gone. All that remains is emptiness. Life feels pointless, yet I must make many life altering decisions RIGHT NOW. Just to survive. I wish I could prosper like so many others do, but is not in my hand for now. Perhaps a move will bring in some better cards,along with the winds of remorse, regret and agony. I am stuck, and quickly running out of time and money to get "unstuck". I need a miracle. But there isn't one in my ass to pull out, and frankly, I don't have the momentum to attempt to create one. I feel drained and half dead. I miss her every second of every day. She was truly a major source of light to all those who knew her, and I how she can see that now. She was there for everyone, for everything, no questions asked. She was everyone's best friend. And she didn't even get a proper autopsy! I hate the medical examiners office.
She was the best person I ever knew, and I pray to no one that I'll someday be rejoined with her. She was my other half. She knew all my secrets, and I hers. She loved me anyway, and not just because she had to. My whole world revolved around her. My life is shattered, and is now comprised entirely of pointless bits of wreckage. Ask that is left of me is chunks of shrapnel from a bomb that missed it's mark completely.
I'm done. Goodnight.

Mood swings, I forgot, and strange substances

I tried Xhosa dream root last night. My dreams were as fuzzy as usual. I blame all the benzos. However, when I reached for my levothyroxine this morning, I had a sudden flashback of one of my dreams... In it, I was at my doctor's office. She wanted to pull a free T4 on me, which means she wanted to check my thyroid hormone levels. Due to horrendous suffering, I've taken my dose into my own hands, and I'm way over my recommended amount. They recommend I stay on the low side of normal, which leaves me with parched skin, thin hair, an extra 30 lbs, no motivation, no energy, muscle pain, joint pain, no appetite, brittle yet soft fingernails which break below the nail bed (ouch). In my dream, I was terrified that she'd find out I had tampered with my dose. I could feel the panic when I remembered the dream.

I took more dream root this morning, the recommended way... We'll see what happens tonight. Since I've been on it today (i took my dose in the early morning like you're supposed to), I've felt more upbeat, more energetic, and just generally happier. I could see myself taking this long term. At first, I noticed very slight hallucinogenic properties, but only very slight, and they went away quickly.

I'm trying to lose weight now because I am 30-40lbs overweight and can't stand it. My arthritis can't stand it either.

I'm done with this post. I'm tired and I'm going to bed now. Goodnight, interwebz.

6/18/14

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you're doing everything you're supposed to be doing, but in reality, you're sleeping through everything you're supposed to be doing?

I was supposed to meet my mother's best friend at the funeral home today to order a couple of small urns for my brother and sister. I was supposed to go to the store first, so I'd have coffee because I'm out. I dreamt that I was on the phone talking about all this with my mom's boyfriend. He and I talk a lot, but never in the daytime because he works during the day. I was lamenting about my utter hatred for grocery stores again, and he suggested I order from schwans because they deliver home cooked meals. He would never suggest that in real life. After I got off the phone with him, I went to the store and bought the coffee I was out of, made myself and my daughter a coffee, got ready and got in the car. Then, I woke up and it was 10:15. It took me 20 minutes to find my phone to call Lynn. I needed to leave by 10:30 in order to get there in time. She told me not to bother. I felt bad for disappointing her. My mother never would have.

Bills

I haven't paid the bills yet. I forgot where I put them. Probably I accidentally put them in the sad mail pile. I went through the sad mail pile the other day... I managed to clear out her junk mail. I couldn't get rid of her bank statement that showed all the transactions from the weeks before she died.

It's weird, but my mom was my soul mate. Not in the romantic sense... But I don't feel like I can be attracted to anyone romantically ever again... I don't know how those two things relate... The thought of sex repulses me right now, and has ever since. Of course, I met my needs for that with a man... He and I are no longer seeing each other. I don't feel a sense of loss about that, at least not a measurable one... When I realized we weren't seeing each other anymore, I felt a little relieved that I wouldn't be expected to "perform".

I crave the type of connection that I had with my mother, though... I doubt I'll find it anywhere ever again. We had a very special connection. The kind where you know each other so well, you literally experience telepathy. We could have a whole conversation without even the secret glances most people need. I could read her eyes, and she always knew what I was thinking. I remember a few times I was with her, I thought about something and she commented on it as though I had spoken to her about it. Half of me has died. Half of my memory, half of my laughter, half of my joy, my sadness, my heart... I still can't get through a single day without crying. I feel like I'm dying. I wish I was. I can't wait to find out what happens after we die, and I'd jump at the chance to see her again. We have fleeting moments, in dreams and in little signs... But it's not the same as sitting on the couch together watching the middle and lamenting about how lazy we'd become... I miss her so much. The other day I had a dream about someone (probably my mother) whose husband of 10 years had died, and I could feel that pain so strongly that I couldn't breathe. Just like I feel once a day... I tried to comfort her, but was in no position to do so. My mother's ex husband of around 10 years passed away in 2009. It was a crushing blow to her, and she suffered through her grief and remorse for years. I couldn't understand just how terrible it must've been on her until now. She was like my spouse, in so many ways... We were raising children together. We were inseparable... I go on and on about these facts, but I feel I can't overstate it. I cannot convey just how close we were... We were a kind of close most people will never experience. I'd still rather die than live without her.

Hard phone calls

Because they missed your tattoo... I had to call the medical examiner's office again and ask to see the autopsy pictures. They will send me a disc with pictures of you, dead... I asked what would be on the disc, trying to prepare myself... She said scene photos... I burst into tears as soon as she said that... It reminded me of the worst day ever... The day you died. My sister was having flashbacks every time she saw a camera flash for months. I still get them all the time. Every time I look at that spot on the floor where I gave you the unfortunately completely pointless half hour of CPR, I get a flashback... Every time I look at your bed when it's empty, I remember finding you there... Every time I look under it, I see the shoes you left at the neighbor's house the night before, and memories come flooding back... I still replay your last 24 hours, your last week, your last month... All the time. I miss you so much. Your birthday is coming up. I will be spending it in Maui, and I'll probably still cry. I should probably be spending that day with everyone, but I just can't.
We were all going to get together and have a Costco cake for you, I was the center of that circle... But I can't. So I backed out. I'm sorry. I will love you forever and always, Mom.

Today

I feel like I'm bursting out of my skin. I don't know if it's the antidepressant, the increase in my levothyroxine dose, or if I'm just going manic, but whatever it is has me REALLY irritable today.

I think it's because I forgot to take 1 mg of ativan earlier today. Maybe I'll just take it now. I'm on a lot of meds right now... Particularly benzodiazepines. Four. Three most days, sometimes four. Watch, I'll win the publisher's clearing house sweepstakes and die the next day. I need to make my will. I don't know what to put in it anymore without my mom around... She was the person I was going to leave everything to. My daughter, care of her. I really thought I was going to die first. I'll need to update my will now. I don't feel like writing anymore. I'm done.

Wish you were here

I miss you so much I feel like I'm dying... I'm glad you left us videos so I can see you and hear your voice... I hear you in my dreams, too. I spend most of my time just laying in your bed now. I can't bring myself to do much of anything... I watch Spongebob because it helps me feel like there's still a child in me somewhere. In my dream this morning, you asked me how I'm doing... "Terribly" was my answer. I love that I got to hear your voice this morning, but I always want more of you. I always have... I used to get so jealous when you'd pay more attention to Kimii than me. She wishes she'd come over that night to help keep your party under control. God knows I couldn't do it. I didn't. I blame myself for your death in a lot of ways... Maybe I shouldn't, but I do. I still can't believe you're gone. Your absence has turned all our lives upside down. It's killing all of us.

I love that you still haunt the tv. The narration that isn't possible still helps me fall asleep every night. I have never loved anyone as much as I do you... Maybe my own child... Certainly not the same way. You were my home. You were the only person I never felt like a guest, or a hostess with... Our relationship was so much deeper than that. I don't know how to go on without that. And I don't think I could ever be anywhere near as close to someone else. We were inseparable... Everybody knew that. Even when you were out with friends, or at a doctor's appointment, or anywhere really; you were texting me. I texted you no matter what I was doing. Even at that one party I went to where everyone was playing music, it was you I was texting all night, and you I spoke to about it in the morning. Every time anything happens, it's reflexive to think of talking to you about it. Kimii feels the same way. Nobody knows what to do without you. You're supposed to be here, with us... Just a stupid accident.

I miss our morning coffee chats, our evening bonfires, even just sitting on the couch with you making fun of tv commercials... I still think of you when I see the ones we watched together.

I've never been without you before. But somehow, the world keeps going like nothing has happened.

Dream of heaven

On Tuesday, the 19th, I dremt that I was sitting at a table with my mother, surrounded by clouds. It was sunrise, so the white, fluffy clouds had an orange glow to them. She said hello and that she missed me. We were drinking coffee. I can't remember anything that was said, but we talked for hours... Have you ever had a dream that you knew was hours long? I know this one was. At the end of our conversation, she said she loved me and hugged me goodbye. Then I woke up. I was very happy when I woke up. I felt so loved. I wondered if I'd taken too many pills and died for a second.