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.