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.

Dream from today

I had a weird dream... I woke up at three am in a different house (which was mine) and found Justin mowing the lawn and Mike outside welding something. I got a call from mom's number and answered it. It was mom! She said she missed me and she wanted to see how I was doing. I told her I was doing terribly and explained about Teresa falling school because she's sick, but that she did fine at her dad's over the weekend so I thought she was ok to go to school today (Monday). Then, the call ended. When I called back I got a disconnected message. Then, Teresa walked in and saw me pick up a glass of wine and said, "seriously, Mom? What are you thinking?" I knew she was referring to my mother's death. I said it was only a glass of wine and I hadn't touched it. She was getting herself ready for school, and was a little older. I got up to talk to Mike and asked him what the hell he was doing at my house at 3 am and he said the house was just as much Justin's as it was mine and he had every right to be there. Then I woke up to strange noises outside at 6:14 and yelled for Teresa, thinking it was Monday and she was already up because she wasn't in my bed. I was scared she'd be late for school and was wondering if she knew what the strange noises were. It sounded like someone either cutting rebar or welding.

Dream from Friday, May 29th

I dreamt that me and mom split up housing so we could take grandma out of the nursing home because we wanted to see how she'd act if she wasn't there and to see if I could take care of her, so I went to live with her. She turned back into the psycho monster she was during my childhood before she had dementia and started hitting me and hid my phone. I looked and looked and looked for it and when I found it, I went to call my mother because she was the only Person who could ever calm my grandma down and I couldn't get out of there without her. When I went to dial her number, I remembered she was dead and started bawling... There were other people there but they couldn't help me and my grandma kept being psycho and I was stuck with her, trapped in her house. I was so sad... Then I posted something on Facebook about having a bad dream. Then I woke up, and posted something on Facebook about having a bad dream.

This house is mine now, the bedroom I sleep in, the bed I sleep in... but it still feels like yours... I wait for you to come back even though I know that you are gone, gone forever. It's so hard to think about... that you'll be gone forever. I will never again see your face, hear your smile, hug you... For you are onto the next phase... and I don't even know what that means. I am dying to find out, though. I can't wait to die. If there is any chance to see you again, I can't wait to take it. I feel in my soul that there is more than this life... I don't know what's out there, but I don't particularly care anymore anyway. I am staying alive for my child, and those who need me. Without them, I've got no reason to live. There is nothing that I even care for, other than them, let alone anything I am passionate about. Maybe someday, I will have the capacity to feel something other than crushing despair... Maybe then I will care. But for now, I am alive for those who need me.

Don't know what to say

I don't know what to say about anything today. I've been stuck at home with my daughter for the past two months. They finally figured out she had a sinus infection and bronchitis. Together, this has been aggravating her asthma.

My mother feels like a distant memory right now. I don't know why that is... I miss her so much... It makes me sad that she feels so distant. But I guess death causes that... I wonder what happens after we die. I always wonder about that. Certainly more so now. The medical examiner's office may have mixed her up with another person. They missed a noticable tattoo, and made many other mistakes along the way too. It took 5 months for a final death certificate, and they missed every identifying feature of my mother. I'm pissed. Now I have to go down there at look at their autopsy photos. After everything we've been through, now I have to look at pictures of my dead mother. Don't die in pierce county. They suck.

I'm so tired... I've been sleeping a lot lately... I'm just so very tired. My soul is tired, it has been for a long time, and this has only drained it further.

My uncle is as useless as he is mean about all of this... I have very little support. I have a therapist, which helps, since there's nobody else to talk to about things.

I haven't written in a while because I've been inundated with responsibilities and obligations. I will make more time, and try to write something more interesting next time.

I'm exhausted. Good night.

4/14?/15

I can't believe it's 2015... and I don't mean that in the sense of, "wow, a while year has passed blah blah blah"... I mean I literally can't process this year. I am stuck in November 2014, where I've been since my mother died. Every time I look at the date, it is unreal to me.
She never got to see 2015. Why should I have to?

"just keep going", "try to move on", they all tell me... To where? What's my destination, other than the final one? By the way, I can't wait to find out where or what that is... It can't come soon enough. I still need her. She visits my siblings, in weird little ways, but has left me. I try to be as open to get as possible, but even in my dreams, I know she's gone. I'll start a dream with her in it and my brain suddenly kicks on and says, "nope. She's dead. You can't have her". It's depressing.

I always was jealous of anyone that got to spend time with her when we were apart, or even when we were together. I wanted her all to myself... For the most part, I got my wish... We were both content to just hang out together most of the time. I know that's part of why this hurts so bad.

I miss her, and miss the past... If I could go back in time, I would. I don't know that I'd do anything different... There's no cause of death, nothing I could've saved her from... She just... Died. No one has  any inkling as to why... Just gone. But I would appreciate our time more, if that's possible... If I went back far enough, sure, I'd change things... My teenage years. Not sticking up to her husband when he threw me out, not listening to get when she told me to stay anyway, I'd help more...
In the more recent past, I would've learned to use the lawnmower. I would've gone with her more when she'd walk the dog, I would've paid attention to all those little things that only she knew how to do that I am now learning to do... I would've hugged her more, even though she always looked at me like I was crazy when I did. I would have taken even more pictures of her without her permission.

I just miss her. I feel like I'm dying.

The days that pass only make the time you've been gone longer.

I've been having a lot of strange dreams lately, most of them are about the way things were supposed to be... Me done with school, us in a bigger house... One with enough room for the dog. This morning's dream was completely off the rails, and was like something out of breaking bad. Weird. But, most of them are about you... I haven't gotten the "visiting" dreams that others have... I wonder why you aren't visiting me... I miss you so much. Every day, I follow our schedule, minus the Ellen show and Dr. Oz. I can't watch either show without you... There are a few other shows I can't watch since you've been gone. Here I sit, typing on your computer, on your couch, in your house, watching your cable on your TV... I sleep in the bed you died in, on the very same sheets. I almost washed them a few weeks ago, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Besides, you left a very heavy box on one side, and I can't bring myself to move it. It was hard enough to move the laundry basket full of your clean clothes that sat beside the box, but I had to make room for my daughter to share the bed with me. There are nights when I cannot sleep in that bed alone. I have pills that help, but they don't take away the trauma of finding you there, and remembering that I gave you CPR on that very floor... My final act of love... Other than insisting that the medical examiner continue to search for a reason, any reason... at the expense of every one of us who desperately need the money to come in. Myself included. I am so lost without you. I cannot do this without you. I still need you, my sister still needs you... She is all alone with your unborn grand baby, and isn't sure who the father is. How can a man be relied upon to be around when he doesn't even know if it's his?? Worse yet, he managed to impregnate another girl right around the same time. Of course, the two of them were broken up at the time, which is why the events unfolded this way.
However, the fact remains that she is, essentially, all alone. Who will be in that delivery room with her, if not you? Who will help her raise that baby, if not you? Who will support her when she needs it most, if not you? Who will be there for her when she feels so alone, like she does now.. If not you? I am doing the best that I can to fill your big shoes, but I am screwed without you myself... I can't figure out whether or not to finish college, because I have no one to watch my child... If you follow me at all, you'll remember that her asthma is so disabling that it has cost me several jobs. You were the only other person who was trained in her care. Now, I'm all alone. We used to spend every Friday night just talking for hours... How I loved those Friday nights... Friday nights killed me inside for months. We spent our Saturdays cleaning up, or recovering from the night before... I can't clean on Saturdays anymore, and as far as Fridays go, well, the party is officially over. For good. Sundays, we would relax, sleep in and try to prepare for Mondays. My Sundays are now sad, tainted with a new anniversary of your death. 17 Sundays have come and gone... I remember that terrible, horrible day... We had so many plans for that day, the day you died. We were supposed to get up early and go to the party store to pick up supplies for my brother's Welcome home party, we were supposed to pick up the cake we ordered for him, and bathe the dog for him. We were supposed to have a party for him, welcoming him hime on his leave from the navy. My poor little 18 year old brother who found you dead in your bed that morning. I remember his wailing, "Oh my God... Something's wrong with Mom! You have to get up and come look at her!" I ran up to her and told him to call 911 as fast as he could. If there was a pulse, it was weak. However, her skin was mottled, extremities like ice, her belly bright purple - striped, actually, her lips a deep shade of ocean blue... We didn't have a chance at saving her, but I needed there to be a chance, so I started chest compressions...
Who will guide us? This isn't fair at all... You were far too young to die, and we are all far too young to have lost you. You were my daughter's second mother, and she will be forever traumatized by what she saw... I was too engulfed by panic to kick her out of the room in time and she saw a whole lot more than she should have. I feel guilty now, for not protecting her better... I should have told her to look away, but my brain couldn't let her be dead. So I told them that while she was in terrible shape, most obviously, that there must be some chance, however slim.
My sister is only 24, my brother now 19, my daughter 12. I was 32 when these events transpired. I recently had the worst birthday of my life. Everything about it was great except that it was missing the best part, the little party that you used to throw me every year... You'd buy me a cake, light a few candles, maybe buy me a pizza with stuffed crust, and the three or five of us, depending on who we could scrape up, would have a tiny little party. I loved those little get togethers. So many people would call a birthday like that sad, but I appreciated every single one. I loved your birthday parties, and I'd give anything - anything for another one. I can't imagine how Justin must've felt on his birthday... If I were doing a good job filling those shoes, he'd have gotten a birthday card, like you would've sent to him. That thought never occurred to me, because I was so blinded by my own grief, my own problems... I made him a christmas stocking, but that was always my job. I'll make him an easter basket, too, just like I did every year. It's funny how he always thought that you packed those... I missed wrapping gifts with you last christmas, though I'm glad that the youngest of us managed to get christmas gifts from you. Props to you for ordering so far ahead of time. I will remember to do that, too, simply because you never know. I miss you more than any words could possibly express, and I have no idea what to do with anything, particularly the massive hole that is now in my heart. I am totally encompassed by despair, and have been for 17 weeks and one day.
November 22nd, everything was fine... business as usual, just like any other saturday, except that you had a few extra drinks. I wonder if those few extra drinks combined with the small amounts of "don't drink on these" medications I know you took were what killed you. I proposed this possibility to the medical examiner, who then ran more tests. Unfortunately, no one will let me speak to the doctor again, so I can't ask what those tests entailed, specifically. I hope that they are looking for combined effects of small amounts of different drugs, and possibly, what it could have done to your heart. I know that prescriptions that are central nervous system depressives, like the ones that you were prescribed, combined with a heart problem that makes your pulse drop could be a deadly combination. Add a small amount of alcohol to the mix and you've got problems...
I remember that day, hearing, "Should we call hospice?" and "I don't know, let's give it some time"... This is what was happening right before I heard the words, "call the chaplain, then the medical examiner". I am a CNA, so I know what all these things mean. Was she showing small signs of life at any point while they were trying to revive her? Perhaps she came back, briefly, and then choked? Or some higher force decided that it was really just her time, and all efforts were exhausted after a slight pulse appeared... Or maybe the person who asked was simply confused, and didn't realize that he was raising the hopes of this woman's eldest daughter, who knew that hospice meant more time. Given the lack of oxygen that I saw in her face, and the fact that it seems so obvious that it was prolonged, I believe that if they had revived her, it is likely she would have been vegetative by the time she was found. I keep wondering, had I skipped my sleeping pills, would I have woken up to the sounds of her coming home? Would I have seen that she didn't look so good, and called 911? What were her final moments like? She allegedly came home at around 3:30 AM, and was found dead at 9 AM. How do you die slowly in your sleep in a matter of 5.5 hours? Was she dying at 3:30? Is that why she was in such a hurry to get home that she left her shoes behind? She never left her shows behind before... What was she dreaming about when she died? What movies did her pineal gland play for her as she slipped away? Was it the silver thread that so many have seen? I wonder where she is now? Every day, I am consumed by this thought: where do we go after we die? Will I ever see you again? Is there a magical place where you are finally getting all the wonderful things that you deserve? Or do you exist in each flower I see? Have you been sent back to this earth, perhaps to learn to live for yourself while still serving others? I cannot think of anything else you could possibly need to learn from this world, this hell... You were the most selfless person I ever knew, and I always admired you for that. Nobody put their kids first the way that you did. I do know that during the week after you left, your television started doing things that aren't possible for it to do... I have about five channels that broadcast exclusively in Spanish, which that television is not capable of doing... Another four or so channels are suddenly narrated, as if for the blind. Another impossibility. I know that in that week, a music box that nobody could find played itself repeatedly... I know that a single frog, your spirit animal - corny as it may sound to some - popped out in 35 degree weather, singing its song just a few feet from my sister and I. And I know I'm not crazy, because other people were there, and they've seen it too. The television continues to do the things it cannot do.
So where have you gone? Why no more signs? Why are you visiting others in their dreams, but not me? We were so incredibly close to one another... We were Gilmore Girls close... I don't think I will ever find anyone else that I could possibly be that close to. I'm not upset with you, of course... I just wonder why my own pineal gland refuses to show me what I truly want to see... Is it that I'm in denial that you're gone? All I see i my dreams of you is what our future was supposed to be... If things went according to our plans, all of our plans... Kimii working in music, getting paid for gigs... Me finally done with school, you able to concentrate on something interesting... Of course, you are still drinking in all of them, but I believe it was more controlled. Teresa is older in these dreams. All is right in the world. Maybe it is just denial, since I still can't believe you are gone. I still feel like I'm just waiting for you to come home from work, since those were the only hours we ever spent apart.
On other days, I just fall apart. All day. Those are usually the days that I am out doing things, facing other people, and their questions, driving your car, worrying about how much of your money I am spending.
I am tired now, even though this entry does not have a proper ending. Goodnight.