WARNING: What your about to read contains drug abuse content. I do not want to trigger anybody so please if easily influenced by such talk, I do not recommend that you read this.
So with the ripple having been formed that specific day, it only snowballed from there. I wasn’t on her mental plain of thinking because I didn’t know if she’d been up for longer than a week or if it was just a couple of days. Either choice I thought about was bad enough in itself. Her reasons for ‘preaching’ to me about my drug use was caused by me accidentally doing her half of the single line.
During the start of our conversation the next day, the reason for the continued topic kept going. All I wanted was for it to be over with already. Not with ‘P’ though. Not until she’s satisfied she’s made her point across the board. I remember sitting beside her while she was sitting on the couch. She picked up yet another reason that led to why she called me greedy. Starting off by saying shit like,
‘I know I’ve always told you what’s mine is yours, unless it’s the last of what I had. But Tina I’ve never seen you just take it upon yourself to do something I told you not to do. What if that was all I had and you done all of it?’
Hearing that question being asked of me almost made me laugh out-loud you guys I swear. So I bluntly replied,
‘If that was all you had ‘P’ then you sure as shit wouldn’t have laid it out in one single line for us to split. You’d have kept that shit for your own use when you were by yourself. I promise on my sister I didn’t intentionally do that much of it. Since your bitching about it so much, then why the fuck didn’t you separate that fucking line and do your half first? Seems like the logical thing to have done if you were so worried I might of done the whole thing. Which by the way you told me to fucking finish!’
I never got a real response after saying that. Getting home that day I made myself a mental note to have our group sessions be separated. I needed time away from her because she was off her fucking rocker.
When talking to Mrs. L yesterday she asked me again what I felt about having wrote that letter of forgiveness to myself. That’s when I said that I feel like I’m lying to myself. Now I have to write yet another letter to me asking or saying why I feel unworthy of forgiveness & why I am worthy to be forgiven. This entire ordeal with ‘P’ consumed my brain everyday. I finally finished my letter to her that I wrote in a composition book. Of course she didn’t take it. She’s closed minded as fuck and won’t let anyone influence her choice on the matter.
After talking to ‘P’ this last time I seen her in person. I told her I wrote down all I had to say on the matter. Now that I have gotten out of me and on to paper, I’ve let the shit go. I was finished with it. She seemed surprised when I told her that. Then she fastened her seatbelt, put her sunglasses back on and was ready and preparing to leave. As if she thought I meant I was finished with her. (Which is NOT what I meant at all. Not even close)
Now I’ve gotta write this fucking letter telling myself why I’m worthy but also why I feel unworthy.
UGH …
I would like just one fucking day to not have to think about shit I’m feeling. Or being stressed the fuck out to point I’m feeling that I need a substance to help me not think.
I'd rather read a good book over watching a movie made from it. What I hear most from people when I tell them is 'why'. Well, my answer for that is that there aren't any limitations to your imagination. Therefore, when I'm reading an action-packed thriller that I can't put down or stop turning the pages of is because the details are written by the author describing the scene/situation with such clarity, that I think it's far better than what anyone can visibly see on TV. That being my opinion only, I'm sure millions and billions of avid readers out there agree with me 100% on that reason alone. I've always had an active imagination growing up. I'd use the almost empty cans of shaving cream my dad would give me, as the whipped cream on top of the mud pies I made. Of course, dad got the first one. After all, he did give me the topping. I was very versatile also. I was a pretty big tom boy for being such a little girl. To dividing Barbie clothes between me and my older sister (when I was lucky enough to get her to play with me). I had to play by her rules though, perks of being the oldest, I guess. I loved playing with the Hot Wheel's cars in the dirt. Making racetracks and underground tunnels I'd dig out for them. Sometimes my dad would be outside with me showing me all kinds of different things I could pretend to do when playing cars. I have one day in particular that stands out among the rest. It was when I learned to do the underground tunnels for the cars to go through. He showed me by taking a simple stick off the ground and using it like a tool to push the dirt out from one side to the other. It wasn't a tunnel without keeping the top part intact. I acted like there was a cave-in, and then accidents, crashing the cars together. No one ever got hurt in my imagination though, just the cars got hurt. Growing up with a sister 6-years older than me taught me lots of things, both good and bad. If I kept her secrets, she kept mine. And the only reason I even had any secrets was because she allowed me to. I got to sneak and smoke in her bedroom at night after our parents went to bed. I had to be very quiet because I got caught most of the time. But I was always caught by our momma. And then all she made me do was get back in bed. I came from a poor family so anything name brand wasn't known to me for a long time. I was bullied and made fun of all throughout my school years. It doesn't matter which year you pick. From the 1st grade, all the way through high school. I know that's terrible to have to admit, but I think it'd be even worse having to admit to being the bully. I swore to myself I'd never treat anyone the way those kids treated me and made me feel. It bothered me so bad I'd dream about standing up for, and actually fighting over other kids getting bullied. I woke up all of a sudden one morning after punching the lights out of a bully in my dream. When I really punched the headboard and made my knuckles bleed. Come on! When a child is taking on the burden of other bullied kids, you know that's a heavy burden to bear. It was also very hard on me. I never talked about it to my parents though. Yeah, they knew. But back then no one really knew what to do about that problem like they do now. Or, well, think they do. I've been in counseling since starting school. I can't remember a day going by without me seeing the school guidance counselor. Shout out to Mrs. Reeves though, at Lone Oak High School. She made the biggest impression on me as far as wanting to help other kids like me. The bullies were actually the kids who came from well-to-do families. Kids who never knew what it was like to experience the disappointment of being told 'No'. Or that there wasn't enough money to buy what they wanted. Kids that figured there wasn't anything better to do except make fun of the less fortunate to get them through their day or to have a conversation piece. The anger and hatred that built up inside of me was, and still is undescribable. The thoughts they caused me to have. Picturing the tables being turned and the bad things said back to them, bad things being done back to them. It only made me feel better on the inside. I've been asked by numerous doctors in my life if I'm suicidal. I've answered no, being completely honest each time. But never have they asked if I've felt homicidal! I know, scary right? The outcome of such thoughts is what triggered the start of mass school shootings. Coming into adulthood was strange territory for me as well, and actually caused me a lot of uncomfortable times, knowing things I knew I could now do but never felt comfortable ever talking about. Even with my sister, the person I was closest to, I couldn't open up and freely talk about anything of the sexual nature. I guess because bad things have happened to me on more than one occasion when I was still very much an innocent child. With me hiding such horrid things from my parents, along with everyone else, I felt I couldn't talk about the good kind of sex either. Man did that ever set me back, keeping me immature of certain things I should've known already but didn't. Because in my mind I was still that child who was hurt in a bad way. They were called 'Red Touches' back then. What we were taught to call them in school anyways. Then just when I was becoming independent and living on my own, learning to stand up for myself in a way that would make my sister proud of me, I lost her. That caused me to go into a deep depression I didn't come out of for many years afterwards. March 29, 2003 changed my life forever. I lost my 2-year old nephew that night to a raging house fire. My sister passed 17 days later in the burn unit in Vanderbilt, Tennessee. However, if you've read 'My Story', a post on my blog. Then you'll know that in order for me to know what I now know, and to be the person that I now am, all of the bad shit had to happen first or else I wouldn't have caught and held onto the message so vital for me to have acquired in my life. Helping the less fortunate. Being someone's somebody they can depend on being there when they need them the most. After receiving confirmation that my nephew didn't suffer, not for one second in that house fire... Was I able to let that burden go, only to let in that oxygen, that life support I desperately needed to save myself from a lifetime of misery. Even though I know my sister, Jennifer, isn't physically here to cheer and root me on. I know without a shadow of a doubt, her and Lil Jesse (my nephew) are both doing so from Heaven today, and everyday that follows. If you're suffering from addiction of any kind and you want or need someone to talk to I'm a damn good listener! My contact information is listed on my contact page. Please call, reach out for support. You're not alone no matter what negative thoughts are telling you that you are. God is always there for you as well. If you'd like to learn more about Jesus and how He died to save us, don't hesitate to ask. I'll share what I know is all good, and positive about God. Whom I choose to call my higher power. If you don't believe in God, then the subject will not be pushed. EVER! If you're battling mental health issues and feel alone like no one knows what you feel like. Then I'm here to tell you there's billions of people out there that will share with you that they too, feel just like you do. Hit me up on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. All of my accounts should be connected to my website. If you're waiting on me to respond and it's been a while since you tried getting in touch with me, then by all means be more persistent and bug the shit out of me. Make me see your messages. I will eventually and I'll always reply when I can. This is the best I think I've written in this 'about me' section. It's the most I've opened up publicly I know that. I'm open minded, I keep it 100 all of the time, even if it's something I don't like myself, or for others, I still have to keep it 100 with myself in order for me to keep it that way with everyone else. I hope this told everyone a little bit about me, maybe more than I originally intended. But it's all accurate and up to date with where I'm at in my life right now. Thank you all and God Bless
