I sit here day in and day out seeming that each of them are the same.
A lot of those days I feel I have so much chaos inside my head, I think I’ve forgotten my own name.
The only thing on my mind has been worrying over my mom’s mental state.
Constantly reassuring her everything is gonna be just fine, given any rate.
Seeing people who aren’t actually there. Causing my father to think she’s slowly going crazy.
I remind him to not be so judgemental, because his mind isn’t anywhere as sharp as it once used to be. For his own mind has grown severely hazy.
I carry all these worries inside of my head, being stuck on repeat playing all the time. Over and over just like a movie where everyday that goes by is the same day everyday.
How do I explain my situation in words? Where someone will. . . Actually understand what I’m talking about? Maybe. . . Sympathize with whatever I’m feeling? I just wanna feel okay.
I pray to God, please bring my mom healing?
But I skeptically question if He’s honestly really listening (to me). I know He hears me. The sucky thing is, our prayers aren’t answered on our time. Or when we want them to be.
I know we don’t always get everything we pray for. At times, it can certainly seem unfair. Like, what could possibly be so bad about anyone? That God would turn a deaf ear to pleas from people’s hearts. Knowing that He’s the only one who knows our truths inside and out.
But what can we do? Nothing. What can we say? Whatever we want. Make sure you’re paying attention to your surroundings everywhere. Keeping things clear enough that way you can always see.
Mom is here visiting with me now. She got here about an hour ago. I asked her if she saw any of the people that she saw at her place, here in my house. After she looked around for a few seconds she told me “No”. I’m not gonna lie and say I wasn’t relieved to hear her response. I told her she could talk about anything she wanted to while she was here and she doesn’t have to worry about anything getting back to my dad.
There’s something about the way my father makes you feel bad, for feeling bad.
I’d tell you all about it but I’d only have nubs left for fingers when I finished typing it all out. He’d probably pick up a few haters along the way if I really did it. If he hasn’t got some already, which I’m damn near 100% positive he does. Shitty thing about a lot of those haters, they’re mostly fam.
Since my great-great-grandparents passed away when I was in my teenage years, it’s like no one really gives a damn.
See, so much shits inside my head I’m jumping all over and can’t stick to the thing I set out to write. My stress, worries, racing thoughts, and sleepless nights.
I wish I were still an innocent child at times. Playing outside with my sister flying our big red and yellow kites.
I can’t recall or even remember for that matter, hearing myself wishing that I couldn’t wait to be a grownup. If I only knew what I know now, I wouldn’t have wished so hard for it to hurry up and happen, okay?.
Now look at all that’s happened to me. And all the heartache I’ve been through that’s literally scarred me for the remainder of my life. Sometimes things get better. Even easier to cope with as time goes by. I’m a product of time healing some wounds I thought would never go away.
Don’t leave the people around you that truly care and love you. Wanting nothing but the best life has to offer you. Stick around, keep them around. Because those are the ones who truly do care. So, why not stay?
Time to bring this never ending story to an end for now. I know more will soon be added. When? I can’t exactly say. My plate is almost as full as my brain is on the inside. Keep me and mine in your prayers (if you pray). Thank you.
Me staying positive and never giving up, I’ll continue to do.
I'd rather read a good book, VS watching the movie made from it on TV. Most thoughts on that are '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 the biggest tom boy of a little girl you'd ever see one day. 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 older sibling I guess. I loved playing with the Hot Wheel's cars in the dirt. Making race tracks 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
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