Farewell, so long, this must be our end.

December 26, 2009
Jeff Huntsman,
You tell me that the worst day in your life was the moment you found out mom was pregnant with me. You tell me that you don’t agree with the things that happen in my life. Are you serious? I am the person I am because of YOUR actions. I NEVER chose to have an addict, drug dealer for a dad. I NEVER chose for my dad to be pulled out of my life while he did time in prison. I NEVER chose for my grandfather to molest me because neither my father nor my mother was there to protect me, both of whom knew what a pervert he was. I NEVER chose to be conceived and even in my best moments I wish I had never been. YOU CHOSE to do the things you did. I have struggled with my identity for most of my life. I try to make my character flaws better. I try not to play the “it’s my parent’s fault” card… But let’s be honest here, do you really think that you provided a safe environment for me…. This is a catch 22 question, because if you say yes, it’s only because you are too much of an addict to ever realize how perverse your perception of reality really is.
You have a son that is a spitting image of you, to whom you are close, why?? He’s an addict too. Hmmm, let’s see…. Michael doesn’t want anything to do with you. Why??? You’re an addict. Oh, but you’ve brainwashed the addiction clan that Mike’s a douche. I hope that somewhere in your heart (which obviously is cold towards me) that you feel ashamed of how that panned out. You have 2 kids at home, who you and Tina neglected for what, the first 5 years of their lives? Why? Addiction to oxycotin. It is no surprise that Justina has been active since she was that young. Where was the man in her life? He was passed out on the couch. She may hide it from you or maybe you don’t want to believe how bad her self esteem is. She is headed in the wrong direction and your stubborn mentality and that addict philosophy is only going to seal her destination. The truth to this situation, if you hadn’t been so busy taking your pills and passing out all over the place, you may have prevented this. Blame it on being focused on the house, but I saw you passing out again, just like on Armstrong. You couldn’t even hold a conversation. Yet again you have failed. Are you going to hate her when she’s a woman struggling with her identity? Or do you just hate me? Maybe it’s the fact that I persevered after having Adrianna and am within reach of graduation with plans on going to graduate school. Maybe it’s that I appreciate the finer things in life. Maybe it’s just that I chose to never do the drugs that bind you. I don’t know what it is. I just know, I’m tired of thinking it’s my fault. This is your fault. You have never stopped using drugs; you have never made your kids your priority.
This is the last time I will subject myself to your abuse. I have lived accepting and making excuses for you for too long. It stops here. Do not ever contact me again. Do not have someone relay a message for you to me. I do not want anything to do with you ever again. Your hold ends today. Justina has contact information for me, she is free to contact me at any point, but knowing the hateful person you are, I’m sure you will restrict that too. That’s ok, I’m hoping she proves to be a fighter like me and she’ll find me again… Just like Michael and I have over the years. ..
I was the worst moment in your life, now I will no longer burden you.

The death inside me

So, today marks the beginning of the end... A life full of pain, never being wanted, always just a whore. Nothing more than sex for whoever said "you're pretty." I can not continue living in such darkness... It has to end.. I want it to end. I'm tired. It's finally too much. A whole existence and no one ever even wanted me around. I sit here, with no one to talk to. No one is thinking of me right now. No one cares. I hate him. I hate her. I hate everyone. I want them all to die. I want to be there as their last breath escapes. I want to see their warm blood pool under their lifeless body. I want to be the one who has the power to decide their death. It is a never ending cycle. She is fucked. He is fucked. They are all fucked.
I'm cold. I'm empty. I'm dark. I'm void. I'm bitter. I'm determined. You will die. I will rejoice. You have no reason to live.
I will fuck you and decide your fate. You no longer control me. You are scum. You don't deserve to breath.
I HATE! I HATE! I HATE! I HATE! I HATE! I HATE!
DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!

To my daddy

To my daddy:

I love you, I always will. You are my father, through the pain, our walk, our journey, you have led me much of the way. I've never given the credit you are due. You, nearly single handed, molded me into the woman I have become. I am no longer that little hesitant girl, that you eagerly welcomed into your home, overwhelmed with feelings of fear, confused about who I am, why it seemed I couldn't hold on to the ones I loved, leaving me feeling unloved, like the world was out to out to devour me. I am strong, passionate, determined... I am charge of my life. I no longer allow the world to dictate my path and destination. I owe to you these attributes, many in a positive perspective, some to the pain we've endured. Because you never allowed me to cry and wallow in the pity of circumstances beyond my control, you've enabled me to curb the harsh words of the world, you've instilled the importance of success and undying determination deep within my core. No matter how daunting the trail may seem, no matter how overgrown the cobblestone may appear, I can persevere and will triumph all obstacles in my way. However, the life of drugs and instability still inflicts my esteem, leaving me vulnerable to coy words, to promises of love and acceptance. Because we grew up in competition with the demons of addiction in your life, I question the intent of those claiming undying commitment. I'm coming to wonder if those rationalities will ever cease to dictate my restraints on commitment. I concede to the mentality, "maybe I'm just a broken person.".

I asked you many years ago, what ruined the happiness in your life... Do you remember this conversation? It was shortly after Jeffrey had moved in with me. I was so concerned about him. He seemed to be going down the wrong path... Your path. I would look at him and immediately felt like I was seeing you as a teenager, he had your body stance, your gestures, your attitude. He needed a positive male influence and he had no one came to you. You were in the garage on Armstrong, remnants of pot recently smoked lingered in the air.

Do you remember? This was during a time that your addictions distorted you, disfigured my daddy, the last person I had invested the only trust remaining after all my other bonds of trust had been shredded, smashed, devastated by the corruption in the lives of others. Do you remember your answer to my question?

"What destroyed all hopes of happiness in your life? When did you realize that you weren't meant to be happy?"

"To be honest Jamie, it was when I found out your mother was pregnant with you."

I do remember. Ten years later it still breaks my heart, ten years later I still hear the exhaustion in your voice, your contempt with the cards you were dealt. You never chose to fold, you never tapped out of that life, opting to follow the tide of self destruction. I don't think you meant those words... I hope you didn't mean those words... They still remind me, even in the hope of falsity, that I have never been loved unconditionally.

You were such an inspiring mentor during my soul searching teen years. I cherish our conversations on mathematics, the nature of science, religious theories, and selective mating. I'm still a proponent of Darwinism! No one in my life now knows the dad that I grew up with... So educated and focused on aspiring to live a good life, focused on providing a respectable life for his children. The drugs were still there, they never left, but they didn't dictate our world, our dysfunctional unity.

During one of these life lessons, we talked about breaking cycles of abuse. It is because of that powerful message, that message that screams, "IT STOPS HERE!!!", that I am writing today. It wasn't until recently that I realized how that message applied towards my life. You never abused us, even with your stern, seemingly military style, you always ensured we felt love too. I realized when Tina died that our charming, yet not quite average family was far more out of control than any of us had realized. For years I've ignored the substance abuse you two shared. I wanted to protect my children from seeing their mamaw and pawpaw as I had on so many occasions. There were several instances where I would consult Jeffrey to determine whether or not we should come for a visit. With Tina's death, I had the shocking epiphany that I had failed her as I had failed my own mother. Again, I let down the most important woman in my life, by not being strong enough to say that enough is enough, this is wrong, the cycle ends here and helping her fight these demons. I know I am failing you. I am overwhelmed with the fear that this will also be your fate. I am not strong enough to relieve your burdens. I am not strong enough to climb that mountain with you, beside you. I am not strong enough to stand outside a cold empty house, knowing your last breath had escaped your body, never able to get one more hug from you, those hugs that always shut the world out. I am not strong enough to protect my brothers and sisters from the cycle. I can't stop the cycle for anyone but myself.

I am breaking the cycle of addiction in my life. It is because I can now see that you can not leave that life behind, that I am forcing myself to leave my connections, all my ties to that life, in my past. I'm not pleading with you to chose me over the addiction, I know that mountain looms angrily over you, reminding you that this challenge is one that requires work that your bruised, battered body may not be able to conquer. The air, thick with fear and unresolved pain will never cease to invade your senses; confusing reality with the substance that offers a small ray of light, if even for just a moment in time. It is with a heavy heart, that I've come to this decision. Driving to work today, I said to myself,"Today's a beautiful day, I have so much to be grateful for and have so many wonderful, inspirational people in my life. I wouldn't trade one moment for anything in the world. This my time and it's amazing!"

I am finally coming to a point of equilibrium in my life. I am focused. I will graduate IU Kokomo in May of 2011 with a B.A. in Communication Arts and New Media Communication with a minor in English Writing. I am currently working as an intern with the IU professional journal, From The Well House: A Review of Literary Works, as a Communication Officer and Public Relations Officer. I will continue with this organization until I graduate. I am on track, finally. It is a relief for me to see the finish line. I will be successful. One day you'll pull a sample of my work off the bookshelf. This is MY day! I hope that I can make you proud. For years, I've never felt adequate in your eyes... It was like I was the black sheep of the family. You bonded with your like minded son, in the realm of drugs and there was no place for me in that world.

I love you, always. I just can't in clear conscience, stand idly by while the next generation succumbs to this world of addiction and I can't betray you either. It's best I walk away.

I'm sorry. I have faith that our paths are joined and will connect again. Until then please forgive me and please, please... I beg you, please save yourself. I know its not too late; it can't be too late.

Love your daughter,


Jamie

Gleefully tangible

I haven't written anything on here for awhile now. Partly because the therapist had suggested to start writing in a notebook, maybe for tangibility... Whatever the reason, I don't believe anything that I would have transcribed would have been more than self destruction.

It has been just over five months since I heard her voice, that gruff voice streaming over telephone lines, thick with irritation from the annoyance of a phone call at this time of day. In all reality, it was anytime of day, her rugged hello had the ability to cause even the most thick-skinned, balls-to-the-wall determined telemarketer to quickly back down, even to the point of retreat, waving his white flag high in the air as he whimpered into submission. Instantaneously her voice slipped into a gleeful welcome as she recognized the familiar caller on the other end of that call.

I sit here, with the swishing sounds of the rinse cycle rhythmically chugging in the background, eyelids slowly closing out the glaring lights from this laptop, and momentarily hear that same sweet voice, excitedly inquiring how I am doing. Never did she care to talk a minute about herself, I was her gift for that space in time. I was all that mattered. She cared little to expose the pain she suffered, to relate the grief she still felt from losing her own mother so recently, to rant about how aggravating my father was. The only focus was allowing her an opportunity to see into the doors of your life, as if she, for an instant, could escape the perils of her world, and walk with you through your journey.

Rather suddenly, the images fade with the buzzing vibration of my pink Blackberry sitting so loyally nearby. All I'm left with, is the hopes that I can someday fill the void left behind.

Urgent men scramble around, a little girl stands there among them, matted brown hair plastered to her round face, pink PJ's, wet from the pee that had escaped her young bladder during the night, clings to her chubby body. Pink is her favorite color, at least that's what her mommy says. Inside she really likes purple.

No one pays attention to this little girl, but she's used to that. She's not even eight, but she takes care of her mommy, little brother and baby sister. She loves her mommy, hoping one day she'll be as pretty as her. She often wishes her brother would disappear. He's such a brat and he takes too much of mommy's time with all his whining and sickness. He gets sick just so mommy will love him more. Her sister is ok, just a baby.

Confused, dazed, shivering, bare feet scraping against the cold, rough cement sidewalk, on this brisk mid-September night. Siren whirling, lights flashing, blinding in the chaotic night. Glimpsing to the left, she catches sight of the man from night before, the one that saved them from angry Dave. He throws a blanket over his head, exposing his naked body. Feeling the warmth quickly fill her cheeks, she instantly looks away in embarrassment. But she must look again, the urge is too overwhelming.

"Where is she?" Not realizing that the damage is done, that it's too late, she scans the surroundings, watching the naked man try to fight through the bustle of men in uniforms; yelling, "SHE'S STILL IN THERE!!!" They pull him back, pull him down, down to the dew soaked grass. He's yelling and fighting, "SHE'S STILL IN THERE!!!" Stupid man. You can't fight the cops, they always win.

"Where is she?" More frantically she wonders. "MOMMY?" The moonlight cascades over the house, the house that is now engulfed with flames. The flames are mesmerizing, orange, yellow and red all fading into each other, dancing in the breeze, the breeze that is making her body shiver under the drenched clothing.

"Honey, let's go inside." The pleasant voice suddenly snaps her out of the trance, and instinctively she quickly shifts her gaze from the beauty of the fire, to the welcoming face of a strange woman. "Sweetie, come with me. We'll get you all cleaned up."

The little girl whispers, with fear lacing through her words, "Where's my mommy?"

As young as she was, she recognized a look of sadness in this pretty lady's face, a look that her long golden locks falling around her face couldn't hide. She answered her, after what seemed like eternity with a deliberate, vague answer, "Baby, the police are taking care of it."


Without ever being told, that little girl, that innocent little girl wandering along the cold, jagged sidewalk, knew her mommy was never coming home again. Just 20 days before her eighth birthday, she had received the last hug and kiss from the mommy she loved so much. In a whirlwind of events, she had been left all alone in a harsh bitter world.


Sitting here, more than 20 years later, that little girl is no longer innocent and alone. She sits here, the sound of Push Play in the background, reliving one of the most horrific, life changing tragedies that she had to endure. More than 20 years later, the wounds reopen in the recanting of this night, this night she had tried to hard to push into that cobweb covered corner of her mind.

I'm that scared little girl, realizing that I never did find a cobweb corner in my mind to place all the unpleasantries in my life. I always thought, if I don't think about it, it can't hurt me. I have unfortunately found that regardless of the fantasy world I construct, it is still there. I stumble upon it when I least expect it; like the times I feel like venturing outside my imaginary bubble to embark upon a new journey. That's when I bump into her,she's standing there, persistently waving at me, reminding me to never forget her. Such a beautiful woman, so much pain. Is that what people will say about me when I die? Will they say all the niceties, followed by the contrite "but"? "....But she was in so much pain, more than physical." "....But her soul was broken."

I refuse to let that be me; I refuse to keep my secrets hidden. You don't have to agree with me, you don't have to read one word of this. I'm not doing this for your personal enjoyment; I'm doing this as a tool to aid in my growth. My life is in my hands and it's time I took charge. She missed the milestone in my life, that last hug that night, before I fell asleep to the backdrop sounds of the drinking and partying,means more than a lifetime of recitals.

You are not alone, but I feel oh so alone

While the world grieved for Micheal Jackson, I could not help but to feel angry. Just because he was the "King of Pop" he gets all kinds of publicity... But the truth is he was an addict just like Tina. What makes his overdose so newsworthy???? It's not like celebrities aren't known to snort half their money up their noses. It's so stupid, at least Tina didn't molest young boys and then pay their parents to keep it quiet. She deserved to be in the news.... "Young mother/grandmother dies from overdose. The lives of her children will never be able to fill the void she left." But no, because Tina had so little money and because her death was an overdose, whether or not she meant to OD is irrelevant, therefore voiding her small accidental death policy of $4,000, she only got the free obituary... The one that only says her name and date, time and location of her service. She deserved so much more. And now here is Micheal, even outshining the death of Farrah Faucett who struggled to fight cancer till the end. It is so frustrating. As Malcom X so honestly put it, "The media is the most powerful entity on earth. They have the power to make the innocent guilty and to make the guilty innocent, and that's power. Because they control the minds of the masses."

The day after his death, the radio was riddled with his music, yes he was a talented artist, and I'm driving and his song "You are not alone" comes on... And as I listen to the words, feeling oh so alone since she died, I start crying.... Here I am driving down 31 S, wiping away the streaming tears, and this isn't a graceful cry, it is a sob. I hate that it is taking me so long to stop hurting. I should be able to move on now... But I keep looking at my phone, wishing for just one more phone call... Just one more time to say, I love you, goodnight. But, I was always in such a hurry, so I didn't get that extra phone call.

Lacking in accountability

Hhhhmmmm... So, I took a step forward to be the bigger person and I apologized to a girl that I couldn't care less if she were alive or dead. I don't think I apologized because I felt any sense of remorse, but rather because it was probably the right thing to do. I say probably because it started as a misunderstanding, then her ignorant self posts all kinds of crap about me on a social website. Blah oh how freaking trailer park trash.... "let's get all huffy and puffy and call me a bitch" LOL! As if Bitch is the worst thing in the world to be called... Oh wait I forgot, I'm a whore and drama queen. Blah... She is just sickening to me. I was once told (who am I kidding, I've been told several times), when you point one finger, you still have 3 others pointing back at you. So, while she is ranting and raving, which she really has little reason to, she is just making herself look like an idiot. It was nice that Shane went to bat for me this time. He usually sits back and lets me fight my fights, but this time he really defended me. He is amazing sometimes. But, at this time, I hope to close that chapter of my life. I am so obsessive that it is hard to not come back at this girl, but I know that it is not healthy. So, here we go... Bye bye to you and your low class behavior.

I'm still taking my medications like I'm supposed to, but I really do not like them at all; I gag and get all sick feeling when I have to take them. I don't know when this is going to pass.

I'm really happy in my relationship right now. This is a first with me as I have never felt like I deserved to be happy. I think for the longest time I have sabotaged my relationships, without even realizing it. On the downside, it seems the happier I am, the more he tries to argue and fight with me. I don't understand why we never seem to be on the same page.

I am still really stressed about everything. I feel horrible because it comes out on everyone around me. I'm not sure if I'm still struggling with Tina's death; it has been almost a month now. Wow, I can't believe she has been gone for that long. Next week will be a month. I still miss her so much. I don't have anyone to talk to when I'm really upset, except Shane.... But, he's generally the one who makes me unbearably upset, and therefore, I can't talk to him about that... He would never understand. Usually, I yell at him about the fact that the only person I had to talk to is dead now. Poor guy.

Well, I don't feel like anything in me is changing... or maybe I am not changing for the good. Shane says he sees changes, but I think it is just because now I'll apologize for everything. I try to pay attention to see if I talk rapidly still, but I usually forget to be aware of my rate of speech.

I'm struggling with the shaking, I think due to the lithium, so it is time to conclude this post. How nice to just be able to vent without regard to possible consequences.

I've got your quiz

Can a quiz really establish how well a person knows someone? Ten simple questions later, I feel like a fool. How relevant is knowing what a person's favorite car is, when quite honestly I'm not sure what year my own car is. A car, in itself, does not make the man or woman, for that matter. Nor does a car reflect the person's core values, their innermost desires, their goals... Eleven years worth of a relationship forms enough bonds and memories to compensate for lacking the correct answer about a car or beer. Regardless of this questionaire, I know the person for their being, maybe I am missing some trivial tidbits of information, but it is this whole being that I love completely, not a car he may never buy.

I am struggling with feelings of guilt... I reflect upon the years I had with Tina, all 20 of them, and while the first 9 were part of my childhood, the last 11 were filled with a melting pot of emotions. I'm sad that I didn't take more time to get to know her. The last five years we started to get close, but in retrospect, I wonder if I have lived in a bubble of self-centered pity that I never gave her the opportunity to use me as a friend. She was the one person that I trusted with every aspect of my life, I knew I could tell her anything and it was safe... But did she feel the same with me? Was our relationship one-sided? Where is my quiz to determine how well I knew her? I don't think she really had a favorite car, except maybe that beat up old red pickup truck that she drove home from Florida. Favorite color? Blue, a soft blue. She was eclectic and saved everything everyone gave her. She couldn't bring herself to throw away her mom's stuff after she died. I still miss her so much. I keep thinking I'm getting over it, but here I am drowning on about it now, feeling that ever-so present lump in my throat start to swell...

Tit for tat

I don't know how to describe how I'm feeling today. Maybe jealousy, anger, disappointment.... The thing is, I told my husband for father's day that I wanted him to go on a fishing trip with his brother and best friend. I really do want him to enjoy his trip. However, the closer this event has come, the more upset I have been. This is due to several factors; 1-He didn't even get me a card for mother's day, 2-I'm the one working a ton of overtime, plus a second job, whereas some weeks he doesn't even work his regular 40, 3-I haven't been able to do anything fun this summer and now his ass is sitting in a hotel room, preparing to go out on a boat and enjoy a day on the lake. What am I going to be doing, while he is out fishing??? Oh, that's right, I'll be working another 16 hour shift. That's my life, a series of naps between work shifts.

I don't want to talk to him about this. I'm sure it's my own self-centered desires that are blinding me with my dis-satisfaction, and I don't think that's fair to him. I just don't understand why I always try to make sure he is happy with his gifts and he doesn't ever seem to put the same effort into my gifts. To be honest, it really is hurting my feelings that he didn't get me anything for Mother's day. I know I'm not his mother, but I am the mother to his children... He's not my father, but I want him to enjoy this fishing trip as his Father's day gift. Am I really not valued by him in the same manner that I value him?

I really should stop stressing it. It isn't worth the heart ache.

Yellow means caution

I am incredibly, utterly bored tonight. My day was busy as usual. I didn't sleep well last night, then I was up this morning to take Seth to daycare, followed by a few hours at my part time job, then off to Peru to finish all paperwork for the funeral, and then to dad's house to visit for a couple hours. After I left there, I had to pick up my nephews from my gramm's house and now I am sitting here, almost 10 at night, waiting to have dinner and watching Lion King with my nephews. I'm a little shakey, assumably because I haven't eaten since almost 2 and my sugar level is surely dropping. I could close my eyes and pass out, except for the two toddlers that are sitting here with me, wide awake.

Sometimes I just wish the world would slow down and let me breath, but in all reality I do this to myself.

I hate the world today

I turn my head and it feels as if it takes a moment for my eyes to catch up. It is just about the weirdest feeling. Also, when I'm driving, my eyes are wide open, taking in the surroundings, as if I'm planning my escape route. I'm sure it is the effects of the lithium... I'm not enjoying this at all.

Lately, I have felt just completely angry. I have contemplated certain actions directed at certain people, that really the world would probably not miss... I hate coming home, I hate going to work, I hate waking up.... I would prefer to fall asleep and just not wake up. I can't pull myself out of this and that pisses me off as well. GGRRR!!!! I hate feeling like I'm not in control! Shane is planning a weekend trip to Niagara Falls for us; I hope that helps wake me back up. He keeps asking me what is wrong, but I don't even know what is wrong. So, I tell him nothing. I'm afraid that since we have come so far and have gotten so close, I am just going to withdraw and mess it all back up. I don't know how long he can love someone who is this confused.

I'm terrified that I can't keep it all together right now. I know I'm panicking, but school is coming up in a couple months and with the way I feel right now, I don't think I can handle it. I am afraid that with this stupid med, I won't be able to balance as much as I am used to. I can't be sitting in class staring into space and expect to pass. It just won't happen. I don't have much more schooling left, I really just need to buckle down and finish. *SIGH*

Sometimes there just isn't anything to talk about

It's been a couple days since my last post... I've been struggling with staying focused on something to write. I don't think much out of the ordinary has been going on, but then again, I've been such a space cadet, I doubt I would notice if something had happened.

Well, I started this blog because I enjoy writing, but writing hasn't been such an interest to me lately... To be honest, not much of anything is interesting. I'm too tired to want to do extra activities. This summer has been a complete waste for me. Last summer we went camping with dad and Tina and now that she's gone, I just don't want to be sadden with the fact that she isn't with us.

I've also been working a lot of hours lately, partly to because I always like the extra money that overtime offers, but also because now I have to play catch up after all the money I spent covering the expenses of Tina's passing. I'm tired at work too. I just think I need some time away from everything for awhile.

I got teary eyed today... I heard a song that will forever be linked to her death and it instantly brought me to tears. I shouldn't be crying like that after two weeks. I have cried enough tears for her to cover a lifetime worth of death.

It's just me...... and the evil monkey in my closet

I'm looking for you everywhere I turn. I stared at the clouds my whole drive home this morning, looking for a sign. I thought I saw your face in the clouds and then later an eye, as if you were watching me, keeping me safe...


In the wee hours of the night, I sit here, rubbing away the hazy film that is forming over my eyes, wondering... well I don't know what I'm wondering... I try to think about how I'm feeling, but I don't have any feelings so to speak of. I feel tired; I'm ready for this long 16 hour shift to be over. I feel bored; there is never anything interesting to watch at 3 am on a Sunday morning. I of course, resort to the familiar sounds of AC360 and Larry King Live on my comfort channel of choice, CNN. I feel lazy, as I have an assortment of household chores that I need to finish before 6 am. But, in reflection these feelings are all physical, none of them are reflecting how I am feeling emotionally... I don't feel happiness, really what is there to be happy about? I'm not really feeling sadness nor am I depressed.

This self reflection leads me to a question presented during my psychologist appointment, in which I was asked how I had coped with all the crap in my life. I think the answer lies in the way I handle my life. I think I seemingly take an empty, lack of emotion approach to life. Every once and awhile I hit a bump that I didn't see coming or that I couldn't go around.... These metaphorical bumps can cause me much pain, but I soon hide that pain and move on, ignoring any reminder of that pain... Sometimes denying that there was any pain to begin with.

Wow, Paul Sr. quoted in his book that his whole childhood set him up to be in jail or a failure... Is he my brother? LOL

So, back to the emotional part of me... I guess if stress is considered an emotion, I've got that one covered. I am extremely tired of living in my small apartment, while it was sufficient when I was minus one husband, once he was added back into the equation, so was his bulky furniture and there is just no room. I feel like I'm being held prisoner in a cracker jack box, gasping for breath, begging to escape. The walls are closing in!

Irritation. I'm always irritated and it has recently found its way into my work. The ladies are driving me insane, with their constant chatter. My family is always irritating me, leaving messes, toying with my belongings, losing that one thing that of course I need at that very moment, breaking anything and everything in their way... Grr! I wish they would get their own home and leave me to my apartment.... They can take all the crap in the apartment with them.

And again, here I am, eyes heavy with fatigue, back aching from arthritis, procrastinating on the work that I so desperately need to finish.

Anyone bring the dip?

I've just been so tired and confused the past few days. I don't want to do anything other than lay in bed all day. Last summer, I was so active, going hiking and camping ever chance I got, but this summer, I just don't have the desire to walk out of my bedroom. Lately, I've been getting lost in the middle of conversation. I think I need a break for awhile.

I really have been working hard to make changes in my life and in my health. It's overwelming because it just doesn't ever seem like its enough. I will never be good enough.

Today just isn't a good day for me. I keep thinking, I wish it had been me instead of her. I would have gladly left. My life is this big production of trying to pretend everything is ok all the time, when really I feel so out of control. I just want to run away from it all; start new somewhere, with no responsiblity, no obligations, no one to let down. She loved life and her family.

And now, here I am, hosting my own big party of self pity, and feeling utterly and completely alone... Where's the chips and salsa?

Cherished Memories

*sigh* Well, it's been an exhausting week. Eight days ago I said goodbye for the last time to the woman who was my mom for 20 years. As, I think about that length of time, it seems like it should have lasted forever, but those 20 years really did fly by. It seems like just yesterday my dad was bringing her into our home for the first time. I sat there, nervous, stuttering "um" over and over as a thought filler trying to process this woman with her contagious laugh and addicting smile. That night I had no idea that my father would eventually marry her and ask her to fill the void my mother had left when she had died the few years before. The years of my childhood that followed were filled with many ups and downs. I used to count down the time until I turned the all elusive 18; that magic number of freedom.

I have many memories that will help bring me joy in celebrating her life. She was there for the birth of both my children... Oh how she loved children; her only desire in life was to be a mother and grandmother. Her last days were spent enjoying the company of family. We shared many a summer night, sitting around a bonfire, reflecting upon life and our purpose in it. My fondest and most cherished memories are the many phone calls we shared. I am saddened that I do not have even one voice recording of her to listen to on my drive home from work.

We buried this beautiful wife, mother of 8, grandmother of 7 today. And with tears streaming down my face, I said my final goodbye that led her to her final resting place. I hope that the sermon is right and she is alive again. Enjoying a pain free world, but taking time to check in on us once and awhile.

Final Flight

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free, I'm following the path God laid for me. I took his hand when I heard his call, I turned my back and left it all.I could not stay another day, To laugh, to love, to work, to play. Tasks left undone must stay that way, I've found that peace at the end of the day. If my parting has left a void, Then fill it with remembered joy. A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss, Ah, yes, these things too I will miss. Be not burdened with times of sorrow, I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow. My Life's been full, I savoured much, Good friends, good times, a loved one' touch. Perhaps my time seemed all too brief, Don't lengthen it now with undue grief.Lift up your heart and share with me, God wanted me now, He set me free.
(Unknown)


In Loving Memory of
Tina Lynn Huntsman
May 16, 1967 - June 3, 2009

Living life to the fullest...

Here it is Sunday, finally the end of one of the worst weeks I've had in my life. I can't say I'm coming to terms with her death... I don't know if I will ever be able to do that; but I'm not a bumbling mess of tears today. My father was not in the right state of mind to handle the funeral arrangements, so I had to plan her funeral. I was amazed at the charity in the hearts of the people who helped me with the proceedings. As my family was not able to afford the cost of a funeral, nor did they have an insurance policy, it was the contributions of this community that made it possible to respect the wishes of Tina and have an actual funeral for her, instead of the cremation that the state will pay for.

Planning her funeral has helped me cope with her loss... It has always been best for me to stay busy instead of wasting away dwelling over the unchangeables.

Its hard to be so hurt, but at the same time respect that other people are hurting in their own ways. I was often so angry that it seemed I was only one who was hurt by this. Some people treated this like a celebration... I wanted her life to be celebrated, I just didn't want them to celebrate. As I sat crying the other night, I knew she would have never wanted me to do that. She always cared so much about my health and stability. She knows how weak my mental state can be. At points I wanted to join her, my children will never know that they saved my life this week.

I have struggled with the concepts of the afterlife. It is hard to believe in a god that takes so much from his people. Even though I don't know whether to believe in heaven and hell, I sit here and pray that she is in heaven, holding her baby boy that she lost so many years ago, looking down at us, saying, "Don't cry, I'm so much better now and I'll see you again in time. Live your life to the fullest, as I learned to do and don't stress the small things, because in the end, all you need in life is love."

I wanna go home... I miss you, you know

As I laid here Wednesday, in my own party of self pity, my stepmom of 20 years laid dead on her living room couch, no one paying attention as if she were a fly on the wall. I'm enraged as I think about her lying there, dead at 4 in the afternoon, all alone in her world of pain. She's pain free now.

As I drove to her home, all around me the world continued to move. I wanted to scream at them that something horrible had just happened! Stop mowing your lawns and cry with me. But not one person realized that we had lost her.

I'm so lost without her. I could tell her anything and she would listen, not judging me, not trying to fix the world for me. She would offer me her ear, her shoulder to cry on. And now, I'm all alone, without my bestfriend. I don't know how to deal with the pain. I keep thinking, "just swallow it down, this too shall pass." But why the hell should it pass, why did she have to pass???? She was only 42, not 82; it wasn't her time. I hope she's safe and watching over us.

She would tell me not to cry, that I was strong enough, but I don't believe it. I don't think I can handle this. I miss her so much, and it hasn't even been 48 hours. I'll never hear her voice again or feel her supportive hug... I've lost my second mom. How does a person handle that? God, wasn't taking the first one good enough for you???? Didn't you fuck me up enough in childhood? Am I not allowed to have a mother in my life? Why do you hate me so? Can't I just live a happy life? I'm trying to be a good person and do the right things... It just isn't worth it. I wish I could have went with her. I don't want to be here anymore. I wanna go home too.....

Home - Michael Buble

Another summer day
has come and gone away
In Paris or Rome...
but I wanna go home...
uhm Home
may be surrounded by
a million people I
still feel all alone
just wanna go home
I miss you, you know

And I've been keeping all the letters
that I wrote to you,
Each one a line or two
I'm fine baby, how are you?
I would send them but I know that it's just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that

Another aeroplane, another sunny place,
I'm lucky I know
but I wanna go home
I got to go home

Let me go home

I'm just too far from where you are
I wanna come home

And I feel just like I'm living
someone else's life
It's like I just stepped outside
when everything was going right
And I know just why you could not come along with me
This was not your dream
but you always believed in me...

Another winter day
Has come and gone away
in either Paris or Rome
and I wanna go home
Let me go home

And I'm surrounded by
A million people I
still feel alone
Let me go home
I miss you , you know

Let me go home
I've had my run
baby I'm done
I gotta go home

Let me go home
it'll all be alright
I'll be home tonight
I'm coming back home"

Some wait for Friday as a gateway to the weekend, I wait for Friday because it means I go back to work...

Here I am, on day two of my stretch of three days off. I have come to despise my time off... Time off for me means absolutely no productivity; I will lay in bed all day, to the point of not even showering. It even extends to irrational irritability at the suggestion to leave the house by my husband. As it was so today, I sulked in my bedroom pouting about having to get dressed to leave. As long as I stay busy with work or appointments, I am good; I can avoid these types of melt downs. Over the past two pays I have laid in here, obsessed over the Internet, bored to tears, waiting for Friday when I go back to work.

FMyLife - FML : Your everyday life stories.

FMyLife - FML : Your everyday life stories.

Focus on ME!

So, my husband says to me today, "For someone so concerned with people knowing you are bipolar, you sure are telling a lot of people."

Of course I was upset that he pointed this out to me... My fountain of too much information was over-flowing. It was as if he had announced to the world that my hair was thinning so much that my scalp was quite visible, which it is... But this is something that I didn't want nor need addressed.

Now, on to my hours of self reflection, because it is absolutely impossible for me to not obsess over this smack in the face revelation. I often attempt to analyze my wide range of behaviors, with the thoughts that understanding them can help me change them. Honestly though, this diarrhea of the mouth isn't a new development for me. Most people know far more about me then what I want them to; I have that tendency to speak without thought. This is something my dad tried to address as a child. He used to tell me, "Jamie, just stop and think for five seconds before talking." LOL, I never conquered that entirely, I guess except for my most recent issue with a particular inlaw. I paused several times, but it didn't help... I just couldn't stop myself from making it known my absolute detest for her.

And now, here I am, I have completely strayed off the subject that I felt so compelled to address. Why would I make it so public that I am facing a bipolar diagnosis? Hell, I started a public blog that revolves around it! I wonder if I was hoping that someone would care or maybe would be shocked that I, bouncy person of the year, was bipolar. But , I have only been greated with vague, empty responses; making it more and more clear that I may never find myself surrounded by the support that I constantly crave. Nothing will be enough to fill my emptiness... There will never be enough people to make me feel as if I count, as if I'm worthy of life itself. I can only conclude that I have a strange desire to be the center of attention, I crave the pity of having the worst life possible. It's as if the crappy hand I was dealt so young has to carry over to my adult being.

I once commented that I didn't think anyone would ever know the true me, not even myself... I feel this is more true now than ever.

Coming to terms with a diagnosis...

While, being diagnosed as bipolar recently was not as shocking as some would think, I still can not embrace the treatments that await me. For years, I have fought the ensuing battle against depression, to no avail. I was hospitalized at 12 for being severely depressed, however I deceived my way out of inpatient treatment and relied on a daily dose of antidepressants to fill the void in my soul. As an adult, I've had at least three doctors advise me of my bipolar tendencies. Regardless, even after much research and realizing that yes, I do have most of the symptoms associated with bipolar disorder, I still don't feel like I have a problem. I am addicted to this manic state of productivity and would rather take the ostrich in the sand approach.... "If I can't see it, it must not exist."

But, here I am, desperately wanting to make the changes in my life that may lead to the path of happiness. Within the next week, I will surely be under the influence of medication. I embark upon this with much apprehension. I fear the changes that my personality may endure.

I hope this newest venture will bring about the changes that I desperately need.