Wednesday, May 19, 2010
August 1, 2009
Done, sad, angry. Dad justifies drug use. I hate him. I wish he would have died instead of Tina. All he has ever done is screw up the lives of all his children. His drugs will always rank higher than us. He is scum.
July 31, 2009
Asked my brother Jeff about kids drug use. He overlooks question and changed subject. I'm so pissed and disappointed with him.
I need someone to talk to! I don't know what to do. I'm so panicky. How can I help these kids.
Turned down the first guy. The first attempt he kept joking through each denial. Eventually he stopped texting. Very proud, happy and triumphant.
Psychiatrist appointment. I feel like he dismissed my concerns or issues... Like I'm taking them out of proportion. I feel like he thinks I just want meds. I don't I just want to be normal. Or maybe he just thinks I'm just a bad person... I don't like him.
I need someone to talk to! I don't know what to do. I'm so panicky. How can I help these kids.
Turned down the first guy. The first attempt he kept joking through each denial. Eventually he stopped texting. Very proud, happy and triumphant.
Psychiatrist appointment. I feel like he dismissed my concerns or issues... Like I'm taking them out of proportion. I feel like he thinks I just want meds. I don't I just want to be normal. Or maybe he just thinks I'm just a bad person... I don't like him.
July 30, 2009
4am - I am goin on no sleep, abou to go on a boating trip, excited, but apprehensive. Shane got upset w/ me rushing them, saying "We're not all bipolar and can stay up all night." Hurt, sad, defeated. I will never be good enough. Even wen I try, it doesn't work.
Later he sucks, but I don't give in his apologies. He always finds new ways to hurt me.
After the trip, dad drives off the road on his way home. Later I find out that it was because he and Jeff were smoking pot and he handed his stash to my 14 year old sister to hold. I'm PISSED!!!
Justina tells me that her and Job get high with dad. I'm so overwhelmed, confused, pissed, hurt, sad, DEVASTATED.
Later he sucks, but I don't give in his apologies. He always finds new ways to hurt me.
After the trip, dad drives off the road on his way home. Later I find out that it was because he and Jeff were smoking pot and he handed his stash to my 14 year old sister to hold. I'm PISSED!!!
Justina tells me that her and Job get high with dad. I'm so overwhelmed, confused, pissed, hurt, sad, DEVASTATED.
July 29, 2009
Getting focus back, now so panicky or out of control. Still functioning on limited sleep with some difficulty - basically driving is hard. Still feeling fidgety, but it is so unbearable. Some impulsive eating. Not feeling much tonight, boredom, still ready for a break. Wish everything would disappear. Ready for school to be done... Not looking forward to going back. Ready to quit. Just wanna sleep. I feel like I'm putting on a play, pretending to everyone that everything is good, positive... inside I'm twisted. I can pull it together. I have to.
July 25, 2009
Angry, frustrated, irate, sad, crying, stressed, overwhelmed, want to run away, sleep forever, panicky, lonely, fat, ugly, FLIGHT-----> Shane went to his family's... our house is not clean, I have to work, he's out having a good time, calling into work... I can't seem to control my emotions. I feel like my chest is going to explode. I wanna run, but no where to go.
July 23, 2009
Flirty, feisty, desired, shaky, ashamed, questioning.
I texted him. Very suggestive, witty text. Testing boundaries. I know I should say no, stop it, ignore it... But I can't. I'm drawn to it. Why do I let this determine how I feel about myself. Amy I using bipolar as an excuse to be unfaithful, to test those waters again? Will I ever be able to be in a faithful relationship? I destroy everything and I know it's wrong. I just can't stop. It's like a high, it makes me feel good, I breath in deep and feel numb. (Stupid hand tremors.... I struggle to write.)
I texted him. Very suggestive, witty text. Testing boundaries. I know I should say no, stop it, ignore it... But I can't. I'm drawn to it. Why do I let this determine how I feel about myself. Amy I using bipolar as an excuse to be unfaithful, to test those waters again? Will I ever be able to be in a faithful relationship? I destroy everything and I know it's wrong. I just can't stop. It's like a high, it makes me feel good, I breath in deep and feel numb. (Stupid hand tremors.... I struggle to write.)
July 22, 2009
Frustrated, shaky, nervous, antsy, fidgety
Can't sleep, lay there feeling like I'm about to crawl out of my skin, body is shaking. I've slept less than 10 hours over 72 hours.
Can't stop craving attention. Talk to a third guy, all sex talk. Shaking. When texting it feels rushed and nervous. Feeling like a whore. I know I shouldn't talk to him. I don't even like him, but he's telling me he wants me, telling me I'm sexy, misses me from before, how I turn him on. I'm a horrible person.
Excited - the second guy texted and talked for awhile. Felt wanted again. Confused. Why am I doing this again????
Guilty, confused, sad, disappointed. I have to stop this before it gets out of hand. I'm back in a hole of wanting to drink and party. I have to refocus. I know I should just stifle and live my life with Shane. I can't keep doing this. Keep going in these circles. These other men will never leave their wives, they will never want me completely. I'm nothing. I'm a whore. I don't deserve to be happy. I only bring deceit and pain to people. I wish I could go to sleep and just not wake up.
Why can't they love me??
Can't sleep, lay there feeling like I'm about to crawl out of my skin, body is shaking. I've slept less than 10 hours over 72 hours.
Can't stop craving attention. Talk to a third guy, all sex talk. Shaking. When texting it feels rushed and nervous. Feeling like a whore. I know I shouldn't talk to him. I don't even like him, but he's telling me he wants me, telling me I'm sexy, misses me from before, how I turn him on. I'm a horrible person.
Excited - the second guy texted and talked for awhile. Felt wanted again. Confused. Why am I doing this again????
Guilty, confused, sad, disappointed. I have to stop this before it gets out of hand. I'm back in a hole of wanting to drink and party. I have to refocus. I know I should just stifle and live my life with Shane. I can't keep doing this. Keep going in these circles. These other men will never leave their wives, they will never want me completely. I'm nothing. I'm a whore. I don't deserve to be happy. I only bring deceit and pain to people. I wish I could go to sleep and just not wake up.
Why can't they love me??
July 21, 2009
Desiring more from life, feeling distant, frustrated, ALONE, unimportant, disgusted...
Trying to discuss a potential move. Apartment too small, cluttered, trapped. We can't talk, no communication. Both of us just got pissed and shut down.
Disappointed, rejected, ugly, pathetic, confused.
The person attracted to me was going to text, but didn't. Why do I want to even hear from him?
Trying to discuss a potential move. Apartment too small, cluttered, trapped. We can't talk, no communication. Both of us just got pissed and shut down.
Disappointed, rejected, ugly, pathetic, confused.
The person attracted to me was going to text, but didn't. Why do I want to even hear from him?
July 20, 2009
I've lost 20 pounds! I'm feeling pretty confident and prettier.
Sexy, attractive, confused, contemplative
What is really best for me? Am I really happy? I was propositioned by an old coworker. Why does this always happen to me. Do I exhibit a whore-type of personality? They never want me, just the sex.
Sexy, attractive, confused, contemplative
What is really best for me? Am I really happy? I was propositioned by an old coworker. Why does this always happen to me. Do I exhibit a whore-type of personality? They never want me, just the sex.
July 19, 2009
I'm feeling pissed, disgusted, betrayed, ALONE, validated, vengeful....
I was so frustrated that his sisters were so two-faced. I tried to talk to Shane, but he wasn't interested. He said I was bitching. It makes me feel so validated for being excited about getting hit on and I want him to hurt.
I'm feeling frustrated, uncompassionate, intolerant, distant...
He tries to act like nothing happened, like he didn't do anything and I have no reason to be upset. I'm not going to pretend that he isn't an anss. he says he will always be there, but never is. he only wants to be there for the positive.
I was so frustrated that his sisters were so two-faced. I tried to talk to Shane, but he wasn't interested. He said I was bitching. It makes me feel so validated for being excited about getting hit on and I want him to hurt.
I'm feeling frustrated, uncompassionate, intolerant, distant...
He tries to act like nothing happened, like he didn't do anything and I have no reason to be upset. I'm not going to pretend that he isn't an anss. he says he will always be there, but never is. he only wants to be there for the positive.
July 18, 2009
I am feeling flattered, pretty, guilty, confused, excited by being hit on by a familiar person. How do I become strong enough to say no? Why do I suck?
Saturday, April 3, 2010
A visit to the darkside
I'm feeling a little more awake now...
Lately,my mind has been burdened with self reflection and constant analysis.
I find myself longing the days of past. As I sit here, obsessed with my newest skin infliction due to this medication intended to treat an alternate skin predator, I wash my face with the medicated scented Noxema Pads. The alcohol smell tinged with the facial cleanser scent, penetrated my nostrils, instantly enticing visions of a tribal luncheon routine developed during the days of my tenure with a small factory in an even smaller town. Mandi, the like-minded blond that I formed a strong attachment to through days spent ignoring the needs of Verizon customers clinging to the hopes that we will grace them with out undivided attention through curly black lines, sits with me in my sandstone 2001 Chevy Cavaliar. As we sit there, trying to salvage our youthful skin from the havoc's of grease haven factory, we thoroughly cleanse our face with this same brand of facial pads. Our talks of leaving this life of strife and stress to become successful drug dealers motivates our return to the well coined, 'Hell Pit.'
Amanda and I, we share a similar soul, a strangely burdened soul. We realized our bond through drunken nights of dangerous driving and intensely, passionate moments with the man of the hour. There was a loneliness that could not be fulfilled for either of us, as we came to realize that men were the toys on our playground. Silly little men, would do anything for a taste of the sacred fruit. How tantalizing they were in our hands, the silly putty that conformed to the surface we presented them. We held the keys to our hearts, keeping it locked off from their petty desires. We were safe from the perils of a broken heart, or so it appeared at the moment.
As time has progressed, we have both entertained the notion of falling in love with the puppet of the hour. Sometimes it seemed successful. "This is the one. He's my soul mate." The storyline doesn't change, he's still the same cloned male that every man before him has already fulfilled. The cycle fails to halt, there is no break in the systematic continum of sex and heartbreak. Left alone, crying, heartbroken, is there even the possibility of the this whimsical concept of a soul mate or are we chasing a cinema driven ideology on what to expect in a relationship?
I'm prone to feel that I'm just not good enough for any man past the extent of demeaning sexual acts. That is a diagnosis that I must come to terms with.
Lately,my mind has been burdened with self reflection and constant analysis.
I find myself longing the days of past. As I sit here, obsessed with my newest skin infliction due to this medication intended to treat an alternate skin predator, I wash my face with the medicated scented Noxema Pads. The alcohol smell tinged with the facial cleanser scent, penetrated my nostrils, instantly enticing visions of a tribal luncheon routine developed during the days of my tenure with a small factory in an even smaller town. Mandi, the like-minded blond that I formed a strong attachment to through days spent ignoring the needs of Verizon customers clinging to the hopes that we will grace them with out undivided attention through curly black lines, sits with me in my sandstone 2001 Chevy Cavaliar. As we sit there, trying to salvage our youthful skin from the havoc's of grease haven factory, we thoroughly cleanse our face with this same brand of facial pads. Our talks of leaving this life of strife and stress to become successful drug dealers motivates our return to the well coined, 'Hell Pit.'
Amanda and I, we share a similar soul, a strangely burdened soul. We realized our bond through drunken nights of dangerous driving and intensely, passionate moments with the man of the hour. There was a loneliness that could not be fulfilled for either of us, as we came to realize that men were the toys on our playground. Silly little men, would do anything for a taste of the sacred fruit. How tantalizing they were in our hands, the silly putty that conformed to the surface we presented them. We held the keys to our hearts, keeping it locked off from their petty desires. We were safe from the perils of a broken heart, or so it appeared at the moment.
As time has progressed, we have both entertained the notion of falling in love with the puppet of the hour. Sometimes it seemed successful. "This is the one. He's my soul mate." The storyline doesn't change, he's still the same cloned male that every man before him has already fulfilled. The cycle fails to halt, there is no break in the systematic continum of sex and heartbreak. Left alone, crying, heartbroken, is there even the possibility of the this whimsical concept of a soul mate or are we chasing a cinema driven ideology on what to expect in a relationship?
I'm prone to feel that I'm just not good enough for any man past the extent of demeaning sexual acts. That is a diagnosis that I must come to terms with.
"A soulmate is somebody with whom one has a feeling of deep and natural affinity, love, intimacy, sexuality, spirituality, and/or compatibility."
Is such a whimsical idea even a possibility in this life?
This is all I can give. Take it, without question. Is a life void of happiness, a life at all?
Driving home yesterday, eyes drifting closed every few moments, I glimpsed the quickly approaching, semi truck sitting at the red light straight ahead. I stalled in my decision to slow down. How quickly all my whims of happily every after and a true love would dissipate, and relieve the heartache of realizing that I would never satisfy those desires in my heart.
My soul is fleeing. It's very existence under fire.
I'm too exhausted to finish this tonight.
This is all I can give. Take it, without question. Is a life void of happiness, a life at all?
Driving home yesterday, eyes drifting closed every few moments, I glimpsed the quickly approaching, semi truck sitting at the red light straight ahead. I stalled in my decision to slow down. How quickly all my whims of happily every after and a true love would dissipate, and relieve the heartache of realizing that I would never satisfy those desires in my heart.
My soul is fleeing. It's very existence under fire.
I'm too exhausted to finish this tonight.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
untitled - everything has an identity, except for me
I miss life. It's been so long, ya know... I've been gone, far away, but always watching; always observing the production my life equates to.
There are always people around, suffocating the light out, stealing what life they can from me. It has now been confirmed, I'm not meant for things of happiness and pleasure.
I'm free! I've escaped the reach of oppression, but I'm running. I'm fleeing, fast-paced and frantically. He's on my tracks, determined to keep me caged away. I'm his pretty little firefly, bringing him flickers of light and childlike glee.
The village riots together, ignorantly united, falsely connected. They conspire my death, the villain in the night must not get away! She holds the key to the dawning of another day. We will catch her, we will reform her. She WILL become another drone of society!
There is no escape... wearily, I'm bound to submit to their whims of normalcy, foundation, structure... CONFORMITY! I've lost possession of my breath... It slowly escapes my lips...
Sadly, the solution surfaces; the mind collapses and all is still within... finally. They victor my scarred soul, and leave my useless shell, crumbled on the floor.
There are always people around, suffocating the light out, stealing what life they can from me. It has now been confirmed, I'm not meant for things of happiness and pleasure.
I'm free! I've escaped the reach of oppression, but I'm running. I'm fleeing, fast-paced and frantically. He's on my tracks, determined to keep me caged away. I'm his pretty little firefly, bringing him flickers of light and childlike glee.
The village riots together, ignorantly united, falsely connected. They conspire my death, the villain in the night must not get away! She holds the key to the dawning of another day. We will catch her, we will reform her. She WILL become another drone of society!
There is no escape... wearily, I'm bound to submit to their whims of normalcy, foundation, structure... CONFORMITY! I've lost possession of my breath... It slowly escapes my lips...
Sadly, the solution surfaces; the mind collapses and all is still within... finally. They victor my scarred soul, and leave my useless shell, crumbled on the floor.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
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.
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!
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!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
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
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
Friday, November 13, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
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.
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.
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