I will not give up today. I hope not to give up tomorrow. I won’t hurt myself today even as much as I want to. I will not do suicide. Hugs
I am living proof of this. My story could haveended like so many other abused/trafficked kids like me, but I hung on, I went in the military to find a way to live with out my abusers. I survived. You can also. Hugs
I do this. I share on this blog. But if in trouble I call Randy. I desperately do not want to return to the bad times. But if the nightmares get bad, if I am crying I reach out to him. Does he deserve to be my main support person? No, but he is willing to be so. Just weeks ago I was struggling with selfharinging again. I called randy. I did not know but I interrupted his getting supper after a hard time at work. He talked me off the ledge, he calmed me down, and he did not let me off the phone until I assured him I wouldn’t hurt myself. That is the person Randy is. I am so sorry to put my friend through this. Hugs
I must admit, I’ve had a difficult time of things this year. I guess everyone has or will go through this, so it feels a bit selfish to even speak about it. I have to admit that some of the painful things in life I’ve been very fortunate to postpone. If you will forgive me, I’d like to come to this a bit through the back door….
Today while mowing my lawn, I unwillingly began to think on my friend. Perhaps I wasn’t such a good friend because right now I can’t see his face or remember his name. How horrible is that? In fairness it was almost 40 years ago. But, I remember him. I remember how he laughed. I remember how he was so very smart, how easily it seemed to me that things came for him.
I remember that day he was wearing brown corduroy pants and an odd shirt, was very thin and standing strangely, he who once was so athletic and only wore Nike, Izod, the best fashion. His hair was long, unkempt. He looked dirty, greasy. Seeing him so shabby had such an impact on me, such a devastation to thoughts and feelings. Shock, I guess. Without words from him I realized that was likely the last time I would see him and I didn’t know what to do. I was angry. I couldn’t have told you why I was angry at the time, but now so many years later I see it a bit better. I was angry that he started using again, and I was angry that he could even get it and I was so fucking angry that I couldn’t stop it from happening! It was not fair!! My friend was dying in front of me and all I had was this numbness and rage. Over the years I’ve agonized over that moment, wondering what I could have done differently or what I could have said that would have made everything ok again. But, I know, ok was gone for him and all I had was acceptance of the seeming inevitable: my friend was back on heroin and I had the mixed fortune to see him, even like this, one more time and say goodbye. The pollen must have been potent today as my allergies were really making my eyes run.
So, why am I telling you this 40-year old story to back door my point? I guess because I’m having difficulty facing the inescapable proof that my parents do indeed have feet of clay, that they are vulnerable, that I will lose them. We strike out on our own when we feel all big and grown up, but that little boy does somehow remain on the inside, doesn’t he? And, though I built castle walls and thought myself secure in my adulthood, damn if the foundation slips right out from underneath. I am running head on into this – that the two people in my life who I fought with, argued with, even felt that juvenile selfish hatred, that I shared with, modeled, admired, who could and did handle anything are now facing the inevitable…
… and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. It’s not fair, dammit. The people who always fixed everything can’t. And I can’t fix this, I can’t make it ok. The best I can do is try to help, try to do something that they then don’t have to do, don’t have to worry about, and it seems so very insignificant.
And I’m so fucking angry! I’m angry that cancer and heart disease are still words to fear in modern America! My government is more concerned with killing people than helping our citizens live longer! Live better! My government is spending billions on inflicting pain on people who look different, love different, while I see the pain on my loved ones faces and their actions and know I can’t do anything to make it stop! My government is more concerned with lining their own pockets and fluffing the bank accounts of the super-wealthy while I’m struggling to afford to go see my parents and help them with their needs.
I am grieving the unfairness of it all, and I am so very angry. And there just doesn’t really seem to be a damn thing I can do about it. -randy
I do this. I share on this blog. But if trouble I call Randy. I desperately do not want to return to the bad times. But if the nightmares get bad, if I am crying I reach out to him. Does he deserve to be my main support person? No, but he is willing to be so. Just weeks ago I was struggling with self harming again. I called Randy. I did not know but I interrupted his getting supper after a hard time at work. He talked me off the ledge, he calmed me down, and he did not let me off the phone until I assured him I wouldn’t hurt myself. That is the person Randy is. I am so sorry to put my friend through this. Hugs
Hello everyone. I have an issue with the cartoon pages. They stopped working when several programs were updated. Turning off add blockers seems to bring up the cartoon on each page but I have to disable it on each of the 67 pages. There has been something that is not working correctly with vavaldi browser. I will try one more thing before I go to reseting the computer and then reloading it. I need the cartoon pages to do the cartoon / meme posts. I will try to be as fast as I can. Hugs.
I am living proof of this. My story could haveended like so many other abused/trafficked kids like me, but I hung on, I went in the military to find a way to live with out my abusers. I survived. You can also. Hugs
I do this. I share on this blog. But if in trouble I call Randy. I desperately do not want to return to the bad times. But if the nightmares get bad, if I am crying I reach out to him. Does he deserve to be my main support person? No, but he is willing to be so. Just weeks ago I was struggling with selfharinging again. I called randy. I did not know but I interrupted his getting supper after a hard time at work. He talked me off the ledge, he calmed me down, and he did not let me off the phone until I assured him I wouldn’t hurt myself. That is the person Randy is. I am so sorry to put my friend through this. Hugs
Scottie's Playtime 