I find the most peace at night, when the world is less busy and I’m warm in my bed. This is usually when I think the most, which is extremely problematic when I’m exhausted. I also find myself buried in so much regret and anxiety at night, the “should haves” and “what ifs” weigh heavily on my mind. The things I did and didn’t do or the things I should of should not of done race through my mind. 

After being molested, after having my first love come out, after having my heart broken time and time again I’ve become so cut off, so distance to the most human thing in the world; Love. 

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have a man, a family. It’s always been a dream of mine, waking up at 5am to fix coffee and lunch for my man before he heads off to work, take care of our babies and our house, make a home. I never thought I’d become so jaded, so incapable of letting my walls down and people in. 

It’s hard, and I know I need more professional help then I can afford or care to do. 

I’m 25 on October 4th, and my dream was to have at least one child by now, but how can you have a baby, be intimate with anyone when you are afraid that there is something wrong with you, when being touched by anyone makes you uncomfortable, when you hate yourself in such a way that you can’t imagine that anyone would love you. I don’t think it’s possible. The only time I’ve been able to have sex since being molested is when I’m drinking, and I haven’t touched alcohol in 3 years. 

I think that’s why I’m so taken back by the way people treat their children, that some individuals can abort their babies, allow their children to be taken into ministry care because of neglect. I understand that no ones perfect but if they really took a step back and realized how many people, myself included, would love the chance to have a baby, to be a mother I would hope they would begin to understand how precious and amazing their child is. 

The only thing I really wish for this year is strength. 

The strength I need to move on, the strength it takes not to give up. I wish for a happy life, something I haven’t had in far to long. I wish to fall in love, to allow myself to be vulnerable. 

  

  

It’s hard to explain the way I feel to people that can’t relate. Loosing anyone is hard, but loosing a parent is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It changed my entire world, but my world didn’t change. 

Imagine, if you wish, feeling like everything is on a grey scale; No color. You are living in a world where all you see is black, shades of grey and white, but all around you people are enjoying the blue sky, the green grass, color. 

That’s how I feel. 

I feel like I live without color. 

Not because I am only sad but because I feel different. I do not feel like I belong where I did before. I feel as though I am a different person. I can’t engage in childish conversations, or deal with idiotic drama. I can’t be who I was. 

I think that’s the problem, I was always just a girl with a sick dad. “My dad is sick” was always my answer when someone asked, now I’m the girl who lost her dad, the girl who’s dad is dead. The words can’t seem to roll of my tongue, they get stuck in my throat and make me choke; I cannot breath. I don’t expect, I don’t hope, people to understand what I mean, how dead is any worse then terminally ill but it is. It’s selfish and its intense, this feeling, to feel like a completely different person, to be angry and sad yet numb. I know in my heart he was tired, he was worn out and it was his time, but now I’m tired, my eyes have bigger bags then ever. My heart is broken and I feel empty. 

Every where and everything brings me back to when he was alive. Back when my world was colorful. 

It’s not even monumental things anymore; it’s a parking lot, a road, it’s random memory that plays on repeat in my mind. 

Explain to me, please, how I am expected to go on when every thing I do and see reminds me that he is not here. 

It’s becoming hard to sleep because when I close my eyes the past presents itself again. Each time bringing me back to a time when my dad was alive. 

I feel like I’m giving up

Woke up this morning hurting.

“A heart of gold stopped beating, Hard working hands now rest. God broke our hearts to prove to us he only takes the best. We think of you in silence, we often speak your name, all we have are memories, your picture in a frame. A million times we’ve thought of you, a million times we’ve cried. If love alone could have saved you, you never would have died. It broke our hearts to lose you, but you didn’t go alone. For a part of us went with you the day God took you home.”

Isn’t time suppose to make this easier? It’s been two months, yet it feels so new. Every so often something gets to me, a smell, a man in a wheelchair, anything really, and all the memories I have with you replay in my mind. It always ends the same, with you in that bed and tears streaming down my face, your cold skin on my lips is the only thing I can feel. This is exactly what I didn’t want, to remember you in your last moments. Instead of sticking with my gut instinct, I was guilted into seeing you, that wasn’t you though, I was guilted into having my last memory of you being one that haunts me. I don’t care how raw this is, or what other people may think while reading this because sometimes honesty is the only thing I can offer, the only thing that can keep me from going crazier then I already feel. I wish I could remember you the way you deserve to be remembered, smiling, healthy, working on cars and drinking coffee, but I can’t. All I remember is the sound of the breathing machine keeping you alive, the smell of hand sanitizer and stale air. You laying in a bed not moving, not once, no eyebrow movements, no smiles. I can’t breath when I think of it, and yes it’s changed me. I use to be able to see, mostly, pass the machines and still see the same soul now all I picture is a lifeless body. A man I don’t know. I hate that this is how I remember the strongest man I ever knew, I hate that every time I close my eyes that’s all I see. I hate that I feel so lost, I hate that your gone. I wish so much that I could go back and not listen to everyone else, to not be guilted into seeing you right before you died. 
And now they expect me to feel and act normal, to go to an ALS walk tomorrow where I’ll see people fighting the same fight you lost. The same fight that took my dad away and in his place left a hole inside my soul. 
I miss you so much dad, I wish you were still healthy and here, I love you. 
Rest in sweet peace. 

2 months 

Tomorrow morning when I wake up my first thought will be of you, not that you ever leave my mind. I think back to this time 2 months ago, I was in denial because you’ve said you wanted to go before but always changed your mind. It was a Friday night, why do all my love ones pass on a weekend? Sometimes I lose track of the days, but I’m almost positive that was the day M broke down and cried, told me grandpa was sick and it was sad. I tried so hard to comfort him, but I didn’t know how to ease his pain when I myself cant ease my own. 

I remember waking up on that Saturday morning, feeling empty. Mom was working overtime, and then went to see you, I remember having this overwhelming urge to write about your love for mom. It still hurts that I no longer have that post. 

I remember hearing my phone ring and knowing. 

Knowing you were gone.

To say I was in shock is an understatement. I was, and still am, in a state of disbelief. This isn’t real, you are not just ashes in a box, your soul is not in heaven; you are here. Your body, your smile, your attitude, you. You are laying in a bed in a care home but you are not dead. You are struggling to use your computer but you are not dead. You are on the deck smoking and eating cookies, you are not dead. You are outside fixing cars, drinking coffee and eating raw hot dogs, only the kind that were individually wrapped, your not dead. 

Grief hits people different, I know. But the shock, that 4 weeks of numbness that was accompanied by denial, was the worst. I couldn’t come to terms that you were gone, I didn’t take the time to grieve and now that I’m going through the pain, the realization that you are gone I feel like people are less understanding. I do not expect people to understand I do not want sympathy I just need time to heal. 

Loosing you has really made me want to do something with my life, I know you expected better from me. You lived a life full of pain, my life has been a breeze compared to yours, and you still fought. Why am I giving up on the future just because I am not where I thought I was suppose to be. You never gave up, you had a disease that was literally a death sentence yet you keep your head up, most days, and continued to show the world you weren’t ready to quit. 

I’m not ready either.

I want to do something with my life that would have made you proud. I want to live a life full of things I enjoy, like you. 

I hate that your gone, it rips me apart everyday that you were dealt this awful card in life. 

I will never go a day without missing you, thinking of you or loving you. I will talk about you often, so that no one ever forgets the man you are and I will carry what you’ve taught me wherever I go. 

But, I know you wouldn’t want me to stop living and I need to stop wallowing in the pain I feel now that your gone. You never complained as your muscles failed and your body ached, so I have no right to complain. 

We miss you so much

We love you 

Rest in sweet peace my angel dad 👨🏻😇

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Feeling.. Misplaced 

A Broken record, a playlist with only one song, that’s how I feel but this isn’t just about hating where I live, and all the memories and pain it brings. 

I feel like an outsider in my own family, there’s no first Christmas pictures or videos of me, very few pictures of me as infant. I was never really photographed with my parents. I feel like an alien in my family, my morals and attitude is so much different then everyone around me. I don’t curse, drink, party or sleep around. I do not find comfort in the arms of strangers, I do not think farting, burping and blowing it in someone’s face or slapping someone in the face with ham is funny. I am not loud, usually, I do not like attention, I do not seek sympathy. 

Maybe this why I always feel so.. Sad. 

Where do I belong? Why am I so different then the people I share blood with. I’m not doubting that I am my parents child, I look like both of them, but I wish I knew who I act like. I wish I knew where I get my curly hair from, my bottom lip. Why do I get chills(the good kind) every time I hear traditional Native American music? Where did my grandfathers come from? 

I don’t think I’ll ever find my real grandfathers, I don’t think any of my questions will be answered, but I hope to find out at least a little of who I am. 

  
About 3 weeks ago I purchased a Ancestry DNA kit and it came in the mail 2 days ago. It takes about 1/4 tsp of saliva and some blue stabilizing liquid and then you send it off to Ireland to be tested. I’m not sure how truthful it will be but I’m hopeful. In 6-8 weeks I’ll have the results. 

We shall see. 

Anxiety, depression and life

How I can I begin to explain, explain what causes an anxiety attack when I don’t know myself, explain why my heart beats twice as fast when I have to answer a phone call or send a text that may be taken the wrong way. Trying to explain the causes of an anxiety attack to someone who does not suffer from anxiety is like trying to explain what water tastes like. Nearly impossible. 

Trying to explain the bad days I experience because of my depression is even harder. 

How can I tell someone that my bad days, which happen far to often these days, bring their own set of symptoms; their own agenda. On my bad days I can hardly get out of bed, and sometimes I don’t. I can’t engage in conversation or even have the energy to stand for more then 10 minutes. My head pounds, my body hurts and I feel physically and emotionally drained. 

My anxiety and depression take away so much.

It took away my smile, my happiness. It took away my outgoing personality I once had. It damaged even the deepest parts of my soul and no matter what I try to do I can’t escape. I can’t shake this useless feeling. I can’t help but feel like a failure no matter what. I try so hard every day to feel, act, live normal but I can’t. And then im ridiculed by the one person I hoped would be on my side no matter what. 

Does anyone realize how hard living after loss is for someone who is already a big ball of depression and anxiety? 

I hate being here.. Driving near his care home sends me into an anxiety attack that feels like its sucking the life out of me. How can I move on, be happy when I can’t breath when I go near where he was? Everything seems so much harder..

I understand that the pain won’t go away over night and that we’re only given what he knows we can handle but I physically can’t do this anymore. I need some sort of relief, a break away from the pain. 

It’s not even just my dad, while that’s a huge part of it I am also lost in every aspect of my life. 

My life plan is not to be in retail until I retire, or to live in this awful city. My plan was never to live at home at 25, with no child. I understand, but do not accept, that life has its own plan but I can’t help but wallow in self pity. 

I want, which is a word I so rarely say, a life that I am happy. I use to be a huge believer in things unseen helping us but these days I can’t bring myself to see, feel or even believe in the magic of the unknown. Without that Magic my depression wins. Without that magic no antidepressant can fight my anxiety. 

I prayed every night to see my dad in a dream, to show me what im suppose to do now and instead I don’t dream, or dream of things that are impossible. I dream of TV actors and of flying cars, of work and of impossible situations. All which leave me more exhausted every morning. 

How can I feel better when sleep doesn’t even ease my mind? 

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Daddy, grandma I know you can’t read this, I know your gone but I need you both more then ever. Please help me, help me to heal. I know I was the worse daughter and granddaughter and I’m deeply sorry that I was not there more, but I hope you both know I love you more then I could ever put into words. I miss you both so much and wish everyday that I could turn back the hands of time and take your place. You both were so loved and so needed here and I still can’t understand why we lost two of the best people in this messed up world. I can’t even begin to understand what either of you went through but I’m tired of this pain, I’m tired of crying every night, of feeling so helpless. 

I love you both so much and I’ll miss you every day until I die