Rambling…

My reason for starting this blog was to have a place to write everything down and know that it’d still be there in the rare occurrence that things may turn out for the better, but this blog just causes me stress. Knowing that anyone – especially people who try so desperately to squeeze into mine and my families’ personal lives – can read all the things that I’ve always kept so deep inside. How am I suppose to comfortably write, blog, share when I’m so concern with who or what is reading my thoughts? I use to find comfort in that thought, the fact that people around the world would read my blog posts and in their own ways connect with me, or perhaps find comfort in knowing that their pain wasn’t abnormal. Now, every time I begin to write my anxiety spikes. My mind shuts down and I am unable to write anything.

But really, what more can I say? What else can I blog about that I haven’t said before? My life is just so repetitive, so boring; its comparable to writing the same sentence over and over again, and yet I do nothing to make it better, nothing to make my life more exciting and more worthy of being called a “life”. I just exist, that is all. I do not live life, or embrace the unpredictable, yet beautiful chaos that life brings. I idle, neither going forward nor backwards, in a place of unhappiness and entrapments. I often feel as though I am living in a glass box, able to see the glorious life that lays just feet away from me and yet I am unable to break, or escape from my enclosure and so I run in circles. I continue to run in circles, day in and day out, to incompetent to see that my glass house has no roof, to” comfortable” in my routine to see what is literally just above me, just feet in the air. I fear that if I do not begin to climb, jump, or reach for a way out I will be in this place forever. Stuck in a life that I am not happy in, stuck re-living the same day repeatedly and calling it a life.

I’ve always had so many excuses, whether it be my dad or my nephews, it was an excuse. I barely visited my dad, and my nephews didn’t need me as much as I made it seem, but saying I couldn’t leave because of my dad or nephews was easier than accepting the fact that I was just too scared. But fear is normal. Being scared means your stepping out of your comfort zone and making progress in your life. What isn’t normal is how unhappy of a person I am, how I haven’t had a relationship sense tenth grade, that I haven’t been in love sense Brandon, and that I haven’t moved on from things that happened so many years ago.

Why haven’t I moved on?

Why can’t I find the strength to learn from my mistakes and move forward, why haven’t I been living like a typical 20 something? I can’t continue to blame other people and past mistakes for why my present is such a mess.

                      How easy is it for me to say what I know needs to be done yet I am here still, still in the same place I was a year ago; the same place I was in 3 years ago.

I need to stop caring so much for the wellbeing of other people, because lord knows no one cares about me as deeply as I care about them, and begin to focus on me, on what will make me feel better. No matter how hard its going to be. I’m tired of being the person who is always there for everyone else, and yet I am constantly lonely. I am tired of crying in the shower or late at night because I am lonely.

I’m so lonely.

I’ve been so lonely sense the death of my best friend. No one understands, and I don’t know how to explain to people, why her death has messed me up so much. I don’t know how to tell people that she was my comfort. I don’t know how I’m suppose to tell people that she was the 17498646_10158508230045381_4974498748359248487_nonly thing on the planet that could calm me down when my anxiety was beating me down, how she was the only reason my depression didn’t consume me – she always knew when I was depressed and she’d curl up in my arms and gently lick away the tears from my face. She was the one thing in this world that I couldn’t imagine losing; and then I lost her. It was so sudden, it was so painful, I didn’t even get to sit with her, tell her I loved her one last time, and comfort her while they ended her suffering. I’m still so angry that I didn’t get the chance to make the decision whether I saw her pass away or not, and I resent my mom because of it. I love my mom, so much, but I hate what she did. I hate that I had to be in the dark about my best friend, and that I was at work while my bug took her last breath. I wish my mom would have allowed me to make the decision, I wish she knew how angry I am at her for taking that away from me. Jayda was more mine to me than just a dog, and I thought my mom knew that; it hurts so much that she doesn’t get it. I wanted to be there, that’s why I stayed up for 3 days making sure she didn’t die alone – yet she still did.  She died in a place that was unfamiliar, with nothing and no one. That breaks my heart more than anything, knowing she was so alone, and I hate myself everyday for it.                    

I just wish I knew why I lost her… She was my baby…

That’s another thing…

I’m almost 27 and I’m no closer to having a baby than I was 5 years ago, actually I was closer 5 years ago, and yet it appears everyone around me are having babies – my sister included.

I love my sister, but she never wanted to be a mom and here she is a mom of almost 3 and I have nothing. I use to dream of being a mom, I use to play house – imagining that I was a house wife and my husband was working – and care for my dolls as though they were real. I took care of my parents friends son when I was 13, and dreamed of the day when I had one of my own – all the while my sister locked herself in her room and would stay far away from children. So why is she the one who gets to have babies, and I’m the one who has Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome? Life’s not fair I suppose…

Ugh, I guess I’ll end this here since I’m rambling..

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Maybe your just jaded from some nobody’s unforgotten words.Maybe your just faded, a little grey from all the times that you’ve been hurt. So your looking for your skin, that you never did fit in

I miss you more and more everyday JayBugg. 

I’m giving up.

Emotionally, physically, mentally; I’m giving up.

I haven’t anymore fight in me, no more will to do better, be better or act better. I have no hopes, no dreams – just strife, just pain and suffering. Unhappiness and resentment. I can’t really explain how I feel, I am not depressed in the way of being overly sad. I’m just in a rut. A rut that I have no real way out of. More and more things are encouraging my departure from the horrible place, this horrible life. I miss my dog more then anyone can ever imagine. Her beautiful soul is missing in my life and its making life so much harder. She was my best friend, my confidante, and the only thing that was constant in my life. God takes away everything I care about and Im so tired of it. I want to be happy, but it just seems impossible. Every time I think I’m happy, or that things are going well something bad happens. But maybe that’s what life is about? Maybe we are diamonds, shaping under the weight of the world; the pain and the strife of everything life has thrown at us. Maybe I’ll come out of this stronger, better.. Maybe. But Maybe is never something that actually happens, and I dont want to live a life that is just a giant “maybe”.

I have lived in a constant state of “What if” for years. I have told myself everyday that It’ll get better and it never does and I dont know how to make it feel better, be better.

It sounds so hopeless and depressing but I just have nothing to look forward to, especially here. I say that so often but never go anywhere, I never have a chance or a place to go to. I have wanted to escape from the hell that lives in this city, this area, this house since I was 18 years old. Theres nothing about a city that intrigues me. I dont like busy places, or going out late at night. I dont like highways and traffic. I don’t like busy shopping malls that forces reused hot/cold air into your lungs. I dont like living where there are more tall buildings then tall trees, where there is more roads then sidewalks. My soul does not flourish in the middle of a city. My happiness is not material – which is a lot of what makes city dwellers happy.

I would rather live in the country, surrounded by fresh air and animals. Somewhere I could imagine falling in love and raising a family, somewhere that has potential. 

Surrey, the lower mainland, cities in general – Have no potential in my eyes. In the city we
do not raise our children because we are so obsessed with appearances. We’re so worried about what the world perceives us to be that we dont care that they are basically raising themselves and that they are becoming zombies glued to electronics that “keep the occupied” while your taking your fifteenth selfie of the day, or snap chatting your bikini body that was achieved from the lines you snort on the weekend after your parents take your children and the diet pills you pop because “you don’t have time to work out”.And yes I know that’s generalizing and a lot of people do work hard for their bodies, but here thats how a huge portion of these girls keep their waists tiny. In the country they have so much things to do. They are happier, they are more successful. Basically, I am jealous and envious that I had to be raised here, around hookers selling themselves in front of a corner store and drug dealers living next door. That I grew up with people whose parents were crack whores, who knew too much about life to soon – so in theory I had too, to. It’s not that my parents wanted to stay here, but because of my moms up-bringing she was determined to keep us happy. She moved so much and wanted us to have the opportunity to stay with our friends and as usual my sister made a stink about moving and we stayed here. Its just another thing I’m resentful about towards my sister – which isnt really her fault.

I just need something new, something more then this..

 

Goodbye my sweet girl

Rest In Peace Sweet Jaybug.

You have been such a constant loving soul in our family. You taught us more about love, life and unconditional love then you ever knew. My sassy princess, my beautiful baby dog, I miss you more then I ever thought possible. Your attitude, your bark, your little img_4332“tough” stance. I miss your snuggles and your adorable head tilt; I miss your gentle licks and your “give me attention” bark and scratching. I miss you so much and its only been a day.

On June 8th 2016 you went to be with God, Dad, buddy and beaner.

I can’t imagine what was going on in your tiny little body, what kind of pain you must of felt. I’ll never know if we could of saved you because your warrior soul wouldnt let you be weak. But I remember the day I knew I wouldnt ever see you “normal” again.

Sunday morning you got sick, a white foam all over the couch – which you NEVER have done before – that seemed to never stop. You wouldnt drink, you wouldnt eat. I went to work unaware of what the day would unfold. Mom said you werent doing well when she came to pick me up, her worried expression scared me beyond belief. My tiny baby, so small and fragile looked so dazed, so confused. I took you into the bathroom, thinking maybe you were just to hot, and cooled your tiny body down. I dried you off and kissed in between your ears, tried to  make you drink, and laid you down in your bed. Out of the corner of my eye I see you fall over on your side – Watching you have a seizure was the img_4337worse thing i’ve ever seen in my life. The rest of the night I worried about you, worried about if you would live through the night. At 2am I heard you having another seizure. Your lifeless body laid on the floor of your cage, your tongue hanging out of the side of your mouth. I begged for you to breath, to get better. I took you into the bathroom again, trying to calm you down; It didnt really work, your eyes were hazed over and you were zoned out looking at the door and then you had another seizure. I knew I couldnt be selfish anymore, I told you I would never leave you, because you never left me. I lightly patted you, I told you, you could go. I brought you out to the living room so you could lay on your bed, and laid there with you. All day monday you paced and circled, you didnt bark, you didnt eat, you couldnt walk or stand. I knew your body was tired. Late into the afternoon, right before 3pm, you laid down on the floor looking at the ceiling while I lightly patted your side. Your eyes slowly closed and your breathing labored, I was sure, again, that it was time. But you jumped up and “shook it off” and tried to hide behind the television. Mom came home and told you not to go, that you were to young and I saw – for a moment – your strong spirit glimmer in your eyes. You didnt have a single seizure all that night, you woke up and tilted your head when mom said good morning, you looked into your food dish like you wanted to eat and we knew we HAD to take you to the vet to try to fix whatever was ailing you. At the vet that night you had two more seizures, your kidneys and liver were in acute failure, your little body was infected with bacteria; Sepsis they say,  an infection of the blood, from what we’ll never know. We had to make the hard decision to end your suffering. You said goodbye to mom and slowly fell asleep before they even administered the medicine, and it dawned on me. All those times I thought you were gonna leave, you couldnt because you had to say goodbye to mom.

It feels like just yesterday that you were this tiny little puppy; who cried to be snuggled andimg_4333 was to scared to jump off the couch. My little tiny baby dog that dad knew I wanted so bad.
Your tiny little tail – or lack there of – that took your entire backside with it when you were happy in its wag. I can’t help but remember The way you slept on my dirty clothes when I wasn’t here, or how you would curl up in the corner of my single bed at night and sleep next to my head. You brought so much happiness into my life, and I hope you were happy too. Your snuggles cured even the deepest of hurt and I loved being greated by your “where have you been” bark. You are the best dog I could have ever asked for, your patient and you were so content sitting on my lap, in my purse or hidden in my jacket. You are such a beautiful dog, and I hate that you got this sick, I hate that I couldn’t help you, and I hate myself for that. I’m sorry jaybug.

I love you so much, Rest in sweet Peace.

 

So this is where we part, My Friend,
And you’ll run on, around the bend.
Gone from sight, but not from mind,
new pleasures there you’ll surely find.

I will go on; I’ll find the strength,
Life measures quality, not its length.
One long embrace before you leave,
Share one last look, before I grieve.

There are others, that much is true,
But they be they, and they aren’t you.
And I, fair, impartial, or so I thought,
Will remember well all you’ve taught.

Your place I’ll hold, you will be missed,
The fur I stroked, the nose I kissed.
And as you journey to your final rest,
Take with you this…I loved you best.