Browsing: Personal Stories

My Heart Is In Heaven; So Is My Mom

November 18th, 2008 | By

If you don’t know, I was adopted as a child. I knew my biological Mother and Father but was raised by an angel. My mom was a single mother with two kids of her own. She took me in and treated me like I was one of her own.

Back in the day, I didn’t understand the struggle of taking in another child. I didn’t understand how much it takes to raise one child, not to mention three. I didn’t know there were people who put the needs of others so far ahead of their own needs. And yet I was blessed by this beautiful woman to have a life filled with love, family, and God.

I want to share something with you. I found out my mother was sick on Monday. I found out I was pregnant with my daughter on Tuesday and my mom passed that night. I came from the Hospital and wrote this:

Little child, all alone.

Come live with me, I’ll give you a home

I don’t have much in the physical sense

But I can give you something truly heaven sent

I can give you love, a place you belong

I’ll show you God’s love, how to be strong

I’ll give you solid ground on which you can grow

I’ll teach you to learn more than I could know

A lifetime worth of laughter, all the love I’ve known

Take my hand little child to never again be alone

This is what my mother gave to me. She gave me the sense of belonging. And my heart is always with her.

I hope she knows.

In Process of Change

November 15th, 2008 | By

Dear Readers,

I’m guessing you know I’m a real opinionated person. I get on this blog everyday and write what ever comes to mind. I find it an useful release to my daily life. Well, things are getting more complicated by the day.

This blog has opened up a lot of opportunities for me. In the future I’ll make more of these public, like the publishing of my first novel, YES. But it comes at a high price.

When barriers are knocked down in front of you, you realize that some of those barriers were the people you surrounded yourself with. The people you thought would have your back no matter what are actually the people that don’t want to see you succeed.

The one’s that encouraged your efforts in the first place become the one’s that tell you to slow down. Or they tell you to change who you are. Or they ask you if you think you are better than them. This leads you to wonder if there is really a problem with you.

Or at least, it leads me down that path. I just realized something really important I want to share with you. Maybe it is you. I know that seems funny but there is reason behind my madness.

You are growing. You are changing. And it’s all right. I am growing and changing and that’s O.K. too. The problem is the people around us are not doing the same. I’m going to steal a great peice of wisdom I got from Specta. Ask yourself, “Have I known you for 5 years or did I know you 5 years ago.”

I’ve been struggling with this concept for about a week now. And it’s not any easy problem to solve because no matter what answer you get, it’s still been 5 years of your life invested in this person. Whether it’s a best friend, a lover, a business partner, or a pastor, that person had to have made an impact on your life during that time period. It’s hard to not hold that in account when you’re thinking about the changes you are going through.

But it has to be done. I’m changing. My writing is even suffering a little because of it. I’m so stuck in trying to figure out my personal, I get lost keeping up with the rest of what’s going on. I go back and try to change passages in my novel I thought were perfect a week ago. Topics I have for my blog get put off because I want to re-examine my positions with my new set of eyes.

And it’s beginning to take a toll on me. Rest assure, I’m not complaining. I’m just enlightening myself as well as anyone that likes what I normally write. Things are changing and my blog will reflect that. The person I am meant to become will reflect that.

So please bear with me through this transition. Hopefully it won’t be as bad as I think but good things rarely come without a shit load of the bad. So I’m digging in and bracing myself. It should be fun to see where I come out in the end.

Thanks for all the support and hang on. I think this is going to be one hell of a ride.


A Story From My Trip

October 27th, 2008 | By

I must apologize for my absence. I was dealing with some personal issues but now I’m back. I got a great story for you though.

I was visiting my peeps and my baby cousin was arguing with her baby daddy. They aren’t officially a couple but they are always together. Anyways, she was telling him that she needed some diapers for their daughter. He was telling her that he didn’t have any money.

I’ve never met the dude, so I didn’t really pay attention to the conversation. Come to find out the hard times are really hitting the streets. The drug dealers are being affected by the the economy. I lie to you not. My baby cousins dude isn’t selling crack like he used too.

Me, being who I am, told her to get him to come to the house. Two cars pull up. One was a Chrysler cop car with shiny rims painted bright orange. I lie to you not. Bright fucking orange. The other was a brand new 2008 Tahoe Hybrid.

Her baby daddy hopped out the bright orange car, switched keys with the driver of the Hybrid, and pulled all his chains from under his shirt. Now my cousin is trying to find a job but she doesn’t have a car. This dude has three cars and won’t let her use one to find a job. He lives in a nice neighborhood and she lives with family. He is dressed head to toe in name brands but so is my baby cousin.

He walks up and throws $20 dollars at my cousin, who immediately bent down and picked it up. Then she started smiling and being nice to the dude. She was cussing him out an hour earlier. Now she was blushing like it was her first crush. I got sick.

So then another car pulls up in front of the house and I got a blast from my past. My biggest crush that never materialized was standing in front of my face. Let’s call him, G. Damn, he looked good. He rushed to hug me and I let him. I felt like I was 16 again.

Anyways, turns out G and the baby daddy are cousins, small world. Then G told me something so interesting. He told my cousin not to fuck with his cousin because men like them were no good. I didn’t think it was possible to lose so much respect for a person so fast.

Let me tell you G’s explanation, this is what pisses me off about alot of black men that I meet. He said it isn’t anyone’s fault that he is still a drug dealer. It’s his choice and he knows were he is going to end up but that won’t ever stop him. There were six of us back then, always together no matter what. Three of us have jobs and lives that no longer involve drugs. One is in Jail. One is dead for trying to shot back at the police officers trying to arrest him. And then there’s G.

G informed me that he was proud of me for changing my life. He said he knew I had it in me. When I told him he had it in him too, he said “I know”. When I tried to press the issue, he said “I’m always going to be me”. And that was it. End of discussion.

We momentarily talked about our kids and our families but I immediately realized how much I had changed. The trivial talk that once sustained me no longer was enough. We said our Goodbyes and they left.

A few minutes later, my baby cousin gave me her phone. G said he wanted to catch up with me some more and asked if he could come back over after he finished some business. I told him, No. My cousin lost her damn mind.

“Do you know how much money he has?”

I wanted to slap her. Good thing the rest of my family jumped on her because I was in a foul mood. Before I left, I pulled my cousin aside and kept it short and sweet. “If you keep worrying about what that man is doing you will never have time to focus on what you can do.” She didn’t want to hear it and I was tired of talking to her.

Then I found out how to get her attention. My daughter asked her to walk out to the car with us and she did. Guess who was waiting in the front yard, her baby daddy with a 89 Nissan Sentra just like I used to have. Now she would have transportation to find her a job.

Before I could pull out the yard, she ran to me with her phone. It was G. Seems he had a little conversation with her baby daddy. The fucked up thing is, he told him that with money being slow he should want his baby mama to have a job so she won’t ask him for money all the time. That’s the only reason he decided to get her a car.

Our conversation didn’t stop there but the rest is rather personal, so I won’t share. Let’s just say there is still a drug dealer I used to know back in Richmond. And one day, some one is going to tell me he is dead or in jail. He knows it and I know it. But until then he will continue to destroy the lives of the people that come in contact with him. For the first time in years, I’m glad I’m no longer 16.

My baby cousin took that $20 that was supposed to be for her daughter and went out with her friends. My Aunt had to end up buying diapers for her daughter. I doubt my aunt will even bring it up the her. And I’m sure she’ll be back to arguing about the needs of a child she doesn’t even take care of.

And me. Left to wonder what can you do to make the streets not sound so sweet. How can you connect with kids that could go to college but would rather hold down a corner? How do you reach daughters that see the struggles of their mother’s and still have babies way to early? How do you convince life long friends you talk to them because you know they hold more inside?

More than that. How can you reach the one’s that know they are wrong and continue on? How can you look into their mother’s eyes at a funeral and not shed a tear? What kind of heart does that take?

From personal experience, I know that takes a heart that is afraid to cry. But not only that, it takes a total understanding of knowing they knew it would end that way and they did it. Not looking back blaming the police or the rival, but a glimpse back at who that person was. It makes it alot easier not to cry.

Is that what we’ve become. Communities with an inability to cry. Yes, we can yell and scream but can we heal? Yes, we can blame and point fingers but can we uplift? Yes, we can mourn but can we also remember? Or are we afraid? Are we scared what the people around us would think if we were the first to shed a tear?

I wonder how long these questions will go unanswered.

Remembering What’s Important

October 23rd, 2008 | By

I’ve been absent the last couple of days attending to my daughter.  Thanks for all the prayers sent out to her.  She came through fine and at 3:00 today, she was back to being her up upbeat, loving self.  Thank you, Lord.

When I got home, my answering machine was full of messages.  I thought how special it was that so many people cared about the well being of my daughter.  Then I got hit, right in the gut, with a reality check.  My father was found on the side of the road unconscious with a fever of 106.   They don’t know if he just has a bad case of the flu or if he had a minor stroke.

My dad and I had a wonderful relationship when I was a child.  My favorite moment came when I was about 7 or 8.  My dad used to let me sit on his lap and drive his favorite truck.  One day I drove his truck into the ditch.  I remember being so scared until I heard him laughing.  He wasn’t mad, he just asked if I was O.K.

As the years went past our relationship changed.  I think some where along the way he forgot how to show affection.  And that caused our relationship to stray.  We barely speak now, only talking when I take my daughter to see him. And when they get together they forget I exist.

Today though, I had to take a look back on my life again.  I had to think about what my father meant to me and what I want my daughter to think of her father.  Sometimes I think I get to personal on this thing but fuck it.

When they say a daughter looks for a man like her father, I have to believe it’s true.  I found one just like my father.  A hard worker that will walk through fire to make sure you are O.K. physically but they don’t know how to treat emotional pain.  So today when I was sad, my man asked if I wanted to get my hair done this weekend.

I no longer point out the ineffectiveness of buying away pain, at least for me.  I understand it’s just his way of trying to get me to feel better.  If I look good, then I’ll feel good.  But a new hair style won’t make me forget my father is in the hospital.  It won’t make me forget they can’t figure out exactly what’s wrong with him.

Temporary things don’t change the problems.  Yes, you can go out and get a new dress but does it eliminate the problems that made you so sad in the beginning.  The question becomes what’s really important?

Family is always important.  Education is always important.  What about your personal well being?  Alot of us were brought up by parents that didn’t have much.  They turn around and try to give us everything.  They want to make sure we have the shoes they could never get.  They want to make sure we have a car when we are able to drive.  They forget to give us what they had.  The confidence that fighting for what’s right is the answer.

And we grow up not knowing any better.  So today I recaptured what’s important.  Trying to give my daughter the things I did have.  A mother that stresses the importance of learning.  A father that stresses hard work and cleanliness.  An aunt that stresses self confidence.  An uncle that stresses imagination.  Grandparents that pass down hard learned lessons. You know, all the things you and I had but overlooked because we wanted Nike’s.

I urge you all to take a look back to set the future.  That doesn’t mean look back at all the problems and try to find someone to blame.  Look back on the decisions you’ve made and think were they really that important.    Think back on how you were raised and see if you are teaching your child the lessons you’ve already learned.  Because that’s what’s really important.

A Prayer For My Daughter

October 13th, 2008 | By

The last few days have been tough for me.  In one week and two days my daughter will undergo eye surgery.  So I’ve been looking at her and feeling the knots in my stomach tighten everyday.

I’ve felt some of the passion I use in my writing melt away.  Instead I’ve been focusing on lucky I am to be blessed with such a beautiful, thoughtful, and intellegent child.  So please bear with me until the dust settles.

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A Prayer For My Daughter

Dear Lord,

You are indeed great.  When the doctor’s said I could never concieve, you had different plans.  When my friends said I would never find a man that could handle my attitude, you made one just for me.  When I thought I wouldn’t have the patience to handle a baby, you gave me strength.  God is Good.

When I first had my daughter I was scared out of my mind.  I thought I would kill her because I didn’t have the experince of handling an infant.  I lost my mother the day I found out I was pregnant so my support system was low.  But I had you, Lord.  I felt your hand calm my soul.  I let my voice sing your praises and you answered.  Giving me patience, compassion, but more than that, you gave me faith everything would be O.K.

I come to you now asking for that faith one more time.  God, please put your hands on me and calm my soul.  Put your hands on my daughter and watch over her in the coming days.

I’ve spent years worrying how I would raise her.  Would I give her the self confidence installed in me by my mother?  Would she love and trust in you like I do?  Would her struggles by lessened by the struggles I’ve endured?

But you have taught me, I’m not my mother.  I can give my daughter self confidence without installing fear.  I can teach her to love the Lord by showing her how much I do.  But most of all, I will not try to lessen all her struggles because that’s what will give her strength.  And with you by our side, I know that every thing will be all right.

Dear God

During my time of uncertainty I also ask to you to keep my voice fresh.  When I sit to write, I don’t think of what will come out.  I let the words you put in my heart come through my fingers and onto a page.  And I thank you for that ability.  Lord I just ask that you keep me doing your will.  I know I can not fail with you by my side.

While I’m here praying for myself, dear Lord, I also ask that you keep your hands on our troops in harm’s way.  Let them know that you are watching and give them strength continue on.  A selfish prayer would be to ask for them to come home without first completing what you have sent them to do.   So instead, I ask that you take my prayers to them and let every heart know that they are being prayed for.  Let every woman and man know they are respected and appreciated because without them there would be no me.

And Lord, keep your hands on our country.  Watch over our President, both candidates for the presidency, every politician, every member of the upper, middle and lower class.  Give us all ability to see that this is nothing more than your will.  And you would never take us where you couldn’t watch over us.  Give us calm to know you guide us, so we can’t go wrong.

All these things I ask in your name.  Amen.

A Personal Story Of Forgiveness

September 3rd, 2008 | By

I must admit I thought this blog was going to be a way to get some of my ideas out into the world. I watch the News like a Maniac. I spend so much time yelling at the T.V., that I was glad when I finally found an Outlet. But something rather unexpected has happened through this Process. I’ve begin to think More about the things going on inside of me.

Yesterday, I found out my daughter will be having surgery on her eyes. It’s an one hour precedure and she can come home the same day. But that never stops a Mother from worrying if something can go wrong. I spent the majority of Yesterday telling my Daughter how much I love her.

As she told me to leave her alone, I had to change my focus. So I started to look at myself; Again. Now I was raised by a Wonderful Woman. Mrs. Susie. She was my Angel. She had two kids of her own, with no man, and she took me in a raised me as one of her own.

I didn’t look like the other kids. I didn’t think like them but I never felt out of place. I never knew this wasn’t my real family. Then things changed and I had to move with My Father. I loved my Dad and he spoiled me Rotten. But he had found a Wife and she didn’t particulary like how much attention my Father paid Me.

Then, on top of that, I got a chance to meet my Biological Mother. Well not really meet, but on my 13th birthday my BIO called and asked if I wanted to move with her. Then she told me we could take my father for child support once I moved. I hung up the phone.

I went and told my MOM, Ms. Susie, about the Phone Call From My Bio. My Mother told me to forgive her because it wasn’t all her fault. See, my Bio was a College Graduate. She taught Elementary School in Richmond Va. Then one day she went out, someone slipped something into her drink, she came home read the bible from front to back, and then she lost her Mind.

My Mother told me “One day you are going to have to let go of your Pain and Anger and Forgive.” She passed away the day I found out I was Pregnant with My Daughter. I’m not the Forgive and Forget type. I learned early that if someone stabs you in the back once, you are a fool not to expect it again. That’s how I survived growing up. Putting people in spaces and leaving them there.

I’m close with my Bio’s Family, and now I find myself spending more time around Bio. I’ve come to realize; That Bitch Is Crazy. She talks to herself. She would rather live outside in the shed with the fleas and ticks instead of the House. She can’t bring herself to look me directly in My eye.

So Yesterday, As I was thinking about my daughter. I decided to Call and Check on Bio. I have never called to talk to her before. Never. But for some reason, I picked up the phone and dialed. She answered the phone, with her distant unattached tone, and I started to regret calling. When I told her who it was, her spirits lifted. I could hear it. And I felt it, inside me.

Yesterday, for no reason in Particular, I choose to forgive My Bio. Not only did I make the decision, I felt really good about it. Like my Mom was looking down on Me and was smiling and my heart felt light. My life wasn’t the easiest, but it could have been worse. I didn’t have my Bio Family growing up, but I had one hell of a Family in it’s place. What do I really have to be mad about?

I’ve held on to so much. She made me a crack baby. I’ve had to deal with this sickness and that sickness because of the decisions she made, but I’m alive and kicking. She Kept my older sister but sent me Away. My sister just recently Got off Drugs and started to get her Life back together. That could have been ME, if my Father had given me to My Mom. She never called to say Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday, or just to say I’m thinking about you.

Instead, I should have been happy that I made it out. I should have been happy I was given to a Mother that made Education Important. I should have been happy that I still had a Mother on this Planet even though the Woman that Raised me was no longer here. I learned Forgiveness Today. Real Forgiveness. Not when you can tolerate someone even though you are cussing them out in you head.

Forgiveness Frees some space In Your Mind, In Your Heart, And In Your Soul. So, now I look up at the SKY and tell my Mother, Thank You. She’s propably in Heaven saying “It’s about Damned Time, Now You Can Get Your Blessings. Now instead of Looking Back, You can Look Towards Your Future.”

I Love this blog. If you read some of the things I write and you disagree; Fine. But if you take nothing else with you, remember this; You can stop the Lord from sending you Blessings. You can be so wrapped up in what was; that you forget to think about what can be. Find a way to Forgive someone that’s wronged you. Find a way to let go of the things that force you to stop looking inside yourself. Start looking for some Peace in Your Life and you might find you have more Good than you realized.

Dear Mother

June 11th, 2008 | By

Dear Mother,

I miss you. I wanted to think of something poetic, that would truly touch the heart of those who read this, but those who deal with loss know that’s enough. I miss you.

Our family affairs, I spend waiting for the moment you would walk through the door. You never come, I know better than to think that one day you will.

I dream about you, when my mind is cluttered and my soul isn’t as ease. These are the moments I need you most and you never let me down. You don’t come with words of sorrow, validating the feelings I have inside. You come with rage.

You tell me to move on, and to move forward. Even though you’re gone I still fear what will happen if I don’t obey. You did such a great job raising me. I was lucky enough to realize it before God called you home.

I know God loved his children. He even sends angels to watch over us. You were my angel. It was alot asking you to take in an infant when you had one son and a daughter on the way. You did it though.

I never once felt like I was anything other than your child. I got my share of snacks, two of the Klondike bars, I got my share of extra homework, believe if your teacher didn’t send any home you had some anyway, and I got my fair share of ass whoopins, I feel okay saying that cause I give them out now.

It wasn’t always easy, but we never saw you struggle. I know it had to be nights you wondered how you were going to go on, but there was only mornings of getting up and living. Nothing in life was worth sulking. It only required you keep moving forward.

You didn’t teach me politics, you taught me principles. You didn’t teach me economics, you taught me home to stretch a dollar til it popped. You didn’t teach me I could do anything, you dared me to say there was something I couldn’t do.

How do I thank you for that? If you were here you would give me that look that said how dare I ask such a question. Then I would’ve backed down. Now I would tell you, you were an angel, my Angel. I thank God everyday for you.

I miss you, but I’m not sad your gone. You told me, when all your children were gone you were going to disappear. We weren’t going to be able to find you. I laughed but I kinda knew it was true. You filled your blessing meter so high, so fast God had no choice but to allow you to rest.

I have to show the unselfishness you’ve always shown me. I want you to be at peace, watching over our family. Keeping us together when we don’t like each other that much. I

I could sit here all day telling you all the things you did for me, but that wouldn’t honor your memory. Instead, I’ll take care of me and mine. I’ll make sure I stand up and make my voice heard and my words count. I will raise my daughter to be better than me.

I’ll continue to move on. That’s how I’ll honor you.

He’s in my Soul

May 18th, 2008 | By

This is not a site about God. I don’t intend to convert you, nor will I try to save you, but I must tell how much I love the lord. If he had ever touched your life than you know what I’m talking about. If you’ve never felt him, then your missing out. PEER PRESSURE PEER PRESSURE. No just kidding but I could tell you a little bout my life and then you could see why this section is a must.

When I was 17 I was working at Pizza Hut and I got really sick. I mean passing out, they called the ambulance sick. They ran test for days before my aunt told them to test for CROHN’S. She had it and to her it sounded like I had it to.

I wish she had been wrong, but………

So I just graduated high school, a year early mind you, and here I am balled into knots being poked and prodded. I want to say, I never asked why, but that would be a lie.

I possessed one of the seven deadly sins, strongly. I was so vain. I had been complemented on my stomach so many times, I couldn’t imagine having a big scar, so I suffered. For two years, I suffered, because I didn’t want a scar.

I finally broke down. I couldn’t take another week in the hospital. I was missing so much of my life being sick all the time. I had the surgery.

It took me almost five years to realize how CROHN’S had saved my life.

Prior to getting sick, I hated my home life. I did anything I could not to go home at night. I stayed in shitty hotels with my boyfriend and friends, hung around while drugs were sold, and put myself in really bad situations. I liked bad boys and they come with bad things.

When I got sick, I wasn’t able to hang out like I had before. I would get sick and have to go home in the middle of hanging out, and since I was the one with the car, anyone who came with me would have to leave to. People stopped asking for rides and I stopped offering them. I withdrew into myself and there I stayed until I had the surgery.

So five years later, I made a trip back to my hometown. Everybody I used to chill with, were still in the same place. Literally. I could go to the same spots we hung out at as teenagers and these adults were still there. That’s when it hit me.

That could have been me. If I hadn’t got sick, that would have been me. That’s when I opened my heart and begged the lord for forgiveness. I had questioned him, not knowing what the intended plan was. I prayed to take the disease instead of praying for the strength to get through it. That’s my testimony. That’s how I know God is real and he has a plan for me.

What Drives A Person to Suicide?

December 1st, 2001 | By

I’ve shared a lot of stories with you but this is one of the hardest.

When I was 13, one of my best friends told me she was gay. She made it extremely clear she was not attracted to me but she wanted me to know. I didn’t care. This girl had seen me naked a thousand times and shared a bed with me a thousand nights. But more than that she and I shared ten thousand memories. I wouldn’t have cared if she told me she was going to marry a cow. I would have thought she was crazy but I would have been there to support her.

Her parents didn’t feel the same. They told her they accepted her but treated her different. It crushed her. She was supposed to spend the weekend with me but she never made it to my house. On her way, she was grabbed by a man and raped.

When I got to the hospital, all the parents had this look on their faces. It took me years to figure out what that look was. It was blame. They blamed her. Like some how her being gay had caused this man to grab her. I wish I had known what that look was then because my best friend knew.

She killed herself the day she got home from the hospital. I remember looking at her mother, feeling so sorry for her loss. I remember looking at my friend, feeling so sorry for my loss. I don’t remember ever wondering why?

O.K. this is getting to be to much. The sad part is it’s just the beginning.

When I was 15, I had a problem. Advil and Alcohol. My actual problem was an evil step mother but I compounded it with any easy escape.

Hold on before I go any further. Let me tell you about this woman. She was dark as night and constantly called me ugly for being to light. She would buy food for her and her son and I would have to wait for my father to get home to get something to eat. I had to clean the entire house before she got home and when I did, she would find the spot I forgot and I would have to hear about it for the rest of the day. She would tell all her friends how great I was, then call me every name but a child of God.

At 15, this woman was giving me migraines. It got so bad, I blacked out and had to be taken to the hospital. They prescribed me some medicine to handle the pain but when the prescription was empty, she convinced my father I was faking.

So I came up with my own cure. Advil and Alcohol. I always limited myself to only 2 pills at a time but I really abused the alcohol. The pill calmed the pain and the alcohol kept it away.

Then one day, I came home from spending the weekend with my mother. She jumped on me saying I had spent the weekend with some boy. I was delighted because I had really been with my mother. They had to see this woman was full of shit this time. I went to call my mother and she snatched the phone out my hand and told me I was on punishment.

When she left the room, I went for my first dose of my made up cure. Then she bust into my room and told me I had to go and clean the kitchen. I was like, “Hell No, I haven’t been here all weekend and I’m not cleaning up after you.” She went and told my dad who came in the room and asked me nicely if I could clean the kitchen so she would shut up.

I needed another dose because the first wasn’t working. I took my medicine and went into the kitchen. She came in after me running her damn mouth. She stood there looking at me and I could feel my blood starting to boil. I went to throw something in the trash and she bumped me. So I opened the freezer and hit her in the head.

She grabbed my arm and pushed me back. I stumbled and caught myself on the back of a chair. I picked that chair up and hit her ass as hard as I could. She feel to the floor and I grabbed a knife off the counter. I stuck the knife to her throat and told her I would kill her. My father came in and pulled me off her. All she could do was call me crazy.

I took more medicine and then called my mom. She made a 25 minute trip in 10 minutes flat. She told me to grab some clothes and come on. I did.

When we got in the truck, the pills and alcohol caught up with me. I tried to hide it but it just kept getting worse. I vision was blurry and I could barely move my arms. When we got to our destination, my mother asked why I couldn’t get out of the truck.

I had to tell her I had been taking pills with alcohol and I think I had over done it. She asked how many pills I had taken and started to count. In all, I remember taking 12 Advil and drinking 3 6oz cups of corn liquor. She was hot.

She rushed me to the hospital cussing all the way. I thought she was mad at me and it made things worse. Probably how my best friend had felt when she saw blame on her mother’s face. I tried to open the door while the truck was still moving. My mom slapped me so hard, I was stuck in place. We made the rest of the trip with one of her arms wrapped around me and the other on the steering wheel.

To this day, I won’t take any pill unless it is absolutely necessary. I mean will suffer a headache or a cold for days before I would even think about taking any medicine.

I wasn’t trying to kill myself with the pills. I was just trying to make the pain stop. In doing so, I had almost killed myself. Over an evil woman that had no real sway over the decisions in my life. All she had was hate and I allowed her to scoop so much on me, I lost my sanity. Add my mother’s words and my mistake had actually become an attempt to kill myself.

I moved in with my grandmother and never had another migraine. I graduated early and moved on. Thank God for my Mother.

I’ve had a little experience with suicide but nothing prepared me for my latest run in. Over Thanksgiving, someone very very very close to me tried to commit suicide. Everyone said it was just to get attention but I know better. Some people are so filled with pain they just want it to stop.

And this person is filled with pain. This was not a call for attention because she gets undivided attention. That’s the problem. Everyone has problems in their own life but when they find an easy target they focus on that person’s problems. Nothing is worse than having everything you have ever done thrown back into your face by every person you come in contact with. Especially when those mistakes were caused by neglect or abandonment.

If you leave an empty spot in your child, don’t be mad when they look for something to fill it. If you are constantly inflicting pain upon your child, then don’t be mad when they look for ways to relieve it. If you spend all your time worrying about your own situation, don’t get mad when your child acts out for your attention. And don’t be surprised if everyone saw this coming, except you.

I saw this person hurting. I tried to tell people to get off her back and allowed her some space to heal. I tried to tell them they can’t throw it all on her doorstep like no one else played apart in her depression. I tried to tell them that she needs someone that doesn’t judge but can still be straight forward.

I tried to be that one person but I’m 100 miles away. These things can’t be done over the phone or in an email, they have to be done face to face. And I wasn’t there. I didn’t see the pain on her face or feel the pain in her soul. I knew she was hurting but I didn’t know how much.

I found myself cussing out loud. I’m guessing the same things my mother was saying to me when I was to far gone to understand. I was cussing at myself for not doing more. I was cussing at myself for seeing all the signs and doing nothing.

But now I realize it was not my cross to bear. I wasn’t the one that had given her all that pain. I’m not the one that can take it away. All I can be is the one that helps her get through, even if it has to be done 100 miles away. Maybe I can’t help her everyday but I can help her one the day she calls out for it. Or the days she isn’t expecting to hear from me and I call just to say “I love you and am praying for you”.

I was told this weekend, I had death on my face. I know it’s funny but the person that told me this really believed it. She asked me if it was murder or suicide. It was murder but still unhealthy. From my past, I should have learned how one problem can grow with each mistake. And how in the end you can have unintended results.

People please hold on to your sanity. If your pain comes from the outside, murder isn’t the answer. If it comes from the inside, suicide isn’t the answer. Find out what’s driving you to lose your mind and start there. Pain will only last when you refuse to let it go.

I’m sorry. I have to go now. I’ll bring this back up another day but right now it’s just a little much.