Moving Past the Bullshit of It All

Some days it doesn't matter what you do, you just can't seem to please anyone. Tonight I think I had a mental breakthrough. If people can't be completely pleased by your presence or your actions, they don't belong in your life. You should be loved for merely being who you are and not necessarily what you can bring to the table. I will say this: I know what I bring to the table and I am not afraid to eat alone.

Inspiration

Where do you find your inspiration? Where do you find your drive? Lately for me I have been lacking in both regards. To get up has been a struggle. Today, I woke up and said to myself, "No more." I have no clue what lies ahead for us, but I do know that this is not the place for us to grow and thrive. I have no clue what direction lays before us, but I know that we will do it with dignity and honor, because I am a heathen and that's what we do. I have had to do a morality check lately and have come to the realization that if I have to sacrifice my dignity to maintain necessities. Nothing is worth losing your honor, because man seeks to take it from you. Doors have closed, that need to be closed. We are ready for the next chapter and the next adventure.

Destruction

He tried to break me with words of pure hated. He spew lies about me to whomever would listen. His attempts were in vain, for he failed miserably.

Desperation

I am humble for you have brought me to my knees. With you I've lost everything including you. I lay awake at night thinking of the days gone by, both the good times and also the bad times. I am still stunned into amazement over who you truly turned out to be. You were the best friend I confided in, who turned my secrets into a form of blackmail and my past to knock me down emotionally. You used my children as pawns to make me conform to your wishes. Were you always this man or was it something in me that created the monster you became? Monster is a harsh word though it is fitting. You were equilivent to Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. One minute you're the sweetest man in the world, but the very next moment you would rip me to shreds with your words. In the world you created for us I never knew what to expect or how to feel. In my heart I know I loved you and probably still do, but it is pointless. There is no future for you and I. Too much has happened to make it so. Because of you i know where rock bottom is and it's a purgatory in itself. When I walked away from our home, I knew it was the end of us for good, because I'm sorry doesn't take back all that was taken and all that was lost. I felt that in leaving that I had already grieved the loss of us, but I deceived myself. The family we had created was officially destroyed and the memories plague me even in my sleep. No amount of tears nor rage seem to drown out the memories. I miss the hugs that came just because we wanted to. I miss your head in my lap as I rubbed your head as you went to sleep almost nightly. I miss the man who would let me cry when the world got too much for me. I miss knowing that my tears had some effect on you.  I miss the laughter for the simple silly things that happened in our life. I miss the feeling of knowing that no matter what happened i wouldn't be facing it alone. Mostly I miss my friend, the man I thought you to be. I know if I could find the rage again it would drown out the hurt, but I've discovered the rage is gone and replaced with the sorrow that things can never go back to the before. For the life of me I don't know how to get passed this and move on. I wish I had a crystal ball that would show me that all would be alright, but alas I don't have one. A friend suggested I write again to get things out of my head while I fight to be able to express myself with others and to help me learn how to rejoin the world. I suppose I can write until I feel no more.

Never Daddy's Little Girl

In the typical families we are given a mother and a father and they automatically love us more than ourselves. I was never blessed to be in a typical family. Today I would like to discuss the man who sired me. He was only given one daughter in this life, and he always had the ability to make me feel worthless because I was born a girl. Life is never fair I guess. Many fathers seek to ensure that their daughters know how to live with or without them. Mine never cared enough for that. I was the child that never should have been born. He always doted on his four boys and never made them feel optional. After three and a half decades I gave up on him ever loving me, or him making me a priority in this life. I have not spoken to him in almost a year now. As I sit here tonight I realize that I have lost nothing but the feeling of inferiority. I lost the man that was my true father almost 8 years ago: my Papa. He was my grandfather and he worshiped the ground I walked on. His loss has nearly cut me in half. I digress from the point that I am attempting to make here. With my parental figure of the male gender being removed from my life I don’t have that person telling me I’ll never succeed at anything I do. I will never be reminded of the failure I had become. The other day during a restless slumber I was awaken by the telephone ringing. I never answered the call, but had the feeling that the person on the other end was telling me that he had died. I have no clue why I felt that, but I did. I became aware that his living or his dying mattered not to me. In my mind he is the monster out of a fairy tale. I will find no joy in his eventual passing, but I will feel no sorrow either. What kind of person does that make me to feel nothing to the man that provided me life? I don’t have the answer to that question and probably never will, but I’m alright with that. As long as I wish him no harm then my conscience is clean and my soul will remain intact.

From Within It Devours

I hear this voice. It screams at me, "You'll never succeed. You'll never be good enough." These words remain with me and I can do nothing to silence the echoes that remain. How do I drive them out? I think, “You are responsible for me being as I am. You created this monster that cares not if she lives or dies.” I cover my ears and I can still hear that cruel voice. I scream and the words are still there. As long as the voices remain I'm in a prison. I can't escape and am imprisoned in my own house. You see, there are no bars keeping me here, but escape is not an option. If I am let free, how would I survive? I only know abuse in my life. First it was by my abuser and then it continued in my own head. I begin to glimpse images of my childhood. I remember times the belt came down. I revisit moments where I didn’t feel that my torment would ever end and part of me prayed for death in that moment. What crime was so awful of me to bear such treatment? Visions of letting my blood flow freely torment me for I fear that is my only means of escape: death. I realize that I would not wish for another to find me in such a condition. I acknowledge the doctor prescribed me a medication to drown out this voice. What harm could come from taking the entire bottle. This can’t be an option for I risk my children finding me in such a condition and I have already failed them greatly. As I drive along I think, “I could end the suffering by swerving into oncoming traffic.” Also this can’t be a way out, because I would stand in judgment in the afterlife for taking out others in my quest to end my pain. Who would miss me if I were not here? I am nothing. I am no one. I am utterly alone in this world. The more I consider it the more I realize death may be the only escape for me. I am trapped in my past. The voices I hear are my own and from within it is devouring me. If you are told constantly that you will fail, you most certainly will. I desire the freedom to embrace the world with open arms. I realize in the end I don’t need a knight in shining armor to save me. I have it within myself. I did not survive 15 years as a victim to continue for more than 15 more. I am a fighter and I am a survivor. When I feel my strength faltering, I look into the eyes of my daughter and I realize something great. I am now aware that she is looking up to me guidance and as a role model. She does not need to see me on my knees begging for release. She deserves a mom that holds her arms in the air and screams, “Life, is that the best you can do? You hit like a little girl.”

Bobby: The Missing Piece of Me

Bobby was my oldest brother and probably the best of all of us. Today is the anniversary of his death. Every year on this day I mourn the brother I lost and never had the chance to meet. He has been gone now for 28 years. I miss the brother I was cheated out of knowing. I will always wonder what he would have been like. I wonder if he would have worshiped his baby sister and if his baby sister would have worshiped him. He was a warrior yet cancer took him from me at the age of 16. Robert Price, I will miss you until the last breath leaves my body for you are the missing piece of me.

The Devastating Reality in Our Life

Monday, February 9th, 2015, started out like any other day for me. I had found my calm about Kaden and his disability. I had adjusted to the nearly daily calls from the school because his behaviors had escalated at school and they could not keep his violent tendencies muted. I had went to work that morning like every other Monday. We finished the job a little early and I was heading home. I received a phone call and the guy had introduced himself as a crisis counselor. I heard the words "Kaden" "cops" "mental facility" and the rest of the conversation seemed to be drowned out. I screamed at this man over the phone, "Do you people not realize that he has the mind of a three year old?" It was at this point that I realized my hands were tied on what I could do for him legally. I arrived home and called the hospital. I was told that they were currently processing him and that they had to hold him for 24 hours because he had become a threat to himself and others. When he saw the doctor the next day, the doctor could enforce a 72 hour hold and I could not see my child until Wednesday. I was encouraged to bring him certain items to make him more comfortable. I was made at ease to know that he was calm and didn't appear scared. For the next hour I had to reign in the rage I was feeling towards the school. How dare they not call me! I know my son and I could get him to calm down! I am his mother! I drove to the school in the rain shaking and fearful of what they might say when I got there. Once at the school I spoke with the ESE lead and the principal. They told me that he was agitated from the time he stepped off of the bus and until the crisis counselor took him away. Around 11 am Kaden threw a chair at another student. The teacher had the aide remove all of the other children. He broke apart an easel and had a metal pipe in his hand by doing so. Before his fit of rage was done five people were called into the room to diffuse the situation. I had informed the school that the more people that are around him when he turns violent the more violent he will be. People seem to fuel his rage. It took them an hour and a half to get him calmed down and not once did I receive a phone call to let me know that he was having a crisis.All evening all I could think about was how upset and scared he must be. He would feel like I had abandoned him. I cried until I realized I had no tears left inside of me.  He was released from the hospital on Tuesday. I had never been so excited to see my little boy. I asked him if he had been scared and he told me no. I have come to the realization that this will probably not be the only time he sees a hospital for these reasons, but I will be damned if I don't fight for him and to keep him out of such places.

A New Day Dawns and a New Journey Begins

On Wednesday, January 21st, 2015, my hope for my son, Kaden was shattered. I was under the impression that he was autistic. With the autism diagnosis there was hope that he could outgrow some of the issues he has. On this Wednesday I was told that he was intellectually disabled, which means he is mentally retarded. All my hopes and dreams for him came crashing down. He will never grow up. He will never drive a car. He will never get married. He will never have children of his own. I questioned for weeks the mean of his existence. His existence is a means for many to point and laugh at his struggles and failures. I raged about the unfairness of it all. I didn't sign up for this. This was not the life I had planned for him or for me. I screamed that he deserved the life of any typical child. What did I do for us to deserve this? The answer was, "Nothing." We drew the short straw in the genetic lottery. I was preparing to train my younger daughter for the day where she would assume the responsibility of taking over his care when my time ends. The specialist told me that I was putting limits on her life also. She deserves the life she wants and can have. In short she can have the life that was denied for him. I was told that I needed to live a life outside of Kaden. I needed to learn to live and not exist to maintain his needs.

One day I had taken my kids to the park. There were other kids there playing. Kaden was in a mood and wanted to scream about everything. A dad scolded his son for being mean to mine. I told that dad his kid did nothing to mine, but this is just how Kaden is. The dad took his son aside and explained that Kaden was different than most children. After the talk the boy tried more to make sure Kaden was enjoying the park experience. This boy taught me something that day: Kaden's possible purpose. If through Kaden others can learn understanding and compassion, it might just be the purpose for Kaden's existence. At that moment I found some peace in the news that my son is different.

Our journey has just begun and we will embrace each new experience with courage and determination.

I Am......

I Am...... bold
I Am...... brave
I Am...... fearless
I Am...... courageous
I Am...... inventive
I Am...... daring
I Am...... limitless
I Am...... wise
I Am...... tenacious
I Am...... spirited
I Am...... undismayed
I Am...... undaunted
I Am...... beautiful
I Am...... desirable
I Am...... pleasant
I Am...... admirable
I Am...... a cape wearing special needs mom.

Just Try

Enough

Recently I took a moment to sit and reflect a bit. I was plagued by four different questions. If my life ended today, did I love, give, believe, and dream enough for my life to have meant something to others. The answer kept coming back inconclusive. Throughout my life I have had one goal and I feel that I have failed miserably at it: to make a difference. Upon breaking down each aspect I realized that I can still make this difference.


Did I love enough?
William Blake wrote, "Love seeketh not itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease, And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair." It is easy to say, "I love you," and anyone can say it, but it's another thing to show it. How can one show love? We show love with a simple touch or even a kiss. We show love by not putting ourselves before all others. "Immature love says: ' I love you, because I need you.' 'Mature love says: 'I need you because I love you,'" said by Erich Fromm.  We show love in the simplest of deeds. My wish is when I am gone someone can say to themselves, "She truly loved me."

Did I give enough?
In the words of Charles Dickens, "No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another." What does it mean to give? Giving is not necessarily giving of money and possessions, but of time and love. To give time is when you feel like you really don't have the time to spare but are willing to make it for another in need. Love is an emotion that is easily taken, but rarely given. When my time comes I hope that someone can say, "She gave even when she didn't have it to give."

Did I believe enough?
"A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral," believed by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. What is it to believe? We can believe in the supernatural, in others, in ourselves, and the chance of tomorrows. Many would say the supernatural is purely fiction, but what if it's not? What is the harm in believing in the things that go bump in the night? To believe in others tend to be a complicated issue. It seems that it is human nature to let others down to where we lack the faith to believe anyone else. We limit ourselves by using the past wrongs to hinder our faith in the people of the present. Sometimes it seems that we believe in ourselves the least of all. This is where our belief system should be the strongest. How do you believe in yourself? Simply by believing that you can accomplish anything that you try to do. The belief of tomorrows is what should inspire our todays. It should allow us to say, "I may be here today, but tomorrow I will be here at something bigger and better. At the end of my time I would like for someone to say, "Even when her faith in all things was shaky she still believed all things were possible."

Did I dream enough?
"Hope is a waking dream," philosophized by Aristotle. What are dreams and can we only do them while we are asleep? Dreams make life more worth living. Dreams inspire us to do more and to be more. Dreams can be as simple as we desire or as complex as our imagination can reach. If you're not happy with your current situation, you can always dream of better tomorrows. When my time has ended I want someone to be able to say, "When life was dark and uncertain she always dreamed of bigger and better things."

Many of the things I have wrote about today are things I will challenge myself to do more of. Can you say the same thing?

On This Day in 1863

On this day in 1863 Abraham Lincoln entered Gettysburg, How the world changed because he was willing to see a change in the world for the betterment of the American people. He believed that there was on race and that was mankind. He went to Gettysburg to address the loss of life which occurred between July 1 and July 3 of this same year. This speech became his most famous as President. It was titled the Gettysburg address.

The Gettysburg Address:
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

He nearly missed this opportunity because his son, Tad, had came down with a fever. It would appear that he put the needs of this nation above the needs of his family. How many others can say that they had such love for their country to make such a sacrifice? Maybe if our current leaders felt the same way, our nation would not be in the position that we are currently in.

Dreaming

I dream of him as I sleep. I dream of him when I'm awake. He knows for me he is my sweetest dream as well as my heart's desire. Will his face I ever touch again?

1 in 54 - Happy Birthday to Him

At this time seven years ago I was preparing for the birth of my youngest son. I had all of the hopes and dreams as other mothers. I expected so much from this little being. At about 11 pm he came into this world kicking in screaming like all other babies. Never before and never since have I seen a more beautiful baby. He resembled a dark haired cherub. From the moment of birth I began to learn the unconditional love for this child. He soon became my world and everything became about him.

This birthday is bittersweet for me. In all appearances he is a boy of seven, but in actuality he’s not like most boys his age. He has become a statistic. In the United States he is 1 in every 88 children, and he is also 1 in 54 boys. He is not now nor will he ever be viewed in this world as normal. In our household we have learned that normal is a dryer function and nothing else. My son was diagnosed 2 years ago as having autism.

In his life he has already seen hate because he’s different. He has been made to feel like he was lesser because he couldn’t do the things that the other kids do. Through him I am learning just what my role in life will be. I was born to be his mom. I was made to find hope for him where there is none. I fight to find his sense of normalcy. I seek to defend him against the ignorance around him. I may not have any super powers, but I was blessed to be a special needs mom. We are fewer than those with “typical” functioning children, because only the strong are chosen.

My life will never be the same. We will never be that traditional family. I would not trade my little boy for any normal boy in the world. He is the most precious imperfectly perfect gift in the world. I love my baby boy.

Dreaming of Tomorrow.

I long for the day I can look you in the eye when I say I love you. I want to feel your touch as I want to breathe.

In the Silence

I am a six year old little boy who appears like all little boys. I can be mischievous and stubborn like the other boys. My mommy tells people that I am different. She explains to others that my thought process is not the same. Apparently my brain works faster than the normal child’s. What makes me remarkably different is that I cannot talk. I have no means to express my needs and desires. This makes me a very frustrated little boy. The day before Mother’s Day I went to dinner with my family. I love being with my family and my cousins understand and love me for who I am. Mommy took us to Wal-mart afterwards. She let me and my sister walk and let us be little free spirits (that’s what she calls it). This little girl comes up to me and got right into my face. She scared me. I wanted to tell her to please move that I was frightened but I have no words. So I did a naughty thing. I hit her. She ran to tell her mommy. I didn’t realize that my naughty thing was that bad. On my way to the car that mommy approached my parents. She said some mean things about me. She said that I was retarded and needed to be caged. Why would a grown woman say such mean things about me? Does she not realize that I am autistic?

Doctor of Death or Angel of Mercy

Doctor Jack Kevorkian, also known as Doctor Death, has been labeled either an angel of mercy or a doctor of death, because of his stance on euthanasia and patient-assisted suicide. To truly have an opinion on the subject you must first be completely informed of what euthanasia is the different types of euthanasia, and where it is legal. After that you need to know of the man willing to risk his freedom to provide what he believes is a person’s right that is being trampled on by our government. Euthanasia, also referred as mercy killings, has many forms and is illegal in the majority of the States, but it provides a terminally person the right to die with dignity on their own terms. When does a person have the right to decide what happens to their own body and how they should leave that body? A mentally competent person should have a voice to say when they are ready to go. A person should not remain in pain, because they are terminally ill. What is their quality of life like? The government says that a woman has the right to terminate a pregnancy by killing an unborn child, yet it is wrong to need help in dying with dignity. Should there be a person to assist us when our physical limitations prohibit us from doing what is right for us? There should be more physicians like Jack Kevorkian in the world. There should be more people in the world willing to say that the doctors assisted us coming into this world and there should be one there to help us out this world.

Euthanasia has been a personal subject for me since I was a teenager. My grandmother, who raised me, was diagnosed with colon cancer which spread to the back side of the liver. She was diagnosed as terminal. The doctors gave her 6 months to live. They were wrong. She lived for 2 years. During that time she was in excruciating pain and was reduced physically to a childlike status. Basically what dignity she had left was gone. I always wondered if given the chance, would she have preferred to go out earlier, and not suffer the pain and humiliation? I did some research on the subject after her passing and discovered that some people would opt to end their lives rather than allow their family to suffer in watching their passing.

The classification of euthanasia is sort of broad. Voluntary euthanasia is the patient making the consent to die, and in some cases needing help to do so. This form is illegal in most states. Non-voluntary euthanasia is the patient’s family making the decision because the patient is unable to make that decision. Involuntary euthanasia is the person not having a choice on whether they live or die, such as the lethal injection. Passive euthanasia is the withholding of treatment with the desire to terminate life. Active euthanasia is a drug accelerating means of terminating life.

Euthanasia is illegal in 48 of the 50 States. Thus far Oregon and Washington are the only states to vote in an act to allow euthanasia to be possible. Oregon and Washington are the only states that allow a person the choice to terminate their life and die with dignity when they are terminally ill. Oregon Death with Dignity Act was passed on October 27, 1997, and Washington’s Initiative 1000 was passed on March 5, 2009. In these Acts the person must be 18 years of age or older with no possible means of improving in their condition. The person must be a resident of Oregon or Washington and be able to pass a mental stability test performed by a licensed psychiatrist. There is a mandatory waiting period of 15 days, during which time the person must submit a written request to terminate life, and a next of kin must be informed of this decision. The medication used to terminate life is prescribed to the patient, who will administer it to themselves. Death typically happens within 3 hours of taking the prescribed drug. In the other states it is illegal to perform euthanasia. The punishment varies from state to state. It ranges from manslaughter to homicide.

Jack Kevorkian offered his services to more than 130 people during his career. In 1989 he began experimenting with a suicide machine that assisted a person ending their life, because legally he could not do it. Legally he was apprehended on multiple occasions, and would taunt the legal officials in attempt to legalize euthanasia and patient-assisted suicide. On November 22, 1998, Jack Kevorkian assisted Thomas Youk on the television show 60 minutes. He was arrested two days later. He was convicted for administering the lethal injection and spent the next 8 years in prison. Youk’s brother, Terry, has publically stated that he supported his brother’s decision to ask for help in dying and felt that Jack Kevorkian was an angel for doing what needed to be done.

If there were more Jack Kevorkians in the world there would be less suffering in the world today. He has offered the world a means to end the suffering of the dying. Maybe one day the world will see him through the eyes of his patients. He is the angel of mercy and the doctor of death.

The meeting place

I have yet to see your face yet you touch me in such a way. My face lights up at the mere thought of you. Has destiny brought you to me and blessed me with love so true? I crave a touch I have never felt but the feeling of completement draws near. Where does your lie?

Who I am

I have the face of an angel, the body of a sinner, and the mouth of a sailor. I am not anyone's princess to be pampered. I am impatient and mostly impractical. I am strong because I have faced my demons. I make no apologies of who I am. You can either like me or not and in the end I don't care which.