Category: Entrepreneur

I hope

As I sit upon the witness chair
At the judge I’m supposed to stare
Give my story, my heart I’ll bare
Beg for a sentence long and fair

Explain how hard it’s been to cope
May confess how I’ve turned to dope
Through words of emotion I will grope
Hold myself together, is my hope

I’ll tell of memories I hold dear
Then tell of what I now most fear
All his charges I dread to hear
When it’s over I’ll seek a beer.

I walk in numbness, dread and pain
The thought of seeing him again
Is nothing more than a mental strain
My love for him I need to explain

I just want to hold him one last time
Regardless of the type of his crime
My soul and heart aches and pines
knowing he may be away for a lifetime

Will they let me see him?
I hope
Will they let me hug him?
I hope.
Will he want to see me?
I hope.
I hope.
I hope.

Are you ok?

“No, quite honestly, I’m not.”

No, I’m not ‘ok’, I feel like I’m packing for a funeral. Each day draws me closer to the sobering reality of the crushing heart wrenching soul agony I’ve been living in for the past 6 months. Saturday I will drive 10 hours. 10 hours to see my oldest child who I haven’t seen in over 6 months. Who I haven’t spoken to in over 6 months. On Monday I get the awesome joy (sarcasm intended) of witnessing the Court Martial of my first born child. On another day next week I have the grueling opportunity to listen to my daughter as she tells prosecutors and the judge everything he did to her. I never wanted to hear the details. She’s growing into a beautiful young lady. It kills me to know he took her innocence.  She knows what’s it’s like to be with a man. She already knows how to where a tampon for Gawds sake! She shouldn’t even be comfortable with wearing one!!!! 

Oh my gawd! I hold my chest, it aches. It pounds. It hurts. Tears (as usual) stream down my face.

I’m packing for a funeral. The veiwing of the body, then the burial of my own soul, as I listen to the details then the sentencing.

No. I’m not ok at all.

A living hell

“Youre making my life a living hell!” He said as he turned to walk up the stairs.Two weeks ago I petitioned for a court ordered family intervention, in an attempt for him to get clean and go back to therapy. He now has to succumb to random drug testing and pass before he can get his drivers license.

Yesterday I sold his brothers Camry that has sat in our driveway for 2 years. TWO YEARS! Flat tires, dead battery, and in desperate need of brake work. So he was angry for that also. Mad that it wasn’t given to him. He said a few other things then told me I was obligated to buy him alcohol and if I didnt he would drink mine.
“I make YOUR life a living hell??” “You call THIS hell? I provide you with food, a nice bed and bedroom to sleep in, I take you wherever you want to go whenever you want to go there. You call this hell?”
I tell you what a “living hell” is! Living hell is having a son who is a child molestor. Living hell is being subpoenaed to watch his trial and sentencing. Living hell is wondering what will be the next thing to set you, YOU, child of complaints, off. Will you try to kill yourself again to escape “your living hell”? Living hell is wondering if you will have the initiative to graduate from high school. Do you want me to continue? I can. I have other complaints, other hells. Living hell is remembering the day my ex husband held my 22yr old son up against the wall by the throat and screamed in His face, “I hate you!! NEVER call me dad again!!” because he wasn’t his biological father even though he raised him from 6mths old. Living hell is my life every time I have a memory…. It’s like reliving it all over again. 

So, son, go ahead and explain to me HOW your life is a living hell. 

  

My Rights

I have the right to remain sane. Anything I say or do, can and probably will be used against me at any given time. I have the right to my own opinion. If you do not like or accept my opinion another one will be presented to you. Do you understand these writes as they’ve been given to you?

I am “the Write to sanity”. Pleased to meet you.

  

QOTD

There are people who want to make men’s lives more difficult for no other reason than the chance it provides them afterwards to offer their prescription for alleviating life; their Christianity, for instance.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Backside of the storm

Have you ever noticed how beautiful the BACK side of a storm is? The clouds are completely breath taking.

I’ve lived over 20 years in the region of the U.S. Considered “tornado alley”, and it’s always amazed me when I see the back side of a storm system. 

The more beautiful the clouds, the more severe the storm. 

There is a common phrase, “you are either entering a storm, in a storm or leaving a storm” (storms of life).

Not long after my divorce  I entered into one of the worst storms I have ever faced. It’s the kind that tears families apart. Destroys people and their emotional system …and more. We are still in the middle of this storm. Each day presents a different challenge, but at least I have the hope that  on the back side of THIS storm, it’s going to be BEAUTIFUL! 

  

I have…

Have you ever asked God “why?”
Have you ever questioned His existence?
Have you ever screamed out in agony wondering why YOU even exist?
Have you ever wondered how a “loving God” could allow such pain and suffering?
Have you ever sat in a puddle of your own tears and felt you couldn’t go on?
Have you ever felt the hatred burning in your bones?
Have you ever tried to wake up hoping it was just a nightmare?
Have you ever sought answers but found none?
Have you ever wondered “why me”?
Have you ever put on a fake smile just so you didn’t have to talk about it?
Have you ever wanted to just start all over?
Have you ever wanted to give up? Everyday?
Have you ever wondered why you couldn’t get in on the good side of life?
Have you ever felt cursed?
Have you ever felt sad and regretted so much of your life?

I have.
  

May 14, 2015

Negative-vs-Positive 

It has occurred to me that 98% of my blog posts have been all about my woes and negative things happening in my life right now. It would almost appear that I never have anything positive to say. I’m an advocate of “positive thinking”, so I’d like to just say that I have a lot to be thankful for. There are positive things going on in my life. 

I blog my negatives to get them out so my family may get the positives. I am needing to be “strong” for my kids right now. So, you, wordpress family, you get to see my weak side so I can remain strong for my family. Thanks for your patience and understanding. 😉 

 

May 10, 2015

I have found myself saying, “the hardest thing I’ve had to do”, over and over again. But here goes another time: the hardest thing I’ve had to do is let go of trying to keep my son alive.

He has attempted suicide twice, talked about it numerous times. 
His 13yr old sister looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “Mom, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.”
She is so right.
He is in a “treatment center” and they’re putting him in antidepressants… I told them he would just try to take the whole damn bottle. They told me that since he is a minor I am responsible to administer them to him. 
Oh great! Now I have to buy a safe? A lock? Wtf? Where am I supposed to hide these? The last bottle of pills he took … He took them right out of my purse! 
He is almost 17, I’ve not treated him as a child, but now they want me to administer medicine to him as if he’s a baby.  
I told the therapist who is supposed to be “helping” him, “I do not want to just treat his symptoms. Suicide and Major Depressive Disorder are only symptoms of something else going on inside of him. Can we please try to deal with the cause?” 
Oh… ((Insert big sigh here))… This is another one of those “hardest things I’ve had to do” this past year.  

 

May 8, 2014

WHAT A DAY


I had my day planned, scheduled to be off for the first time in what seemed like forever! I was going to get SO much done!

Morning routines were moving along as usual, a bickering sibling to the other. Perfectly normal stuff. 
My son spit his toothpaste into the kitchen sink, but lingered as if he was nauseous.  Something wasn’t right. He seemed too lethargic this morning. He went and laid  down on the chair in our den. I asked if he was ok, and he barely nodded yes. He was almost non-responsive. So I asked if he was hung-over, he nodded no. Then I asked, “what did you take?” He said he took all of my anxiety pills (20-30) and the rest of his girlfriends Zoloft. I said, “what the hell! Were you trying to kill a yourself???” Then he shook his head yes.
I spent my entire day off in the local emergency room. This was his 2nd attempt in less then a year, to commit suicide.  My small town does not have the facilities to deal with this type of thing so they sent him to a specialized hospital 3 hours away. I only get visitation 2 days a week and phone calls on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 
This is definitely not how I had my day planned out. 
When the doctor asked him why he wanted to hurt himself I mentioned that it’s been a rough year. Then he spoke up and said “if you knew what we’ve been through this past year then you’d understand. “we 
They reassured me that he would see therapists that would help him to deal with the various things we’ve faced this year.
After leaving him to their care I went to my doctor to get my (much needed) anxiety pills refilled. He refused. He didn’t want to be liable.
So here I am. My Bp 180/?? Nothing but liver damaging alcohol to help.
Where’s a therapist for mom?
Everyone talks about “how strong of a woman I am” … I ask, is this what “strong” feels like? I don’t think you would think that if you saw my smeared mascara, and empty tequila bottles.
Life needs to give my family a paid vacation.