YOU LOSE BITCH!
That said, I'll explain to those of you who don't know my story of the rat. The rat was a guy I worked with at my old job. He was a fucking asshole who made my life miserable. In the end, his fucktoy lied and got me fired.
At first I cried, then I was angry, then I was resigned. I said fuck it and went down and filed my unemployment. First time in my life. They told me there would a phone call between them and me and my old boss to determine if I was eligible or not. Okay. So, they call me, they call the old boss, he's not available. I win.
I begin to collect my unemployment. A few weeks go by, and all of a sudden I have a letter stating that my former employer filed an appeal. What the fuck is that? So, I read through it all. That means that if they find for him, not only does he not have to pay me anymore, but it means I have to pay back what I was already paid. OH MY HELL!
I was a wreck. Big dogs always beat out the little dogs. My witnesses, my proof, that was all in the hands of the big dogs. With the exception of the receipt ( I was accused of stealing) which I had already provided for the job service people.
That said, the hearing was scheduled with a judge a week ago Friday.
I received the decision in the mail and I will be typing what that letter says.
FINDING OF FACT:
Having reviewed all of the evidence in the record, the administrative law judge finds: Claimant was employed as a full time cashier/night manager of the convenience store through
G, night manager of the restaurant, initially made the allegation that she saw claimant with the food in the employee maintenance room and T, cashier, said there was not a copy of a receipt for payment of the food. G is still employed and T is no longer employed and neither participated in the hearing. The employee maintenance room is locked and claimant does not have a key to access the room. G is a good friend with R(at) who did not like claimant and had threatened claimant's job. Claimant had taken the issue to R, manager, before, but was ignored. R(at) currently holds the job from which claimant was fired.
Employer did not know the time of the consumption or purchase and did not review surveillance cameras but relied on T's representations. When an employee buys food from the deli, an employee discount is given, the purchaser signs the receipt and one copy goes to the cash drawer. Claimant's belief was that she could pay for the food when business was slow because only two employees worked at night. Claimant's
Not only are all of the allegations based upon hearsay statements, the individuals who made those statements had personal interest at stake and are not considered reliable sources of information because of their bias and self interest. Furthermore, employer's testimony is fraught with inconsistencies as to whether or not the food was purchased, whether or not there was a receipt, and changing the reason for the separation both to claimant and at hearing. T's alleged complaint about claimant not helping is not credible, as employer did not run the transaction reports to prove or disprove the allegation. Thus, employer's allegations are wholly incredible and claimant's recollection of the events is the credible basis for this decision.
An employer may discharge an employee for any number of reasons or no reason at all, but if it fails to meet its burden of proof to establish job related misconduct as the reason for the separation, employer incurs potential liability for unemployment insurance benefits related to that separation. Claimant did not engage in misconduct when she consumed food and paid for it during her shift and there is no evidence she did not perform her share of the work. Benefits are allowed.
>end<
Now, as petty as posting this might seem, I finally feel vindicated. I feel like I was given justice. He fired me for bullshit reasons and someone else was able to call him on it and make him pay.
I will be sending this letter on to his boss to make sure he doesn't hide what he's done. Then I will be done with all of this. Forever. I can finally let it go. I can find peace with this particular thing and move past it.
Thanks for listening to me rant about it.
TW: Abuse/SA/Language/Suicide/Death A place to put down my thoughts about my past and current place to deal with my trauma and healing.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
The Rat Revisited
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Fucking Fridays
The pain in my belly was deep inside. It had been two years since my surgery and even I, at sixteen, knew that I had not healed. Exploratory surgery. That's what the doctor's called it. In another post, I will tell you what it really was.
The pain is what started this though, so that is where I shall start too. It was like a knife constantly being shoved along my pelivic bone. The scar was red and thick, almost rope-like.
When I finally had the nerve to complain about it to my foster mother, she was appropriatly sympathetic. She called the doctor and made an appointment. I was a bit bummed out because of the timing. It was scheduled for Friday and that was the day that we were all going to spend the night at a friend's house. All 12 of us. Well, except me know. I was going to stay home and go to the doctor.
I went to the doctor. He took a needle and filled it with some kind of medication and then drug it along the scar, which, goes the entire length of my pelvic bone. The pain was worse, but not as bad as before. The doctor gave me some pain medication.
I took the medication. I was feeling very strange. It was like my head was whoorling and my limbs felt like lead. Everything seemed funny.
I slowly drug myself into the bedroom of my foster parents. Why not? The two of them were together, they watched over me, they took care of me right?
Wrong.
He told me to sit on the bed and I did. He sat behind me. He was messaging my tired shoulders. She offered me a drink. I know I should have refused, but I didn't. I took the drink and the alchohol combined with the pain killer made me even more groggy then I was before.
Somewhere in the back of my head, my mind told me that the tv was on. I slowly lifted my head and tried to focus my eyes on it. It was really hard because I have worn glasses since I was a little girl and for some reason, I no longer had them on. What I could make out was alot of bodies and the sound of moaning.
By the time I realized that it was a porn movie that was playing, it also hit me that his hands had left my back and were now sliding over my breasts. I tried to protest, but my lips and tongue seemed to be working against me and all that came out was a muttled groan.
I felt him pinch my nipples and then I felt her hands on me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I was frozen in place. This couldn't be happening. She was my foster mother, he was my foster father, they were supposed to keep the evil away, not invite it in.
I tried to pull myself away but I literally could not. I was too weak from the cocktail I had been given that all I could do was lay against his fat belly and chest. The smell of him was making me sick to my stomach.
It was like I could only focus on one thing at a time. If I thought of the smell, I felt nothing, saw nothing. If I focused on their hands, I smelled nothing, heard nothing.
My pants were gone the next time I looked down. I felt confused. How did that happen? I dragged my eyes back up to the television and then back down in disbelief. Her fingers were probing at my pussy and to my horror I was wet.
I did not want this. I wanted them to stop, yet, my body responded. I felt the tears begin to well in my eyes and a small shudder passed through me.
He shifted and I was laying on the bed. He crawled down between my legs and began to lick me. I couldn't even feel that after a moment though because she crawled over the top of me and pressed herself down onto my mouth and ordered me to lick her. I had no choice. I was helpless.
I licked her as commanded. Now, mind you, I had experimented with girls before, but never had I been forced to and this was not a pleasent sensation for me. I wanted to bite down but I was afraid of what would happen if I did.
Luckily, it didn't take long for her to cum all over my face. I guess the thought of a helpless 16 year old girl licking her while her husband watched was just too much. She rolled off of me and he moved up my body and plunged his tongue into my mouth.
If I had to guess what it would taste like to lick a toilet, it would be that man's mouth. I struggled for air as he shoved himself into me. I couldn't even lift my hands up to fight him off. I layed there like a rag fucking doll and let him fuck me.
After he had cummed inside of me, he too rolled off of me and I could hear them talking to each other about how wonderful it was, how we would have to do that more often. Then he picked me up and carried me to my room.
I grew to fucking hate Fridays.
I told this particular story because over at Silent No More, there was a comment by H8You that he was ashamed at what happened to Angel at the hands of a man. I needed to tell people that it wasn't just men that do this. Evil is all around us. Men, women, even children can do evil things to others. It sickens me.
They say it is because of what happens to them as children that makes them this way. I say that is bullshit. I had a bad childhood, so did Angel, and lil-g, and a ton of others that I read regularly. It doesn't mean any of us abuse our children, or our spouses, or the people who are intrusted to us.
So I say to all of you who use this as an excuse, FUCK YOU. FUCK OFF. Admit that you are a sick fuck, or better yet, do the world a favor and fall off a really high fucking cliff. Leave those of us who can't defend ourselves, the innocent surviviors alone. Let us live our lives in peace. Cut your dicks off if you have to. Check yourselves into a mental hospital. Do something to keep yourselves from torturing us.
Please, stop making us hate ourselves.
The pain is what started this though, so that is where I shall start too. It was like a knife constantly being shoved along my pelivic bone. The scar was red and thick, almost rope-like.
When I finally had the nerve to complain about it to my foster mother, she was appropriatly sympathetic. She called the doctor and made an appointment. I was a bit bummed out because of the timing. It was scheduled for Friday and that was the day that we were all going to spend the night at a friend's house. All 12 of us. Well, except me know. I was going to stay home and go to the doctor.
I went to the doctor. He took a needle and filled it with some kind of medication and then drug it along the scar, which, goes the entire length of my pelvic bone. The pain was worse, but not as bad as before. The doctor gave me some pain medication.
I took the medication. I was feeling very strange. It was like my head was whoorling and my limbs felt like lead. Everything seemed funny.
I slowly drug myself into the bedroom of my foster parents. Why not? The two of them were together, they watched over me, they took care of me right?
Wrong.
He told me to sit on the bed and I did. He sat behind me. He was messaging my tired shoulders. She offered me a drink. I know I should have refused, but I didn't. I took the drink and the alchohol combined with the pain killer made me even more groggy then I was before.
Somewhere in the back of my head, my mind told me that the tv was on. I slowly lifted my head and tried to focus my eyes on it. It was really hard because I have worn glasses since I was a little girl and for some reason, I no longer had them on. What I could make out was alot of bodies and the sound of moaning.
By the time I realized that it was a porn movie that was playing, it also hit me that his hands had left my back and were now sliding over my breasts. I tried to protest, but my lips and tongue seemed to be working against me and all that came out was a muttled groan.
I felt him pinch my nipples and then I felt her hands on me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I was frozen in place. This couldn't be happening. She was my foster mother, he was my foster father, they were supposed to keep the evil away, not invite it in.
I tried to pull myself away but I literally could not. I was too weak from the cocktail I had been given that all I could do was lay against his fat belly and chest. The smell of him was making me sick to my stomach.
It was like I could only focus on one thing at a time. If I thought of the smell, I felt nothing, saw nothing. If I focused on their hands, I smelled nothing, heard nothing.
My pants were gone the next time I looked down. I felt confused. How did that happen? I dragged my eyes back up to the television and then back down in disbelief. Her fingers were probing at my pussy and to my horror I was wet.
I did not want this. I wanted them to stop, yet, my body responded. I felt the tears begin to well in my eyes and a small shudder passed through me.
He shifted and I was laying on the bed. He crawled down between my legs and began to lick me. I couldn't even feel that after a moment though because she crawled over the top of me and pressed herself down onto my mouth and ordered me to lick her. I had no choice. I was helpless.
I licked her as commanded. Now, mind you, I had experimented with girls before, but never had I been forced to and this was not a pleasent sensation for me. I wanted to bite down but I was afraid of what would happen if I did.
Luckily, it didn't take long for her to cum all over my face. I guess the thought of a helpless 16 year old girl licking her while her husband watched was just too much. She rolled off of me and he moved up my body and plunged his tongue into my mouth.
If I had to guess what it would taste like to lick a toilet, it would be that man's mouth. I struggled for air as he shoved himself into me. I couldn't even lift my hands up to fight him off. I layed there like a rag fucking doll and let him fuck me.
After he had cummed inside of me, he too rolled off of me and I could hear them talking to each other about how wonderful it was, how we would have to do that more often. Then he picked me up and carried me to my room.
I grew to fucking hate Fridays.
I told this particular story because over at Silent No More, there was a comment by H8You that he was ashamed at what happened to Angel at the hands of a man. I needed to tell people that it wasn't just men that do this. Evil is all around us. Men, women, even children can do evil things to others. It sickens me.
They say it is because of what happens to them as children that makes them this way. I say that is bullshit. I had a bad childhood, so did Angel, and lil-g, and a ton of others that I read regularly. It doesn't mean any of us abuse our children, or our spouses, or the people who are intrusted to us.
So I say to all of you who use this as an excuse, FUCK YOU. FUCK OFF. Admit that you are a sick fuck, or better yet, do the world a favor and fall off a really high fucking cliff. Leave those of us who can't defend ourselves, the innocent surviviors alone. Let us live our lives in peace. Cut your dicks off if you have to. Check yourselves into a mental hospital. Do something to keep yourselves from torturing us.
Please, stop making us hate ourselves.
Crawling into a hole
That's really what I wish I could do. Crawl into a hole and die.
My kidney hurts like hell. There's blood in my urine. I've been unable to keep anything down. Oh yeah, did I mention that apple juice tastes the same coming up as it did going down? My back is black and blue and the pain pills aren't even denting anything.
On the plus side. That was Monday and most of Tuesday. Today is Wednesday and I've been able to keep a little bit of stuff down and so that makes me feel better. I passed ALOT of stone and was able to catch it so the doctor can test it.
At the moment, the biggest thing lingering on my mind is my two best friends. I have seriously neglected them over the past couple of weeks. I can almost feel the distance creeping in between us. I ask him what is wrong and he says nothing, yet, I can tell something is wrong.
It is almost as if he is saying to me "I can feel us drifting, so, I'm going to push before you hurt me". Doesn't he know how much I love him? Her too! I need them in my life so much. I know I've been a terrible friend, but if you are reading this, please know that I love you with everything I have to give. I can not bear to think of my life without you. Either of you. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.
My kidney hurts like hell. There's blood in my urine. I've been unable to keep anything down. Oh yeah, did I mention that apple juice tastes the same coming up as it did going down? My back is black and blue and the pain pills aren't even denting anything.
On the plus side. That was Monday and most of Tuesday. Today is Wednesday and I've been able to keep a little bit of stuff down and so that makes me feel better. I passed ALOT of stone and was able to catch it so the doctor can test it.
At the moment, the biggest thing lingering on my mind is my two best friends. I have seriously neglected them over the past couple of weeks. I can almost feel the distance creeping in between us. I ask him what is wrong and he says nothing, yet, I can tell something is wrong.
It is almost as if he is saying to me "I can feel us drifting, so, I'm going to push before you hurt me". Doesn't he know how much I love him? Her too! I need them in my life so much. I know I've been a terrible friend, but if you are reading this, please know that I love you with everything I have to give. I can not bear to think of my life without you. Either of you. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.
Monday, May 23, 2005
41 Things
Took this from Angel's blog. Loved it. Was going to wait till tomarrow to do but, since I am having surgery first thing in the morning I was afraid I wouldn't feel up to it. Here it is, enjoy, and I'll tell you about my awsome weekend during the next post.
1) My uncle once: Killed his best friend in a hunting accident
2) Never in my life: Have I abused a child
3) When I was five: I had a beautiful peach coloured dress
4) High school was: Something I never finished
5) I will never forget: The day I married Chris, the day my children were born, my family
6) I once met: Toby Keith, Justin Deaz, Margaret Collins
7) There's this girl I know who: Touched my heart deeply
8) Once at a bar: I realized I had just divorced a drunk and it wasn't the place to find a boyfriend
9) By noon I'm usually: crawling my sorry ass out of bed
10) Last night: I got a wonderful spanking
11) If only I had: The answers for inner peace
12) Next time I go to church: I will give thanks for all that I have
13) Terry Schiavo: Was a wonderful woman who was exploited by too many people
14) I have a confession to make: I once broke a girl's arm because she was poking my chest
15) When I turn my head left: I see a bookshelf of movies for Chris and I
16) When I turn my head right: I see a bookshelf of movies for our kids
17) You know when I'm lying when: I lower my face
18) Everyday I think about: How to make myself a better mother and wife
19) If I were a character written by Shakespear I'd be: Very old
20) By this time next year: We will be in a bigger apartment
21) A better name for me would be: Bitch
22) I have a hard time understanding: How people can be so cruel to others
23) If I ever go back to school I'll: work hard to decide what career would make me happiest
24) You know I like you when: I call you "sunshine"
25) If I won an award the first person I'd thank is: Chris, he is my rock, my life, my inspiration
26) Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: Have vowels in their names
27) Take my advice, never: Go to bed angry, always tell those you love, that you love them
28) My ideal breakfast is: French toast with strawberry syrup and powdered sugar
29) A song I love, but do not have is: Wind Beneath My Wings
30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: You go up to Grand Mesa
31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars:Keep the insane happy?
32) Why won't anyone: Give me the winning lottery ticket? Is that so much to ask for?
33) If you spend the night at my house: You'd wake up to my children staring at or climbing on you.
34) I'd stop my wedding for: Nothing in the world
35) The world could do without: Bigots, Racists, Child Abusers, Murderers, and Rapists
36) I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: >screams loudly< nothing nothing nothing nothing
37) My favorite blonde is: My beautiful daughter
38) Paper clips are more useful than: A shot to the head
39) If I do anything well: It's belong to Chris
40) And by the way: I am a very lucky woman who has great love for her family and friends
41) The last time I was drunk: I had to shower Chris' cousin because she puked on us both
1) My uncle once: Killed his best friend in a hunting accident
2) Never in my life: Have I abused a child
3) When I was five: I had a beautiful peach coloured dress
4) High school was: Something I never finished
5) I will never forget: The day I married Chris, the day my children were born, my family
6) I once met: Toby Keith, Justin Deaz, Margaret Collins
7) There's this girl I know who: Touched my heart deeply
8) Once at a bar: I realized I had just divorced a drunk and it wasn't the place to find a boyfriend
9) By noon I'm usually: crawling my sorry ass out of bed
10) Last night: I got a wonderful spanking
11) If only I had: The answers for inner peace
12) Next time I go to church: I will give thanks for all that I have
13) Terry Schiavo: Was a wonderful woman who was exploited by too many people
14) I have a confession to make: I once broke a girl's arm because she was poking my chest
15) When I turn my head left: I see a bookshelf of movies for Chris and I
16) When I turn my head right: I see a bookshelf of movies for our kids
17) You know when I'm lying when: I lower my face
18) Everyday I think about: How to make myself a better mother and wife
19) If I were a character written by Shakespear I'd be: Very old
20) By this time next year: We will be in a bigger apartment
21) A better name for me would be: Bitch
22) I have a hard time understanding: How people can be so cruel to others
23) If I ever go back to school I'll: work hard to decide what career would make me happiest
24) You know I like you when: I call you "sunshine"
25) If I won an award the first person I'd thank is: Chris, he is my rock, my life, my inspiration
26) Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: Have vowels in their names
27) Take my advice, never: Go to bed angry, always tell those you love, that you love them
28) My ideal breakfast is: French toast with strawberry syrup and powdered sugar
29) A song I love, but do not have is: Wind Beneath My Wings
30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: You go up to Grand Mesa
31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars:Keep the insane happy?
32) Why won't anyone: Give me the winning lottery ticket? Is that so much to ask for?
33) If you spend the night at my house: You'd wake up to my children staring at or climbing on you.
34) I'd stop my wedding for: Nothing in the world
35) The world could do without: Bigots, Racists, Child Abusers, Murderers, and Rapists
36) I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: >screams loudly< nothing nothing nothing nothing
37) My favorite blonde is: My beautiful daughter
38) Paper clips are more useful than: A shot to the head
39) If I do anything well: It's belong to Chris
40) And by the way: I am a very lucky woman who has great love for her family and friends
41) The last time I was drunk: I had to shower Chris' cousin because she puked on us both
Sunday, May 22, 2005
The Spanking
I moved into the room, nervous about asking for a spanking. Asking is not something I do well. I decided I would wait until we were a bit "into it" before asking.
He pulled me into his arms. My favorite place to be. I am always cold and his body is so warm and strong, I feel like a china doll when I'm in his arms.
He kissed me gently, his tongue plundering into my mouth to claim what was his. I eagerly returned the kisses and they deepened as his hands moved up and down my sides before gently cupping my breasts. I felt his thumbs move over my nipples and my body instinctivly tightened in anticipation.
He moved his lips down my chin and over my neck, nipping at my skin gently with his teeth. I groaned. In return I nibbled on his earlobes and he found my breasts with his mouth, teasing the already hard nipples with his tongue. My back arched up to give him better access and my fingers drifted lazily through his soft hair.
After a few minuted spent suckling on my tits, he took ahold of the back of my hair with a firm grip and guided me down his body. I rained kisses along him the entire way.
By the time I reached his cock it was already hard and I delighted in nuzzling against it with my face. He took ahold of one of my ankles and tugged, telling me he wanted me on my knees. I of course, complied.
He shifted me so that my ass was facing him as I began to lick him up and down. Without word or warning came the first slap. Then the second and a third. I lost count of the swats he gave me as I let myself go into subspace. I sucked his cock for all it was worth. Taking it deep into my mouth while sucking on it and twirling my tongue around the head.
He alternated between the right side and left side of my ass, stopping only to take ahold of my hair and force my head down to swallow his cock even farther as he spurted cum deep into my throat.
He stretched out his arms and lay spent while I cleaned his cock and held his balls gently in my hand. When he finally whispered for me to come to him, I started to cry.
He asked me why the tears and I told him that he is the most amazing man I've ever met. I didn't even need to ask for the spanking.
I woke up this morning grinning from ear to ear and we spent a wonderful day together.
Life is good.
He pulled me into his arms. My favorite place to be. I am always cold and his body is so warm and strong, I feel like a china doll when I'm in his arms.
He kissed me gently, his tongue plundering into my mouth to claim what was his. I eagerly returned the kisses and they deepened as his hands moved up and down my sides before gently cupping my breasts. I felt his thumbs move over my nipples and my body instinctivly tightened in anticipation.
He moved his lips down my chin and over my neck, nipping at my skin gently with his teeth. I groaned. In return I nibbled on his earlobes and he found my breasts with his mouth, teasing the already hard nipples with his tongue. My back arched up to give him better access and my fingers drifted lazily through his soft hair.
After a few minuted spent suckling on my tits, he took ahold of the back of my hair with a firm grip and guided me down his body. I rained kisses along him the entire way.
By the time I reached his cock it was already hard and I delighted in nuzzling against it with my face. He took ahold of one of my ankles and tugged, telling me he wanted me on my knees. I of course, complied.
He shifted me so that my ass was facing him as I began to lick him up and down. Without word or warning came the first slap. Then the second and a third. I lost count of the swats he gave me as I let myself go into subspace. I sucked his cock for all it was worth. Taking it deep into my mouth while sucking on it and twirling my tongue around the head.
He alternated between the right side and left side of my ass, stopping only to take ahold of my hair and force my head down to swallow his cock even farther as he spurted cum deep into my throat.
He stretched out his arms and lay spent while I cleaned his cock and held his balls gently in my hand. When he finally whispered for me to come to him, I started to cry.
He asked me why the tears and I told him that he is the most amazing man I've ever met. I didn't even need to ask for the spanking.
I woke up this morning grinning from ear to ear and we spent a wonderful day together.
Life is good.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
A Quick Update
Things in my home have been sorta weird. We've had good news and bad news. Not really sharing the good news just yet for fear of jinxing it.
I have to go in on Monday morning for a lithotripsy, which is where they put me to sleep and slide me into some water and bounce soundwaves off my kidney to destroy the stone that is lingering there causing me so much pain.
I am afraid, but, I have to get it done so that I can stop suffering and get back to work.
I have spoken to the mother of the twins I blogged about a couple of days ago and have decided to go with the advice I was given. I will give the two girls all the love that I can and hope for the best. They will be joining us again on Sunday and I am still working on what we will do with them. I was thrilled when their mom told me that they both said they wanted to have their birthday party with "Aunt Nikki". She said they even drew some pictures for me.
Thank you so much for the advice. I think I knew what I needed to do, I simply need to be reassured that it was the right decision.
I wish I had more confidance in myself when it comes to things like this. I feel so strongly about things but, because of my submissive nature I always second guess myself.
I know that sounds like a copeout. I have often wondered if I turn to my submissiveness as an exscuse to turn to someone else and have them give me the answers.
I so need a spanking. I swear. I am in such a mind fuck sort of place right now. I can't really focuse or decide how I'm feeling.
I want him to bend me over and paddle my ass while I suck his cock. I love the way I feel when I am curled up against him with it in my mouth, tasting the smoothness, feeling it grow hard in my mouth, listning to his happy little noises. I love when he talks nasty to me. I love it when he calls me his little whore and tells me how he's going to fuck me real slow. I love the way that my ass feels after he's spanked me, all hot and glowy as I curl my body up against his and drift off to sleep.
Maybe it will help me sleep, which has been a problem for me lately. A problem that just pisses me off to no end. I hate laying in the dark with my mind whirling full of shit. Take a rest. Back off and let me close my eyes and empty my mind.
I think I'll go ask for that spanking now.
I have to go in on Monday morning for a lithotripsy, which is where they put me to sleep and slide me into some water and bounce soundwaves off my kidney to destroy the stone that is lingering there causing me so much pain.
I am afraid, but, I have to get it done so that I can stop suffering and get back to work.
I have spoken to the mother of the twins I blogged about a couple of days ago and have decided to go with the advice I was given. I will give the two girls all the love that I can and hope for the best. They will be joining us again on Sunday and I am still working on what we will do with them. I was thrilled when their mom told me that they both said they wanted to have their birthday party with "Aunt Nikki". She said they even drew some pictures for me.
Thank you so much for the advice. I think I knew what I needed to do, I simply need to be reassured that it was the right decision.
I wish I had more confidance in myself when it comes to things like this. I feel so strongly about things but, because of my submissive nature I always second guess myself.
I know that sounds like a copeout. I have often wondered if I turn to my submissiveness as an exscuse to turn to someone else and have them give me the answers.
I so need a spanking. I swear. I am in such a mind fuck sort of place right now. I can't really focuse or decide how I'm feeling.
I want him to bend me over and paddle my ass while I suck his cock. I love the way I feel when I am curled up against him with it in my mouth, tasting the smoothness, feeling it grow hard in my mouth, listning to his happy little noises. I love when he talks nasty to me. I love it when he calls me his little whore and tells me how he's going to fuck me real slow. I love the way that my ass feels after he's spanked me, all hot and glowy as I curl my body up against his and drift off to sleep.
Maybe it will help me sleep, which has been a problem for me lately. A problem that just pisses me off to no end. I hate laying in the dark with my mind whirling full of shit. Take a rest. Back off and let me close my eyes and empty my mind.
I think I'll go ask for that spanking now.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Angels
I remember laying in my bed. I shared a room with two other girls in a dorm that housed ten in total. Across the hall from us was the boys dorm which housed eleven. At the end of the hallways was two rooms, one was a time out/storage room and the other was the "office" where the staff stayed during the night other then to do routine checks on us and our laundry.
My eyes felt heavy and sleep was near as I listened to the other girls whispering int he dark. This was where I lived, but, very seldom did I feel a part of anything. I was seldom included in night time raids on the boy's dorms and even less seldom was I included in the late night talks. I learned to get past it with my silent prayers.
Out the darkness a scream pierced the night and I bolted upright in my bed. It was coming from down the hall and all three of us made a mad scramble for the door.
The screams continued. Heartbreaking and gut wrenching. We knew something horrible had happened and we ran into the pair that slept in the room between us and our goal. Out of the room where the screams came from stumbled the other two occupants of the room and admid much confusion and panic they told us that it was Lila and that she was asleep.
The main door opened and Pat entered the room. Pat is probably the biggest man I've ever seen, even to this day. He easily weighed six hundred pounds and the running joke was that he had his own zip code. He laughed along with us about it. This night though, his dark Indian face showed no signs of humor as he ordered all of us to go into what was my room.
We could hear his deep voice speaking to her, although how we heard it above her screams is still beyond me. The moment she heard his voice, she began to scream harder. Only this time there were words.
"No daddy no, not the basement, please daddy, please, I'll be a good girl, I promise"
Over and over it was like a litany. She could not be awakened and the rest of us girls clung to one another with tears streaming down our faces. Suddenly I realized I was a part of them for a brief moment and I felt sick to my stomach with that realization.
It lasted nearly thirty minutes before they brought in a female staff member who was able to wake her from the nightmare and get her settled back down.
That was Lila's first night. Every single night after that seemed to be the same. Even now, almost sixteen years later, I will sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, sure that I'd heard her again.
She was so beautiful. Probably one of the most beautiful girls we ever had at Western Acadamy. Long blonde hair that hung straight down to her waist. She had the face of a china doll.
But inside her, her heart and soul had been tortured. Her body raped by her own father while her mother literally stood by and watched him drag her down into that basement. It kept her father from wanting sex with her mother and that was all that mattered to her.
I spent many years at Western Acadamy and as I begin to explore my past you will see alot of these stories coming out. I have not changed the names because I hope to someday make contact with those that lived there with me.
Many times people will ask me how I managed to survive all that I did in my life. For me it is so very simple. While I faced my own trials and pain, there are others who survived much worse then me. It makes it very hard for me to allow myself to feel self pity.
The girls, and even the boys I lived with each had their own stories. They are their stories and perhaps I do not have a right to tell them, but I will. Only because their lives were so entwined with mine that it is hard for me to tell my story without telling you part of theirs.
Lila touched me in a way that very few people ever have. I have always had a deep understanding and great empathy. Even as a child, perhaps >because< of the kind of child I was.
I watched Lila grow in the months that she lived with us. After a while, the nightmares became less frequent although I don't recall that they ever stopped.
We spent hours listning to music and dancing and talking about boys and love and life and all the things normal girls talked about. But only in our room.
Downstairs, downstairs was the place of secrets. Secrets told and secrets kept. It was where we had to attend not only group therapy, but our individual therapy sessions. Every single day there was sessions. Not for each of us, but for someone. We lived in a home that was in a constant state of chaos and termoil. None of us were ever allowed to forget our demons, or the demons of those who lived with us.
Our problems were constantly crammed down our throats with no real answers for why, or how these horrible things were allowed to happen.
We were not allowed to leave. All we had was each other and we clung to that with a desperation that was almost frightning. I sobbed for days when Lila left.
She wrote us once or twice, but, I suppose life got in the way and things fell to the wayside. I still don't know what happened to her. I don't know if her life is happy or if she is in prison, or if she married. Most of all, I don't know if she was ever able to fend off the demons in her dreams.
I have a dear friend whom I've met through my blogging. Her name is Angel and she has her own story to tell. I encourage all of my readers to go there and read her story. It is called Silent No More and you can find the link on my main blog page.
I firmly believe that if more people were aware of the kind of abuse our young children suffer and were able to identify the signs of abuse, maybe, just maybe, one child could be spared the kind of pain and suffering that seems so rampant.
Please, take a look at Angel's story and open your hearts and minds. If you are being abused, or know of someone who is being abused, find the courage to do what is right and put an end to it. You may just save a life.
Angel, kudos to you for being brave enough to share what is so obviously a painful time in your past. Your courage is awe-inspiring as well as humbling. Thank you for reminding me of things long forgotten and giving me the courage to speak out on them as well.
My eyes felt heavy and sleep was near as I listened to the other girls whispering int he dark. This was where I lived, but, very seldom did I feel a part of anything. I was seldom included in night time raids on the boy's dorms and even less seldom was I included in the late night talks. I learned to get past it with my silent prayers.
Out the darkness a scream pierced the night and I bolted upright in my bed. It was coming from down the hall and all three of us made a mad scramble for the door.
The screams continued. Heartbreaking and gut wrenching. We knew something horrible had happened and we ran into the pair that slept in the room between us and our goal. Out of the room where the screams came from stumbled the other two occupants of the room and admid much confusion and panic they told us that it was Lila and that she was asleep.
The main door opened and Pat entered the room. Pat is probably the biggest man I've ever seen, even to this day. He easily weighed six hundred pounds and the running joke was that he had his own zip code. He laughed along with us about it. This night though, his dark Indian face showed no signs of humor as he ordered all of us to go into what was my room.
We could hear his deep voice speaking to her, although how we heard it above her screams is still beyond me. The moment she heard his voice, she began to scream harder. Only this time there were words.
"No daddy no, not the basement, please daddy, please, I'll be a good girl, I promise"
Over and over it was like a litany. She could not be awakened and the rest of us girls clung to one another with tears streaming down our faces. Suddenly I realized I was a part of them for a brief moment and I felt sick to my stomach with that realization.
It lasted nearly thirty minutes before they brought in a female staff member who was able to wake her from the nightmare and get her settled back down.
That was Lila's first night. Every single night after that seemed to be the same. Even now, almost sixteen years later, I will sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, sure that I'd heard her again.
She was so beautiful. Probably one of the most beautiful girls we ever had at Western Acadamy. Long blonde hair that hung straight down to her waist. She had the face of a china doll.
But inside her, her heart and soul had been tortured. Her body raped by her own father while her mother literally stood by and watched him drag her down into that basement. It kept her father from wanting sex with her mother and that was all that mattered to her.
I spent many years at Western Acadamy and as I begin to explore my past you will see alot of these stories coming out. I have not changed the names because I hope to someday make contact with those that lived there with me.
Many times people will ask me how I managed to survive all that I did in my life. For me it is so very simple. While I faced my own trials and pain, there are others who survived much worse then me. It makes it very hard for me to allow myself to feel self pity.
The girls, and even the boys I lived with each had their own stories. They are their stories and perhaps I do not have a right to tell them, but I will. Only because their lives were so entwined with mine that it is hard for me to tell my story without telling you part of theirs.
Lila touched me in a way that very few people ever have. I have always had a deep understanding and great empathy. Even as a child, perhaps >because< of the kind of child I was.
I watched Lila grow in the months that she lived with us. After a while, the nightmares became less frequent although I don't recall that they ever stopped.
We spent hours listning to music and dancing and talking about boys and love and life and all the things normal girls talked about. But only in our room.
Downstairs, downstairs was the place of secrets. Secrets told and secrets kept. It was where we had to attend not only group therapy, but our individual therapy sessions. Every single day there was sessions. Not for each of us, but for someone. We lived in a home that was in a constant state of chaos and termoil. None of us were ever allowed to forget our demons, or the demons of those who lived with us.
Our problems were constantly crammed down our throats with no real answers for why, or how these horrible things were allowed to happen.
We were not allowed to leave. All we had was each other and we clung to that with a desperation that was almost frightning. I sobbed for days when Lila left.
She wrote us once or twice, but, I suppose life got in the way and things fell to the wayside. I still don't know what happened to her. I don't know if her life is happy or if she is in prison, or if she married. Most of all, I don't know if she was ever able to fend off the demons in her dreams.
I have a dear friend whom I've met through my blogging. Her name is Angel and she has her own story to tell. I encourage all of my readers to go there and read her story. It is called Silent No More and you can find the link on my main blog page.
I firmly believe that if more people were aware of the kind of abuse our young children suffer and were able to identify the signs of abuse, maybe, just maybe, one child could be spared the kind of pain and suffering that seems so rampant.
Please, take a look at Angel's story and open your hearts and minds. If you are being abused, or know of someone who is being abused, find the courage to do what is right and put an end to it. You may just save a life.
Angel, kudos to you for being brave enough to share what is so obviously a painful time in your past. Your courage is awe-inspiring as well as humbling. Thank you for reminding me of things long forgotten and giving me the courage to speak out on them as well.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
My dilemma
My Dear Friends and Readers,
I have such a dilemma that I am not even sure what to do, so, I will do what feels right and turn this over to you to give me insight.
To keep things from becoming very confusing, I will refer to all parties as >my< relatives although they are only mine by marriage.
J is the cousin. He is . . .not the most attractive person in the world. Not in spirit or in looks. He is mean and bitter most of the time and to say he was hit with an ugly stick is a gross understatment. More like, he ran into the whole damn tree. Nor he is he particularly brainy.
For nearly six years he has been a loner living in the basement of Grandma's house. There were rumors for a while that he had gotten a girl pregnant that he'd been involved with a few years ago, but, she had disapeared from his life long before the birth.
That is, until a few months ago. See, out of the blue, she called him up. We'll call her A. She told him that she had always loved him, that she had never stopped thinking of him and that he was the father of twin girls that were five years old now.
From the very beginning we have supported him. He has begun a physical relationship with this woman and was spending lots of time with the kids.
Now, I love children. Really I do. These girls though, are the most rude, obnoxious, demanding children I have ever met. They will literally scream their heads off before using the word please. Well, now that is all fine and well at their home where my children are not subject to it, but, when we get together on the weekends at Grandma's, I expect rules to be followed by >ALL< children, not just mine.
Still, this is not my dilemma. The problem I am having is that now, after several get-togethers where I have interacted with the girls, and thier mother, I find myself getting attached. Why is this bad? Because there is still no proof that they are J's. She left once before taking the girls, despite the fact that she says they are his.
Oh and did I mention that she is married? Yes my dear readers, she is having an affair with J. Now, I'm no moral angel, but let me tell you, marriage is something I believe strongly in. She says she isn't happy but she can't leave. I found out tonight just why she can't leave, you see, she has three other children. Chris and I are not sure if they are the husband's children or not, but, that is the "reason" she can't leave.
Again, so, here is the thing. J is leaving for the military at the end of the month. My children will be spending the summer with my family. So, do I continue to invite her up with the girls for our weekly Sunday dinner/activity night with the girls? Help them celebrate the birthday they are going to have soon (they both told me that they want to have their birthday party with us)? Or do I back myself off now in case she runs with them again, or, we find out he's not the father? Can I be friends with someone who is doing something I consider wrong? I mean, don't get me wrong. I understand it works for some people. I don't want to be a party to covering it up though. If it were me, I'd want someone to tell me ya know?
I want to be here friend, but, I don't need more drama. I want to have the girls feel a part of our family. I think it is the only thing close to "normal" they have ever had. When I work one on one with the girls (tonight we made masks and butterflies and puzzles together) they do great. They mind their manners and wait their turns and say please and thank you. They are beautiful and delightful girls and I think they would benifit from the influence of our family. Their mother has commented many times on how polite my children are.
So please please, I'm begging you, to toss something out there for me to gnaw on. I really need some help with this one.
I have such a dilemma that I am not even sure what to do, so, I will do what feels right and turn this over to you to give me insight.
To keep things from becoming very confusing, I will refer to all parties as >my< relatives although they are only mine by marriage.
J is the cousin. He is . . .not the most attractive person in the world. Not in spirit or in looks. He is mean and bitter most of the time and to say he was hit with an ugly stick is a gross understatment. More like, he ran into the whole damn tree. Nor he is he particularly brainy.
For nearly six years he has been a loner living in the basement of Grandma's house. There were rumors for a while that he had gotten a girl pregnant that he'd been involved with a few years ago, but, she had disapeared from his life long before the birth.
That is, until a few months ago. See, out of the blue, she called him up. We'll call her A. She told him that she had always loved him, that she had never stopped thinking of him and that he was the father of twin girls that were five years old now.
From the very beginning we have supported him. He has begun a physical relationship with this woman and was spending lots of time with the kids.
Now, I love children. Really I do. These girls though, are the most rude, obnoxious, demanding children I have ever met. They will literally scream their heads off before using the word please. Well, now that is all fine and well at their home where my children are not subject to it, but, when we get together on the weekends at Grandma's, I expect rules to be followed by >ALL< children, not just mine.
Still, this is not my dilemma. The problem I am having is that now, after several get-togethers where I have interacted with the girls, and thier mother, I find myself getting attached. Why is this bad? Because there is still no proof that they are J's. She left once before taking the girls, despite the fact that she says they are his.
Oh and did I mention that she is married? Yes my dear readers, she is having an affair with J. Now, I'm no moral angel, but let me tell you, marriage is something I believe strongly in. She says she isn't happy but she can't leave. I found out tonight just why she can't leave, you see, she has three other children. Chris and I are not sure if they are the husband's children or not, but, that is the "reason" she can't leave.
Again, so, here is the thing. J is leaving for the military at the end of the month. My children will be spending the summer with my family. So, do I continue to invite her up with the girls for our weekly Sunday dinner/activity night with the girls? Help them celebrate the birthday they are going to have soon (they both told me that they want to have their birthday party with us)? Or do I back myself off now in case she runs with them again, or, we find out he's not the father? Can I be friends with someone who is doing something I consider wrong? I mean, don't get me wrong. I understand it works for some people. I don't want to be a party to covering it up though. If it were me, I'd want someone to tell me ya know?
I want to be here friend, but, I don't need more drama. I want to have the girls feel a part of our family. I think it is the only thing close to "normal" they have ever had. When I work one on one with the girls (tonight we made masks and butterflies and puzzles together) they do great. They mind their manners and wait their turns and say please and thank you. They are beautiful and delightful girls and I think they would benifit from the influence of our family. Their mother has commented many times on how polite my children are.
So please please, I'm begging you, to toss something out there for me to gnaw on. I really need some help with this one.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
The Masks We Wear
I so want to learn how to design my own blogskin. I have looked and hunted and searched and have actually found some beautiful things that I like but, they are not mine and I don't want to use them without other people's permission. I don't want their names all over my site, I want to add my own friends (which, I have added to btb, awsome writers that I'm ashamed to say, I've been too lazy to add untill today)
I want to put up some pictures. I need a "blogging for dummies" book. I can't find any sites that will show me how to do this. I mean, I can build websites, but, I can't change my own personal blog?! Ughhgh, I want to scream. Anyway.
I am glad to see so many of mty dear friends back to blogland. I have missed all of you and your wonderful words of wit and wisdom. This is for you.
THE MASK I WEAR
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks-
masks that I'm afraid to take off
and none of them are me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me
But don't be fooled, for God's sake, don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure
That all is sunny and unruffled with me
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name
and coolness my game,
that the water's calm
and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me. Please!
My surface may be smooth but my surface is my mask,
My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness.
But I hide this.
I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weaknesses
and fear exposing them.
That's why I frantically create my masks to hide behind.
They're nonchalant, sophisticated facades to help me pretend,
To shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only salvation,
and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
and if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls.
I dislike hiding, honestly
I dislike the superficial game I'm playing,
the superficial phony game.
I'd really like to be genuine and me.
But I need your help, your hand to hold
Even though my masks would tell you otherwise
That glance from you is the only thing that assures me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this.
I don't dare.
I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh
and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good
and you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a facade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the parade of masks,
The glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's nothing
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying
Please listen carefully and try to hear
what I'm not saying
Hear what I'd like to say
but what I can not say.
It will not be easy for you,
long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
Despite what books say of men, I am irrational;
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
you wonder who I am
you shouldn't
for I am every man
and every woman
who wears a mask.
Don't be fooled by me.
At least not by the face I wear.
-----author unknown and it has been published in a number of books.
This has been me for as far back as I can remember. A therapist I worked with at Western Acadamy gave me a copy and told me that as far back as he could remember, no one reminded him of this poem more then I do.
Nothing, yet, everything has changed since those days. No more am I a victim. No more am I a child at the whim of others. I will hold my own head up. I will claim my victories and my sorrows. I will love my children as I was never loved. I will protect them as I was never protected. I will hold them in the night when their dreams take on a dark tone, I will curl up around them and sing softly to them until they fall asleep. I will comfort them and laugh with them. I will punish them, yet, respect that they are people and don't deserve to be abused. No more am I without people who love me, respect me.
Yet, I am still afraid. I fear that one day I will wake up and it will all be gone. That I will be alone because I have pushed those I love so far away from me. It keeps me from loving, from forming friendships the way I want to. I want to belong, I want to be liked, but, not for what is seen, but, for who I am.
A hell of a place to put myself in huh?
I want to put up some pictures. I need a "blogging for dummies" book. I can't find any sites that will show me how to do this. I mean, I can build websites, but, I can't change my own personal blog?! Ughhgh, I want to scream. Anyway.
I am glad to see so many of mty dear friends back to blogland. I have missed all of you and your wonderful words of wit and wisdom. This is for you.
THE MASK I WEAR
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks-
masks that I'm afraid to take off
and none of them are me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me
But don't be fooled, for God's sake, don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure
That all is sunny and unruffled with me
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name
and coolness my game,
that the water's calm
and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me. Please!
My surface may be smooth but my surface is my mask,
My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness.
But I hide this.
I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weaknesses
and fear exposing them.
That's why I frantically create my masks to hide behind.
They're nonchalant, sophisticated facades to help me pretend,
To shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only salvation,
and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
and if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls.
I dislike hiding, honestly
I dislike the superficial game I'm playing,
the superficial phony game.
I'd really like to be genuine and me.
But I need your help, your hand to hold
Even though my masks would tell you otherwise
That glance from you is the only thing that assures me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this.
I don't dare.
I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh
and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good
and you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a facade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the parade of masks,
The glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's nothing
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying
Please listen carefully and try to hear
what I'm not saying
Hear what I'd like to say
but what I can not say.
It will not be easy for you,
long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
Despite what books say of men, I am irrational;
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
you wonder who I am
you shouldn't
for I am every man
and every woman
who wears a mask.
Don't be fooled by me.
At least not by the face I wear.
-----author unknown and it has been published in a number of books.
This has been me for as far back as I can remember. A therapist I worked with at Western Acadamy gave me a copy and told me that as far back as he could remember, no one reminded him of this poem more then I do.
Nothing, yet, everything has changed since those days. No more am I a victim. No more am I a child at the whim of others. I will hold my own head up. I will claim my victories and my sorrows. I will love my children as I was never loved. I will protect them as I was never protected. I will hold them in the night when their dreams take on a dark tone, I will curl up around them and sing softly to them until they fall asleep. I will comfort them and laugh with them. I will punish them, yet, respect that they are people and don't deserve to be abused. No more am I without people who love me, respect me.
Yet, I am still afraid. I fear that one day I will wake up and it will all be gone. That I will be alone because I have pushed those I love so far away from me. It keeps me from loving, from forming friendships the way I want to. I want to belong, I want to be liked, but, not for what is seen, but, for who I am.
A hell of a place to put myself in huh?
Tagged
Well it seems I was tagged, not once, but twice. I had to do alot of thinking about this because of the fact that I do read alot. I love books. I read anything put before me. Romance, sci-fi, fantasy, crime stories, true stories, anything. So, with that in mind, I set out to do the appointed task and fill this out.
1) Total number of books I've owned: Probably close to 300 adult books. My children are also avid readers and we love to encourage that, they have probably close to 300 themselves.
2) Last book I bought: Ancient Egyptian Myths and Legends by Lewis Spence. This was a gift for my daughter's 12th birthday which took place on the 29th of April. She loves mythology, particularly Egyption, even though her Momma likes Greek Mythology best.
3) Last book I read: Three Fates by Nora Roberts. This was a Mother's Day gift for me from my delightful husband. He couldn't remember the name of the book I had once uttered wanting to read and I'm actually very grateful for it because this book was wonderfully written.
4) Five books that mean alot to me: Hmm, this was the hardest question by far, so, here goes (even though I know later I'll remember one I'd rather have on this list)
1) The Bible
2) The Stand (what a scary thought) by Stephen King
3) Left Behind (although it's a series, it made me think very hard about what my life would be like if I were "left behind") by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins
4) My sister's autograph book
5) Each of my children's Baby Book
5) Tag 5 people and have them fill this out on their blogs: All right, I lied, this is the hardest, ummm.. let me see who >hasn't<> Lady Calliah, Xariklea, Sea Rabbit, Idunna and . . hmm.. Miss Ria still hasn't done it so, yeah, those five.
Just, as a disclaimer, if they don't do it, it's not my fault. I am not even sure how many of them come over to read from me on a regular basis anymore, but, hey, I had fun with this and maybe so will they.
1) Total number of books I've owned: Probably close to 300 adult books. My children are also avid readers and we love to encourage that, they have probably close to 300 themselves.
2) Last book I bought: Ancient Egyptian Myths and Legends by Lewis Spence. This was a gift for my daughter's 12th birthday which took place on the 29th of April. She loves mythology, particularly Egyption, even though her Momma likes Greek Mythology best.
3) Last book I read: Three Fates by Nora Roberts. This was a Mother's Day gift for me from my delightful husband. He couldn't remember the name of the book I had once uttered wanting to read and I'm actually very grateful for it because this book was wonderfully written.
4) Five books that mean alot to me: Hmm, this was the hardest question by far, so, here goes (even though I know later I'll remember one I'd rather have on this list)
1) The Bible
2) The Stand (what a scary thought) by Stephen King
3) Left Behind (although it's a series, it made me think very hard about what my life would be like if I were "left behind") by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins
4) My sister's autograph book
5) Each of my children's Baby Book
5) Tag 5 people and have them fill this out on their blogs: All right, I lied, this is the hardest, ummm.. let me see who >hasn't<> Lady Calliah, Xariklea, Sea Rabbit, Idunna and . . hmm.. Miss Ria still hasn't done it so, yeah, those five.
Just, as a disclaimer, if they don't do it, it's not my fault. I am not even sure how many of them come over to read from me on a regular basis anymore, but, hey, I had fun with this and maybe so will they.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Saturday
As promised, not only to you, but to myself, I am going to post about the events that took place on Saturday.
It actually started Friday night, and as you know I was in the hospital. I was afraid and lonely and my husband had no way to get to me. He had to stay home with our three children and had no vehicle. My mind told me it was the sensible thing to do. It didn't stop me from needing him though.
On the way home from the hosptial, the relative who had come to get pulled up to a four way stop and waited patiently for our turn. Before we could go, a young girl had slammed into the back of our car. Since I had just left the hospital, and there was no damage, it was agreed by all parties that we would just go our seperate ways, but still, it left me shaking pretty badly.
I came home and Chris doted on me. Tried to feed me, which, I did eat a bit, but, wasn't feeling very hungry so not as much as he would have liked me to eat. I fell asleep during the movie he had put in for me.
At
When I came back, he snapped at me for the stupid comment I made and told me to go back to sleep. Instead, I cried. I cried for almost an hour before dragging my miserable ass out of bed and to my computer. I wanted to write but I didn't have the words. I commented on a few of my regular reads and went back to my room and cried myself to sleep about
Chris did not wake me up. He let me sleep until I woke up all on my own. Even the children were quiet.
I don't know how the argument started. Or what it was about. That is not a way of getting out of telling you, it is the truth. I don't remember.
What I do remember is becoming so distraught that I began throwing things. Screaming and kicking my feet. Chris could only stand by helplessly while I threw what was a complete tantrum that would have rivaled any two year old.
It went on for hours. I scratched at my face. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I sobbed. I threatened to smash my four hundred dollar digital camera. I was somehow convinced that Chris wanted me to go away, that he wanted to lock me up.
His grandmother and cousin stopped by to take him to the store to get the medicines the hospital had prescribed for me. Even that didn’t calm me down.
I know that his cousin thought she was helping when she got up in my face and screamed “Look at me” but, at that moment, I nearly ripped her head off. Chris had pinned me against the supports for the kids’ bunk bed to keep me from smashing more stuff. I couldn’t really feel anything but the anger, the rage, and the overwhelming sadness.
I am deeply ashamed of what I did. I lashed out at those who love me most. I scared the shit out of my kids, not to mention the family members that stopped by during all of it.
When it was all said and done, Chris quietly asked me if I wanted to be checked into the hospital. I told him it was a decision he would have to make as I don’t trust myself anymore.
Obviously, he decided that the best place for me is right here at home. He has suggested however, that a therapist would help me. I don’t want to go to a therapist. In all my years of seeing them, they did not help me. I can’t see the point of paying for it. We have so many other things our money could be used for.
Instead I will continue to write here and try to find the answers within myself.
How Do You Get That Lonely?
"How Do You Get That Lonely" Blaine Larsen
It was just another story written on the second page
Underneath the Tiger's football score
It said he was only eighteen, a boy about my age
They found him face down on his bedroom floor
There'll be services on Friday at the Lawrence Funeral Home
Then out on Mooresville highway, they'll lay him beneath a stone...
How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad
To make you make the call, that having' no life at all
Is better than the life that you had
How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go
How do you get that lonely... and nobody knows
Did his girlfriend break up with him, did he buy or steal that gun?
Did he lose a fight with drugs or alcohol?
Did his Mom and Daddy forget to say I love you son?
Did no one see the writing on the wall?
I'm not blaming' anybody, we all do the best we can
I know hindsight's 20/20, but I still don't understand...
How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad
To make you make the call, that having' no life at all
Is better than the life that you had
How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go
How do you get that lonely... and nobody knows
It was just another story printed on the second page
Underneath the Tiger's football score...
I heard this song on the radio the other day as I was driving home. The first thought that came into my head was “You don’t understand, you don’t know, because I won’t >let<>
Depression is a disorder. It makes those of us who are inflicted by it, suffer in terrible ways. One of them is self-isolation. We cut ourselves off from the world. We hide from those who would help us and we scorn the solutions presented. Why do we do this? Because in society it is still considered a weakness to cry. A person who cries regularly, is called a crybaby. Heaven forbid a man cries. He’s a pussy, he’s weak, and he’s disturbed.
Stigmatisms are all around us. It is so hard to come forward and admit that you have mental problems. If you have a mental breakdown and call into work, people think you’re stupid. If your child is sobbing and unable to remain in class, they will be ridiculed and called names.
They have places where they lock up people with mental illness. Not because they have done anything wrong, but, because of the perceived idea that they >might<>
The words crazy, psycho, and insane are words commonly associated with people who suffer from mental disorders. They are labels put in place by the ignorant. They are people who are afraid because they have no idea what these disorders are all about.
So, how is it that people don’t see it? Because they don’t >want<>
The bottom line is, you don’t want to see and we don’t want to show you. Sometimes, just.. sometimes, we find someone we can share our hurts with. We find a person who has had similar hurts and we cling to one another. We feel their pain and hurt, they happiness and joy.
For me, I found a group of these people. They know who they are. And for them, I need to say thank you. Thank you for giving me a place where I can feel safe and secure in dumping my most intimate thoughts and feelings. Thank you for your kind words, prayers and advice. I want to say what I don’t say often enough and that is I love you.
Monday, May 09, 2005
My Weekend
I wanted to write something about Mother's Day. My idea of it, or, about my own mother, but, honestly I have been to preoccupied with my own dealings to think of too many things to write.
Bad case of writer's block.
Friday I went to work as usual. Clocked in at 3:30. Nearing 6:00 I felt a bit nauseated. I decided I had better take my break and go to the bathroom before I threw up all the nothingness that was in my belly. I realized that there was blood in my urine. Then the pain started. I went back to my desk and tried deep breathing to relax myself. I knew it was going to be futile, so, I hunted down a supervisor and told her I needed to leave so I could go to the hospital. She told me to go because I looked like death warmed over. I went back to my desk to collect my things when my head began swimming. Darkness and light mixing and fear began to overwhelm me. Another superviser sitting near me asked if I was all right, if she should call an ambulance. I said no, give me a minute. A minute was a minute too late and I am suprised, even now, that I had the presense of mind to move myself to the floor. As she was helping me, I passed out. At some point, I went into convulsions, woke up, passed out again. Then I was being loaded into an ambulance.
"Is this Chris?"
"Yes"
"Your wife is Nikki?"
"Yes"
"This is her supervisor and I wanted to let you know she was just taken by ambulance to the hospital"
"What happened"
"She was bleeding and passed out, she thought it might be her kidneys"
That was the extent of information passed on to my husband. Meanwhile, I am at the hospital and they are talking about how my white cell count is high and I hear whispered talks of cancer. I know that people do not just have convulsions and my family has a history of brain tumors. I am terrified. I am medicated and, I am alone.
I cried. I cried for hours. They gave me morphine for the pain. Then more because the first dose didn't help. Then they gave me another type of pain medication that I don't remember the name of. They took me in and did a CT scan of my head and my stomach. They put me on EKG machines and heart moniters and shoved a tube up my nose to help me breathe.
Hours later, they tell me. I have a large kidney stone. It is infected. It has infected my kidneys, my urinary track, and my bladder.
They sent me home with antiboitics and pain medication. I still feel like shit.
Saturday was a horrible day for me. I had a serious breakdown. So bad that Chris nearly called and had me commited to the psychiatric hospital. Right now I'm too tired to go into that story.
Bad case of writer's block.
Friday I went to work as usual. Clocked in at 3:30. Nearing 6:00 I felt a bit nauseated. I decided I had better take my break and go to the bathroom before I threw up all the nothingness that was in my belly. I realized that there was blood in my urine. Then the pain started. I went back to my desk and tried deep breathing to relax myself. I knew it was going to be futile, so, I hunted down a supervisor and told her I needed to leave so I could go to the hospital. She told me to go because I looked like death warmed over. I went back to my desk to collect my things when my head began swimming. Darkness and light mixing and fear began to overwhelm me. Another superviser sitting near me asked if I was all right, if she should call an ambulance. I said no, give me a minute. A minute was a minute too late and I am suprised, even now, that I had the presense of mind to move myself to the floor. As she was helping me, I passed out. At some point, I went into convulsions, woke up, passed out again. Then I was being loaded into an ambulance.
"Is this Chris?"
"Yes"
"Your wife is Nikki?"
"Yes"
"This is her supervisor and I wanted to let you know she was just taken by ambulance to the hospital"
"What happened"
"She was bleeding and passed out, she thought it might be her kidneys"
That was the extent of information passed on to my husband. Meanwhile, I am at the hospital and they are talking about how my white cell count is high and I hear whispered talks of cancer. I know that people do not just have convulsions and my family has a history of brain tumors. I am terrified. I am medicated and, I am alone.
I cried. I cried for hours. They gave me morphine for the pain. Then more because the first dose didn't help. Then they gave me another type of pain medication that I don't remember the name of. They took me in and did a CT scan of my head and my stomach. They put me on EKG machines and heart moniters and shoved a tube up my nose to help me breathe.
Hours later, they tell me. I have a large kidney stone. It is infected. It has infected my kidneys, my urinary track, and my bladder.
They sent me home with antiboitics and pain medication. I still feel like shit.
Saturday was a horrible day for me. I had a serious breakdown. So bad that Chris nearly called and had me commited to the psychiatric hospital. Right now I'm too tired to go into that story.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Stolen Ideas
Just a few little things about me since I haven't had time to blog. I do miss you all though and am keeping up with your blogs. Found this at D`Anerah's site and stole the idea. Hope you find it interesting.
Name: Nikki
Gender: Female
Location:United States
Height: 5'5"
Hair color: Red
Eye color: Brown
Is your hair long or short:short
Tattoos you have: An anklet comprised of a heart with wings, a butterfly, a peacock, and a rose with a shooting star above it
» S C H O O L «
Are you still in school: Nope
Favorite subject: Math
Least favorite subject: History.
Do/did you buy lunch or bring it: We always left campus.
» F A V O R I T E «
Number: 9
Clothing : Sweats and Chris' shirts
TV show: House Md
Fruit: Rasberries
Movie: Too Many to list
Scent: Strawberry
Ice Cream Flavor: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
Color: Yellow
Season: Spring
Holiday: Christmas day.
Thing in your room: My husband
Author: Too many to list
TV channel: Fox
Shape: Star shapes
Time: Late night
State: In love
Disney character: Genie
Scary movie: The Others
» T H I S O R T H A T «
Hot or cold: Cold
Winter or summer: Winter
Spring or fall: Spring
Shakira or Britney: Does this question come with an option for bullets?
MTV or VH1: VH1
Rollerblading or skateboarding: Rollerblading.
Black or white: Black
Orange or red: Red
Yellow or green: Yellow
Purple or pink: purple
Cell phone or pager: cell
Powerpuff Girls or Charlie’s Angels: Powerpuff Girls
Scooby Doo or Dino: Scooby
» Y E S O R N O P E«
Are you a vegetarian: no.
Do you like cows: Are we talking about steaks?
Are you a bitch: Only a moron would ask me that question
Are you artistic: Artistic no, Creative yes
Do you write poetry: Yes
Can you ski: No
Are you British: No
Are you straight: Now? Yes
Are you evil: Ask my ex-husband
Is Britney a whore: Is this a trick question? hell yes!
» P R I V A T E «
Have you ever been in love: yes
do you smoke: yes
Do you smoke weed: Not anymore
Crack, heroin, anything else: Not anymore
Beer good or beer bad: BAD! NASTY!
Are you the sissy who drinks wine coolers: Not as a preference, but, over beer, hell yes, call me a sissy again and see if I don't kick your ass.
» T H E L A S T «
Thing you ate: Cheetos
Thing you drank: Lipton Extra Sweet Tea
Place you went: Work
Thing you got pierced/tattooed: My ankle, almost 17 years ago
Song you heard: Giving In by Adema
Person you instant messaged: Angeliano/Dario
Person you laughed with: Chris
» N O W «
What are you eating: Nothing
What are you drinking: Lipton Extra Sweet Tea
Any shoes on: Shoes? What are shoes?
Hair: Loose
Listening to: The Big Cumfy Couch
Talking to anyone: Chris and youngest Son
» L A S T «
Last Cigarette: Not soon enough
Last Alcoholic Drink: Southern Comfort of course
Last Car Ride: On my way home from work (till the car broke down and I had to walk)
Last Good Cry: a month or so ago
Last Library Book: Fear of librarians keep me from going.
Last book bought: Three Fates
Last Book Read: Three Fates
Last Movie Seen in Theatres: Constitine
Last Movie Rented: Taken (mini series, HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)
Last Cuss Word Uttered: Fuck
Last Beverage Drank: Lipton Extra Sweet tea
Last Phone Call: I answer phones for a living, I'm not answering mine
Last TV Show: Extreme Exposure
LastTime Showered: Yesterday
Last Shoes Worn: Black tennis shoes
Last CD Played: MP3's and Radio are all I ever listen to
Last Item Bought: Cigarettes
Last Download: Step by Step by Eddie Rabitt
Last Annoyance: Finding the toilet paper dispenser empty
Last Thing Written: This list
Last Key Used: Front door key
Last Sleep: Last night
Last Ice Cream Eaten: Neopolitin
Last Chair Sat In: computer chair
Last Webpage Visited: D`Anerah's
Name: Nikki
Gender: Female
Location:United States
Height: 5'5"
Hair color: Red
Eye color: Brown
Is your hair long or short:short
Tattoos you have: An anklet comprised of a heart with wings, a butterfly, a peacock, and a rose with a shooting star above it
» S C H O O L «
Are you still in school: Nope
Favorite subject: Math
Least favorite subject: History.
Do/did you buy lunch or bring it: We always left campus.
» F A V O R I T E «
Number: 9
Clothing : Sweats and Chris' shirts
TV show: House Md
Fruit: Rasberries
Movie: Too Many to list
Scent: Strawberry
Ice Cream Flavor: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
Color: Yellow
Season: Spring
Holiday: Christmas day.
Thing in your room: My husband
Author: Too many to list
TV channel: Fox
Shape: Star shapes
Time: Late night
State: In love
Disney character: Genie
Scary movie: The Others
» T H I S O R T H A T «
Hot or cold: Cold
Winter or summer: Winter
Spring or fall: Spring
Shakira or Britney: Does this question come with an option for bullets?
MTV or VH1: VH1
Rollerblading or skateboarding: Rollerblading.
Black or white: Black
Orange or red: Red
Yellow or green: Yellow
Purple or pink: purple
Cell phone or pager: cell
Powerpuff Girls or Charlie’s Angels: Powerpuff Girls
Scooby Doo or Dino: Scooby
» Y E S O R N O P E«
Are you a vegetarian: no.
Do you like cows: Are we talking about steaks?
Are you a bitch: Only a moron would ask me that question
Are you artistic: Artistic no, Creative yes
Do you write poetry: Yes
Can you ski: No
Are you British: No
Are you straight: Now? Yes
Are you evil: Ask my ex-husband
Is Britney a whore: Is this a trick question? hell yes!
» P R I V A T E «
Have you ever been in love: yes
do you smoke: yes
Do you smoke weed: Not anymore
Crack, heroin, anything else: Not anymore
Beer good or beer bad: BAD! NASTY!
Are you the sissy who drinks wine coolers: Not as a preference, but, over beer, hell yes, call me a sissy again and see if I don't kick your ass.
» T H E L A S T «
Thing you ate: Cheetos
Thing you drank: Lipton Extra Sweet Tea
Place you went: Work
Thing you got pierced/tattooed: My ankle, almost 17 years ago
Song you heard: Giving In by Adema
Person you instant messaged: Angeliano/Dario
Person you laughed with: Chris
» N O W «
What are you eating: Nothing
What are you drinking: Lipton Extra Sweet Tea
Any shoes on: Shoes? What are shoes?
Hair: Loose
Listening to: The Big Cumfy Couch
Talking to anyone: Chris and youngest Son
» L A S T «
Last Cigarette: Not soon enough
Last Alcoholic Drink: Southern Comfort of course
Last Car Ride: On my way home from work (till the car broke down and I had to walk)
Last Good Cry: a month or so ago
Last Library Book: Fear of librarians keep me from going.
Last book bought: Three Fates
Last Book Read: Three Fates
Last Movie Seen in Theatres: Constitine
Last Movie Rented: Taken (mini series, HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)
Last Cuss Word Uttered: Fuck
Last Beverage Drank: Lipton Extra Sweet tea
Last Phone Call: I answer phones for a living, I'm not answering mine
Last TV Show: Extreme Exposure
LastTime Showered: Yesterday
Last Shoes Worn: Black tennis shoes
Last CD Played: MP3's and Radio are all I ever listen to
Last Item Bought: Cigarettes
Last Download: Step by Step by Eddie Rabitt
Last Annoyance: Finding the toilet paper dispenser empty
Last Thing Written: This list
Last Key Used: Front door key
Last Sleep: Last night
Last Ice Cream Eaten: Neopolitin
Last Chair Sat In: computer chair
Last Webpage Visited: D`Anerah's
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