Keep breathing

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I haven’t been around in a few days and that’s because I’ve been having a pretty hard time. I can’t really explain why…I can’t seem to understand and I am trying to be okay with NOT understanding but it’s difficult, it’s something a person wants to be able to do with everything is just to understand because that’s really all a person can do. When you can’t…its’s like you’re lost, and being lost is hard to deal with. 

My depression is building up and raging a storm inside of me. I don’t know how to stop it because I don’t understand. All I want for myself is to be happy, is that so much to ask? I just want to feel good and okay and at peace with myself and everyone. Why can’t that be something within my reach? Everyone should be given the opportunity to be always happy, always joyful and always free. 

Free, true freedom. That’s another talk, for another time that I can’t wait to have. 

I’m reaching out with my blog because I need help. My usual coping skills are slightly unreachable right now as I do not have the funds or the weather to use them, it must be the snow for I cannot for the life if me think of anything else. I wish I could control it, I’m sick of not being the one in charge and letting my emotions get the best of me. 

Does it really have to be that hard? It doesn’t make any logical sense to me. 

I want to live in the summer and take my board out every single day and relax in the warmth and the breezy sun and just cruise down empty streets, paved smooth like riding on butter. Move along life with nothing but the sun at my back and a beer in one hand and a joint/cigarette in the other, as I ride toward open ocean and the smell of salty, sea spray stinging my nose. What a life it would be, always a camera around my neck to snap the pictures coming into view because the opportunities are always there. 

I find it amazing how I can sit at my laptop and start writing and immediately feel so much better, what about you? How do you want to live, what do you want to do, where do you want to be? The perfect day, moment, lifetime, what is it? 

Weekly Writing Challenge: Ghosts of December 23rds Past

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Weekly Writing Challenge: Ghosts of December 23rds Past

A day of my past into an insignificant future. 

My past is such a struggle, its painful to remember, painful to relive. 

The day that comes to mind, is pure torture. 

When I was little, my mom wanted me and my siblings to see my dad one last time before he was sent away for years to come. The problem was someone found out. They didn’t like my moms’ last desperate resort. 

I was put in foster care with my twin and the rest of us were spread out by themselves. 

It was one night, only some sort of a 24 hour time period, but it was hell. 

I was so small, and I felt so alone. I had only my sister to comfort me and she was in a comforting mood. We sat, cuddled up together, under a table for hours, crying, until we fell asleep. We forced to eat spaghetti, of all things, for dinner and to this day I can no longer eat that saucy covered pasta. 

My mom was able to pull me out of the system, throwing out her own fears and helplessness for the court to see, a desperate housewife being evicted from her home, with no money, no job, a husband being tossed into prison for the pain he put into my family. We had nowhere to go and she had never been on her own before. (Let alone with 6 kids on her hands.) 

Her utter desperation is what released her kids from . . . ultimate daycare let’s call it.

When we got home, we were never really home. We had to move around, living with different people, never on our own. Never with daddy again. 

I saw him, a few visits to the prison visiting center but it was never satisfying. He never seemed to want to see me, he pushed me away. 

Even so, he wrote letters and drew pictures and made cards; even got a few phone calls here and there. 

One thing I remember most, is being signed up for Angel Tree. There would be a family who would call my mom during Christmas time and every kid would make a list. That family would buy the things we put on our list and say they were from daddy. 

Every year, we would get the call. 

Every year, we would wait for a delivery to out door. 

Every year, we would have the special tags, they were shaped as a tree with Angel Tree written on the top, “from daddy”.

Every year, we would open them on Christmas eve. 

Every year, disappointment rang when my daddy didn’t come home for Christmas. 

 

 

Just another day to pass

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Today happens to be my birthday.

Oh, woeful me, to this day you have been born.

When suffering with depression, you usually begin to tell yourself that you wish you were never born. That’s the first snowball thrown down the hill that keeps rolling, and rolling until you come to suicidal tendencies and hate your life. 

When you get to your birthday, it’s just a horrible disaster. 

The one thing I want to do today, is sit down with a nice, fat blunt and get as low as possible.

With 3 charges and court in two months, would that really be a good idea? No, and to any of you reading this right now, I hope that you don’t do the stupid shit I have begun; it only hurts you more. 

The problem is that bud seems to be the only thing that slows my mind down and lets me think (kind of ironic) before I do anything stupid, like self-harm. 

What a great way to talk about a birthday huh?

Well, I’m trying to get myself to realize that without being born I wouldn’t have met so many amazing people, inspired people to do better for themselves, given advice and stopped people from hurting themselves, saved a life, gotten so many wonderful chances and gained dreams. I say that i can’t see myself having a future. Is that really true? It’s like telling myself that there was never anything that you planned on doing later in life, something that you always dreamed of doing because you know there are those things. 

Stop cutting yourself short Bridgette for that was always your biggest mistake.