F*cking up

I have been high every night for a month now, maybe longer. I have been drinking and dropping acid some nights too. I know my life is toxic right now but I dont know how to stop. I don’t know who I can tell and what to change. I think I need to leave but I have kids and I can’t leave them. I was fired from my Bookkeeper job on 10/7 even though I gave my notice thru 10/14. They said, “If you’re not going to work and you have to leave, just leave, really it’s ok, just go!” I needed to leave to pick up my sister-in-law from the psych ward she was detoxing at but shes drinking again here too. She lives in our garage. She is the one who gets all the drugs. I mean we pay her sometimes but she always has pot and sometimes acid, mushrooms, whiskey, wine….It’s a snack drawer for adults when the kids go to bed. Sometimes before the kids go to bed.

I tried starting a new job. I worked two days and couldn’t function well enough to get up, get ready and go. I had a few other interviews but they look at my resume and see all my jobs and say, “How long do plan on keeping this job?” because I haven’t worked for more than two years since EMS when I worked there six years from 2006-2011. After that it’s been every few months to every couple of years I’ve changed jobs. I often feel bad for my previous employers getting so many verification calls since I’ve left. I find it very depressing I cannot keep a job.

My husband says it’s a good trait that I am so “hirable.” It’s good that I can get a new job so quickly and the reasons why I left all those other jobs are valid but I wonder… My therapist says I have a tendency to run away when things are tough and I think that applies to my career history clearly.

I have a computer desk set up in my own sun room now so I should be writing more. I know it’s been awhile. I dont’ type well on my laptop and I haven’t been at work to blog so… I like blogging though. I save all my blog posts and journal entries on a thumb drive that I lost. I have most of the file backed up in an email but I still wish I could find that thumb drive…  I just fell like I keep fucking up

I want to meet him…

There are many things my mother was known for. Her laugh and smile come to mind. What made her so happy in life was her family. She loved her husband, children and grandchildren immensely. She also loved the Lord. She sought be forgiving, merciful, and kind as Jesus teaches. Many mornings I would come down for breakfast as her and my father were finishing their morning devotions. They are devoted to the Lord God, Jesus Christ, and the miracle of the Holy Spirit living in us and guiding us. Perhaps it was because she started her days by reading the Bible that she was so filled with the Holy Spirit in kindness. She was kind to everyone, it is one of her well known traits, a character strength. Another was forgiveness. She forgave freely without holding grudges. I want to extend her forgiveness to the man who was driving the truck that struck her taking her life. Some people say he killed her. These words are hard to hear and harsh; true or false feels irrelevant. No matter the cause it was an accident. This man who drove the truck was not aiming or intending to take my mother’s life. Pause for a moment and imagine yourself driving and for whatever the reason not related to your vehicle malfunctioning, a cell phone distraction , no drugs or drinking involved, no real reason at all; a pedestrian you never met is knocked down in front of your vehicle. They are rushed to the hospital while police take your statement. You find out they do not survive. Would you feel at fault? Would you feel guilty? Ponder for a moment, internalize living with the other side of the story. Can you even imagine how you would feel?

I work on a main drag in a busy city with a lot of people on the sidewalk, in the crosswalks and all over the roads by foot, bike, skate board with baby carriages and holding young children by the hand. I am terrified of them when I drive. Terrified of taking their life. What that must feel like is heart breaking.

It is in realizing this I want to meet the man that was involved in my mother’s accident and tell him he is forgiven. My mother forgives him because Jesus taught her to.   They should be picking him shortly. I wonder if they will allow me to see him…

All alone…

I cannot explain how I feel until I know more. It is not that he controls my feelings rather there is too much to react to. Why should I try to process assumptions? Until the truth is revealed; a reason why is better understood, how can I be expected to know truly how I feel? What if it was all an accident? Can I claim to hold an innocent man guilty for murder if there is no murderer in him? Perhaps it is an accident and still, my mother’s life is lost. If I were he and he me, I would be praying for forgiveness and mercy. Who I am to sit here and ask for justice or harsh punishment when if the tables were turned and our positions reversed I would want the opposite for myself or my loved ones.

What if there was a distraction then are they at fault, or the design of the parking lot left a blind spot then is it the engineers with whom I should blame? I cannot look to the driver, the excuse or the location for my resolution. As my father says, “Nothing will make this right, nothing will bring her back…”

It is very lonely without her. She would be the person I turn to when talking about such things as these. My husband would be next but he sleeps during the 9-5 hours when the case is being slowly progressed forward into charges. Once the Lead Detective and Police Lieutenant agree the facts match the charges they will walk their documentation to the State’s District Attorney with who, they have the best relationship with or one with whom this case will resonate with.  It was explained to me in two ways: One that it is private property therefore no laws were broken and two it is all his fault and he will be prosecuted to the fullest. I do not if he can be prosecuted if he did not break a law.

As I wait and do not understand what is taking so long in the fourth months it has already been I am not closer to understanding what happened the day my mother was hit. All I have wanted to do is to read the words he gave. He was the last person to see her alive no matter how he saw her, I want to know what happened in those moments, her last moments …

I was the first to the Emergency room followed quickly by my father and we were together escorted to a private waiting room. For hours we waited as news stories interviewed my cousin with Asperger’s who knew nothing of what happened only that his aunt was hit and he could go on TV and people would listen to him. Then the rumors started somehow saying she was pinned under a truck, dragged from the front to the back under the truck, and we had not information to compare it to. There were no updates from the Doctors who were trying to revive her braking her ribs as if she wasn’t broken enough. Pumping her with blood that just bleed out in all four quadrants of her brain which was swollen at the base where there is no way to relieve the swelling. Eventually severing the base of her brain from being able to communicate with her spinal cord declaring her brain dead within no more than 3 days. And her nightmare is this very scenario. How could we torture her for three days with something she hated more than anything else in the world? How could be participate in hurting her more, torturing her with the slowest death in the worse way she could go. As soon as I understood she would never come back to us I wanted to end her suffering right away but we had to wait. Although my father and I were joined by many friends and family my brother, their son, was in California. Doesn’t he deserve to see her, process her situation in person, and come to his own conclusion to let her go? So we waited. All night my father and I watched her as they tested for brain activity every hour. Pinching, poking, gagging, prodding, rotating, packing, measuring, and trying to make her eyes dilate or respond with a blink. Every time they opened her eyes I wished it was her doing. I wished and prayed; begged, bargained, and broken I yearned for her to open her own eyes and come back to us. Every time crushed she could not. Every time hurt more deeply all night long without sleep without end and without my mother forever.

How bad was it?

I was driving with my daughter and sister-in-law. “I remember what is was like at your age (11)” my sister-in-law said. That night I had a dream I was 11 again but I was still 31. I wanted my life with my husband and my daughter but I was back in New Britain. My room was in the basement then in the side bedroom with the demons that haunted me. My parents were both alive and my brother was there. I was naked and my brother was trying to touch my breasts like he did then and my father was mad like he was then. I stood up for myself in the dream as I would now at 31 but did not do when I was 11. In the dream when I thought this was real and I couldn’t get my life back I wanted to kill myself rather than grow up through it all over again. So I ask myself now, “How bad was it?”

I wrote a book, Lives I’ve Lived, by Bledel Brook. I called it fiction so I could exaggerate based on my own interpretation of what happened since I started writing when I was about 11. How much of those words are an exaggeration and how much was true to how I felt as a scared, abused, and molested 11 year old girl. I’ve been lying to myself about too many things.

I wrote the book because I wanted to know what was true in those moments I couldn’t remember. They say repressed memories are there to protect us for a reason but I wanted to know. As I pieced together my old journals, poems, and looked through photos to try and remember more I wasn’t sure what was real and what I was imagining hence my book is Fiction. I wonder though, if it I was right… I wonder about the pieces I still am missing… I wonder how bad it really was that I would dream about going back there knowing now what I had to live through and not want to live at all. I wonder…

It’s Coming

Maybe I was wrong. I can’t even remember why I thought it was set in stone. I think I was preparing myself in some way. It started as a possibility and I took it was if it already happened; as if it was already wrong, but nothing happened yet.

There are a list of charges to be considered and matched to evidence the case has collected. The case took a lot more time collecting evidence than I thought it would, and an additional witness appeared later than the rest. The criminal being charged stopped cooperating so how could the detectives follow up about the new witness? His lawyer was difficult to reach, “playing phone tag” was mentioned I believe. It’s all so fuzzy. I’m sitting here in a daze.

Any day now the detective will analyze the information as define each charge seeing which best describes what happened the day my mother was killed. It’s not as simple as I saw it. It’s not just the driver’s fault for hitting her. The parking lot design is poor and Stop & Shop should have done something to improve the safety other times pedestrians have been hurt or killed there. My mother wasn’t the first.

As I have said many times before the fact that is private property throws a wrench in the case. If they can prove a design flaw, a fault other than the driver, then they can get a warrant to go on the private property and maybe make it better. They could do a traffic study and implement a safer way to navigate as pedestrian and vehicle in that lot. Of course I’d like it go further than that but I am exhausted…

I can’t eat. I’ve lost 35 pounds this year alone. I can’t sleep and waking up feels like gravity is forcing me down, mostly because of the anti-depression medication. I can’t work. My focus is blurry and my mind is unsettled. I can’t be happy with my children as much as I try and want to. Each moment that should be happy is missing her and they know. They says to me, I wish Naunnie was here…” Each achievement they reach, every smile that sneaks by my sorrow filled days is darkened and hopeless without her. Every time I try to do something to honor her I hurt others reminding them she’s not here and can’t come back from what happened to her and then we think of what happened to her. How severely she was ripped from us. How broken her body was. How hard he hit her… I keep hearing, “Severing her femoral artery and fracturing her skull knocking her unconscious…” and then how they tried to resuscitate her and broke her ribs too… Every part of her hurt so badly beyond repair. “A lethal blow to the brain. Non survivable injuries. She lost so much blood…” These words the Doctors told us echo in my mind on repeat. They explained at one point they had to stop giving her blood because it wasn’t going into her leg where it was bleeding from but instead there was bleeding in the brain. There are four sections of the brain each responsible for different human function and all four of hers were bleeding in part because they were giving her blood but her body was …too far gone, too damaged.

I do blame the driver mostly, I do. I also believe the real estate company who owns the parking lot did not take the proper considerations in designing the structures. I am disappointed in Stop & Shop for not responding the past injuries and lives lost at their front door. I am devastated and exhausted…

War mongrel

“You’re kicking up a hornets nest and someone’s going to get hurt” they say to me. Over and over they ask me to stop and wait. “You’re over stepping” His voice is in my head. She wasn’t just his wife, she was my mother…

Not only do I want justice for her but I want changes to come because of the way she was killed. I don’t believe it’s okay to have a crosswalk and stop sign in place and have no consequences when a driver blows through one and disregards the other. The police have told us they have no jurisdiction on private property but she wasn’t at an elite club you need a membership to join and has you sign a disclaimer to participate in. She was grocery shopping, for her home bound mother…at Stop & Shop…in Town Line Plaza Rocky Hill, CT which is specifically designed for public use and access. Not only is there a Stop & Shop in this parking lot but Walmart, Good Will, Super Cuts, Dollar Tree, Game Stop, Town Line Diner, Ming Dynasty Restaurant, Sally’s Beauty Supply, and a nail salon. You could donate your clothes, go shopping, get your nails done, a hair cut and eat there! It has everything geared towards the public without protecting any of them!!!

Shouldn’t people know they have no rights in those crosswalks, they mean nothing. Elsewhere they are legally enforced as giving the pedestrians the right of way, mandating cars to yield to someone in a crosswalk. Not at Stop & Shop… no rights. The driver has a “get out of jail free card” because it’s private property.

Maybe things do need to be kicked up. Maybe the hornets need to come out and come after me for saying all of these things so people can hear this and know they  have no protection, NONE!!!

If they will not legalize stop signs and crosswalks they should not have them at all or have a disclaimer you must sign before driving onto their private property “Enter at your own risk, if you are killed here no one can do anything about it…”

I wrote a poem in high school once that started, “Open your eyes and walk with me, let me show you what I see…” Some people do see things the same as me; however, our family is divided on this. My father implies this is his responsibility. “Not your circus, not your monkeys” he tells me. IT’S MY MOTHER!!! THIS IS MY CIRCUS, THIS IS MY LIFE! I AM AFFECTED BY HER DEATH AND I NEED TO REACT. I NEED IT TO MEAN SOMETHING. TO DO BETTER FOR THE NEXT FAMILY. TO TELL PEOPLE WHAT HAPPENED WAS WRONG AND MAKE CHANGES.

No, nothing we can do can make it right or bring her back. That’s not the point. It can bring change and make it so others aren’t lost the same way.

I feel so small in believing that. It feels impossible, pointless even. I am driven to try though. As I mourn her I hate how she was plowed over. I never want anyone to experience this. Can’t we do something!!!…???


It’s going to get worse…

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better” It was the very beginning of April 2016 when I heard that familiar saying in my head driving to work. I had pending lab work about my liver which had higher enzymes than are considered healthy. I was worried for sure. My mom and I joked about her donating half of her liver for me since it regenerates anyways if we took half of hers it would grow back and the half she gave me would grow as well. It was the better part of a worse diagnosis that never came. My liver was fine. My mother wasn’t.

No one could have known what was about to happen to her as she went Wednesday afternoon to Stop & Shop as she does every week to care for her homebound mother. My mom would cook and clean, walk the dog, bring Nena to Doctor appointments. Both my parents lived with Nena caring for her daily until their renter moved. It was January 2016 when they moved back into their own home but still my mother’s commitment to her mother did not fade. She worked only a mile from Nena and continued to make meals and grocery shop as she was doing that day…

April 6, 2016 Wednesday 12:00 noon she parked her car and stepped off the curb onto a crosswalk with a stop sign in the middle heading straight to the front of Stop & Shop. One person was driving his company truck and “blew through” the stop sign he told police. She was there though. Now she’s gone.

The disappointment I feel for the driver and the police is immense and overpowering. I started taking anti-anxiety/depression medicine the next week which was always a plan for me as I am a very anxious person. At one point they were wondering if I am OCD, bi-polar, my mom thought I had ADHD as a child, but I think it’s all just anxiety. The Lexipro helped my anger issues. I wasn’t punching the kitchen cabinets or snapping at my beloved husband and two girls anymore. I was able to see it happen in my mind first and choose not to for the first time in my life it felt like what “self-control” should feel like. But the pain was still there, the loss, and all the indescribable things that come with it.

My sister-in-law stayed over. She smokes. I wanted to talk to her more so I smoked with her and I liked the calm high that settled me down to the moment of just sitting and talking. “This is what being in the moment must be like.” I thought. If only I could sleep without crying. Turns out there’s something else you can smoke for that.

In May I tried smoking pot. I had done in college but not well and not more than once. After a lot of coughing and learning how to smoke pot because it’s nothing like cigarettes I started to like it by June. The pot couch locked me. Finally I was still. Sooner after, still sometime in June, my husband and I were talking about what else I might like as well as what he might like. Somehow the conversation veered to a threesome fantasy and we watched adult videos to see how that would work since again, this was all new to me but I liked what I saw. I was turned on, interested and maybe happy about the idea. There are certain websites like when you’re single and looking to date for couples who are looking to swing.

By July we had one profile on two websites and a few conversations going. Neither of us knew how to date another couple but luckily there was a house party we were invited to so we went. I smoked first, puked on the way, drank wine and vodka shots and smoked more there. I ran around in my bikini and skinny dipped in their beautiful pool. I made out with three different men and I think two women. One man was an exceedingly good kisser, the other was a great conservationist who held my interest and intrigue. The first was just an offer to see how my husband would respond when watching me kiss another man. It was silly fun but the other two I would kiss again.

So here I am. Almost four months after hearing the phrase, “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.” and I can’t help but wonder if I am making it worse…

I want someone to see me. To read my words and know my soul. To feel my pain and be in anguish with me just long enough to know it’s real and then show me how to get out of it. Ironically, there is only one name I can think of that can accomplish this and it’s not easy to accept. I was taught and I believe what I am describing matches what Jesus does for people but idk how He could from heaven. Idk how He could be here for me. How I could talk to Him the way I want to, lay with him just to lay down in sorrow. I lay in bed a lot and I want someone there with me, holding me, whispering things to me, reading to me… How can He do these things?

I want to feel anything else but this loss. I may be using the swingers erotic lifestyle as an illusion to what I truly want because it feels good. I was the half naked girl running around, slipping out to smoke when I needed to be grounded.

My therapist said something about me being in a state of transformation. I believe her. There has been an enormous change to who I am, who I was. I have been accepting more and more that we are never just one person. I joke with myself about being a bi-polar Gemini so at any time I am at least four things but truly it’s moment by moment we define ourselves. At that party, in the moments we shared there, I didn’t have the loss weighing so heavily, crushing my breath like I am being pulled to the grave as well.

“Does destiny pull us forward like gravity pushes us down?” I once asked in a poem I wrote years ago and it has been like a string I am following; a delicate fantasy that there is guidance somewhere if I can hold onto the right… I hate that word. “Right” I don’t feel like there is such a thing as right or wrong anymore. How can there be?

Everyone knows what happened to my mother was WRONG – there is no dispute; however, the driver, the man who admits he blew thru the stop sign, “Didn’t do anything illegal” because Stop & Shop is fucking private property and that stop sign was a fucking suggestion and the crosswalk is a fucking JOKE! It’s all WRONG!!! FUCK YOU ALL!!!