Working Out the Bugs aka Airing Out My Head

STARTED THIS ON FACEBOOK LAST NIGHT SOMETIME BETWEEN 10PM AND 12AM. JUST LEFT IT SITTING ON MY WALL UN POSTED, LINGERING. Figuring that sometimes my baggage is just too sad for some people to even have to read. Figured here the whole universe can chose to read it or not... May not be the best route either but most of the time what is say is truly meant to be screamed at whatever powers that be that can or will help or care.

Had thought earlier about finally doing something in this "blog without a cause" or "rant without a reason"......lol. Still trying to find and keep my sense of humor as I slowly die inside. Missing and feeling i have failed my oldest child. Feeling bad for the other three and licking my wounds as a lifetime of liars and lies seem to become my harsh reality. My head is not filled with the usual barage of ideas, thoughts or pre-planted wisdom from others, but a place filled with harsh truths-- I was too naive to hear or too stupid to realize, play over and over.


NOW BACK TO THE "THIS", the never seen on Facebook, facebook post.....

And just when i think i couldn't be more sad, my husband careless corrects my math helping me realize that i had been stuck on 9 years for some reason, Tawni has been gone since 8/13/2004. OMG. and that is 12 years of making slow progress while jobs, and landlords, and lord knows who screwed us over, stole from us and we kept trying and staying close. Not some bullshit get her back screw up, start over constant, slow tedious painful progress and having her emotionally and mentally tortured for getting near us. GOD DAMN IT OR BLESS IT give me my child.

Now 2 hours after starting this, I will close again for now. I feel like I could write for hours, but knowing it would have no direction or purpose. I'm not so big on purpose, as direction, for my own sanity really. I have been told that I "do say things that inspire feelings in people, or thoughts they hadn't processed or given them a message they needed to hear". That freed me from the obsessive desire to save the world and to just write. What holds me back is the inability to make it all "usable". To express myself without so much explanation. Maybe even understand me. Leaning now toward explaining me to my oldest child. And her sisters, really, but idk.

I never wanted them to know the sadness i have known, their pity is not my goal either. I didn't want them to know the reality of how awful both sets of grandparents truly were and are. Then I think, they chose that path not me, an I hope someone gets pictures of it-----wow that came out of left field, anyway......more to come, or not. Sometimes I just start typing and words and paragraphs come out that i am barely aware of what i write. I don't know where the words come from, I just let them come, usually it is something positive (I hope) for someone in particular. Sometimes I don't remember writing them...

lastly the "things that go bump" in my house are back again. Not just noises or missing things, this time actual proof, but will save that for another time and hope it is figuring out what all of these things mean, if anything at all