I Struggle With My Faith, and I Don’t Want to Anymore. The Root of the Root.

Here’s the disclaimer. 

I know a lot of people follow me here, because they want to see the messed up things I’m gonna’ say next. That’s fine. 

This may not be the blog post for you though; because it is long, and recaps my struggle with faith and childhood. It’s a self- validation piece, and my life truly unfolded. 

It was hard to write; and even harder to post.
I appreciate anybody’s time in advance, that does want to read further. 

Thank you. It means more than you know. Xo

-Jenni

……………………………………………………..

I have struggled with my faith since the age of nine, when my Father first took us to church.

I’m trying to come to some sort of terms with it, because it has been weighing on my mind for many reasons; for many, many years.

I’m getting older. I’m letting things go that have infected my soul for so long…FINALLY. I need to find some sort of peace with my faith so that I can nurture it, and possibly build on it more, so I can have closure and true peace inside.

I feel I need to do this, at this point. There are holes in me that will not close without it; I’ve tried, and I know this.

Lately, I feel a shift in my way of thinking regarding “God” and his existence. The ghosts of the past make me question today. The only thing I really know for sure is, is that I do not know what comes after this life at all.

As a child, I grew up in a house where the only father I had ever known drank too much. The F- bomb was dropped as easily as the porn mags, that were just laying around the living area of our downstairs basement, in plain site of a child.

It was all about my father, nothing else. He did what he wanted, and my mother did what he said to do, and was a good wife to him. She loved him, and she loved us as well. 

I never knew from day to day, what mood my father was going to be in, or if I would get hurt by him that day. Sometimes things seemed normal”ish”; but it wouldn’t take long for him to fly off the handle without warning, and become way too agressive with my mother and myself for certain. He caused physical and mental damage, over and over, that hurt us both. Sometimes he would even lash out at my younger sisters too, when I didn’t get there fast enough to get in the way. I’m sure they don’t remember a lot of it early on, and I am SO grateful for that; but I still do. He was cruel and not loving by standard; and that’s how it was for me.

Mostly it was a life of uncertainty, mental chaos, fear and pain; in some regard; whether it was physical, emotional or worse.  I was always on edge, and scared. It also was a lot of avoiding anywhere my father was… at all times… if I could at all manage it. 

I hated him, but I loved him as well because he was my Father. Most don’t understand that. 

It’s not my issue.

…………………………………………………..

On the outside, we looked like a regular, (lower) middle-class family. It was my father, mother, two younger sisters (my dad’s real kids), and me. My father was a welder and a sprinkler fitter by trade with the Union. We always lived in a house, and had food to eat. We took vacations every year. We grew up in the same neighborhood and went to the same school our entire school years, k-12. My mother was a “typical” housewife.

It looked, on the surface, to be quite normal; although I know for a fact that many people around us at that time (adults), knew that it wasn’ t. The truth is, I personally lived a very disfunctional childhood. I was fully terrified of my home life, because I was being abused on a regular basis, in various ways. That’s being about as forthright and vague as I can be about it, without getting fully into it; and to prevent more slander from complete strangers that have no clue, and like to send me BS emails and messages about how I’m a pathological liar and making it all up…

You can ask my Mother about it…Enough said.

It pisses me off that I have to deal with that factor.

It’s relevant information none the less, and you need the back- story to understand the whole blog.


Anyways….

My grandmother somehow talked my father into going to her “Christian Reformed” church one Sunday. I was about 9 years old, I believe. I didn’t understand who God even was, because there was NO religion in our family at all, and I had never heard of him up until then. I can’t remember any of my close, or extended family; besides my grandmother; ever going to church or anything. Christmas was just Christmas. Easter was just Easter. There was no talk of spirituality, faith, or God at all in our family…ever.

For some reason or another, my father decided that we would go to church. He latched on to the concept quickly, and our family then started going to church every week…twice on Sunday, and once on Wednesday.

I’d like to think it was because he wanted to change his ways; but that didn’t end up happening at all.

It actually got way more fucked up.

……………………………………………………..

I DO remember many good memories about that church. 

Christmas programs, Sunday school,  Calvanetts (like girl scouts but church group), many gatherings and social events, Bible school. I know a great deal about the Bible and I read it once, straight through. It took me three years. Lol. Bet you didn’t know that about me. 🙂

The point though is that there were some good people there for sure. I was in all regards “forced” into the atmosphere; but I do have to say that IT WAS comforting in some way, to be around father-figures that acted like proper fathers. Before that, I was totally afraid of men, and I would hide a lot. I had a few teachers there though, that I respected and listened to; It’s because they were all kind to me, and each of them seemed like the kind of father, I’d wished I’d had.

It’s kind of sad when you think about it. 

I was often jealous of other families that were loving and happy. True fact.

Unfortunately, I also remember that most of the people at “that church”, acted like they just wanted to show off what they were wearing that week and what they had. It was apparent. No one ever clapped after a song performance or a congratulatory mention to someone from the Pastor; which I thought was totally weird and not cool at all. It’s as if they were above showing emotion. The worst part was that the church mostly treated my family like we were less-fortunate and less-than as well, because we had nowhere near as much money as the rest of the congregation that went there….we were charity cases, basically. They used to give us care packages on our porch and just leave them there, and I’m pretty sure they were helping my parents with financial strains at one point. (This is not a fact, just a hunch) The point is, I can STILL remember the stares when we walked down the center isle of the church to be seated every week. I absolutely hated it because I knew why they stared at us. It’s funny how people think that kids can’t pick up on things like that; but it’s not true…they definitely can.

I felt like I didn’t belong there at all; but since I did not have any choice but to go, I adapted as I always did. 

After a while, that’s when the religious indoctrination started by my father.

……………………………………………………

It is hard to believe in God, when you are a child who does not understand what is happening to her; and why her father hates her, and hurts her. I often would ask questions about God to my father; which were always met with anger, degradation, and punishment. I once had to stand up at the dinner table for three hours and be lectured and talked down to,  because I asked my father “How he knew that God existed.” 

I was ten.

You see, even at that age, I knew what he was doing to me and my family was not right, and that it didn’t make sense what he was saying; his actions never matched his words.  I also knew that no one seemed to care what was happening to me. 

Everybody thought my dad was just awesome. He wasn’t. He fed and clothed us, and provided for us; but he was not a good father to me at all. He caused trauma that I’ve carried with me, my entire life. 

I don’t have any regrets saying it either, because it’s the truth…and he and I and my mother, all know it.

The truth hurts.

Sorry Dad, but I’m writing this to self-validate, because I deserve to.

…………………………………………………..

I remember one Sunday, our pastor asking for people who wanted to be saved to “Come up to the front and take the Lord’s hand. The Lord would help us find our way and save us all from despair.” 

I went up.

I wanted to be saved so bad. I did feel the Lord in that moment. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed, as hard as I could for his healing. I wanted my father to stop hurting me, my mom,  and my sisters; and I wanted God to please, please help. I truly believed that he would take the pain away, and fix my life and my family.

It didn’t happen at all.

The same things continued to happen, and as I got older…it got worse.

……………………………………………………

was baptized along with my parents and sisters, when I was 11 years old.

My father then became a Deacon of the church.

What I will never get, is that my father would sometimes openly abuse me in front of church people, and NO ONE did ANYTHING, but look the other way. 

One time my family went on a camping trip with another church family, and my father gave me a black eye because I was teasing my sister when we were supposed to be sleeping. 

He punched me numerous times in the face, like a man would hit a man. 

What do you do?

The next day my mother actually had the nerve to ask me, if my father had done that to me. I love my mother more than anything, but I was so enraged in that moment I could literally say nothing, because I wanted to hurt her the way that I was hurting inside….and on my face. 

That’s fucked up.

I was thirteen.

It took me a long time to realize that my mother was a victim as well; but I do know that now, and understand.

She told me not to say anything, like she told me the first time my father gave me a black eye, when I was six. She told me to behave. I didn’t tell anybody. The church family we were with had two small children even. They saw me and said absolutely nothing. Everybody went on about the vacation as if it hadn’t even happened, and I know they all heard it.  That’s when I pretty much figured I was FUCKED, and this God everybody was talking about, was not gonna’ save me at all. 


My father eventually had a long-running affair in the end with another woman. He left my mother, my sisters, myself…AND the church.

Then the church left my mother, and she almost killed herself over it all.

My parents were divorced when I was 14. 

My sister’s were devastated and cried and cried. 

I cried because I was happy my father was finally gone, and could not hurt us anymore. 

Yeah.

By the way, my mom is an amazing woman. She worked her ass off to keep us in that house, clothes on our backs, food in our stomachs…and she did it all without help from the government. 

She IS the reason I am strong. She IS the reason my eldest daughter is strong. 

It took me a long time to realize this. She kept ALL us girls together, when we were all falling apart and had no one but each other. 

Every day I’m thankful she is my mom.

Just wanted to say that because I love her, and I respect who she is and what she sacrificed for me.

She raised my daughter until she was 13 years old because I knew I couldn’t. If not for her, I would never know my daughter because she would be with an adoptive family right now instead. 

I’m so grateful for her. She always loves me no matter what. 

I love you.

Thank you.

……………………………………………………..

Ok . Back on track with the religion thing. Sorry.

…………………………………………………….

I guess my whole issue is; I feel most people hide behind their religion, and are totally different people when it’s all said and done. 

I fully respect my friends that are passionate about their faith in God, and practice it. I have no issues with anyone believing what they want, because I feel like it’s as personal as your life-journey is. Everyone finds their own way and belief, no two ways or stories are exactly the same, unless you’re in a cult.(lol)  

Ok, that was bad; but wtf.?

There are however, a lot of shady, scummy, horrible people in the world that use God as a cover, and those people are not godly at all. I know this because I’ve lived it.

Anyways… 

My childhood experiences and church involvement, have tainted every single thing that comes to religion for me. It’s sad that I’ve felt guilty for talking about it in detail, until now. After my son passed, I said “Fuck it” all together and just started trying to see things for what they were . 

My core beliefs are as follows:

* I don’t like organized religion. 

*I do not believe the Bible is the do all, end all; or you’re going to Hell, at all. I don’t even know if it’s real, or if there is a Heaven or Hell, and really I think it’s just a bunch of stories, and totally hypocritical and perverted to say the least.

I don’t think God is coming back, or he’d be here by now. Don’t people consider this at all?

I don’t know really how to say all this without offending someone, but more people have been killed in the name of religion, than anything else; and that is a fact. 

It makes no sense.


STILL……

There’s got to be something. 

I refuse to believe that this life is all for nothing. I refuse to believe that the despair and suffering of the world, is all for nothing. I refuse to believe that nature is as amazing as it is, without something or someone having a hand in that. I want to see my son again, and some other people too.

But I really don’t know what or who (if anything), is responsible.

I am a much more  spiritual person, than I am a religious person. I think it’s the most logical way to go. 

Wierdly though, a lot of things have been happening in my life that cause me to reconsider trying out just ONE service some time; in “that church”…. just to see how I feel afterwards. 

Maybe that is highly hypocritical, but I feel like I owe “God”, another chance..if he exists.

It’s kind of freaking me out too, because I’m scared to death of the insides of churches, and will not go in them. 

I just want to feel that feeling I had again, when I was up at the front of the church, and truly believed he could save me when I was 11 years old.

For what it’s worth, I hope I at least can find some sort of comfort and direction, and maybe let the ghosts from my childhood finally pass on to the other side, where they belong for good good good.

That can’t be a bad thing, and I think I owe it to myself to walk in that church and find out once and for all. 

I am not a child anymore; and my father is no longer able to cause me damage. The damage I now do regarding the whole thing, is to myself. Hence the struggle.

Even though I don’t speak to him; I have for the most part accepted that it can’t be changed. 

I will always remember though.

It’s because I understand that his Father hurt him too, and it is a cycle, that I can take a different look at it now. I am also a person who knows about alcoholism, and hurting people you’re supposed to love. Also because I love him; he’s the only father I’ve ever known. 

And that’s why I know there must be something. 

Two years ago, I never would have been able to say that about him. I let it affect my whole life, and way of thinking. But that’s over now.

That didn’t happen by itself. 

I have control of my life now.

I guess I’ll update, and let you know how it goes. 

Thanks for reading. I haven’t talked this extensively about my reasons for my beliefs and how they got there in open written forum before; and so that in itself is completely freeing. 

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME



I’m a Rambler, and I Have Trust Issues…

I feel like I have to work harder on seeing people for who they actually are, and giving “actual” chances to let people into my life again.

It’s hard. 

Trust for me, is probably the hardest thing I struggle with. Once I lose it, it’s close to impossible to get back. I know it’s like that for most people, but I also don’t think most people generally just close up all together and stop everything because of it.

I was talking to my girlfriend from Tennessee today, and we both agreed that we don’t want to, and just can’t “people” on some days. 

It’s totally true.

I prefer to be alone, when I’m not with T, because I know eventually I will have to most likely deal with some sort of something, that I don’t want to deal with….and it seems to always regard ME being hurt or pissed off in the end; in some fashion.

That’s how it’s been in real life for me lately.

This is what keeps me from engaging with people in general very much.

I go in stages, but mostly I just keep to myself. I think I need to find a way to change that; because it feels like I am living in my sickness and solitude sometimes, instead of enjoying life.

I don’t like that feeling at all.

Real life has other real living people in it. (Haha haha, I’m a fucking idiot, but yeah.)

I often feel like I am spread too thin, and that’s NOT having regular contact with people. I feel overwhelmed when it comes to socializing, and I never used to be like that before Karter left my life. Something along the path stopped me from being the outgoing person I used to be. I’m really trying to figure out ways that I can trust people again, and maybe get back to normal regarding that.

I think sometimes when you have felt like a victim for so long, you forget that you are NOT one anymore; and you forget that other people have actual feelings too, and are not all the same.

I know that people are not all the same. I still deal with the fear of potential fuckery though, I guess.

I’m just rambling, because it’s been bothering me a lot lately. 

I don’t need or want a huge social life at all. I do need and want to make a few real-life female friends that I can connect with. 

I don’t think it’s healthy that I am alone so much, because I feel so alone sometimes inside. 

Funny how you can spue out your life to the world, and still feel alone. 

I need to get my shit together and “people” more, for my own well being.

Hopefully I can manage it, without my fist accidently grazing someone’s face. (Sarcasm)

Love yourself. 

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

Thoughts on Value and Acceptance.

I think one of the biggest issues I’ve had in life, is my rather overwhelming need to feel like I’m truly being valued and heard; but never really feeling it fully at all, from anyone or anywhere.

This includes by people in my real life, as well as on social media, and in social situations.

It used to make me sad……. that I wasn’t worth the effort or love; the time, concern, respect, or loyalty….”What’s wrong with me? Why does everyone treat me like I’m nothing?”  Blah, blah, blah.

I always ended up on the wrong end of things….I was a bitter person because of it. I blamed everybody else for every situation I was in.

My thoughts in the past with value and acceptance, where based off of a dysfunctional childhood that I couldn’t let go of; a life of discontent, addictive behaviors, and mental health issues. I still have some of those issues.

I used to get all bitchy and dramatic about it…and sometimes, I still do. Although all my core Bullshit remains;  I’d like to think, that those moments have reduced severely since last year. 

Truthfully, there’s only a few people I even care about enough anymore, to let close enough to get past my wall. Truthfully, no one owes me one damn thing in this life. Truthfully, I’m just trying to finish this blog post that I started over a year ago.

My thoughts on value and acceptance now, are based off principle and common sense.

My value isn’t worth anything, if I have to talk you into believing that I’m valuable; even when I’m proving it with my actions already….and vice versa.

I’m not going to spend time talking you into anything.

There it is; there’s my current way of thinking.

I’ve learned to live in real life; and with the apologies and validations, that I will never get. I’m not going to spend time on something that makes me feel empty; it doesn’t matter what or who it is.

Neither should you.

I’ve personally found that it’s best to invest quality time on yourself; so that no matter what, you’re good in your own worth; on your own; because that’s all that matters.

Many people see value in many things; but most don’t even realize the value of something;  miss out on it all together; or don’t even care to find it.

Life goes on. 

To value myself is the greatest gift I ever gave myself….NO returns. 

Some days I have to dig deeper than others; but I do know at the end of the day; I’m good. 

There’s quite a power in that on a whole because it makes you better able to genuinely practice healthy living. 🙂 

Also; If you don’t value yourself;  no one else will. If it’s not even worth it to you; you can’t much expect it to be worth it to anyone else either.

Love yourself. 

J.Rounds ©2016 ~Peaces of ME


Update for Tuesday

I’m feeling pretty decent. 

Nothing much going on except Summer time, and focusing on my immediate future and goals. It’s a process. I have most of my flowers in, and there’s a peaceful vibe going on, on my back porch. We had a good last weekend, and decided to put in a fire pit too. Might have a get together soon, and try to get some sort of an alcohol-free, social circle of friends going….on a regular basis. We do have sober friends that are amazing. Besides It’s Summer, and I hear normal “ish” people socialize regularly. (Lol)

……………………………………………………..

One week off of all social accounts now; although my messenger is on; and only ONE person messaged to see where I was…

Enough said. It’s why I didn’t say anything, and just deactivated.

I won’t be going back to Facebook or Instagram, for some time. My mood is much better on a whole, and I don’t miss it at all. It’s looking like it’s mutual, and I’m fine with that. I have NO idea what role social media will play in my future, but right now the break is awesome.  The reality that no one really cares I’m gone is sobering; and makes me happy that I don’t depend on the internet and useless likes anymore, to get me through the day, like I used to. 

I guess that was bound to happen at some point; seeing social media for what it is. A natural progression I think, and I’m happy about that; because for a long, long time I was on the internet all day long; no matter where I was, or what I was doing.

That’s over now.

……………………………………………………..

Unfortunately, I had to tell someone to fuck off again, because they were being petty and stupid…AGAIN. That “friend” of T’s. Hardest part about not drinking, is dealing with the whiney bitches who don’t want to see you get better; and insult you directly, just to instigate and cause problems. I try to deal with it nicely, and then I figured out, that that’s just not possible. It’s sad. It’s sad that people have to be like that. I don’t regret one single thing I said to her though…because it was all the truth. I can only hope that this time, what I said was taken at face value and heard; although it’s doubtful.  Either way I said what I had to say; it is done with;  and T and I are still sober and happy. (72 days)

People, places and things. You have to change them, if you want to remain and stay sober. I don’t hard-core the AA program at all; but I do agree FULLY with that core principle.

If people can’t respect the fact that T and I aren’t dealing with BS drama anymore or drinking; then that’s just their issue, not ours. 

We live each day with the knowledge that where we are going, is much better than where we have been. We also know that positive growth is not possible, if we allow ourselves to become complacent in our recoveries, or subject ourselves to alcohol-related things we shouldn’t be around. 

I am lucky to have T by my side. Although sometimes our relationship can be difficult; I just couldn’t see my life in any other place, with anybody else. It’s a great feeling to be with someone who accepts you for you, and we play off each other nicely…also basically keep each other sane sometimes…when we aren’t driving each other crazy. (Lol)

It’s a process 😉😅.

All the positive support we have received regarding our sobriety has been amazing, and we both thank you. In the beginning it was hard to see the path; but the support helped us to know that we were doing the right thing. I don’t know, sometimes reality can be scary, and so thank you for all the kindness. 

Here’s the blah, blah, blah update for this Tuesday. As I said nothing much is new, but I’m still alive, so I thought I’d let you all know. 🙂

Enjoy the rest of your week and be happy. I’m wishing you all the best. Xo

Love yourself.

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

Reconsideration. 

I’ve decided to keep this blog going after all. It would be like turning my back on a part of myself that’s good; and that would just be stupid.

Two years of my life, today, on digital world view. As hard as it’s been….Finding yourself;  in the midst of random strangers; is a good way to deal/heal fears, and is very freeing.

I reserve my right to make harmless, reversable, bipolar decisions.

………………………………………………..

I turned off and deactivated my social media accounts to focus on my goals.

I am 67 days sober.

There is a light in me again that grows stronger every single day.

I am grateful for the people in my life.

I realized that being afraid of failure, is keeping me from doing what I need to do to succeed.

I also realized that I can’t much do anything or get anything done, if I don’t do it.

Fear of failure is not an option for me any longer. It’s held me down for most of my life; and that’s just over now.

Love yourself. 

 J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

Two Months, and Some Hope for Myself Yet.

I’m glad to get some things cleared up and sorted today, that had been weighing on my mind. 


Still more things to go, but today I’m happy to make what amounts to a significant dent in my anxiety; part of it anyways…I feel BETTER. 


I do not know what is after this life; but I do know I am grateful for how things have a way of working themselves out in the end, if you believe it can work out; are patient; and stay true to who you are.


I guess that is what gives me hope these days….knowing that this is real life actually going in the right direction, and I don’t have to give up core parts of me as a person to get it right this time around sobriety-wise; or make it better for anyone. 


I’m just doing the right thing.


Most times I find there’s a bittersweet irony in working through difficult situations, and coming out stronger for it on the other side.


Lately my life has been about growth, acceptance, and forgiveness. I find forgiving myself the hardest of all; but a duly needed thing just the same. I am trying to love myself as I love others. I figure I’m worth that much for sure. 


It’s a decent day and a long weekend… I hope to get a go on that list of goals I have running. It’s a mile long, and I’m only on the first leg still. 


I’m kind of done playing it safe. I’m just interested in doing more of what my heart wants, and my mouth says. 


I think I got the main part down in being that I’m two months sober today, and have a plan to make it a running normality, when it comes to my life. 


Giving myself an actual chance at success, begins and ends with me. 


This I know for sure. 


Have a beautiful weekend; and a special rememberance to all the soldiers who fought and gave their lives, to make the USA great. My greatest appreciations. Xo 


Love yourself.

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

PTSD… It’s in Me…

I like to be straight up, because I just can’t grow without being so. 

It is hard to do sometimes, because of the emotional pain.

This is one of those posts…apologies for errors upfront.

…………………………………

Understanding my triggers that set off my PTSD, has been a traumatic journey in itself. It is an added disorder I aquired formally, after the passing of my chronically ill son in 2008. I was not diagnosed formally until 2014; after checking myself into a mental- health crisis facility, because I wanted to kill myself, and my meds were not working.

I was not aware I had PTSD at all…even though I had almost every one of the symptoms. I just thought I was going crazy, and that people that went to war were the only ones that had it, or could get it. 

I was wrong.

Although my son’s death in 2008 and the injustices surrounding it, are technically the propellers that pushed me into the PTSD symptoms presenting themselves in the extreme way they did; the spiral down took years, and my actual formal diagnosis didn’t come until 2014. I suspect I’ve had it way longer than that though; as far back as my later elementary years. That suspicion comes based on what I remember and went through as a child; regarding my family life back then; what I know about PTSD and how it forms; and how many other times I’ve spiraled down and had mental issues and lapses arise in my life before my son’s death; that I could not control or cope with, and had to be hospitalized for. Issues from my past. I’m Doctor-approved mental now, if that makes you feel better.

Seems like everyone in my family wants to put on blinders and forget that my childhood was dysfunctional as fuck too; but I remember. It’s not worth talking about , because I’m just trying to lay out the fact that the symptoms were already there before Karter left. 

Anyways….

I remember when my son first passed, and I felt like I was literally going to die. 

I often equate it to someone walking directly up to me, and putting a shotgun to my heart, and pulling the trigger. 

Only it is not over afterwards….because you live through it over and over again. 

You die again the next day, the same exact way… and so on and so forth, but with memories of trauma, and not a gun…Every day. You can’t much wake up, or make the thoughts stop when you want to.

It’s a bad problem.

It’s exactly like the movie Groundhog Day with Bill Murray, but way more messed up and traumatic; and way more anxiety. It hits usually without warning, out of the blue because of something that triggers a memory that triggers a cycle.

That’s what it is for me. 

How do you begin to mend the pieces of yourself together, when you feel like there’s nothing remaining to stitch?

How do you go from doing absolutely everything 24/7 for your multiply disabled child one day, and every day for three-and-a-half years….to nothing, and gone forever, in 12 hours, with needless suffering and Dr. Neglect? 

It’s going to cause some issues for some.

I don’t talk about it…because it makes other people uncomfortable.

No one knows, except the people who unfortunately have been there, and are there…and live through it every day. Some seem to manage trauma well…

This broke me.

I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. The loss of A child… OR the disorder

It’s a curse… An elite club that’s becoming more popular, that you don’t want to be in.

My son was pronounced dead right in front of me in the hospital, after the nurse came in and basically screamed out “I think he’s dead!”.  I woke up to that, (as I was dozing because we were waiting, and I was 72- hour tired)..and to my horror, he WAS dead. 

It was surreal. 

I still to this day see his face the last time I saw him alive. He looked scared and I knew he would end up going. I was scared too, because I knew I was going to lose one of the only things that I had ever loved, and I couldn’t do anything at all, but wait.  His meds weren’t even working… It haunts me.

How do you stop something that is happening as you sleep? How do you speed up paperwork and other hospital political bullshit when it is in the works, but not fast enough; so they will help your son, and he  won’t leave your life forever?

It haunts me. 

It was the most helpless feeling ever that I have had, in my entire life…
I think of my son, and what I know now.

My son’s internal organs were backing up, and he was micro-asperating on liquid fecal matter, because his bowel ruptured from a year-old surgery, and no one would listen or do anything when I told them directly that he was dying. They let him lay there for 12 hours, suffering. They gave him Tylenol and said it wasn’t a surgical matter. 

They didn’t even do the proper tests.

I could not have stopped it, or sped up anything. I did everything I could think of to get someone to help and listen. It was as if everything was in a fog, and everything and everyone had it’s place in time….pre-determined.

No one even came to help us despite my pleads until he was already dead, and the nurse found him. As soon as I fell asleep after being up for three days straight, he passes; then everyone comes. They worked on him for 22 minutes, and he was already dead for 20 minutes already,  and I still see his little legs and feet flipping around on the table from the people doing CPR on him, to this day. I still remember my brain on loop, This is not happening…. I’m on the phone with my ex, and I can’t think, and I’m going to pass out, and I’m in the park dancing and singing with Karter again for a moment, and then life stops.

He’s gone, and they call it… And my life stops too…

And I still live it in my head. 

No one knows.

It comes to me in dreams and daily similarities, that I can’t get away from in life. Mentally it’s draining and it affects personal relationships and life for me in various ways…it used to be chunks of time in my life even that I could do nothing but self-medicate, gone…before I learned how to get a handle on it.

Some other facts.

I haven’t had one direct conversation about any of those final moments with karter, with a family member, ever. Including my ex-husband. People wonder why I self-medicated and couldn’t cope.

No one understood. My family was good for about a month on and off, before they stopped calling.

I never once got any support for the issue, other than prescribed pills and people paid to listen to me, but not actually hearing anything I said. In the end I started saying crazy things, because I didn’t care anymore and I wanted to die. I held SO much anger and resentment towards certain people for Karter’s passing, and God, and my lack of relief from it all; and I wasn’t going anywhere good with that. I. Felt resentment towards people, because they couldn’t understand my anger with the situation, and acted like I should just get over it after two weeks, a month, a year… Life goes on. 

But it didn’t for ME.

They let my son just lay there and suffer and die, and I had to watch it.

Fix that for me please.

Night terrors…the night terrors too :/

I stopped eating for four months afterwards. I was on pills and drinking and hiding it at the end, because I.Could.Not.Cope.

My ex- husband even tried to lock me away in a home for six months, instead of actually helping me…

Yes, I had anger.

 I left life as I knew it after that, because I needed to survive and I knew I was going down; my marriage was over and I did not want to mess up my other kids more than the BS they’d already  been through because of it all.

I still messed them up anyways; I messed everything up. 

It’s been the absolutely worse thing in my life that I’ve ever had to go through and deal with….ever.

I can’t even put into words how it’s changed me mentally.

You can tell.

I don’t know why I can’t get over it. 

A long, hard, painful, lonely road of recovery is what I’ve actually been doing since 2008; On And off.  When I think about all the personal sacrifices I’ve made to get well again, I have to give myself the credit I deserve even if no one else will, because despite everything, I was able to get better to the level of being stable again, without synthetic anything…and controlling my symptoms and anxiety from it, with a plant that grows out of the ground and is natural.

Judge me all you want.

Every day I continue to get just a little bit more ok with the fact that those bad memories are just memories now…that that was a life I knew long ago, and will never be again. I don’t have to live in it anymore.

I will most likely never have actual relations with my remaining children or family members, to the level of it actually being genuine or mattering.  It’s quite a bitter pill to swallow, because I did not and could not control the things I couldn’t have, and I did not control the things I should have,  to recoup. that privledge. 

I was sick, and I needed help. Everyone gave up on me, and I gave up on me too. I tortured myself mentally in ways that you will never know or feel. 

 I am still sick, but I manage it responsibly now, because it’s all I can do. I’m WAY better than I’ve ever been. 

I have spent many, many years coming to terms with the fact that I lost my son because he had issues that I could not fix. 

I felt guilt because I think I would have done things a lot differently, had I known what was actually going on in full- spectrum. I was completely naive to medication interactions, related side-effects, and the fact that sometimes doctors aren’t always right. His death was slow,  but sudden and traumatic…all major factors. I felt guilt because I listened to doctors tell me what to do; and I did it; and in the end it completely backfired and my son died anyways, because they didn’t do anything that THEY were supposed to do. I felt guilt because I couldn’t control anything that was going on around me, and after he passed…I lost my mind and couldn’t recover the losses. I’ve hurt my remaining children forever because of it, and it will never be the same.  

You never see it until afterwards; but you feel it where it counts, every day after you realize.

To let go of the fact that I could not get the time back and I had to let my 3 1/2 year old son go for good, was unbearable. But I knew I had to do it somehow, because re-living the bad times wasn’t making anything good for me, and it was killing me slowly, right along in sync with my vices.

It is what it is, and the memories remain. 

I sought the support of anything positive and literally clawed my way through this PTSD shit completely alone through reading about it, synthetic medication, keeping myself alive, journaling, and crying a whole lot.

I’m at the level now, where I do not allow myself to dwell too long in his passing, and I keep myself away from the triggers I know will rev up my symptoms; such as alcohol, any form of synthetic, and shitty people who do shitty things, and don’t understand. 

I don’t know it’s just something I live with, and I know that It’s always gonna’ be there, and it’s real.

I’m not too sure about this blog exactly, except that I feel better for getting it out there.

Maybe people can understand that it’s changed me, and who I am.

I don’t know how to talk about it, because I wish I didn’t have it, but I can’t stop myself from remembering.

It’s just one of those blogs.

I know that even though I struggle with this now, I was still chosen to be Karter’s mother and that never changes. I can live in the good memories now, if I just do. Some days are better than others for sure. I miss him… I remember him and his light. I know he’s better, and with me always.

I guess we all carry things that leave scars…and this is just the biggest one of mine. I’m glad to be officially diagnosed too, because it gave me a place to start understanding that I could get better and manage it.

Thanks for reading. 

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

Good Friday to You

Life is good at the moment for me, and truthfully it’s because I’ve done some healing and some accepting of things just these last few days, so I’m feeling rather positive and motivated about life in general; 

calm.

It feels good to be able to let certain things go and not let it bother me. I’m not quite sure what’s happening, but life FEELS like it’s getting easier. The decisions are clearer, and easier to make, even though sometimes still hard. There’s a working, doable plan. I know I’m going to be ok. I’m starting to finally understand myself; my needs vs. wants; I’m not feeling uptight about much. I get to the point where my reasoning kicks in, and I’m good. I can’t control half of it anyways. 

My anxiety is low; also, it’s the start of the weekend. Normally I might be anxious and think stupid things, but really it’s not like that this day. So….I call it riding the wave, and that’s what I’m doing. I’m not worrying about anything until I have to.

No point in that.

My main concern is finding a way to be productive financially, and still keep my stress level low so I can maintain productivity.

I guess since I can’t seem to sell this light kit of mine I got for school, I’m going to teach myself how to use it. I really dont want to go to school again, because quite frankly, I feel like it’s a waste of time and money right now. I’m also 40 grand in, regarding school loans, so yeah….no. I know enough already to proceed to something that makes me happy, and I’m going from there. I know I have enough brains in my head to figure it out.

I’m literally living each day as it comes. Eventually the effort I am putting in to move forward, will pay off. I’m really wanting to get this Etsy store idea open and running, and I’ve got a shit ton of stuff to do on it…STILL. So not going fast enough for me.

Things are starting to be more stable now with a lot of needed changes, so I think I might be able to focus on it, and the things I need to do to get it up and running. 

I’m hoping to have it officially open by November. It’ll be a mix of stuff. Personal Art, photographic images and mixed media creations of various kinds, vintage things, odd things, ME things. I’m quite crafty, so I’m  excited to have a good goal to focus on. Also considering a calendar as it’s been mentioned numerous times to make.

Other avenues could open if it takes off at all. I resign to be happy more than anything, and get off this SSI if I can. I hate it. I’m doing it on my own terms, because it’s the only way I’ll ever be happy.

I really hate the Government more than ever these days.dl Depending on them sucks, and is NOT a way of life.

I am determined to beat the stigma of mental illness and addiction in the end; and I will do it.

This weekend will be for planting flower beds if the rain holds off.

Cash flow could be better, but otherwise I’m solid.

Enjoy your weekend.

Love yourself.

J. Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

46 Days Sober, and Some Things I Gotta’ Say.

Today I am 46 days sober and although I feel good about a great deal of things, some things I’m still working on for sure. Technically speaking though, one-and-a-half months is a nice start at something good, there’s no denying it; it’s good for today, and it’ll make me try harder tomorrow.

It has been very challenging at points and times for me, dealing with the anxiety of this stupid alcohol issue I have. It only comes when I think too far ahead, or if I’m overwhelmed by something major; which has happened lately to me…THOSE times. I wish I was numb because I’m losing it, is what I think to myself in times like that. BUT… Since I already know the outcome of relapse, because I’ve done it so many times before to myself; the actual physical act of drinking has not happened, will not be happening today, and hasn’t been a real problem for me in terms of me actually relapsing. The desire for reality is greater than my anxiety over not being able to suppress it, but still the feeling pops up at times… it’s there. MY reality is that I’m stupid when I drink and it makes my mind sick, so I can’t do it. That’ll just make it worse for me. That’s what I tell myself every day.

Although it takes more effort to deal with my life head-on, at least I know it’s real and true…and I am actually dealing with my issues and living. 

I’m glad to be out of it.

NOW. I am a recovering alcoholic. Today, I am proud of myself for not giving up on myself.

I know it’s a day to day thing, and that it’s not always going to be easy… but I’m just glad that I’m at a point where I know what’s what, what needs to be done to get there, and what I need for my life to feel secure and happy. I live it day to day, and I am doing it, despite the obstacles. It is confusing, painful and amazing, all at the same time sometimes; I know I have more to work on and go through, but for me, life just makes much more sense sober, and staying true to myself through it all without apologies..

I gotta’ say that I’m also extremely proud of my boyfriend as well, because he has stayed strong beside me, and stayed sober despite his own issues.

“Friends” trying to drag him back into the atmosphere have been texting again. The same “friends”talking down about the both of us directly, and trying to make him think negatively in general about his life with me… I’ve seen all the texts.

Unfortunately, it comes with being an outcast in general, which I’m used to, but also with the territory of living sober and change.

T and I decided a while back, that we were going to do this sobriety thing together; one last time the right way; and really fight for a healthy future together, because that’s what we both want, and alcohol doesn’t go with our brain chemistry…so it’s out. It causes too many issues for us as individuals and together when we drink it, therefore making our lives unmanageable. We aren’t drinking anymore or being around it.  Alcohol has caused a lot of issues for us that wouldn’t have otherwise occurred if we had been sober. 

We knew certain people would not be happy about it, if we took ourselves out of the enviroment; most exclusively “him” taking himself out of the enviroment.  It messes up their normal agenda and routine. However, both of us think that being sober and together, is far more important than any kind of that petty bullshit that anyone could ever say about us, or any drink or drinking social situation there could ever be. It’s too hard right now to be in atmospheres that trigger. And everyone drinks. We are facing our issues together, because we don’t want to be without one another. So,  the people on the outside of it all’s opinions don’t weigh in, because it’s not your relationship to weigh in on, period; and it’s not your life to keep managed or lived. 

We are living healthy. What the fuck is the problem?

Equally important is, that T and I agreed that these “friends”, are really not true friends at all. If they were, they would act as such; they would support his wanting to get his life together; they would at least apologize for the open disrespect they’ve showed both of us multiple times, including on public forum; they would stop trying to stir the pot with negativity, when he is actively changing his life for the better, and he and I are happy.

I already know that I’m not given one shit about for sure…which I knew, but I’m equally as sure that these “friends” don’t want to see T ACTUALLY healthy and happy in the end, because their actions prove it.

Real friends don’t do that sort of shit. Words vs. Actions.

That being said; Stop texting…and find a new drinking buddy. He’s not coming around, because it’s not good for HIM, and he knows it. I didn’t make that choice for him, he did. 

Also, stop being hateful, and trying to fuck up my relationship with your pettiness and jealousy. WE won’t have it.

So again, day 46…and I made it…WE made it.😳☺😌

It’s going to be a great day because I am able to see the silver lining of it all..

 Don’t let anyone come in between you and your best.

Love yourself.

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME

To Karter, May 3rd, 2017.

You’d be 12 today…that’s just crazy. 

I know you are gone, but it doesn’t stop it from hurting, or from wanting you back with me.

I know it would be selfish of me to accept that; if it were offered; but if I had a chance to do it all over again I would have done things so much differently, and maybe someone would have listened to me sooner. It still haunts me…but I know we can’t go back now.

It took me a long time to realize the full scope of your journey. At the time I was just doing anything I could to hold on to you a little longer. I didn’t want you to go. I was so afraid to lose you.

I still struggle to understand why there has to be such a thing, as suffering and pain, in souls that are so pure….but I cannot make sense of it. In light of this fact, I try to find some sort of acceptance in it instead…however small.

If I don’t, I will surely give up on everyone and everything, and I believe that that would not be what you would want from me. 

You changed me, and made me a stronger and a better person. You kept me alive with the memories of you, when I was at my lowest, and wanted to give up. It’s because of you that I fight to be a better person. 

I think of you often, and I like to think I’ll see you again. 

I know you’re better now, and I only ever wanted that for you. Sometimes it is just bittersweet, I guess. 

I love you… And thank you for showing me what real love and strength really means.

I never knew it before you.

J.Rounds ©2017 ~Peaces of ME