#He died in April and...I had to have heard? Right? But I swear I don't remember knowing that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

victorian-gay · 1 month

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New Words and Old Memories

*TRIGGER WARNINGS*

-Blood

-Death

-Descriptions of a controlling and toxic relationship

-Grief

-Murder

-Brief mention of a cut to the arm

-If I have missed any relevant warnings let me know and I will add to this list as soon as I am able to.

*PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS IF YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY*

Please enjoy

April 29th 2023

Finally, I've come back to my old diarist ways. It's been maybe something like 20 years since I've written anything down by hand like this. The feeling is essentially foreign to me, which feels silly to say. At the same time though, there's this small part of me saying that maybe just maybe there might be something about putting an unassuming ballpoint pen to classic lined paper that might make me feel better. I don't know in all honesty. That being said, I know with absolute certainty that I've got myself half convinced that I've stumbled into the single longest spiral known to man since Maisey died. Maybe that's an unconscious exaggeration I concocted but I miss her so much and my grief won't let me clearly remember her last words to me. Anything beyond a vague feeling is largely made fuzzy by the bleary eyes of my memory. I can vividly remember how she just glowed with life that day though. It was nearly blinding. Every inch of her was brimming, beating with the stuff. It was wonderful, and so warm. Age could not and had not touched her in my eyes. This isn't to say I was blind to it. While she showed years I didn't, she was just as beautiful and her smile just as soft as it ever was. I want so badly to be able to remember the last of the music that was her voice. For a painfully short time, I did. But now? Nothing. Today is simply a day that is cursed to be drowning helplessly in death. Drenched in a thick black cloud of sulfurous lethal air lying right beneath the surface waiting to coat my lungs in their entirety. Coagulating in every crevasse so that I might fight just to gasp for air.

I read that back, it's a little dramatic. Possibly more than a little. Maisey died in late June of 1993. The 24th actually. I still remember the phone call from her stepson that day, the way his voice was breaking along with my heart as he spoke. The tears he fought back as mine rolled silently down my face. The sound of my phone falling on the counter and smacking against the cabinets with the force that had been stored in its cord. She had been in a car crash he said. She had a feeling that it was her time and told him to tell me before she went into surgery. She didn't make it out. Maisey and I hadn't been in a relationship in the most traditional sense by maybe seven years at that point, it hurt like I lost a lover anyway. I would swear now that I had known in April that year that it was going to be the beginning of the "new" end, but that's probably hindsight tainting my memories. It's been almost 30 years though, and I've had time to heal from that. Progress crawls at a snail's pace, but forward movement happens nonetheless. Days have grown slowly more bearable, some worse than others. Based on what I've read that's pretty normal, so there's that at least. Today happens to be especially difficult for whatever reason.

Spring is just generally a particularly hard time for me I would say. Seeing something as small as flowers is more difficult for example. Also, it's not as though I can make a trip to the seaside for some sort of springtime holiday on a whim. More to the point what I consider to be my more tangible death did happen 212 years ago exactly, so if we're being honest with ourselves when thinking about it that's part of it. At least half maybe. It isn't a "special" anniversary though, the bicentennial was far far worse. This is also the 30th anniversary of the last time I heard Maisey's voice, comparatively happier in it's own way. Just more proof of anniversaries having a neutral connotation, but that's beside the point. I hate, rather I loathe, the mere prospect of thinking about what that god-awful, beyond horrible woman did to me. She doesn't deserve the dignity of a name any longer for her actions. It haunts me as if it happened a day or two ago at times. I can hardly bear that my thoughts are torn between what I refer to, among other things, as "hellfire being extinguished" and one of if not the great love of my life. The last time I heard her beautiful voice anyway. If I had known she would be gone just two months later I like to think I would have savored it more than I did, given how my brain likes to omit things when I become upset.

So here I am at the admittedly semi-desperate conclusion that somehow writing things down could help me at the very least understand my now centuries of feelings better. I did try doing this in the somewhat immediate aftermath of being killed all those years ago. The thinking was that if I wrote everything I could recall down in my diary as soon as I was able and then immediately ripped the page out and destroyed it, I would get some sense of closure. Recalling the whole affair made my hands shake so badly when I wrote. It's honestly surprising that I wasn't concerned that they would fall right off. I often have wishes that amount to the desire that I should have burned that page back then when I might've been able to muster the nerve. Now my brain has taken the task upon itself to mangle and twist itself into feeling guilty about any sort of closure. Symbolic or otherwise. It's almost funny in a messed-up sort of way. If I still believed in him, I would have to question why God created brains that are perfectly suited to torture and hate themselves. I do in some ways anyway one could argue I suppose. In any case, it seems like a really bad business decision that has led me personally to wonder if I live despite my killer and what she wanted, in spite of it all, or for myself somehow at times. If you can call what I'm doing living.

I find myself thinking that it should feel like ancient history what happened to me. What I did that night. It happened two centuries ago, and yet the unusual depth of the darkness of that night still feels so fresh to me. The woman had been slowly becoming more horrible than what she started as. Inching towards the evil I remember the most. She was the type that had to control everything and everyone she could manage to fully sink her claws into, and by that point had firmly settled into that ornate throne she had fashioned to rule over me. Comfortably sitting there whilst she smirked and looked down upon me and somehow, at the same time, she claimed to do nothing but show me untold amounts of gentle love. I had come to know what she was beyond her human exterior and, while it most certainly terrified me at the time, a small part of me found it sickly exhilarating. I was completely intoxicated by her. She was like a spiked hot chocolate, sweet and warm with a bitter burn finish. By the time she decided that she would murder me, we had very much settled into the burn. Little if any of the old sweetness remained. That notion only existed in old diaries. Even still, I felt compelled even wanted to take another sip. I couldn't leave. Why? Couldn't begin to know. I didn't want to? She wouldn't let me? I hoped for change? I can't tell or remember now.

She could spit venom from her mouth in one breath and the next, would soothe me and make me whole. That had become the pattern of our interactions for some time. I often felt as though I was a child being reprimanded for something I didn't understand. Sometimes there wasn't even a reason. Not one I was privy to anyway. Closer to a plaything than an equal and lover. Even now though, sitting and stewing in the memories of how much I hate everything that happened and the confines of the existence I find myself in I find it hard to call everything bad. She was enchanting in short. I was utterly enamored with her right from the very start. No point in denying it now. There was no hope of escaping the grinding, crushing, pulverizing wheels of fate that started to turn the moment I met her. It feels disgusting almost to admit it in writing, but I loved her. All that I was loved her. I really really wish I didn't, and I genuinely think I probably shouldn't ever have entertained the mere prospect of loving her. Regardless of the wonderful benefits of hindsight, I did entertain the thought of loving that woman. Willingly and with a smile on my face. The naivety of youth and the inability to know oneself. It's a struggle to think that she ever loved me, but I did love her once. With every last little thing that I had. I owe myself to be gentle with that truth.

It's hard to not let myself feel stupid about my falling for her at times. I keep finding myself thinking, "What if our eyes didn't meet that night?", "What if I listened to my fear?", "What if I looked closer at my affections?" as if such things would change the here and now. It feels like she cursed me with this life and like I'll continuously be far away from everyone I have ever and will ever love. Cursed to be functionally alone for all eternity, aside from the occasional 50 years or so when I muster the emotional strength to form a connection with a human. The more I think about it I have to wonder if she left me with only the possibly unethical. That feeling has only grown since I've started to take my old diaries out of their dark dusty storage place. The strange thing was that they weren't all together. It's very out of character for me. Usually, I'm a lot better about keeping my arguably four but it's closer to three, centuries of belongings carefully sorted, organized, and in their proper places. I suppose places is a more accurate descriptor. The first one I found was actually wrapped delicately in a dress Maisey had left for me along with a letter she had written. It's the only thing I have left of her that I can actually hold in my hands, so I took an insane amount of care to gingerly unwrap it. Treating the cloth as though it would turn to dust if I touched it in the wrong way.

That diary in particular is stained with my tears and smeared with the various colors of her, now vintage, lipstick. Every mark contains just a drop of a spark. Just an ounce of affection. With so many small spur-of-the-moment tokens of love, it's almost sad to think how little I've looked at it in the past 40-some-odd years. In the early days, Maisey made it a point to place a kiss on one of the first pages of it and then on every page in every diary she caught me writing in after that. It's an absolutely adorable habit that always makes me smile and mentally gush about her when I think about it. Even with the knowledge that the amount of those lipstick stains slowly becomes less and less over time. Very much welcome all the same, especially in stark contrast to the other grimmer reason I felt the need to buy a humble college rule composition notebook and a pack of new rainbow-colored ball-point pens. The notebook is yellow and has rhinoceroses on it. The pens were just for fun, it'll be decades before I need pens again with my collection. Seemed appropriate at the time.

Maybe it's silly, just a case of my brain concocting fear, but I can feel myself choking on the giant lump in my throat thinking about the way it all ended. My heart beats so fast it begins to feel so obvious to me that it moves nothing red and lifegiving anymore. It goes on like that as if it has a purpose, but we both know it doesn't. Not anymore. The poor thing was simply built to beat. It's only doing what its instincts dictate it must. My instinct however is still to fight, even just over 200 years later it all feels so viscerally real. I want to call it crisp but that feels like I'm talking about an apple or something of the like, which isn't right. She moved faster than I could see that night. I couldn't blink, much less move or defend myself before anything happened. We were arguing loudly, it had become commonplace. She must have decided whatever I said was the last straw because she took it upon herself to remove any autonomy I had at that moment and make my choice for me. I didn't have time before her fangs pierced my neck and sunk into me. I had admittedly allowed something like it before under different contexts. Maybe that was foolish of me. I was young and in love and what else are you to do with your life at that stage if not to be foolish?

There is a defense to be made for my short-lived youth I feel. Those other times were about intimacy, about being tender. It had been soft and safe before. I know how contradictory that sounds. It's a hard feeling to put into words. This time however the bite came with a horrid unnatural pain that was difficult to bear. Even others admit that pain is strange. I had tried running, but it was all for not. My escape attempt was met by her holding me so tightly I had to struggle for little more than a wheeze of a breath. My lungs felt squished flat, and again, truly I had to fight tooth and nail to even gasp for breath or scream. I was lifted and swung around like a ragdoll. She did so with what felt like inhuman strength. Inhuman care. When being perfectly pedantic one has to admit that inhuman is exactly what it probably was. How far was she from the cradle of humanity by then? I remember the start of realizing that I truly meant nothing to her. I was simply a toy that had broken as soon as I wanted something for myself in her eyes. The only reason I can think of for her to do this though was to disorient me.

I scarcely remember anything that was said before, during, or in the most immediate aftermath. I've tried to a couple of times over the years, but nothing came of it. The ripped page does have those words, but I'm not reading them. I've blacked it all out, and the will to read it back does not and will not exist. Not in the modern age. What I do remember, as clear as crystal, is her hastily slicing open her arm and forcing my mouth open so she could get her blood inside. It was thick and bitter. I wouldn't have guessed that blood was what it was if I didn't know better. There was little that was familiar about it. It was thick like I said, but the texture was more than that. I couldn't help but choke. It was coagulated, lightly curdled even. It was so beyond strange. Like licking an old metal pipe you pulled from the lake, with something else in there. I'd go so far as to say it tasted rotten actually. Well, more accurately it tasted like actively rotting decomposing rust. That fits pretty well actually. She then violently flung me to the ground as if I was little more than trash, and I finally knew for a fact, without a notion of a doubt, that I meant nothing to her. I let myself let go of the hope for her changing. I noticed the somewhat unbearable sting of a rapidly healing wound on my legs and stray carved wooden scraps strewn about. She had swung and smacked me into the stair railing so hard that it shattered like a mirror. There was now a hole where perfect and elegantly carved wood had once been.

The next thing I knew she was screaming in my face. Everything had gone full tilt into a pace so quick there was scarcely a moment to process one moment before moving on to the next. Spit flew from her mouth like missiles. She shook so much and got so red that for a moment there I wondered if she would explode. This wasn't the only time she had screamed at me like this, but for the very first time, I didn't cower beneath her. I stared right back whilst I swallowed the blood still in my mouth and wiped the rest from my face. It didn't feel so strange and vile on my hand. I remember that contradiction too. I also finally didn't feel like I needed to stay. In the middle of all this, I can recall this small, short wave of liberation. A whiplash of glory. It was a split-second shock to my system. She took no notice when I reached for a piece of railing and rammed it through her chest. It spoke to how involved she was with her own mind and world. That cry she let out, which in reality was closer to a shrill shriek or screech that would make a banshee blush, still makes me shudder. She died like a coward. Desperately reaching out as if she hadn't just murdered me herself and trying to profess something that would save her. I think. All I remember is her panicked blubbering.

After that, I had a sort of "post-murder clarity" when the unholy amount of adrenaline started to subside. My mind raced, and the both of us panicked. She fell to her knees and on her back a few seconds later. My eyes darted around, my ears took in her subsiding voice, and my feet fumbled around in search of a solid place to plant. I didn't stop for a moment to think that what I had done had felt like the only option I had at that moment to save myself. I had started backing away from her body, horrified by it all. Sickened by the blood staining my freshly laundered bed gown. I don't remember it being red, but for what its worth candlelight was all I had to see with. I assume that I started dry heaving, I'm dry heaving thinking about it now. In all of this, I gave no thought as to where I died. I flew for just one moment, and then a ghastly crack broke through the noise. That would have been my head, I think. My spine? My brain feels as though it's begun to run in circles I can't form a coherent thought without significant effort. The last thing my living ears heard was my body thudding down the stairs, as I had fallen through the hole in the railing she had created. Slipping on the thick, essentially snot-like blood that had begun to cover the floor.

When I awoke later it was to "agreeable enough" peers of hers who had been, according to her, "scandalized for completely false and unfounded reasons" by her treatment of me. My initial view of them that night was blurred and hazy, thanks at least partly to my inability to open my eyes fully at the time. They told me later that the intention was to return me to my family if they could get me away from her. The one woman among them spoke softly and she sounded just...so sad. Strangely knowing, but largely heartbroken whilst she helped clean me up at what is best described as their manor house. All four of them continuously apologized for not being able to save me. Looks of pity and sorrow graced their faces for at least as long as I was battered and bruised. Then and now I wish that they did save me and those looks were never because of my life. I wonder though...is it wrong to wish they had, given all the wonderful things I've been able to see? Everything that my purgatory has allowed me to experience? I suppose I'm grateful for the kindness they've shown me. None of that care was mandatory. I think I would have long since truly died without them. I'm already dead I guess. It gets very fuzzy that. Deciding when exactly I died. There's an argument for me "dying" in 1811 or 1814. Either way though, it was today.

I'm trying to calm myself down and my eyes independently keep looking at the dress Maisey left me. Frantically on the hunt for comfort I guess. I had laid it out around sunset so I could follow the intent to hang it up with the rest of my clothes. Earlier I found myself running my hands along the faded velvet ribbon around the empire waist, recalling how befuddling I found it when the fashion from when I was alive came back around. The memory of doing that is kind of soothing, even though it was mere hours ago. She'd want me to wear it I think. Looking at it now, putting the dress back in its acid-free box feels wrong. She'd want it to be out and about, enjoying it's life. That would be in the spirit of Maisey, especially the Maisey that wore this dress the most. The funny thing about it is that in the letter that came with the dress, she'd written that I'd find love again. That I'd be happy without her someday. Something nice, something hopeful. Her last words ended up being just how Maisey tried her best to be. Maybe when I do get the nerve to wear it again she will posthumously prove herself right. She always had a way of doing such things.

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regular-lord-reckoner · 1 month

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welp, guess who hit burnout again ?!?!

i did !!

primarily because of some bad news i got last week. it's nothing bad bad, it's just some aggravating bullshit i have to deal with (basically i missed some payments for my therapist and i thought it was like...3 or 4, but it's like...8?? the lady that does her payroll is going to look into it because my deductible kicked in somewhere in there, but i don't think for most of it so i'm just annoyed at myself for letting this pile up like this but what can ya do!! thankfully she's been really forgiving and understanding, especially because a lot of these missed payments happened around when my dad died so i do appreciate that and will be making it up to her as soon as i can; i don't see her again until april so hopefully by then i can get a little more caught up

i also broke my favorite mirror and my pipe like a day apart from each other (the pipe i'm not as broken up about because i'm starting a tolerance break soon anyway and the guy i bought it from still makes the same one so we're all good there but the mirror???? the fucking mirror!?!)

okay so this goddamn mirror.

i genuinely don't even know how this happened

i had just put our dog down for his nap (yes, he has a nap time and yes i take care of him like he's my child now.........he's grown on me) and i went upstairs to use my bathroom and get my medicine and i may have accidentally knocked into something on my way there, but i swear i wasn't that close and as soon as i got into the bathroom i just heard a commotion and turned around and my dad's guitar fell over, hit the mirror, the mirror hit ??? and shattered

specifically into two pieces, one kinda small, i could have probably fit it into a cardboard box, but the other piece was too big and i would have had to break it up somehow without getting more glass everywhere and i could already see what looked like glitter all over the carpet so i said fuck that

i ended up having to get two very thick trash bags to bag it up and carefully transport it downstairs and all i could think was, "please don't let this fucking mirror cut through this plastic anymore than it already has (because it had a little) and end up slicing my hand up real bad and then what? i probably have to drive myself to the nearest walk in because no one else is here right now and it would take too long for an ambulance to get out here, plus..........expensive so...be careful!!!"

the whole ordeal ate up an entire hour of my fucking day because i had to just sit and stare at it for about half an hour before i could even clean it up, i just froze

then all the transporting it downstairs and getting it outside with the other trash and texting our family friend who hauls the trash off for all of us to let him know to be careful with it, yeah

it hasn't helped that i've somehow gotten behind on part of my work and my inbox lately has been consistently in the 200+ range and i keep finding all these stat referrals that aren't marked even though everyone literally just got an email the other fucking day to make sure those are marked but nope!! so now i feel pressure to get through as many of them as i can so needless to say my work days lately have been thusly:

i get up at 6:30 am. i do a little work. sometime around 7:30 i go lie back in bed for about an hour before i get up to get the dog up and take him outside and feed him his breakfast.

while he's eating i do the dishes and sometimes will get the trash all gathered up and set out to be taken off. i also feed the cat and check to see if he needs anything, any litter or water or whatever else.

sometimes i'll do some of my own cleaning, like my bathroom or start on my laundry (i think last week i ended up doing everything: sheets, towels, clothes, the dogs blankets and towels)

oh, i also give him a bath now every thursday so he's not stinky and it helps with his skin because his breed is prone to getting these little bumps so weekly baths help with that apparently

we'll go on walks throughout the day, too. usually whenever i take him out to go potty but sometimes if i get an extra bit of free time and the weather is nice we got for a little walk together

in between all of this i try to pop in to get some of my actual work done and on good days i do mange to scoot along pretty well. on bad days it's been kinda like how it's been for the past few weeks and i end up staying up until our records system literally begins to stop communicating with our patient scheduling/demographics system which means i can't do shit anymore. that's usually around 11:30 pm

somewhere in there i eat a few meals slowly over the course of a few hours and often don't even up finishing them because i've gotten the ick or they've gone too cold so i save it for later or just toss it out

i go to sleep usually around midnight or 1 am but again on bad nights it's like...almost 2 am. and then it's back up at 6. or my new favorite...wake up at 5 and then i'm not able to get back to sleep!

doesn't help that whenever i don't get enough sleep my neuromuscular shit gets a lot worse so i spend all day just lightly vibrating with tiredness (quite literally, it's just all day minimal shakes which is fun when all you do is type)

i would just take extra of my medicine but i lowkey got shamed by a pharmacist for refilling my meds too soon so....there's that

the last time i went to refill i didn't have any problems, normally the automated system will tell me, "hey, bitch, you can't refill this yet, slow down!" and so i know to wait a few more days and try again (unless i'm about to be out before then, of course), but that didn't happen, it just told me it would be ready tomorrow so tomorrow i went and evidently it was not eligible to be refilled that soon and it was just the way she was looking at me when she said, "didn't you just have this refilled [whatever the date what]??" which like...yeah, admittedly it was a little sooner than usual but like..........sometimes i just need more of my medicine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pretty sure i was doing a lot of physical shit around then so yeah, i probably took more of my pills than normal....i realize i should probably just bite the bullet and contact my neurologist to see if he can up my prescription before my next visit in september where we normally go over that because evi-fuck-ing-dently if i need a little bit more sometimes it's gonna be a whole thing now

and of course, me being me, i'm like...apologetic, just like, "okay, well i can just come back another day, sorry" and she said, "well, we can refill it if you want to wait," which like....................why did you give me grief over it then?! but then when i asked about how long would it be she was like, "i dunno, 20 minutes or you can just come back later," which is hell to tell my autistic ass so i was just like, "uh, i guess i'll come back later..." which she seemed to be glad to be rid of me and likewise, so!

i went and cried in my car for a bit because once again just frustrated that i felt humiliated over that because it wasn't that deep, but it just kinda reminded me of high school and how i purposefully avoided going to the nurse's office to get my medicine because she was such a fucking asshole to me (she was the one who after i asked if my dad could come pick me up because i was sick started grilling me on my condition to which her conclusion was, "so, what, are you going to stay in bed for the rest of your life or something?" with just pure hatred in her voice, i literally didn't have an answer for that. she did not last long as the nurse, surprisingly! she was very unpopular, i can't even imagine the other fucked up shit she probably said to my classmates)

but yeah, just...hey, i need this to literally function. i'm not trying to hurt anyone. i'm not trying to make your job, that i know is already very hard, any harder. i just want my goddamn medicine. i just walked through over-stimulation city and am going to do it twice today (it's costco btw and the pharmacy is alllllll the way in the back), just......please do not give me a hard time about this for the love of god

also, if you're wondering, "gee anna, i'd just switch pharmacies if i were you, that sounds like a lot of hassle!" yes, i have considered that, but you see............my job's got me by the balls on this one. in the past couple of years they've introduced their own pharmacy and technically...........technically i'm supposed to be filling my medicine with them.

there's literally a clause about like, "don't you fucking dare fill [my type of medication] with anyone but us!!" but like......somehow i've managed to make it this far without them noticing??

and costco themselves have just sort of made it work?? because i think my original script was actually for a larger supply, but i guess if i got that filled it would force me to use my work's so costco just fills it to a lesser degree and somehow it flies under the rader. i dunno !!

but !! i've been using them instead of my work because from everything i've heard.....our pharmacy sux !!!!

i won't get into all of it (but like my mom has said some of her medicine with like...clearly what it is with her name and everything on it was left lying out where patients and god and everyone could see it....not great)

they also just make a lot of mistakes and i'm skeptical if they store things correctly so suffice to say there's a lot of reasons i just don't want to deal with it, it's also apparently hard to just...get your meds from them because of how they do things. so i really don't want to make this process any more challenging than what it already is, but yeah. a little bit frustrating, i guess

in addition to.....all of this, i also had got to thinking, "damn, i've been working a lot of 50 hour weeks lately, how long have i been doing this? a few months now?"

i knew it was around the time my dad was dying because i remember quite literally watching him in his hospice bed over the top of my computer to make sure he didn't wake up again and try to take his oxygen off

turns out it's uh....been a year now

right around this time last year i started working 50 hours a week.

granted there were a few weeks, especially at the beginning, where i would work one 50 hour week and then a 44 hour week and then 50 hours again and 40 back and forth like that because i was worried i'd get in trouble but eventually i realized no one way saying anything so eventually (and with a few exceptions, of course) i just started doing one after the other and now i'm here......kiiiiiiiiinda burnt out

which isn't surprising really, when i think about it

i was quite literally experiencing burn out to the point of serious thoughts about not being here anymore and engaging in self harm through my meltdowns so i guess you could say i was a little stressed last year but i pretty much had to try to put it all on pause and just...get to work in so many senses and i know i let a lot of things fall through the cracks. too many probably. but i cannot emphasize enough just how much i was breaking down and how hard it was for me to hold my shit together during that time.

i didn't want anyone to know it had gotten that bad, i felt like a monster and every day it's like i did something else horrendously wrong or said the wrong thing and sometimes i really did and sometimes it was just my warped perception of things and i started to lose the ability to tell the difference and it all just congealed into one big ball of stress

i spent a lot of therapy sessions honestly just bawling my eyes out because of it after which i usually felt better for a little while, but it would slowly build up again and again because i still hadn't figured out what works and what doesn't as far as self-care goes and what even are my needs and god this is all so fucking overwhelming and the spots on my dad's lungs just keep getting worse and he keeps getting weaker and my mom's falling apart and i'm falling apart and everything's falling apart, but not me!! never me, not yet!!

so i just kept going. and still am.

yes, i've had a few breaks and those have helped tremendously. i'm taking another one next month (bet you can't guess which week) and i'm just going to stay here, maybe do some cleaning on my closet and hopefully catch up on sleep

this, so far, is what seems to work

when i feel myself approaching my limit, i shut off essentially. i go into autopilot

i do what i need to get done, get it all done and then crash and recover as much as possible until i reach the next big rest (which is usually just a week at a time but i'll take it !!!) and along the way i just try to pick up different modalities of self-care and prioritizing my health and wellbeing as i go

like today, i managed to sleep in until 11 am. beautiful !! stunning !!

first time i've felt like a human being in ???

i took advantage of this renewed energy to put my efforts into putting together something special for my niece's kids.

unfortunately, their dad's father passed away earlier this week. sudden heart attack, apparently.

the younger one doesn't really have as much attachment to him, i don't think, but the older one is really torn up about this from what her mom has told us

he used to babysit for them a lot so he was a big part of her life. they were actually supposed to get ice cream that day because he promised it to her if she did well on one of her tests and she did but that obviously didn't end up happening

that's two of her grandfathers now she's lost in about 6 months and my heart is just broken for her

her mom said already that sometimes she just bursts into tears out of nowhere and when she asks her, "honey, what's wrong?" she says she misses my dad (which hey.......big same. the sudden crying about it and everything).

his funeral will be on monday which my mom won't be able to go to but said she wanted to still go up there tomorrow just to be with the kids if nothing else to give them some extra comfort

i'm staying behind so i can watch the critters (and because i don't think right now i'm up for all of that honestly) but i did want to send them my love so i took about an hour today to shop for some presents for them

i got them both these really neat stuffed animals (a dinosaur for the younger one because they're her favorite; it roars and lights up and everything) and a bunny that also makes a cute noise and lights up and they're both nice and cuddly since her mom also said right now all the older one wants to do is curl up with her blanket and watch her favorite shows

i also got the younger one some bluey dolls since that's her favorite right now and a little bracelet that looks like one i know she has and loves except this one has a little purple butterfly on it !!

i got her sister a really nice princess crown and this cool lip balm thing with a container that has some of her favorite characters on it so i hope she likes that and i got her a bracelet that's similar to her sister's but it says "don't give up" on it

mom's going to take them the gifts tomorrow so i hope they like them and most of all, i hope they help. i walked up and down the kid's toy aisles so much i think i was making people nervous with me being a single adult just going up and down the aisles constantly but i was really trying to put a lot of thought into what would cheer them up and give them comfort right now

after that i made a few more stops to get me a few little treats even though i probably don't need them, but they made me happy so...there!

i came home, relaxed for a little bit, took the dog for a walk/potty break, fed him his dinner, washed some dishes, took out all the trash, took a shower and i finally ate dinner around 10 pm

so yeah. been....pretty busy lately.

i think part of what's contributing to this particular burnout is that i just feel like i haven't stopped in....ages now. i just keep going and going and going and going

but !!! if nothing else this tells me i really need to step up my skills for dealing with, well, me.

although i reserve the right as a scorpio to close the door to myself for a while and emerge dramatically when i feel rejuvenated, there are...better ways of approaching things, i think, so we're going to work on that

namely i'm going to work on getting more sleep. i think that's one of the biggest contributing factors because i'm just exhausted all of the goddamn time and being exhausted leads me to being on edge all day long (even when i start out the day in an awesome mood sometimes, over time and as i sit there working it's like the life just drains out of me)

so we're going to work on that and we're also going to work on our diet. although processed foods have kept me steady for all these years due to their dependability and extreme convenience, i'm at an age where i really need to be eating a lot more vegetables and actually start cooking most of my meals

going to work on that and eventually the plan is to also start growing some of my own food because another thing too is like.....every goddamn product in the store anymore is owned by some bullshit genocide supporting monopoly entity so like......the less i can contribute to that the better, i figure

i also really hope to get to my closet soon because i know i keep talking about it and it and it's been forever but i just haven't had the capacity for it so it got put on hold but fingers crossed on my break i can at least start to chip away at it

which....speaking of stuff around the house, that's been another thing

it's becoming clear to my mom and i that this house, beautifully made by my father as it is, really needs some love put into it

the entire thing honestly needs a good deep clean, but in addition to that i'm pretty sure there's mold upstairs. i don't know about downstairs, but i'm 99.9% sure it's up here and i think part of it probably has to do with the fact that the doors i have that go outside don't.....close completely ?? heh

i may have accidentally fallen into them at one point and knocked them out of frame and no matter what i've done to try to fix it (mostly slamming against it from the other side like i'm a fucking football player) so i've done what i can to mitigate the slight crack that's at the top of the door but i'm pretty sure moisture has been getting in anyway so that's fun !!

those doors obviously need to be replaced and there's also a skylight in my bathroom that i think has gotten some water damage around it so that might be contributing as well, but that needs to be fixed, too

there's also some ceiling work that my dad had started on in their bedroom but didn't get to finish before he got sick so that needs to be finished and of course the water heater could still go at any time

the plumber was able to get it back to somewhat full capacity, but even still i've noticed the hot water runs out a lot faster than it used too, so that'll be something else

we also hadn't really realized until all of this with my dad just how inaccessible our house is to get into if you struggle to walk or need a wheelchair

we did what we could with my dad's chair and he'd hold on to one of us to get into the house while holding his cane with the other hand, but like that one night he was so weak after he fell earlier in the day and then all day at the emergency getting checked out, he nearly fell and busted his open and instead ended up collapsing in the hallway just inside the garage entrance and we had to call ems to help come get him up out of the floor so.....we really need to at the very least have hand rails installed at some entrance point of this house that'll make it easier (the backdoor technically has them but it would be a trek for someone with mobility issues of any kind to get back there to them)

the carpets all either need a really good deep clean or to be taken up and replaced with either more carpet or something else

and i'm sure there's more i'm not thinking of right now, but suffice to say, it's....a lot. and no, it doesn't all have to be done right now, right now but the sooner the better for some of them for sure

fortunately my dad left us some money that initially he said we could use for a trip but i think we're going to instead use to do a lot of this stuff around the house that needs to be done

in the meantime, i'm going to try to clean as i go as much as possible. getting all that stuff out from around the water heater really just makes me want to rent a dumpster so we can just throw a bunch of this shit away because honestly a lot of it is just junk at this point that's not even worth donating or giving to someone

some of it yes and definitely any clothes we find that are still good quality, but a lot of this shit i would love nothing more than to just chuck into a dumpster and feel like i can breathe a little easier because it's nowhere near hoarder level i don't think, but for my taste it's starting to feel a little claustrophobic

in the mean time, i'm also going to try to start reading more because i really did used to enjoy it and i think my brain's starting to finally get to a point where it's like, "hey, i can handle new information !! let's start learning again !! let's start reading a whole bunch !!" so i'm excited to start that

i'm still journaling and working my puzzles and spending time outside connecting with nature so these are all also things that i think help me out a lot that i intend to keep up

i also want to start teaching myself how to play my dad's guitar soon because i've always wanted to do that and i think it would bring me a lot of joy if i could manage to learn

i'm also just, as weird as it sounds, letting myself be more autistic, i guess ??

i hadn't realized until recently just how much i've suppressed a lot of stimming and self-soothing behaviors and how much better i feel when i just.....let myself do them

i've struggled with being perceived even when i know i'm completely alone for some time now, i remember even talking about it with my last therapist like a decade ago so this has been a thing

i used to even cover the vents when i went to the bathroom and would shower in the dark because i couldn't pinpoint why i felt like i was always being watched but just in case aliens or the government or whoever were secretly spying on me i was going to avoid them !!

anyway, hey, younger me, turns out you're just really neurodivergent, babe! like i'm starting to think you're more than just autistic, you might also have a decent helping of adhd, dunno, it's kind of slowly starting to emerge which is weird but i'll give you a for instance......i forgot to sign up for my insurance this year!!

i kept getting the alert on my paycom thing whenever i log in every day and i even checked it a few times and was like, "oh yeah, i need to do that," but just kept forgetting the second i would look away from it and anyway, the other day i get an email that's like, "hey, so you've been automatically enrolled in your issuance this year since you didn't wanna do it yourself :P" basically so i do have it, but what's my plan like ?? is it a good one ?? i dunno just yet but i guess we'll see. they're all pretty much the same at this point but i think i did notice it's a different provider so...woohoo, i'm slowly but surely collecting all the insurance types like they're fucking pokemon

anyway, shit like that's been happening more and more lately, but i'm trying to get a handle on that, too because i'm already in a big enough hole as is and quite literally cannot afford to dig myself any deeper so we're gonna do what we need to in order to be well and be somewhat healthy and get this brain sorted out and hopefully, eventually, i'll get to reach a point where i can put down a few of the balls i've been juggling and just kinda....take it easy for a bit

again, and i know i always say this, but i fear i always sound out of touch with reality when i talk about my life like this and so i want to make it clear i do acknowledge all of this could be much, much worse

my life is by far nowhere near as bad as it could be and in a lot of ways i have many things working in my favor and that are of great help to me, so i'm extremely grateful for that. i haven't always been, admittedly, but i've also had a lot of complicated feelings to unpack especially in the past year that made it difficult, but i've come out the other side of that now and i really do just want to mature and focus on growing and part of that is my gratitude for the things in my life that are going right and are immensely beneficial to my wellbeing

that being said, my life nevertheless still hast its challenges and although i blab a lot on here (probably more than i should) i do still tend to keep the majority or perhaps the intensity of how i really feel all to myself

i know there are definitely times that even i can admit that it's like, "uh, hey, the thing you're having a meltdown over really isn't worth being that upset about, it'll be okay........" because sure enough everything was/is totally fine and it's not a big deal, but it's hard to describe how in the moment it feels so much bigger and far more dire so what seems like a lot of dramatics and going through the motions on everyone else's end may all be for naught but like...it's still a tangible hell i end up going through that takes its toll on me, i'm just....used to it, lol

i've literally been getting overloaded since i was born and in some ways it feels like it's never stopped since then, the only problem was i didn't have an answer as to why until very recently so it's not like i wasn't doing anything about my mental health because i just wasn't prioritizing it, i didn't even know where to begin and my first attempt at getting help didn't even land close to what the real issue was so it put me off for a long time (to be fair, the therapy was also heavily focused on like.....my sister having just died, so that's at least part of why, i'm sure)

this really feels like the first time in either a very, very, very long time or possibly even ever that i've been able to just actually stop a little and catch my breath. feel like myself, my actual self. not the mask i've been poorly trying to keep together for forever now

a mask that part of me is hesitant still as i continue to take it off because what i'm realizing about myself is that a lot of who i am/who i've been was tied up in that so like.....naturally i'm starting to see a lot of shifts in the relationships around me and just how i think about myself as well and how i approach things

and it's hard because it's like.....am i being fair ?? am i taking everyone around me's feelings into consideration ?? because i'm so used to having to do that and tiptoe around and always feel like i'm walking on eggshells except my clumsy ass was just tromping through them anyway, always putting my foot in my mouth and saying the exact wrong thing that at the worst possible time and just hating myself more and more but not knowing how to fix it so i'd just princess caroline my relationships and focus on everyone else instead which makes people like you for that, but not so much the rest so there's this constant worry of, "is that all i'm good for? will i be replaced as soon as i stop being useful?" and not for nothing but like....it's happened before, so!!!

so....yeah. i've been unpacking a lot of things lately and just trying to sit with them and think about all of this and about who i want to be now and how to get there

the process is already happening and has been for about a year now, but it's a slow one unfortunately (and really all of this has been woefully too late, but that's what happens when you snooze, anna. you lose !!!) but like that asshole walter white once said, i am......awake, now. except instead of becoming an ego-maniacal abusive drug lord who destroys his family and everything he touches, i'm going to do...whatever the opposite of that is. in every sense

i hope i can grow into a person who is ultimately kind and loving and patient and stable and lovable and healed who has interesting hobbies like making music and maybe recreating some of the pictures she takes of the sky in the form of paintings if she gets good enough

as overwhelming as everything has felt lately i can also feel new possibilities unfurling in me and i can see so many roads and avenues i could go down in terms of growth and development and for the first time i'm staring to feel like i'm brave enough to do it or at least give it a shot

so that's what i hope for. that's what i'm working towards.

thee are going to be parts of me i know people aren't going to like, in particular my tendency to want to spend the majority of my time alone and with my own thoughts, at least for right now, but that's just something i feel as though i need to do and quite honestly, as though i've earned

in some regards, i've spent a good portion, if not almost all of my life in some form or fashion taking care of the people that i love. often in an emotional sense, but i like to think i've also stepped up to the plate in a lot of other ways even if i didn't do every single thing perfectly, i still at least tried

i think i've finally earned some time to focus on me and just me for a little bit.

not to say i won't help anyone with anything (i quite literally spend a good chunk of my time helping my mom now), but i can tell with everything in my being that i really, really need to just turn inwards for a little bit, focus on me, heal some more, mature some more and i think when i emerge from this cocoon i'm going to be....a decent looking butterfly!! (actually, i also hope i get hot. not like "oh, i buy these clothes or makeup or whatever" but just like...y'know, hot. when you invest in yourself hot, you know what i mean? idk it's getting late and i'm quite tired)

but yeah. think that's about it for now.

sorry this was so long, i've just clearly had a lot going on and have a lot on my mind and i like to just check in every so often to document where i'm at in this journey

wish it was a better update, but they can't all be good or we wouldn't be working towards anything, now would we?

i guess that's all for now.

a coupe of last things:

i saw a big yellow butterfly the other day when i was taking the dog out. i sort of associate yellow with my dad now because he loved yellow flowers, especially sunflowers, so whenever i see anything yellow, really, i think of him and of course butterflies are supposedly visitors so i think that might have been him saying hi, which i really needed

also, the cashier supervising the self check i was at today said, "you can use whichever one you want, darlin'," to me which made me smile a lot although they couldn't tell because i had a mask on but i said thank you and tried to smize as best as i could before scooting off to scan my items and get one step close to going back home

oh, and i started to cry a little earlier because on my way home i had to pass by the funeral home and in particular where i was sat at a red light i actually had a perfect view of the crematorium and right as i was looking at it i hear bert mccracken (who btw has apparently been pro-Palestinian for like a decade now so good on him; i knew i chose right in the divorce when everyone else went to gerard's !!) coming from my speakers going, "fill your lungs with smoke for the last tiiiiiime!!" and i started to laugh because like.....c'mon, that's kinda funny, but then i started to cry because i remember that day and then i just missed him but i also had to drive so we just shut that shit down and headed home and i still haven't cried yet so will probably do that tomorrow and some journaling. i think a big cry would help a lot so we'll see !!

as always, i hope if you're reading this you have a good weekend and can also get some rest from chaotic life and stress and all the other bullshit

i hope something good happens for you soon and that you also heal and can try to find some peace and comfort

i absolutely must go to sleep now so g'night !!! <3

#long post #just an update about me/my mental health/what i've been up to type of thing

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calyxaomphalos · 2 years

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The Ghosts of Windy Ridge

Turn #40, four components

location #13 - the cemetery (3) - Red Pine Cemetery neighbor #11 - human who always speaks truth (1) (Sagittarius) item #18 - makes me nostalgic event #6 - find an item! -- #7 - wait to use...

Both a new location and a new neighbor, but reaction rolls aren't great and while I gave the neighbor a name eventually, it isn't used in this scene.

10 April 2022, Sunday Night

I drove away from Foras' Lair thinking about having spooked Andy and wondering what on earth he'd been doing there. The idea of a spooking on a late Sunday night had me thinking about going to the one place I should have gone when I first got here. The cemetery. Mo's grave site. I had another one of those little airline bottles of rum that I can pour out when I get there. I'm sure he'd appreciate that.

The Red Pine Cemetery was all the way out at the northern-most end of the road that Dani and I parked on last Thursday night after the weekly gathering when we made that clandestine visit to the Pastor's office. I had to drive all the way through town and out past the church to get there.

It was a small cemetery. I'm guessing no more than a hundred headstones, give or take a dozen. Mo's should be relatively new. He'd passed four years ago, though it was really more like not quite three and a half. I debated parking with the headlights on pointing into the gently sloping field but decided natural night vision and moonlight would be best. I could use my phone's flashlight in deep shadowed areas if it came to that.

The air was cool and still. Most of the headstones were in orderly rows, but over in one corner, they were rather chaotic. I sat for a minute or two to let my eyes fully adjust, spending that time looking into the deep shadows of the pine trees lining the far northern edge of the field. I was about to get up when I heard a shotgun being cocked behind me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, careful not to move at all and not knowing what to expect next.

"Ain't no reasonable God-fearing man come around the cemetery this time o' night, on a Sunday at that," came a low masculine drawl from the same direction as the gun.

"So what are you doing here, then?"

"Don't make me shoot you. Get up and turn around real slow like, hands in the air wheres I can see'em."

"Okay, I can do that," I said, complying with the directions.

Once I was facing him, the moonlight accentuated his thin wild gray hair, sticking out every which way. "You've got ten seconds to explain yourself," he said, keeping the gun pointed at me.

Again, direct honesty was the way to go. "My name is Serren Dyer. I am spending the month of April here in Windy Ridge to research the history of an old friend, Maurice Forrester. He died late in 2018. I'm here to visit his grave."

The gun lowered a bit, but not as much as I'd like for comfort. "Move along. Maybe you come back here at a reasonable hour to see your 'friend'."

"Okay. Look, I'm going to lower my right hand and open my car door. Then I'll get in and leave, deal?"

He gestured with the gun toward the car, which I took as agreement. My hands were sweating a bit and slipped on my first try to open the door. "Shit," I said and then got it on the second try. The gun was lower now. I slid into the driver's seat and then pulled the door shut. Getting the engine fired was a relief. I turned on the headlights and I could see him standing in front of me. "Don't put it in 'drive', don't put it in 'drive'," I muttered as I threw it into reverse. I made a sloppy three point turn, swearing under my breath the whole time. A quick look in the rear view as I drove away and he was already gone.

#the ghosts of windy ridge #writeblr #nanowrimo #over the mountain

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blackypanther9 · 2 years

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Important

Hey guys... I will be gone for a bit longer than I and you hoped/expected. I don't know if I will be back before or in April sadly.

My Grandpa had a lung infection and some more and then his kidneys were working poorly. I mean what do you expect if you are bound on a bed, 24/7 the window open and you lay legit RIGHT NEXT TO IT with no space from it at all in a thin blanket and short nightgarments and a lot of pills to keep you silent for the whole day so no one has to take care of you ? What the heck did you expect ?

And of course Kursana, the caring home, waited until the VERY LAST SECOND. I will fucking burn them to the ground and laugh at their screams. I fucking swear.

He was brought to a hospital and it looked really bad...and to shorten it all...he passed away 3 hours and 40 minutes ago.

It is their fucking fault that he died ! Mom heard him breathe through his MOUTH ! Not his breath but it was like gurgling and he couldn't talk anymore. It has been 14 days since they were in Kursana in lockdown because of COVID again. They said he was good but they didn't hear his heavy, noisy breathing ? Yeah I don't think so. I am so fucking done with them. Sadly I wasn't allowed inside too, so I had to wait outside while Mom visited him.

We are all in a lot of grief and we will have a lot of shit and trouble to deal with and with that all said, I think you understand why I don't know when I will be back...

#Update #I am sorry

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new-to-this123 · 6 years

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Chip

IDK I feel like Monty would be a good big brother even though hes a hot head to everyone else. And I tried this journal form entry type thing. IDK I hope it's good.

monty big brotherX reader fluff

Word count: 1340

Warnings: domestic violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N, let's go we're Leaving...NOW!” Y/N older brother Montgomery yelled at her as he ran into her room, with his blue and white liberty high duffle bag in hand, a black eye and bloody nose. “OK let me get my bag.” she replied getting up off her bed, grabbing her liberty duffle bag.

Monty and her always had a duffle bag with some spare clothes made up all the time for when things got rough at home and they had to leave quick.

••••Journal Entry••••

April 6, 2018

Earlier today I was in my room listening to a very drunk dad, fight with Montgomery when I heard a loud thunk. One day I swear he's going to kill one of us with the way he throws us at the walls, or down the stairs, or hits us with whatever he has in hand. Whatever it was he did to Monty, it made a loud bang. He also yelled his usual ““I NEVER FUCKING WANTED LITTLE SHITS LIKE YOU TWO” I mean it's nothing new. Since mom died he keeps reminding us of how much he hates us, and never actually wanted us. It hurts to hear. It breaks me. Like how can a parent not want their kid. You created a life, and because your partner dies you suddenly don't want something that's half of you?! I guess I'm lucky I have Monty. He's such a good big brother. I mean he's not a nice person by any means, no not at all. Real asshole to everyone. Always getting into fights with everyone. Very hot headed. He's a real jerk to everyone but me. He's never laid a hand on me. And he'll Kill anyone who tries to put a hand on me. But can anyone really blame him?! Look what we both put up with! Then again, only Bryce and Scott really know what goes on at home. And I don't think Monty will ever forgive me for telling scott.

••••end journal entry••••

~~~~Flashback~~~~

Y/N was sitting in her living room, on her worn down couch, watching TV, wearing one of Monty's hoodies and a pair of shorts. She heard the back door rattle and sat up straight. Her very drunk dad stumbled in the house.

“Why the Fuck you here you little skank?” Y/N father slurred, walking towards her, holding a bottle of beer in hand.

“It's a school night, and I didn't want to be out.” Y/N replied fear rushing through her entire body.

“It's a school night. As if that's ever Fucking stopped you.” he said in a mocking tone, walking closer to her grabbing a hold of her hoodie. “this one of the many boys you've Fucked shirts you little whore?” Y/N dad asked pushing her to the ground as she was fighting to hold back tears, hearing her dad calling her all these names.

“it's Monty's” she whispered.

“where is that Fucker anyways?!” her father asked grabbing her off the ground with his free hand. “I.. I don't know, he's not home.” Y/N said with a shaky voice still fighting those tears. Her father put his beer bottle down on the table and pushed her up against the wall. He punched Y/N twice in stomach. Grabbed her head and slammed it Against the wall, letting go of her, causing her to see white spots as she fell to the ground.

With tears freely falling from her eyes, Y/N hurried to the front door but her dad grabbed her arm, and turned her towards him. He punched her right in the face as he screamed “get the Fuck outta here.” Y/N father opened the door and pushed her out the house.

Crying, sore,bruised,and bloody nose, Y/N grabbed her cell phone and tried calling Monty. Six times she called him and he never answered. She thought about who she Could call to come get her. Her brothers best friend, Scott Reed, came to mind. She dialed Scott's number nervously.

“hey Y/N what's up”

“C..c..could you, c..c..come pick me up please” Y/N through tears

“ya I'm on my way.”

When Scott picked her up he took her to his house where she explained her home life to him, while he cleaned her up.

~~~~ End Flashback~~~~

••••Journal Entry••••

April 9th, 2018

6:30 am

You know sometimes I envy Justin for staying with who ever will let him crash at their house. All weekend spent at the hobo hotel. I hate it here, it gets so cold at night. And who knows who may show up at night. I mean it's better than being at home with a very drunk angry dad, but still, like if I told Hannah or Jessica, Or Sherri about my home life maybe I could sleep in a warm bed every night like Justin. I suppose you take what you can get. It's not all that bad I guess. If I get really cold I tell Monty and he'll wrap himself up with me to keep me warm. Urg this is just early morning complaints. I should be happy I have a big brother who actually takes care of me, and puts some sort of shelter over our head. I guess I'm just tired and don't really wanna go to school.

••••End journal entry••••

“Come one chip where's that smile!!!” Monty Asked Y/N as he ruffled her hair when they got to school. “ I miss mom, and Even more when you call me chip,Mont.” Y/N replied thinking back to when Monty and her mother started calling her chip.

~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~

“mom mom I learnt a new word in school today!!” a little 9 year old Monty excitedly told his mom

“what word is that darling?”

“chipper” the child said with a smile on his face

“what does chipper mean?!” little 8 year old Y/N asked looking at her big brother

“it means happy, bubbly, cheerful… so... you. You're always chipper!! Don't you think so mom?!” Monty asked putting his arm around his little sisters shoulder.

“yes Montgomery, your sister is chipper.” “that's gonna be your new nickname!!” Monty exclaimed hugging Y/N tightly.

“chipper? You're gonna call me chipper?? That sounds weird!” Y/N said with a little disgust in her voice.

“well how about chip. You'll be my little chip!” Y/N mother told her hugging both her children tightly.

~~~~~~end flashback~~~~~~

••••Journal entry••••

April 9th 2018

12:00 pm

I hate school. I really do. It's a bunch of people pretending to be people they aren't. guess I've just been in a mood since Monty called me chip. I'm not sad, not mad, I'm just, I don't even know what I am. My mom's been dead for like 5 years now. I should be fine. But I just want to understand why she had to go have Monty and I, if dad didn't want kids. And if he didn't want kids, why did she have to go and die!!! Stupid cancer! Stupid doctors for not finding it sooner! I mean come on she was sick like a dog for like 3 months and no nothing is wrong, then all of a sudden she's terminally Ill with less than 2 weeks to live. She never did last two weeks… she died in the hospital bed with all of us by her side 5 days later. I was 11, Monty was 12. And that's when our world was flipped upside down. That's when dad started drinking, That's when everything that could go wrong, went wrong!!! I miss my mom. I want her back. Urg here comes Monty, he found me. So much for hiding!!!

•••• End journal entry••••

“CHIIIP!!! I found you. Why are you..” Monty stopped talking when he saw that Y/N was crying. He sat next to his sister wrapped his big, muscly arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I'll get us out of here. I promise. No one's ever gonna hurt you. Ever. I love you so much Y/N. So much.” Monty squeezed his arms a little tighter. In that moment Y/N felt so safe. Like nothing bad could happen to her.

#monty de la cruz imagine #monty de la cruz #montgomery de la cruz #scott reed #justin foley #zach dempsey #marcus cole #bryce walker #alex standall #tyler down

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dfroza · 3 years

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A resurrection of life

is seen of a 12-year-old girl in Today’s reading of the Scriptures in the New Testament book of Mark that includes this line:

“Little girl, wake up from the sleep of death.”

[Mark 5]

They arrived at the other side of the lake, at the region of the Gerasenes. As Jesus stepped ashore, a demon-possessed madman came out of the graveyard and confronted him. The man had been living there among the tombs, and no one was able to restrain him, not even with chains. For every time they attempted to chain his hands and feet with shackles, he would snap the chains and break the shackles in pieces. He was so strong that no one had the power to subdue him. Day and night he could be found lurking in the cemetery or in the vicinity, shrieking and cutting himself with stones!

When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran to him and threw himself down before him, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Leave me alone, Jesus, Son of the Most High God! Swear in God’s name that you won’t torture me!” (For Jesus had already said to him, “Come out of that man, you demon spirit!”)

Jesus said to him, “What is your name?”

“Mob,” he answered. “They call me Mob because there are thousands of us in his body!” He begged Jesus repeatedly not to expel them out of the region.

Nearby there was a large herd of pigs feeding on the hillside. The demons begged him, “Send us into the pigs. Let us enter them!”

So Jesus gave them permission, and the demon horde immediately came out of the man and went into the pigs! This caused the herd to rush madly down the steep slope and fall into the lake, drowning about two thousand pigs!Depending on weight, the cost of two thousand live pigs today could be as much as $250,000. The economic cost to the community over the loss of this herd was significant.

At this, the herdsmen ran to the nearby villages, telling everyone along the way what had happened, and the people came out to see for themselves. When they found Jesus, they saw the demonized man sitting there, properly clothed and in his right mind. Seeing what had happened to the man possessed by many demons, the people became afraid. Those who had witnessed this miracle reported the news to the people and included what had happened to the pigs. Then they asked Jesus to leave their region.

And as Jesus began to get into the boat to depart, the man who had been set free from demons asked him, “Could I go with you?” Jesus answered, “No,” but said to him, “Go back to your home and to your family and tell them what the Lord has done for you. Tell them how he had mercy on you.”

So the man left and went into the region of Jordan and parts of Syria to tell everyone he met about what Jesus had done for him, and all the people marveled!

After Jesus returned from across the lake, a huge crowd of people quickly gathered around him on the shoreline. Just then, a man saw that it was Jesus, so he pushed through the crowd and threw himself down at his feet. His name was Jairus, a Jewish official who was in charge of the synagogue. He pleaded with Jesus, saying over and over, “Please come with me! My little daughter is at the point of death, and she’s only twelve years old! Come and lay your hands on her and heal her and she will live!”

Immediately Jesus went with him, and the huge crowd followed, pressing in on him from all sides.

Now, in the crowd that day was a woman who had suffered horribly from continual bleeding for twelve years. She had endured a great deal under the care of various doctors, yet in spite of spending all she had on their treatments, she was getting worse instead of better. When she heard about Jesus’ healing power, she pushed through the crowd and came up from behind him and touched his prayer shawl. For she kept saying to herself, “If I could touch even his clothes, I know I will be healed.” As soon as her hand touched him, her bleeding immediately stopped! She knew it, for she could feel her body instantly being healed of her disease!

Jesus knew at once that someone had touched him, for he felt the power that always surged around him had passed through him for someone to be healed. He turned and spoke to the crowd, saying, “Who touched my clothes?”

His disciples answered, “What do you mean, who touched you? Look at this huge crowd—they’re all pressing up against you.” But Jesus’ eyes swept across the crowd, looking for the one who had touched him for healing.

When the woman who experienced this miracle realized what had happened to her, she came before him, trembling with fear, and threw herself down at his feet, saying, “I was the one who touched you.” And she told him her story of what had just happened.

Then Jesus said to her, “Daughter, because you dared to believe, your faith has healed you. Go with peace in your heart, and be free from your suffering!”

And before he had finished speaking, people arrived from Jairus’ house and pushed through the crowd to give Jairus the news: “There’s no need to trouble the master any longer—your daughter has died.” But Jesus refused to listen to what they were told and said to the Jewish official, “Don’t yield to fear. All you need to do is to keep on believing.” So they left for his home, but Jesus didn’t allow anyone to go with them except Peter and the two brothers, Jacob and John.

When they arrived at the home of the synagogue ruler, they encountered a noisy uproar among the people, for they were all weeping and wailing. Upon entering the home, Jesus said to them, “Why all this grief and weeping? Don’t you know the girl is not dead but merely asleep?” Then everyone began to ridicule and make fun of him. But he threw them all outside.

Then he took the child’s father and mother and his three disciples and went into the room where the girl was lying. He tenderly clasped the child’s hand in his and said to her in Aramaic, “Talitha koum,” which means, “Little girl, wake up from the sleep of death.” Instantly the twelve-year-old girl sat up, stood to her feet, and started walking around the room! Everyone was overcome with astonishment in seeing this miracle! Jesus had them bring her something to eat. And he cautioned them repeatedly that they were to tell no one about what had happened.

The Book of Mark, Chapter 5 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 7th chapter of the book of Esther that documents judgment against Haman’s evil plan towards Mordecai and the Jews:

King Ahasuerus and Haman came to dine with Queen Esther; and while they were drinking wine, the king posed his question once again.

King Ahasuerus: What is your request, Queen Esther? I’m willing to give you anything you want. Just make your request. Even if it’s half the kingdom you desire, I will make it happen!

Queen Esther: If you favor me, my king, and if it pleases you, spare my life. That’s all I’m asking for—that my people and I be spared. That is my wish. There are some, my king, who wish to rid your kingdom of us. For my people and I have been sold, marked for destruction and massacre. Now if the plan were simply to sell our men and women into slavery, I would have kept my mouth closed because that would not have been important enough to disturb you, my king.

King Ahasuerus: Who has targeted your people? Where is this man who dares to do this?

Queen Esther (pointing to Haman): The man responsible for these actions is wicked Haman. He is vile, and an enemy to my people.

In that moment, Haman’s joy turned to terror before the king and queen. Angered, the king shoved away from the table, left his wine, and walked into the palace garden. But Haman, aware that King Ahasuerus had already sealed his fate, didn’t follow behind. Instead, he pleaded with Queen Esther to spare his life. In desperation, he threw himself onto the couch where Queen Esther was sitting, just as King Ahasuerus walked back from the garden to the place where the wine and the banquet had been set.

King Ahasuerus: Haman, will you even violate my queen right here in the palace, where I can see you?

As soon as the king gave the order, the royal eunuchs covered Haman’s face. His fate had been sealed. One of those eunuchs was Harbonah.

Harbonah: Look! Haman has prepared a 75-foot pole for execution in his own courtyard. He was hoping to use it to hang Mordecai, the man who spoke up and saved the king.

King Ahasuerus: Well, hang him on it!

So they took Haman and killed him and displayed him on the pole he had made ready for Mordecai. And King Ahasuerus’ anger subsided.

The Book of Esther, Chapter 7 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, April 4 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A post by John Parsons about connection:

We all have a great need to be seen, heard, and understood, and therefore one of the greatest gifts we can give to another person is simply to take the time to listen to them. The great commandment is Shema (שׁמע) - to listen - but this implies that we make "space" within ourselves for the voice of others, thereby helping them bear their burdens (Gal. 6:2). And just as God listens to our heart cries and knows where we hurt, so we can offer our empathy so that others will not feel alone in this dark world. Words are meant to be shared in communion, but if we don't make the effort to listen to others, in the end we will only be prattling to ourselves, alone and devoid of real connection... It is important to remember that we need one another to help fight against the darkness. [Hebrew for Christians]

4.3.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

April 4, 2021

Risen with Christ

“If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God.” (Colossians 3:1)

The wise believer revels in the fact of Christ’s resurrection. Some things in Scripture may be easier to identify with and apply, including Christ’s substitutionary death, but it is the resurrection that gives us power to live victoriously. “Like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:4).

We have been “crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed” (Romans 6:6). Nevertheless, we are risen with Him, as our text and elsewhere clearly teaches (Romans 6; Ephesians 2:1-10; etc.). This resurrection is an inward one, of course, but our bodily resurrection is also guaranteed by Christ’s bodily resurrection, should we physically die. “Knowing that he which raised up the Lord Jesus shall raise up us also by Jesus” (2 Corinthians 4:14).

Power to serve Him effectively comes through His resurrection, for we have access to the “exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe, according to the working of his mighty power, Which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead” (Ephesians 1:19-20). We have authority over all human and demonic institutions through Him who even now operates as head of the living church of His followers.

Perhaps the most precious of all benefits of the resurrection is that “we have a great high priest, that is passed into the heavens” who is sympathetic to “the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:14-16). JDM

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