An angel and a prince of the darkness fall in love…

Once upon a time a homeless little lost angel was found scrounging for a living in the bowels of the worst parts of earth, a small city in the northeast of America. A prince from another country that was connected to some of the most powerful people walked into her work place one day and fell in love with her. He plied her with attention, gifts, and displays of power. The angel adored him and his goals as they talked for hours. He wanted to help humans become better, healthier, and happier. However, the means he and his cohorts chose was very against the angels beliefs. She knew man had free will for a reason.

She tried to believe that a man with such good goals, such gentle manners, such a kind heart, could not be involved in something so sinister as to take people’s free will. He said he would educate them. That sounded very kind. He said he would provide them healthcare once they saw the light. He said his mission was to enlighten mankind. All of this sounded so very good to the angel. The prince was elevated in her heart next to that of God. The prince asked her to marry him. She wanted very much to call herself his wife.

All was not well though, as time went on she saw parts of the prince she didn’t want to see. She saw how he chose people for what purpose and how he knew how it would end up for them. The angel began to doubt his intentions both towards humanity and towards herself. He became cold and distant. She wondered why? Had she done something wrong. He told the angel she was "difficult" and "had no introspection." She took these words seriously. She tried to be kind and obedient, but the only response she recieved was to see the prince with another woman.

The angel took some time to think things over. At that moment in time, she was told she would die shortly without expensive medicine. Medicine she would never be able to afford without the prince’s help. However, it was clear this prince was not the prince she thought he was after all. This man of light was surrounded by darkness and was being consumed by it. She had spent her life in the darkness serving the light, but now he wanted to put her in the light and yet serve the darkness which appeared to him as light. She spent most of this time believing he truly had the best intentions for everyone and still does to this day, just that he is unaware of the repercussions.

It was with a broken heart she had to refuse to marry him both because she saw him as ungodly which would cause her children to be for sure and because she felt he didn’t love her as much as she adored him. She felt a lifetime of pain missing him would be better than a lifetime of pain watching him be with everyone else but her and destroying himself. And so it went for decades…

The prince quickly moved on to another equally beautiful woman that was more obedient and apparently had no qualms with his habits or beliefs. They married and had many beautiful children. They currently live the fairy tale life for all that see from the outside.

The angel found love with a peasant farmer’s son. She found he adored her more than she could ever imagine loving someone. He loved her intensely, gently, kindly, and humbly. He loved her in ways she didn’t know existed. He sacrificed his time, energy, and his very body for her sake without much complaint. Though penniless, uneducated, and smaller in stature than most men, he had a heart of pure gold. While an ungodly man, unchurched more correctly, he didn’t scoff at her beliefs and even humored her with church attendance after swearing he never would. In time, when God willed it, she knew he would accept the Lord. They had many beautiful children. And so it went for decades…

Then one day the angel, living in her tiny hamlet, read about some of the things going on in the world. Suddenly those years with her prince came back. Memories of things said and plans laid. She thought he would never go through with his and his friends’ plans "for real". She never knew enough to put it all together 100%, but she assumed it wouldn’t happen. As she watches in horror as this network pushes their plans, she sits back and prays silently for the Lord to intervene. She knows though, it is her and her kind that must respond as the hands and feet of His people.

The angel found herself forced into opposition with the prince she never stopped loving. It tears her apart inside. She hesitates to do anything. She had always hoped that things would remain peaceful and that they could meet in another life so to speak. She wonders if this is how God felt about Lucifer. That God loved him so much and would for eternity, but just couldn’t watch him do it all wrong whilst hurting himself and everyone else around him. Being just one, would she be strong enough to take on an entire network of darkness which encompassed the man she loved more than any other ever? Could she actually do that? Would it destroy her? Would she live but not want to live?

The angels cries…silently. Her heart beats hard and she stays up late drinking tea and praying silently for wisdom and clarification.

Are you ever too exhausted to care?

I’m sitting in my cluttered office, filled with papers, books, coffee cups, and pens of all sorts. My printer is half buried by paperwork I’m certain is way overdue. I look around at my house and think…I need a week or two of uninterrupted time just to clean this. Of course, I never have that time. When I do have time it’s in the middle of the night as I go over the bills hoping that my husband’s quickly dwindling paycheck and my meager earnings will at least cover the main things. I’ll sit looking at this wasteland of paper strewn about, blocks my son brought in to play with while I worked this afternoon, the desk fan that rattles to my right and the various bric a brac that no one needs but for some reason we feel compelled to keep because the person that gave it to us is gone and think, "my God, I need to clean this all up." "I need to get rid of this junk." "I need to get away from this junk."

It literally feels like I’m drowning. I can walk about my house and things, but there’s always a laundry basket, a child’s toy, a dog, some piece of paper, or even a pop bottle my kids tossed on the floor in the way, in every single room. My house held 12 people at one time and it wasn’t this crowded, cluttered, and impossible to navigate. I clean…oh do I clean. I throw things away, sort for donation, sell, and put up all sorts of things. It doesn’t matter. I have several factors working against me.

First, everytime I throw something away my children take it out of the bin. When I want things cleaned by them though, they will throw everything away without looking, including bank cards, photos, etc. Then they will gleefully exclaim, "well you said you wanted it clean." I can not stress how angry this makes me and how much it has cost me over the years as they literally tossed real silver flatware away before I even knew it and the trash truck hauled it off. Also, I will literally spend all day sorting things, tossing things, placing donations in boxes to be sent out in the morning by myself, and by the next morning everything I tossed is out of the trash and all the piles are in one big pile again. The ONLY things that are put away are the ones I put away that night. There are three other humans here and they do not give a fig what I want done in MY home.

Second, my daughter buys me new things pretty much every few months. I love the gifts. I really do. Most are very useful, but sometimes I don’t know what to do with them.

Third, my youngest child wants to save everything….every tiny piece of tin foil he folded, every wire, every string…I am constantly throwing away his "art". He’s 12 by the way.

I am ready to walk away and say, "You want to live in shit, by all means, I’m gone."

I have no support. My husband SAYS he supports me, but his support extends to yelling at the kids to clean once or twice in a day…THAT’S IT. I’m crying right now because he won’t lift a finger to do any work other than "mow the yard" which he can’t even do because of "the heat". I’m tired of asking my family to help so they can have a nicer life. I am making plans to leave if things don’t change. I don’t even care where I go…I could be homeless and be happier.

I need to vent again

My mother was not a motherly mother…well in the sense that she abdicated her responsibilities frequently. She was very narcissistic. I remember her being angry because I fell down and skinned my knee and bled all over my new tights. She literally yelled at me for bleeding because my knee was skinned and complained bitterly that she would never be able to get the stain out. Oh and how the people in the store would frown upon her for being a terrible mother with a dirty and bloodied child. I was five years old and had just survived leukemia a year prior. I was being trafficked every weekend by my agent that my mother procured for me. I was bleeding and crying in the entryway of the store trying to figure out how I could still please this woman. Never once did I think, perhaps this woman is crazy. I trusted her assessment that I was the problem. Eventually someone came out from the store to give me a lolly and tell my mom the child isn’t a public nuisance. Mom still blamed me and said all my crying caused her to be embarrassed. She said, "You got what you wanted." She accused me of wanting attention or pity and that I purposefully cried to make her look bad. To be fair I didn’t know pity from this woman, so crying would have been useless for that. As far as attention, the only attention I wanted was from my mother and not the kind where she is screaming at me.

Read that paragraph again. I just survived cancer and my mother was pimping me out. To her mind the blood on my knee would make her a bad mom to everyone else. She literally had no moral compass. She didn’t care about me in the slightest. When I was going through leukemia and they thought I was going to die, she refused to "waste her gas" to see me before I was expected to pass. The nurse from the pediatric ward that typically cared for me took her own money and travelled just as far to read stories to me and give me perhaps my last tuck in and kiss on the forehead goodnight. Her name was Wendy. When I was released from the hospital after surviving leukemia, my mom threw a hard baby doll directly at me in front of the nurse. Because of this, I was not allowed to be released to my mother’s custody. My grandmother had to come for me. My grandmother was actually my adoptive grandma (I did not know that then) and was a decent and loving human being whom I credit with teaching me something about being a human.

All of this before the end of Kindergarten.

Of course there’s more, there’s always more. The fact that she abandoned me after my bone marrow transplant because my medicine to keep me alive (prednisone) was too expensive and the state medicaid program wouldn’t pay for it. Back then they didn’t know that with a bone marrow transplant, you didn’t have to take steroids for life. So for many years I took it. It was often the biggest problem for my mother. I think it cost $12 a month or something, but to her that was a fortune. Never mind the fact that every weekend, her selling me brought in at least $50. I more than paid for my own medicine, but she always used it as an excuse to say I should just die already. She used it as an excuse to abandon me.

Meanwhile, she also received SSI for me. Back then the government would pay $425 a month so you could stay home and care for your disabled and or dying child. So she framed me as a poor unfortunate soul to the government and then turned around and sold my body (the very thing that is so fragile) for money too. I was very ill. Oftentimes this leads to people that would buy me turning me down. I personally didn’t want to be there or sold. I was grateful when they chose some other girl. I know that sounds horrid, but when your choices are forced prostitution at five years old or your mother yelling at you for two hours because you didn’t get a john…the yelling was better. I did not want to upset my mother, but I hated doing "that" even more.

By six almost no one wanted me anymore. I wasn’t cute or innocent enough because I was looking "rough" according to one man. The yelling got more extreme and violence started. My mother started to throw things at me if I came back with my agent without money. My agent…she was a weird lady. For some reason she saw herself as some sort of heroine. She was helping destitute children get the things they need. She knew I was very ill, survived cancer, and needed meds. For a while, she thought this was a way to keep me alive until she saw that mother never bought my meds or things I needed even though I was "working" for them. She started to pressure me about my family. Once she realized my mother used all of the money for cigarettes and drinking, she was disgusted that she would send out her very ill daughter for money to "play" with and drink on. I remember her saying, "I mean it’s one thing if you are going to go out and do this work yourself for these things, but your child?" After that she said she would not be representing me as I was not pulling enough clients in due to my poor shape and that if my mother wanted to continue pushing me in this line of work then my mother needs to invest in me.

My mother didn’t understand. She argued she bought cute clothing, had my hair done perfectly, etc. My agent actually had to explain to her that the customers told her I looked "sick." That I was too thin. That I looked malnourished. I was living on a diet of potatoes, onions, and water. I didn’t have my medicine. Yet, I had a new dress to look cute once a month and my hair was cut every six months to fit the season’s style. I never saw that woman again. Mom was so angry she threw a crystal ashtray at my head and nearly hit it. Then she sent me to bed after a bath and no dinner.

The next day she dressed me and loaded me up into her little car and drove out to the outskirts of our city. She dropped me off with the promise that she would buy me presents for Christmas. I knew Christmas was a little way off, but I believed her. She drove off. She drove around two more times and then as the sun set she left and didn’t come back. I fell asleep on the sidewalk as the temperatures dropped. That is when God sent his angels to care for me for the first time.

What a wicked sense of humor the Lord has…

It is said that God has a wicked sense of humor. That when you are angry and "hot" he will send a rain down upon you to cool your temper. (Which typically causes more obscenities, but it is amusing nonetheless) This is the type of wicked sense of humor I expect from my Lord as I have seen it and experienced it first hand multiple times. I know, I know…how can it possibly be from God? How could I know? Well, when you have enough "impossible" things happen right in a row for decades….you know. What are the chances of all this happening in just this way hundreds of times over…and when you see the chances are so low it’s laughable…you know. God talks in mathematics, statistics, and probability. That’s why I believe mathematics is a divine gift from God to help us find him. Enough about that though…today I found another instance of the Lord’s wicked sense of humor. (You can skip it if you don’t like religion…I won’t be offended.)

I know, I rarely talk about my beliefs. I am like the LAST person that should claim being Christian (which means to be Christlike in the English language if you look at the root words). I am so NOT what you would consider a typical Christian. I do not go to church regularly. I barely remember the basic tenets. I think I know my ten commandments…but I still believe. I can see the miracles happening in everyday life and most people go about their lives oblivious to it. So I know God exists and that he is involved in our lives and that the Big guy has a wicked sense of humor. Picture a perpetual 15 year old boy…yeah that kind of humor, sometimes, only a bit more innocent.

Anyway this verse pops up in my life, "A poor and a wise child is better than an old and foolish king, who knows not how to receive admonition any more (Proverbs 4:13)." I was just whining a week ago about missing someone that would be very kingly nowadays whom I had met as a very poor child. I also, later that night, in my heart of hearts, felt that perhaps I was less favored than such a person due to my obvious lack of equal provision…i.e. being poor. I mean, I know prosperity gospel is bunk, but you have to wonder sometimes right? I am but a mere human that wrestles against flesh and blood…and apparently self doubt and low self confidence. So when I questioned it…I put it away from my mind and went on with my life. I didn’t expect anything to come up from it. It’s not like I study the Bible daily or even weekly. I was literally only Googling the word wise to look up sayings to throw in an online forum. There it was…BAM! It’s like, "Hey kiddo…what have I told you?" This verse is so perfect that I almost want to stitch it and frame it and put it on my wall for my own amusement for years to come.

Money can buy you a lot in life, but it can not buy you a sense of humor or humility. I need to remember that!

Have you ever had this issue?

I’m going to be intentionally vague, but someone who reads this post contacted someone that knows me personally. It was a bit of a surprise to be honest. I thought it was perhaps someone just a little too enthusiastic about my writing. (A girl can dream right?)

Now I have had plenty of inboxes to my email from various folks that are related to my writing. Some seem pretty scammy. Others are surprisingly legit, but I never really respond to requests to be interviewed or have my work reviewed. I find they are either not something I feel like exposing myself to, they are not something that is in line with my personal philosophy of life, or I just haven’t got the time. I could make time for the right outlets of course, but no it wasn’t that at all.

No, this contact came out of the blue and it wasn’t directly to me in my email, which is the typical way folks reach out. I thought it rather odd to be honest. I get a message from someone that knows me asking about some things. They ask do you have a blog? Do you write about your family and friends? Do you have any idea who this person is? Do you know what they are talking about…you know the general run down. Now it wasn’t too concerning to me because unbeknownst to the one reaching out, the person that was contacted didn’t know them. Also, they weren’t nearly as close to me as the person reaching out assumed. I mean my blog wasn’t even known about or discussed.

So there’s that.

However, it’s clear that the one that reached out was trying to contact me…albeit in a very weird and indirect way. The thing is, it wasn’t this gushing, oh my goodness do you know this lovely author…it was to complain. I mean really…to complain? Then I found the same person had contacted others in my wider circle. Look, if you have something to say…my email is here and so is my contact form. Leave other folks out of this issue that you have with my blog, whatever it may be. Some folks are just beyond odd. If you don’t like my blog, don’t read it. It’s not for you anyway…it’s for me.

I can’t keep it in

Sometimes as I dream, I float back to a scene from so many years ago. You are there and so it seems a pair we would be. I know this is not so, for twenty years, living a life I never dreamt of, but missing your presence in my life. That said, you chose Mary because she was easier to deal with…nothing worth having is easy or didn’t anyone ever tell you that?

As my life comes to a close, the final chapters are yet to be written, but the story is going into a familiar path which eventually leads to the end, I think of you frequently. I wonder if you do too? I never stopped loving you, I just found a way to live without you and to love others in some capacity. It has been hard. I feel it was fate how things turned out and I don’t regret my answers or behaviours. I do regret never knowing you again though. Unfortunately, we grew apart and life took us in vastly different directions.

I had so much love to give. I had so many dreams to live. That is all gone now as I watch my body wither and slowly die. I remember wondering when we could just get to the part where we woke up next to each other everyday again. That never happened. I dreamed of what our children would look like. I slept with a smile on my face for years, certain we would eventually have a happy home together. Unfortunately, it was all just a pleasant dream meant to calm a broken hearted little girl. I mentally dreamed of what I would make you for lunch and going out to tea with your mother. Again, it never happened. So many dreams tossed aside….because I loved you and not what you could give me. Because I loved the idea of being your Mrs. and didn’t see that you didn’t have quite the same dreams. When that reality beat me up side the head like a two by four suddenly, I spiraled into a deep suicidal depression.

I learned to live half alive and broken hearted. However, you gave me something that can never be taken. I was valuable, if only for a minute or two, to someone. Thank you. I never had that before and it gave me the strength to carry on when we left each other.

I did eventually find someone to settle down with me that had roughly the same goals even if we didn’t agree on almost anything else. We agreed to be there for each other and to keep it to just we two. I know more people make a stronger band, but a smaller lot makes a stronger bond. I felt he was a decent friend, that looked highly upon me, generously, even when I didn’t deserve his praise. I could see through any designs he tried to make on me. I knew how to make him happy. I never knew how to make you happy, even though I tried. I could easily deflect any issues or solve the few he had. He knew how to make me feel strong when I was weak. You only saw me as strong and any weakness wasn’t tolerated in your presence. Even the weakness of believing in the fairytale of an all powerful heavenly father was scorned. That at least, my dear friend, one should be allowed to believe. I still feel like I am not allowed to be weak, even though I have support in my failings now more than even my blood kin afforded to me as a child.

So why am I rambling on…I guess just to let you know I never stopped loving you. I am happy you seem to have found happiness and peace. I too found some measure of happiness and peace. Now hopefully all these nightmares will leave me in peace. I dream of people attacking your abode and you and your family are trapped. I can’t do anything except watch in horror. Then, I feel this incredible loss when chaos reigns. You are gone it seems forever at that point in my dream. Every night almost, the same dream. Maybe it’s not that you are gone, but that I am going and I had unsaid things that needed said before going so I can be at peace. So here is my unsaid things.

All that I loved

…I loved alone. When I read these words of Edgar Allen Poe at age 14, I felt some deep intrinsic connection. It’s as if through these black and white marks off a page printed decades after his death, Poe spoke to me through the centuries. His pain and passion and how it differed from his peers, the not belonging to this world or any other. The being not of this world and yet not of any other, it coiled into my soul, settled down, and made itself home with that one sentence like a cat finding it’s favorite spot in the sun to nap. I carried that poem in my heart as a way to feel not as alone. Poe was like me…different. He didn’t belong…too. It comforted me in some odd and strange way. Perhaps we odd balls only came along every few decades, I often thought to myself.

I never understood why Poe felt he was different than his peers, or how he felt he drew from an uncommon spring. For me, my life experiences were enough to prove I was different. I was trafficked at a very young age by my mother and then abandoned multiple times after I could no longer bring in money through those means. During those abandonments, I met amazing people that lived amazing lives. Saints, if you will. I also sometimes met nature head on and had to contend with that all before the tender age of nine. I will never understand how I did not die in all of this except that there must be a God. So you see, these uncommon events in childhood shaped my view that there must be a God.

When you grow up in such a peculiar way, you never fully understand your peers. You never understand why they are so happy, so sure, so positive life will be a certain way. Once you are betrayed by the one person in the world that is supposed to love you and care for you in such a serious way, you never fully trust anyone again. When you have been used up like a toy and sent home like nothing traumatic just happened to you and then told by the one who created you that you must do it again every weekend at five years old…you never really trust people. When the one that created you drops you off on the side of a farm road in the middle of winter without so much as a coat while you were sleeping, the idea that everything can be okay, never again enters your head. You live in a perpetual knowledge that everything can change in one second literally.

At 14 I knew I was different. People told me I was different. They called me "morbid", "depressing", "stupid," "cocky", etc… I mean there was a litany of things I was called. The one that they called me most was "arrogant" or "sure of myself". I didn’t understand why. Then, I did as I grew older, but at 14, all I knew was that my life was WAY different than there’s and that is why we didn’t see things the same. I was arrogant, because I knew I could survive without any of them…teachers, society, the world. Why? Because I already had just seven years prior. Being dropped off in the middle of nowhere without food, shelter, or anything in the middle of winter and surviving does a hell of a lot for your confidence in your ability to live in spite of it all. You might not WANT to live, but you will live. Then a long time later, I learned a phrase…"Ours is to endure…" That helped me through the hellish childhood that most people would have perished over.

So throughout my childhood and teen years, I didn’t really cling to people long. Most people do, I noticed. Even adult women will hang onto an abuser long after they know they should leave and that this isn’t what love is about at all. They have different reasons for that I suppose. I didn’t. I actively pushed anyone away that I thought didn’t care about me. I didn’t want to get attached to anyone if they didn’t love me. Why? Because I loved my mom with all my heart and she fucking used it to abuse me and ripped my heart to shreds with what was left of my love. Yeah, by 14 I was that jaded. So Poe was a life saver more than once, as tears streamed down my eyes and I read the poem ALONE over and over. I felt it so deeply within my soul I would go to sleep at night and dream I had met him. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be too impressed with me, but it didn’t matter. It got me through a really rough time.

Then life moved on and I left my past in the past. I got married twice, had children, and for all outward appearances was happy. I was happy I suppose. I missed people I pushed away, I still woke up in night sweats from nightmares related to some of the abuse I endured, but besides that I was happy. That lasted for about a decade and a half. Then what made me happy, the children, started to leave. The little people that I spent every moment pouring every ounce of myself into started to grow. They got friends. They went out. Eventually they started moving out. I have one child left that is an actual child at home. They know nothing of the hell I endured before they came to be…and if they do know, it’s vague. I wanted them to have a happy, normal, sane, loved childhood. I accomplished that. However, because I did they are all happily flitting off, certain that the future is brighter, the world is safe, and everything will be alright just like my peers did and I never understood why. I gave them what I could only dream of and they don’t even know.

Now my days are empty and all I have are the memories of my children and the memories of my childhood. The sadness and happiness are in equal measure. The loneliness however, is ever present and pressing deeply against my heart. I always had someone to plant with, cook with, talk with, spend my day with and now that most are gone…I don’t I know that’s very selfish of me. I know it’s also childish to expect them to be there at this time when they are growing and exploring the world. I do still miss them though. No one can replace a daughter or son that takes the time to spend their day with you.

Now everything I love, I do love alone…again. I have come full circle. Too bad it started so sad and looks like it will end so sad too.

Have you ever watched a slow motion train wreck?

Some days I wake up and get onto my schedule attacking it with vigor and some days I find it difficult to get started. I stumble bleary-eyed in my office and suck down coffee like it is my life blood. My fingers are swollen and painful. My eyesight is barely able to make out bleary objects. Not everyday is a picnic for sure. However, after that first hour of slow clumsy movement through my morning, I get around to the day’s work. I wasn’t always this persistent or methodical, so I can’t claim higher ground on what I am about to relate. I didn’t ever have all my shit together in my 20’s for sure.

I say this by way of saying I am not blaming the person I am about to vent about for their obvious lack of shit together. I have a 25 year old daughter that is estranged from me. I had her as a child. I just turned 16 when I gave birth. I raised her myself without help from my parents. I did marry her father briefly. We actually lived together for less than 5 years, but remained married for just under 8. I saw no hurry to actually divorce when he had someone else and I had someone else, until that is, he started having children with other people and those women started carrying his last name.

Her father and I were also estranged after the 5 year mark, living about 1000 miles from one another. I left. I decided the best way to start over was somewhere far away. Her father had substance abuse issues that he was working on, and I had previous substance abuse issues that I was trying to keep in check. It is harder than hell to stay sober when taking care of someone that is constantly on something especially when you used to partake of what they were on. I was only 21 and taking care of three children and an alcoholic/drug addict husband. Few people would blame me for my choice to leave and get as far away as I could.

Fast forward a decade and change, and I have a 16 year old child (My eldest) that does blame me for leaving her father. Children rarely understand the entire story so it didn’t bother me. I did try to explain. I did have her visit her father with me present to make sure he was sober around them. Unfortunately, he still drank and used pot so we had to leave early. This made her incensed and for the next two years she hated me. I was more than happy to be hated for leaving when my ex showed he was still battling his demons.

My daughter moved out at 18 and for all purposes has not looked back according to her. (I’ll explain that later) In many ways, this is a relief. She was an emotional train wreck when she left. I imagine there was something I could have done to be a better parent, but for the life of me I can’t think of what it was that would have changed her course. Her siblings were all thankful she left and for about a week after she left we had peace for the first time in years. She was the kind of child that would scream just for attention, refuse to bathe, act like she was poor and destroy brand new items just to claim poverty, and fight with her siblings. I mean even at 18 she did these things. Everyone just heaved a collective sigh of relief when she left and wished her the best to be honest. My house has been more peaceful ever since even with the horror stories I am about to relate.

After she left my other children, all 5, started telling me awful things their sister did. How she sexually assaulted two of them. How she caused various scars. It was so bad I had to call the police to sort it out. After the police investigated, they found her to be a danger to her siblings and put a restraining order against any minor under our roof. They did not however drag her into court and prosecute, which pissed me off. I believe it was because the children did not tell me immediately after it happened. The children told me their sister threatened to kill them if they told. I believe them.

I have done everything I can to try and help my children heal. I have tried counseling. Most want nothing to do with it. I have tried just listening. My children that are adults, still keep in touch with the eldest, even after everything she did. I asked my 21 year old daughter (her younger sister) why and she said, "To make sure she never comes back." Even now, literally 8 years after her older sister left, my 21 year old is afraid she will come back. So she friended her on facebook and stalks her to make sure never ever comes back "to hurt us".

That breaks my heart. It breaks my heart because I was the one that was supposed to protect them and I had no idea most of this was happening. I knew they fought. All siblings fight. I stood between her and the small children often. Jealous outrage occurred when I gave the littlest more attention because they were younger and needed it. All children get jealous of their younger siblings. No, it wasn’t until she was nearly 15 that I figured out this child might not be right. I inquired about getting her an evaluation, but no one would accept her. I have no idea why. I have spent many a night crying into my pillow, sobbing actually, because I failed to get her help or at least out of my house. Again though, I didn’t know about the abuse or the scars. I didn’t know she was doing these things and it kills me. How could I though if no one would tell me what was happening?

So for now, I focus on the kids that are in my life and are receptive to help. That is all I can do. My 21 year old took an entire year of therapy to help her deal with the emotions. She is the most stable because of that. I am trying to get my 17 year old into therapy, but she is refusing to even finish school. My 15 and 11 year olds claim they were not affected by her since they were 7 and 3 when she left. They are also the only males, which could play a big part in why they were not affected as much.

My 21 year old keeps talking to me about her elder sister that abused her. I don’t just mean, "Mom she did this," or "Mom, I have nightmares." I mean, "Mom look she changed her name again." Then out comes the smart phone with an updated photo of who can only be my eldest daughter and someone else’s name. "Why does she do that mom?" I have no idea kiddo. Recently, she turned on her smartphone scrolling furiously. "I gotta show you what she said," she explained. I imagined all manner of horrific things. Then my daughter reads out what the post had written, "Like my new do. My mom would call me a dyke for it." My 21 year old looked at me and said, "you would never do that."

I casually glance at the post, and notice short hair standing straight up and dyed blue on my eldest daughter’s head. I smile remembering my own blue hair the year before I got pregnant with her. Then I notice the nose ring and think, "Hmmm that’s new." I see the name above her is male and it says her pronouns are he/him. I cock an eyebrow. I sigh. I haven’t spoken an unkind word to this child in this context ever. I have tried to at least mend the relationship (to the extent you can with someone like that) but that went nowhere very fast. It’s ironic too since I had to end my "wayward ways" with my girlfriend so that my ex-husband wouldn’t get custody of her way back when she was a preschooler. I literally gave up my happiness for this child time and time again, year after year, by choosing a male partner when I had a perfectly wonderful female one ready and willing to be in my life. It was both a lie and a slap in my face and she knew it. My 21 year old daughter did too, especially since her own girlfriend was sitting in the back seat at the time.

"Can you believe it mom?" My daughter brought me back to the present. I couldn’t. She claims she wants nothing to do with us. She claims we were so horrible to her. She claims to have moved on and to hate us. Yet, almost every post was about how horrible I was or her step father or her brothers whom she barely knows. I am not going to say I have moved one, because once a child leaves, even a horrible rotten no good spoiled child leaves, you do miss them. If for nothing else their presence. That first week after she left, the quiet was unnerving in my home. I had nothing but screaming and fighting almost every day for the last two years she lived here. The quiet made me feel on edge like it would all be shattered at a moment’s notice and suddenly my peace would be gone.

I didn’t know how to answer my 21 year old. How do you answer that? Why would her sister say such things she knew were untrue? Why does she even breathe of my existence if she’s moved on?

I’m going to give you my theory. Take it or leave it, I’m not an expert, but I think she is either a Sociopath or a Psychopath. I have spent literally years analyzing every minute I spent with her trying to understand her. I see that her life is chaos. Her father was a diagnosed sociopath. She has a lot of the traits that one would expect in a sociopath or psychopath. She is certainly old enough that it’s not growing pains. At 25 years of age one can be pretty concreted into thinking patterns. She runs from one home to another, always taking what she wants and leaving after they refuse to give what she wants. She changes her name constantly. Every person from her past is always bad/wrong and the people she is with now are always perfect. She can’t hold down a job long. She is certainly manipulative and dangerous to others (although being dangerous is NOT a requirement for either condition). I can go on. You would expect this behaviour by someone under 21 for sure as I attribute it to "growing pains’, but by 25 years of age the brain isn’t really growing anymore.

Her sister who is 21 years of age regularly has employment and stays at one job for years, usually has a mixed review of her fellow humans, does not run from home to home, does not bad mouth everyone from her past, and has a pretty stable and or normal life for someone far older than her. The two could not be more different. My eldest only wants to know what you can do for her whereas my 21 year old daughter only seeks to find what she can do for you. My eldest says that she is now male because she likes females and dressing like a male. My 21 year old says she is bisexual and a tom boy…likes females and dressing like a boy. The same outcome, but one is NOT having an identity crisis or trying to get attention for that matter. (I’m sure the bisexuality came from me if it’s genetic) I can’t help but wonder how two children can be parented by the same person, (have different fathers though), eat the same food, have the same education, the same love and attention, the same discipline and chores, and insanely dramatically different outcomes.

I assure you, I gave just as much love and attention to my first as I did my second and every child after that down to my sixth. Yet, my first demanded that I continue giving her ALL of my attention up until she left my home whereas every single other child wanted to be independent and have their own time away from me. She wanted my attention so badly that she would ruin her clothes, pick on her siblings, etc… I mean at 18 years old she did that kind of thing. None of my other children after the age of 10 did that. NONE. I take comfort in that fact and have come to the conclusion that she was the poor unfortunate soul that inherited her father’s mental illness. So when I see this slow motion train wreck going on, even as she takes barbs at me, it hurts my heart. It hurts because I know that without help that she refuses to seek, she will never find happiness, and will leave a trail of broken lives behind her.

Why can’t I sleep?

I had 4 hours of sleep last night and tonight I laid down at 2:30 a.m. I stared at the ceiling and the walls, trying with all my might to sleep. It is only in the past two weeks that this has been happening. My inability to sleep going later and later into the night. Usually my insomnia is triggered by something in my life. Usually I ca definitively point to something causing my distress. Usually I find some sort of relief. This is not the case currently.

Although there was a death in the family, it wasn’t anyone close to me. It wasn’t even a blood relative. I honestly do not feel that this death is affecting me this way. Typically, this would only be something in my own life. Someone I loved in my life or something missing…but now it’s just random. So I am left to ponder, does my typical caffeine habits suddenly have this effect? Can that happen as you age? If so, why do I feel this sadness that keeps me up?

Whatever it is, it’s ruining my life.

I can scarcely think the words to write

Our lives go through monumental twists and turns, such that in the blink of an eye, everything we ever thought or felt can be turned upside down with a word. Everything we have ever known can be gone in an instant. Everything negative we have ever told ourselves can be evaporated with two or three kind sentences. We are beings meant for change. We are meant for the challenges of tomorrow and the sorrows of today. We are beings meant to change continually. If spoken it can be brought forth into this life. If thought it can be spoken. But what forms the spark to create the thought?

Life reinforces certain concepts just by going through the motions. A child raised in a Christian home will see verses, long after they left the comfort of the pew, that bring renewed vision and hope. Sometimes an explanation once so far out of reach, and yet there it is, in a tiny Book called the Bible they discarded so long ago. I’m not about to get preachy here, but for that person it may hold important significance at a time in their life when things seem at their worst. It can be a call to stand strong and endure or a reminder they are loved.

I had such an event happen today. These verses appeared to me through a very non-Christian way.

1 . Revelation Chapter 3 Verse 9

Behold, I will make them of the synagogue of Satan, which say they are Jews, and are not, but do lie; behold, I will make them to come and worship before thy feet, and to know that I have loved thee.

2 . Revelation Chapter 2 Verse 9

I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan.

They hold a very personal meaning to me…and sometimes you never know where you find such inspiration.