I’ve wanted to write you for so long now, but just haven’t let myself do so. So much to say, so much has changed, and I’ll never be the same.
I’m not over you and I am accepting I never will be. I’m not walking around crying all the time and it doesn’t consume me 24/7 like the first year, but the wound has not healed. Sean is gone. He pretty much checked out when you had the stroke. He didn’t even wait for you to die. As soon as I went into my best friend is dying mode, he checked out because it didn’t fit with his carefree, no responsibility, my joy comes from my bike and a bottle, lifestyle. Do I regret it? No, I had to know and now I do. It is a relief to have let go of the last 16 years of loving and missing a memory.
In the midst of losing everyone close to me, I lost my job. Girl, I got fired. Never have I been fired and it totally fucked with my sense of worth. I got fired June 20th and was back to employment by September 1st. The day I got fired, I was headed to sign a lease on a great house. I couldn’t pull the trigger knowing I lost my job, so I am again, without my own doors. The goal is to be moved before December. I;m waiting for my sister to get back from an out of town job and then, we look again. They boys are going to help me move, though they don’t know it completely yet.
I miss our talks and our laughs. You, as my soul mate, fed my soul. It misses you, as do I. I can’t help but feel like you knew it was time to check out.Can you believe the state of the world? Trump is the GOP Nominee. The DNC stole the election from Sanders. Republicans have been invading the party of the donkey and they have become the new Dempublicans. It’s a free for all on Black lives, because we SAY #BlackLivesmatter, but you know us, our words and actions differ. We ain’t woke yet.
The last Indian Wars have started. Currently we have #StandingRock, #BakkenPipelineReistance, #MississippiStand, all protecting the fact that #WaterIsLife and the people say #NoDAPL. I pray we #GetWoke. If not, I’ll be joining you a lot sooner, than I thought.
I feel such guilt at NOT being at Standing Rock.
Someone in my family had this done. This is NOT MY DNA test, but that of an older sibling so since we have the same parents…I personally think this test is not accurate for what I want to know. I also don’t trust anyone who just wants to sell me a membership. We talked about this when you were alive. You knew the reasons I wanted the multi thousand dollar test verses the ones from genealogy sites The Native Signature is there. I AM Indigenous. I’ll never know my tribe and I remain a split feather, but it’s there. The fight is now Spanish or Mexican. My sister denounces any Mexican blood, but since “Mexican” is the result of rape by Spaniards and the Nican Tlaca, I identify for now, as NicanTlaca, Indigenous and European.
I miss your huge tiny being. My new job (Driving for a catering company) gives me a lot of time to think about you. I think about you EVERY DAY multiple times a day. I sometimes carry your ashes with me. I haven’t snorted them yet.
I really miss you my love. I will leave you for now, with images close to my heart.
So, I appreciate any attempt at stopping DAPL. But I don’t appreciate doing it while culturally appropriating what isn’t your culture.
The drumming isn’t correct, the headdress is inauthentic. By the way, women don’t wear them. The chanting? WTF?!
What the fuck? Can’t you support the issue from the point of fact that you drink water also?
Our land had been taken. Our families stolen, split up, white washed and assimilated. Do you have to steal our culture too?
This person is NOT honoring Indigenous people! She us insulting us, making a mockery of our life, all to play pretindian.
It’s not OK. If you want to honor Indigenous people, LEARN. HEAR US, when we say we aren’t honored. STOP your friends when you see them appropriating our culture. TELL THEM, it leads to resentment and we LAUGH at them, while crying inside at how you see us.
That video, is maddening and is probably a good thing I can’t tell her what I think.
We aren’t costumes. You don’t blackface, so don’t do the equivalent to us. I won’t feel friendly to you.
Support the water protectors, but stop playing Indian. It’s super unbecoming and makes you looking like a shitty fucking ally.
My Experience at the Front Lines in Standing Rock I left Phoenix on the evening of September 1st, driving through a double rainbow that I believed to be Navajo blessings for good travel. I passed t…
Source: #NoDAPL – Part 3
My Experience at the Front Lines in Standing Rock
I left Phoenix on the evening of September 1st, driving through a double rainbow that I believed to be Navajo blessings for good travel. I passed through my home in Window Rock and picked up my friend Paul from Denver on the 2nd. We headed through Nebraska and South Dakota, crossing countless traditional territories and Reservation boundaries, weaving across the prairie. We kept driving on through the night until we arrived in Cannon Ball the morning of Saturday, September 3rd. Paul and I come from very separate social communities, yet we had both been exposed to the #NoDAPL fight through some degree of the Native Grapevine. However, we knew the coverage was incredibly limited; so limited, in fact, that mainstream media had failed to truly cover the story at that point in our journey. I…
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Happy Birthday. I’m going to meet the two oldest.
I miss you everyday.
I may soon be able to write. But right now, I just need to go through it.
So, the other day I got pissed at Mr. Yummy.
He’s never around, he never lets me know if he’s off on a bender, hanging with family, or doing something I don’t want to know about.
I guess it was out of anger, I told him I would be gone Tuesday through Friday. I must have surgery and will stay somewhere else (where he doesn’t have to care for or help me out). He kind of stopped packing his firearms and ammunition and asked very surprised what I needed surgery for? I sort of surprised myself because I became hostile and told him I didn’t really feel like telling him WHY, because it doesn’t fucking matter. We both said a few other things. Mostly I said, to have felt so dismissed and ignored has hurt and I am at the point where I just don’t give a shit anymore. He quietly said, “I don’t want you to feel like that.”
I didn’t really say anything to that, because I’m hurt. It would have been mean and more of the same.
For a year, I have been trying to put my mother fucking life back together. I lost Mel, I have lost Mr. Yummy and I lost a good friend and daughter, because she thought something I posted on Facebook about Mr. Yummy, was about her.
I’m fucking tired, and I am tired of losing people and honestly, I don’t fucking care anymore. Fuck it. Everyone wants to go away? GO AWAY!
True to Yum form, he took off for a few days. No response to me saying “you hurt me, it sucks and I can’t give a fucking shit anymore.” He knows I am looking at moving. This all sucks, but I don’t care anymore. I can’t. Maybe it won’t be a pretty little hate garden, but it’s not a fucking love festival.
So imagine my surprise when he comes in last night, drunk. He climbs in his bed, next to me, and rolls over facing me and loosely snuggles up to me and starts touching my feet and toes, with his feet and toes. he knows I like this.
I was mad. I don’t want to trust it. AND WHY THE FUCK NOW, after I said I don’t fucking care anymore. I feel like I was naive and gullible with him and I don’t trust much with him now.
Go ahead, go the fuck away.