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One Year (plus one day)

Whabbit and Mel - Copy

Yesterday was one year since you let out your final breath as you arrived at the end of your journey.

What have I learned since then?

I realize that in a way, I’ve sort of grown up a bit. All those fears and issues I would have with life, you know the ones that we would always come back to in conversation, have had to be dealt with on my own. I didn’t have the safety net of you; the one person I could say anything to.

At first it was chest grabbing and crushing. I’d feel the panic start and that buzzing cycle that runs through an ever thinking brain, full of “what-ifs”. I have sort of learned over the last year that when I can’t reach out to you, I won’t explode. My world won’t explode but, I’ve had to resolve MY issues, on my own. That, or suffer the consequences of the cycle of obsessive thinking.

Over time, I’m learning to actually walk the rope of life on my own. Some days it is hard, other days, “I got this, girl.” Always though, I miss you and am grateful for you. Regardless of every thing you did and didn’t do to yourself, my hurt, anger, sadness…you have taught and continue to teach me much. I know I’ll never have a fill in for you, but I will always be a better friend, because of us.

I don’t feel guilty anymore for how I feel about your kids. They are mine now. We will always have a bond because of you and I will always be a tie to you, with them. I’m pretty sure you would be OK with that. Living, and watching your children grow and live, will honor you.. I will never be you to them, but I am Auntie and I will there when they need a mom figure to turn to.

The plus one day…

I woke up this morning, went out back to smoke in the frosty darkness. I thought:

So I, am 1 today. One year ago today I woke up to live without you holding my hand. I’ve been doing it one my own for a year and a day now. I’m pretty sure I am going to make it. It does feel like it will be ever so much longer without you here. I miss your laugh and you quick witted, cutting humor. I miss your love, though I know it is still there following me, as mine still does you. It’s the loss of physical you. It’s made me feel so selfish because all of this grief has been about me. My sadness. My loss. My feelings. Me, me me.

I still cry, just not as often. I just went to get a tissue to wipe my eyes and saw your ashes in the slender vile. I had taken them out the other night because I was debating them taking you with me on the one year day; to have you close to me. Instead I left you here. When I saw the vile I began to really cry. Holding the vile close to try and hug what I have left of what physically held your beautiful soul and then tucking you back in my safety place.

I also realize that everyday, the randomness of death touches someone. If you are lost, wandering, not knowing how to deal with your grief and reading this… I am so sorry for your loss. There is nothing I can say to you to make anything make sense, or stop hurting, but I do understand grief, and I am sorry you are here. My only words I can even attempt to share, the words I hang onto in the darkest moments are that Love…never dies. Physically, it changes how you live it, but it never dies, because it’s pure energy. I know that Melissa’s energy went back to beginning so it didn’t just die. It absorbed back into where it originated from. I originated from this place, and so did you. I just haven’t always recognized the moments that it still touches me, but a few times I have. Those little moments keep me going.

So, one year, plus one day. I still love you.





I’ve been trolling WordPress blogs using the tag “grief”.

It is comforting, in a really fucked up way to know there are so many people out there, who know what I mean when I say I am FULL of grief that I have never known before. Thank you to all of you who have been open and tried to write your way out of this place that seems like purgatory to me.

To anyone who has read my blog over the course of the last 5 years or so (including my original, dead, freshly and finally deleted yesterday) “Snee Made Me Do It” site, know that I am more spiritual, rather than religious. I don’t feel that because I say Universe or Source, instead of God, that this makes me any lesser than a Christian.

I realized this morning, as I was reading “what i wanted to tell Flo today” that even though we may have different beliefs, we are angry at the same thing. I have read many of you type of an anger at God. I have also seen many of you type about how God has pulled you through it.

I don’t understand how the Universe, could extinguish such an amazing flame. So as I am standing in the kitchen window, staring out at the day rising over my car, I ponder the question, “Am I a bad person?” “Did I somehow do SOMETHING to be dealt such a cruel blow by my beloved Universe?”

There are so many things I saw in my minds eye, clear as day involving Mel. Grand-babies, being grandmas together, being the two little old ladies standing in line at Zippy’s Giant Burgers, shocking young people with how cool we are and what we actually “get”. Wearing purple together, weddings, and basically, always being there by her side, because…she would have moved back home and we would have been together again, thick as thieves, through sick n sin, just like peas and carrots.

And yet Universe took that all away. Even though I can still see these things. In this life, they will never come to fruition and I feel fucking robbed. I’m mad at that. My constant is gone. Fuck you, how dare you. Why do I deserve this absolute soul crushing loss?

Did I have to give up Mel because I asked to Universe to bring Mr. Yummy back into my life? Is this a sick joke? Because my sadness, on top of the absolute freak out that I STILL have scabies after two treatments, and now that Mr. Yummy is clear, there is a divide between us that scares the fucking shit out of me. So really, if it was a sick joke of a fucking trade off…I don’t get it. The punchline makes no sense to me. I am not Christian, yet I feel like Job.

I have to try really hard to ignore that old, old, self defeating voice in my head, that just SCREAMS out at me to “RUN BEFORE HE CAN REJECT YOU!”

Well, that came out of the woodwork.


Did I mention, I miss you?

Ummmm, that’s what I did last time, and didn’t even realize it till years later.

Panic and Rage


I get to work about an hour early, almost every day. If I don’t leave at the ass-crack of dawn, I miss the window of decent travel time and my commute doubles. I would rather sit at work, in my car and play games on my phone, set up a playlist, or just Facebook, rather than be in the commute from hell.

This morning was no different in routine than any other morning, other than when my production manager arrived to unlock, and I got out of my car to go in, I got instantly light-headed, I started hearing a “pulsing” and my legs became like rubber, with each step getting harder and harder to make, they were so heavy and out of control. I got to the edge of the building and held myself up. Got inside, got to a table and held myself up, clocked in and got to the break-room where I just sat and shook.¬† My PM came around the corner, said good morning, then immediately asked what was wrong.

I told her, she replied that we are slow enough if I want to leave, I can. I was crying, she just kind of let me ramble, “I’ve been sick, my skin is either erupting in hives or psoriasis, I’m trying to deal with the fact my best friend was a drug addict and I had no clue, and what just happened scared the shit out of me. I just want my life back!”

I decided to stay and finish my list, then leave. As I was working it dawned on me that I always thought of Mel as the smart one, the strong one, the capable one. Well, taking so many drugs, the doctors are saying this is what caused the stroke, wasn’t smart. It wasn’t the strong thing to do and well, I am sure it was a major fuck up on her part. I just sat there thinking, “But YOU were supposed to be the strong one! I’m not sure if I qualify to be the strong one, the one who didn’t make choices that killed me.” But here I am, sad, trying to hide it, itching like crazy, and talking and sobbing in my sleep because I am terrified to let Mr. Yummy see my real emotion.

I just wanted to go to my spot on the beach and yell at her, “FUCK YOU BITCH!!! What were you thinking and did you have any clue that dieing would fuck¬† so many people (me) up?!?! Would it have mattered? What the fuck were you doing and how did you think you could just push and push till your mother-fucking body couldn’t and wouldn’t take any more?” I bet you let out a giant, “Oh shit, I fucked up!”


I have to figure out how to have the conversation with the kids about things they are going to start hearing about their mother, the drug addict. If they weren’t pissed off before, they certainly will be now. Hearing people say this about their mother won’t be fun and I know the anger will be directed at who is saying it and not at their mother for doing drugs.

She doesn’t get permission to destroy me, FUCK THAT. I’ve worked too god damned hard to crawl out of the hole of negativity and hate to crawl back into it, but my hate garden has already been watered and now I need to fucking weed it as fast as I can so I don’t fall back down that dark hole.

All the “fighting” she did to keep her kids away from their dads was for nothing, because they are all split up and with different people now. Is that what you were aiming for Melissa?

I wish she would just take the pain and go away, leaving me with my pleasant memories, and feelings of love. Right now, all I can muster is “Fuck you, you thoughtless, selfish lying Bitch!” Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel good, because really, I loved her like no other and THAT is why I hurt. She is gone, and I haven’t moved into the grateful for the time and memories yet. Instead, I am having panic attacks and falling apart at the seams.


Just, no.

Dear Mel

I went to your ex-husbands house yesterday.

Talk about surreal. “She” was so nice to me. I wish I could tell you the things I feel I learned. You (here in the human zone) wouldn’t give a shit. You’d spit at the whole meeting. I think in the place you went, you would understand all the variables.

Your number two, is NOT doing OK. I wish I could grab him and bring him here with me, to get him and his shit together. Stuff with his girl, is not going OK. He is learning a tough lesson in who to give his seed to. It’s tough to watch, especially because he knows if you were here, you would fight her. He and I don’t doubt that, since you never met a fight you could walk away from.

I did something you probably wouldn’t dig, but honey…you haven’t left me a lot of choice in things. They are with their dad. #2 is in the trailer. When I got there, #1’s face looked like he’s been in a brawl. He had been; with #2. #2 is not doing much other than thinking. I asked if he was OK, he lied and said yes, but I know better and could tell he was crying so I told him, “I am not OK. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I am. I cry every day and on top of it…I try hiding it from Mr. Yummy because the thought of him seeing the full extent of my sadness, terrifies me after he witnessed the aftermath of my marriage and loss of The Girl.” I told him Friday, I left work at 2:30 and played “My Immortal” Over and over for the whole commute and cried the whole hour it took to get home, then went outside and pulled weeds and continued crying till I spoke to them (the boys) at 5:30.

Upon hearing this, #2 let the wall down. He cried, and told me his fears. I did something you might not like. Till he gets that education finished, he’s not going to be able to do much. Without a car, he’s not going to be able to get around very easily. When I needed to pull myself out of poverty, I went union. I asked him to go to LU 46 and take a call as a material handler. You know the benefits. You know the perks. You KNOW, he could do that job, move forward, bank some cash, and have some control over his life. I think it would also give him less time to think about you and the baby he is being pushed away from. He needs to feel like he is capable. I think doing what I did, would help that process. Please forgive me, but you didn’t leave me a lot of choice here.

What a cluster fuck you left behind.

Your girl spoke with her father on Friday. He said she almost called him dad. I hope they are able to reconcile everything you two and the fighting created. I know that there are two sides, and I will never forget your side, and the things I DID learn on my own by going to court that day. I promise you that, but now, he is all they have left. They still have needs, my love.

I told your ex, that he was part of our last phone conversation. She asked what you said. I pondered telling her, but then did. I told her you said there was a lot of regret, and that if he had JUST trusted you, you would probably still be married, and living happily, though broke, together. I think this stunned her.

I am having to come to terms with the fact drugs were the major contributing factor of your stroke, along with the way you were NOT caring for your body, by oh, maybe….EATING, but choosing to live on coffee, and cigarettes. Will I ever be able to say those words, without feeling like I have betrayed you. Will I ever get over the guilt of not figuring out what you were doing? I mean, I feel fucking STUPID for not knowing what you were doing. But will I ever be able to say that you were a drug addict? It hurts my tongue and my heart to say this, or to “know” it as fact. I know that your toxicology screen, and the fact there were five drugs in your system, at levels that weren’t casual use, seem to say what I can’t.

On top of hurting, I really, really deeply want to break things, shoot things, burn things, and scream my mother fucking lungs out in the hopes that you “get” what you have left behind.

Were you happy at having people take your picture after the stroke? Are you happy that regardless of your facial reaction when your girl said she was going to cut a lock of your hair, that we both KNOW, your “mother” will do as she pleases?

I miss you and love you and forgive you, and always will…but god damn you.

Managing Emotions

I still over think things. I still get afraid, angry, frustrated and the whole host of emotions that are not the best vibrational plane to live within. The difference is that now, I do not live there. I am more able to look at the emotion, relate it to what in the past is triggering it, and tell myself to get back to the here and now.

I feel in control of my emotions in ways I have never felt before. It is not that I want to THANK my ex boyfriend for shattering my orbital floor, then a year later, assaulting me. It’s not that I want to THANK my daughter, who I unconditionally love, for refusing to have a relationship with me, but telling me I was going to be a grandmother, then not letting me see my grandson before he died. But I don’t honestly know it I would be where I am today had the assault not happened within 12 hours of learning of my grandson’s death.

I simply broke. I could get no lower. I hit, what they call, rock bottom. For me there were two places to go. Death or life. In choosing life, I accepted that forgiving everyone and loving every single person I meet or cross paths, or FEEL on this Earth, in this Universe and, beyond…that I had gone crazy.

My brain knows that Trauma= Love is not a typical, nor sane reaction. But for me, it has worked and in weird ways, I am grateful for whatever it took to get me here. My heart and soul know that it IS right. My soul knows that I am a spiritual being having a human experience. Within this human experience is the loss of spirituality. Religion has taught us to ignore the spiritual. It became evil and silly in the eyes of the church. You disconnect the people from the spirit, which I believe KNOWS instinctively how things work outside of the human experience and you control them with religion.

I say that, and I can hear people think that because I don’t have religion, I can’t be in touch with God. Those people would be wrong, but then they might be thinking from the place that the church rules. I am free to think whatever of God, my Creator, the Source of all or whatever you need to call it.

Since I have come to this insanely sane place…I manage my emotions a lot differently. Part of it is the belief we are one, part of it is knowing we all have had traumas and I can forgive that. Realizing the whole trauma thing, was what FINALLY led me to the most important forgiveness one person can give…forgiveness of myself.

I know what my human experience has been for up to this point, as well as what it is here and now. Knowing all this has made it much easier to manage my emotions.

I am grateful.

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