What you tried to say to me

Sunday, May 29, 2005


Thank you all for your thoughtfulness and comments.

I am going to begin a journey, the journey of getting well. My screws are lost or loose (mentally). Even the smallest setbacks seem to rock my foundation. I don’t know what the future holds nor if I will make it to my finish line but I have a strong survival instinct. I will be intensively searching for the best low cost counseling I can find. If any one knows of a good therapist near North Dallas I would be forever grateful.

As for blogging, I want to continue to utilize the therapeutic benefits my writing gives me. I’ve noticed lately that a few very wonderful blog sites have shut down and this almost puts me in panic. It feels as if I’m losing my friends. In turn, I ponder some of my friend’s problems, specifically Froggie and I can only imagine the intensity of sorrow or pain that fills her life. Froggie, Zoe, Mrs. Darling and other’s that want to stay anonymous, you are my inspiration and I pray that your lives become less painful or less chaotic.

Deb, you are one of the most helpful and kindest person I know. You have a pure, loving and very maternal heart. I want you to know that you have personally pulled me through some of my darker moments and I thank you.

The sentiment is sincere, but I better stop before I become too maudlin and weepy.

All my love to my dear friends, new and old.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Bottom Line

How do you find a GOOD counselor? One that doesn’t charge a fortune or even might see a patient for free?

I’ve got issues. Every abuse or tragic incident that has befallen me has been molded into titanium strength bricks and each “brick of tragedy” is laying one on top of the other walling me into a pit. Like Fortunato in Poe’s, “The Cask of Amontillado” each tier of building stone and mortar that surrounds me is slowly killing me. I’m lost. I’ve tried everything in my arsenal of weapons to fight this hidden killer that’s robbing me of life. I am so wretchedly haunted. I don’t know why I can’t get past all my sorrows and move on with my life. “GET OVER IT!” is what my family tells me. I even tell myself the same but an unseen force is crushing me. The weight is unbearable.

I don’t want pity, I don’t want life to be easy nor do I want someone to take care of me as my sister wishes for her life. I just want an equal balance of good days and bad days. My quest for the coming days is to find either counseling or the tools to finally put my past to rest and learn to live in the present.

Note: To all my readers, I apologize from the bottom of my heart for my lack of correspondence. I do care about you all and I’ve been reading your blogs. I try to write but my thoughts are so extreme, so sad.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005


Me: “Picture this…A month previous you and your family moved overseas. You just got home from shopping, a trip that included your children and a few friends and you realize that you left your daughter at a certain store. How would you feel?”

Sis: “It’s not possible. I could never forget my child.”

Me: “Just play along, how would you feel?”

Sis: “Like I was a horrible mother.”

Me: “How do you think the child felt?”

Sis: “Terrified, I suppose.”

Me: “Unloved and forgotten?”

Sis: “Yeah, I guess so.”

Me: “Do you remember when I was eleven, we had just moved overseas and mom accidentally left me at a certain retail store and most of the people didn’t even speak English?”

Sis: “I don’t remember that.” “That happened, really?”

Me: “How could you not remember?” “I was traumatized.”

Sis: “Well, I guess because it didn’t happen to me.”

Me: “Hmm…”

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Salvador Dali couldn't even paint this...

Not only did BIL bounce back but he bounced back with a vengeance. He already has one job lined up and a “credible” lawsuit against the company that fired him, even though he stole from said company. He is likely to receive a settlement (if he goes through with the suit) netting roughly five-hundred thousand dollars. You read that correctly, NETTING $500,000 thousand dollars!

BiL and my sister are now planning a lavish two week vacation. Normally, the mere mention of them going on vacation and leaving hubby and I alone would send me to the moon but I’m crushed. Please don’t tell me that at least my husband and I have our dignity and morals intact even though we live a life below poverty level. This is bizarre, just plain surreal. While my husband, through no fault of his own, gets laid off and spends the next year and a half looking for work, searching like his life depended on it gets no support. While my selfish, drug addicted, thief of a BIL gets cash in hand and a new job. Nobody, family or otherwise, knows the truth about BIL’s situation and everyone loves him.

In the interim, my sister refuses to do what little housework she usually does, along with refusing to cook for my BIL. She has doubled her dose of anti-depressants and sleep-aids. She sleeps from 1am to noon every day. She is either begging for everyone’s attentions by acting like an idiot or she is excessively antagonistic towards her husband. They can’t go one hour with out picking a fight. And…in between all the fighting and lack of motivation to do anything all day my sister has directed some lovely comments my way.

Sis: “When we get our money we’ll LOAN you $5,000 so you can buy your tin can trailer. What do you think about that?”

Me: “Well…”

Sis: “Of course, as soon as you get the money you have to get out of our house.”

Me: “Well…”

Sis: “Aren’t you excited about my vacation?” “Oh, make sure the house is clean by the time we get back.”

Me: “When are you leaving?”

Sis: “And you better pay the loan back quickly, money doesn’t grow on trees.”

I can’t write anymore I’m too disgusted. I want to write to many of my wonderful readers and friends but I’m afraid my thoughts are so polluted with anger and jealousy that my words would be filled with hate instead of love. Sorry.

Friday, May 20, 2005


I owe many people emails and comments, please forgive the delay. There is too much chaos and madness in this house and I cannot think.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Lump in my throat

The feeling of my heart imploding resonates throughout my body. As I sat watching a show on TV about homelessness, my own personal experience washed over me and left me unmovable, shocked…no, paralyzed. I must have blocked out my memories and emotions. I can’t believe how much of the pain I had forgotten, repressed. I feel so dirty. Like the dirt is tattooed into my pores. I feel my dignity beneath my feet, so low I can’t pick it back up. I feel the loneliness, the profound state of being that disunited my husband and I against the universe.

Saturday, May 14, 2005

Raw emotions

My husband woke up yesterday morning all giggly and happy. I haven’t seen him smile so brightly in such a long time. I’ve told this story before but I need to rehash to explain my husbands behavior…

Since we’ve been married our finances have never been in good shape. Between the two of us we have been laid off five times in less than eight years. Just when we got over the devastation of losing one job and were on our way to rebuilding our lives a job loss would happen again. We’ve never been able to regain a foothold to financial freedom. The last lay-off put us on a fast track to misery. My husband has been a contractor for most of our marriage, consequently, we move around quite a bit. His last position took us up to Washington State. A little over a year later Sept. 11th happened and two weeks later my husband was laid off. Once again our efforts to rebuild were thwarted. A year and a half after the lay-off my husband still hadn’t found another job. He spent so much time looking for employment and each rejection took a toll on his psyche. At first he centered his searches on his profession but nothing panned out. Towards the end of the search he was applying in state, out of state and to any place of business that existed. We were in shock. How could this possibly be happening? Why wasn’t any one hiring him? For goodness sake, he couldn’t even get hired at the local Quik Marts. He was so gung ho to find a job he applied at places such as Cemeteries, farms and Day Labor places. What a joke! Do you know that the Day Labor companies said he was too qualified, how unbelievable? During this time Washington unemployment sky-rocketed and it didn’t help that Boeing was laying off thousands of people each week. My husband was competing for jobs with other applicants that had Master Degrees and PhD’s. Plus, the few friends (other contractors) we did make left the state to move in with family members or friends.

We went through unemployment, our savings and we sold most of our possessions. I was taking classes at the local community college and soon my husband started classes also. We tried to live off our school loans and credit cards at one point. But all our dreams ended and we were evicted from our apartment with credit card debt, school loan debt and debt from the previous attempts at fixing our financial problems. Of course, we had huge medical debts from my illnesses and being a contractor we had no medical insurance. The most draining part of all this was the lack of support from my family. My father disowned me at that point and all my siblings stopped calling. My husband’s parents were wonderful but they were not in a position financially to help and neither were his two siblings and they all lived 3,200 miles away. We were so alone; we had no friends close by, as most of our friends live on the east coast. The day came that we were sitting in our car with no where to go, no money and no future.

Six months of living in a sort of hell (in our car) my husband got a call from an employment agency about a contracting job. The joy and relief filled our hearts. Four months later the job ended (it was only short term) but we had hope. Some how we reconnected with my sister and even though there was a lot of animosity left over from the last time we lived with her she said yes to us moving in again until my husband found another job.

A year later we have practically the same debt, we’ve barely made a dent in paying any of it off and roughly five thousand dollars saved up to purchase something to get us out of my sister’s house. Something we won’t have to make payments on, so there is no fear of eviction and something to give us some much needed privacy and stability.

My sister and BIL have never ever had to worry about money and they don’t spend it wisely either. My BIL has received close to $100,000 dollars in two separate lawsuits, added to that they both have received thousands of dollars from my father and his, along with trust funds, money market accounts and mutual funds. To the world they appear to be such wonderful and responsible people. They lie to everyone especially my father, he doesn’t even know my sister still smokes cigarettes let alone take anti-depressants, sleeping pills and a variety of other illicit drugs. They treat me and my husband like we are idiots and worthless. They have a rude comment for every thing we do and the constant threat of, “This is our house you have no rights” or “We want you out of the house now” is taking a toll. I’ve heard (from both my sister and BIL) that we live in a fantasy world where we are given everything we need and we don’t work for it and we don’t know what reality is, so many times that it’s branded on my chest. The reality of their existence is their daily medicating or the numbing of their minds. A pill to wake up, a pill to focus, a pill to keep them thin, a pill to keep away their demons and finally a pill to put them to sleep at night. I try not to judge…I really try. It’s just that for every situation in their lives whether bad or good it always seems to bring them more money or adds to their illusion of being the perfect people. Meanwhile, me and my husband lose our livelihoods, our home, our savings, our possessions, our dignity and our status with society is persona non grata or at least with my family.

So, reality finally catches up with my BIL and he gets punished for his wrong-doing by losing his job, thus the ear to ear grin blazing across my husbands face. A culmination of many years of stuffing his feelings about my sister and BIL has hardened his heart against them. He feels that they finally got something they deserve. I don’t condone revenge or take joy in someone else’s pain but I do understand it. To be honest, for a brief second I smiled too but the smile turned sour because I don’t want my family to suffer I just want them to be kinder and more tolerant people.

Now, I just wish I could stop my anger, the anger I feel when my sister and BIL tell me that we have to help support them during this time by giving them most of my husbands paycheck so they don’t lose their house or we can move out. They have enough money in a trust fund to pay OFF the house yet they are asking us to hand over all our money to make their house payments. My anger is boiling.

Thursday, May 12, 2005


Now I know why I was feeling so intuitionally freaked. My BIL got fired today. He got fired for illegal activities involving drugs. My sister is losing her mind and she informed me that if I want to continue to live in her home I would have to fork over a lot more money. My husband and I are going to leave no stone unturned in finding some other housing option because I think it is unconscionable that my sister is asking even a penny from us. They have mutual funds, savings, trusts funds and at least eight credit cards with a limit of $10,000 dollars or over. AND they don’t have any balances on these credit cards. Also, they have the support of my father and his father and several friends that would open their homes if things got that bad. My BIL is quite gifted with many degrees so his chances of finding employment are much greater than my husband’s chances ever were when he was laid off. My husband and I are so far in debt that it will take at least ten years to get a handle on the situation and they have the gumption to ask us for more money.

There is so much more to write about but at the moment I have a splitting headache and I’m exhausted.


Well, well. While I was sleeping last evening my sister and BIL had a blow out. To make a long story short, she told him that until he quits the drugs he has to move out. He's not taking the shove-off seriously but he refuses to speak to my sister.

I’m unsure what will be coming next. Usually, they fight then they get back together and take out all their pent up anger on my husband and me. Surprisingly, I’m not afraid or worried; I just know that we need to get the heck out of Dodge. We only have about $5,000 saved up and that’s not enough to purchase the used travel trailers we’ve been looking at. We have the world’s worst credit so I’m out of ideas. I have faith that my husband and I will get through this, I’m just concerned about my niece and if she is suffering from all the fighting. She appears to be fine but kids are good at hiding things.

My intuition is nudging me about something, times such as this I feel so utterly ignorant and helpless.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005


I’m sweltering. My sister has the A/C turned up so high that it won’t turn on. Heat makes me feel queasy and I also feel like I could pass out.

I miss Wolf Lake, Buffy and anything that makes me forget. At least Firefly was made into a movie that will be out soon.

I have my headphones on so I don’t have to listen to her (sister) crap. Linkin Park and Sneaker Pimps, yeah.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

A little after 12 midnight…

Me: I found the mother’s day card and trinkets from Lowella (niece) by my chair in the living room. I know it was your idea and I thank you so much. (Stunned by her kind gesture, tears are welling up). I love and thank you so much.

Sis: I did it because you said you hated Mother’s Day.

Me: I only hate Mother’s Day because mom has passed on.

Sis: I thought is was because you can’t have kids. Heh, you’re better off without them anyway, I wish I didn’t have a kid.

Now I don’t want to even look at the gifts she gave me. I feel like they are tainted.

Missing mom

I wish all you wonderful mother's of the world a very Happy Mother's Day!

Bless you all for your love, dedication and hard work. :-)

Saturday, May 07, 2005

Forgot to mention

Hubby's blood pressure went down to 123/78. Yay! He is still feeling pain in both arms but he feels less stressed. We dipped into our savings and got the brakes fixed so that's one less problem. I was wondering if hubby might have carpal tunnel syndrome. He spends most of his time on a computer at work and at home.

It's going to be a hum dinger evening. My niece is having a sleep-over with two of her noisy friends. You know the type of kid; their indoor voice is actually their outdoor voice. Plus, sleep-overs make my sister a bit testy. Add to the mix my sister and BIL are fighting and there should be some genuine comical moments.

Pulling the dagger from my heart

I can never share my feelings (mine aren’t valid), never talk about my experiences (mine are always not as bad) and I must never try to relate because I’ve never been a mother and I can’t possibly believe that my life could EVER be worse or even come close to the hell my sister is living in.

This is the part of the “cycle” where my sister grows increasingly depressed and complains that her husband treats her like a doormat. She cries often, her behavior is akin to the “woe is me” attitude and when we are alone she goes on and on about what “he” has done to her life. She swears she is going to divorce him but she never does. The past two days she has laid on the pitiful act really thick and yes she has some valid points about her husband’s actions that he needs to address but holy cannoli she has plenty to work on too. As I’ve stated before they are both in denial.

Unfortunately for me, during this cycle she appears to be losing it. It’s not unfortunate for me that I have to hear her constant complaining but what I mean is that she does nothing to resolve her issues. This is a tidbit of an earlier conversation with my sister:

(Walking briskly towards me and speaking in a loud demanding manic tone)

Sis: We need to have an intervention. YOU need to talk to him (BIL) and tell him how badly he treats me.

Me: I don’t think that will help. He hates when I get involved with your marital problems.

Sis: No, no, no, no, you have to talk to him and MAKE HIM SEE. He doesn’t believe me when I tell him how crappy he is as a husband. He’s ruined my whole life and when I tell him this he doesn’t even try to make up for what he’s done.

Me: (Feeling claustrophobic by her demands) But, I’ve said all these things to him before and he didn’t listen so what makes you think he’ll listen now?

Sis: You’re smart, MAKE HIM LISTEN!

Shortly after midnight (I’m up late because I’ve taken to sleeping during the day to get away from my family members and because my husband snores like a banshee) my sister walks into the kitchen just as I was putting away the last of the clean dishes and I notice she is crying so hard her eyes are bright red. She walks up to me and puts her arms around me (this is absurdly rare) and of course I hug her gently while trying to soothe her but she only lets me hug her for a brief second.

Sis: I can’t sleep. I hate my life, I just want to die.

Me: I’m so sorry and I know how you feel about wanting to die.

Sis: How could you? You have no children and you have a husband that would do anything for you. You have a great life. You don’t know what it’s like to stay alive just for your child, all the while hiding your pain from her. Your life is so easy and you’ll never know what hardship is unless you have children.

She took her second sleeping pill and then she walked away without another word.

I stand alone in the kitchen. Alone. Alone.

I have no children because I couldn’t conceive you witch. I live everyday with mental, physical and emotional pain and I’ve come close to dying and losing my eyesight. I’ve experienced so much hate and raw pain that I wish I was dead…everyday of my life not just on days when my husband doesn’t coddle me! Why does she feel so entitled to the “life sucks” card? More than that, I’ve never hurt her, so why does she always thrust her dagger into my heart. Talk about being a doormat.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Blame game

My husband is lying in bed sleeping (hopefully) and I’m in a state of panic. He came home from work with what I call the “face”, the face that tells me that he is overwhelmed or worried. I questioned him but got the usual, “Everything is fine honey, don’t worry.” Later, I was able to drag the truth from him (with some strong coaxing) and this is what is involved:

  1. Work has become a stress-cooker with major deadlines coming up and he was told no overtime but get the work done.
  2. Our brakes are out.
  3. We need new struts
  4. He is experiencing shooting pains up and down his arms with tingly, numbing fingers.

Before I worked this info from him I told him about the conversation my sister and I had earlier, which basically boiled down to her blaming my husband and I for her husbands drug addiction.

“Doesn’t it always seem like he (BIL) falls off the wagon when you all are living with us?”

The crap that my hubby and I get blamed for is astounding. Needless to say, I relay the disturbing conversation to my husband not knowing how stressed he is and an hour later he comes to me worried because his blood pressure is up to 145/100. I’m no doctor but I realize this is high. I immediately got in contact with a friend that is not a doctor but still very knowledgeable in medical matters. I get my husband to lie down, elevate his legs and talk very soothing to him about inane non-stressful things. Hoping to alleviate his worry, I tell him that our learned friend feels his symptoms are not common, that most strokes or heart attacks involve only one arm with pain not both. At this point he tells me he is tired and I leave to let him sleep. I’ve been checking him almost every twenty minutes because I’m losing my mind with worry. Right now he is snoring and somehow this is comforting.

I’m so angry with myself (for dumping my worries onto his already burdened shoulders) and angry at my sister and BIL for being such pathetic ingrates. My husband just buried his father a short time ago and with all the crap from work and my family, not to mention my illness, he’s had enough.

We have some money saved to help buy a travel trailer but now I’m wondering if we should move into one of those corporate housing places just to get away from the insanity. The whole purpose of staying with my sister is to save up to buy a travel trailer, never pay rent again and not live in fear of being kicked out of my sister’s house. The money we have saved would allow us about three or four months at the corporate housing but then what? Pro’s and con’s abound but no real answers. I’m just going to ask God for strength to make it through the hardship. Oh, lest I forget, I should rephrase the word “hardship” as my father claims I don’t know what real hardship is.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Must redirect thought patterns

The cycle begins anew. He takes too much "medicine"; she gets angry and makes life hell for everybody. Then, hubby and I will get the brunt of her wrath and eventually his too.

Got to get my mind off their insanity.

Here’s a thought. Why do you suppose we as humans are gaining height as the years go by? Has this been solved yet or is it still a mystery. Like I said, just a thought.

First Tag

Hip Momma tagged me...

What follows is a list of different occupations. Select at least five of them. Add more to the list if you like, and then pass it on.
Of the five you selected, you are to finish each phrase with what you would do as a member of that profession.

If I could be a scientist...
If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician...
If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter...
If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary...
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect...
If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist...
If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete...
If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an innkeeper...
If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer...
If I could be a backup dancer...
If I could be a llama-rider...
If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be a midget stripper...
If I could be an actor...
If I could be a TV-Chat Show host...
If I could be an actor...
If I could be a judge...
If I could be a Jedi...
If I could be a mob boss...
If I could be a personal trainer...
If I could be a professional race car driver...
If I could be a stand-up comedian...
If I could be an artist...

If I could be a painter...I would paint only pictures that inspire and bring pleasure.

If I could be a writer...(the thought makes me tingle all over) I would write what I can’t say out loud.

If I could be a backup dancer...I would dance WAY in the BACK because I wouldn’t want to make a fool out of myself.

If I could be an actor...I would want all the romantic scenes with Gerard Butler, Christian Bale and Jeff Goldblum.

If I could be a proctologist… I would set up my practice that would only cater to young, good-looking men.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Sorry seems to be the hardest word

I’m nuts. I’m loony. I guess you could say I’m a functioning nut case, sort of like a functioning alcoholic. I’m beginning to wonder if something other than being sexually molested as a young child caused me to be so damaged. Sure, my family life was a bit dysfunctional but I’ve heard horror stories that other children had to endure so maybe I blocked something painful that hasn’t resurfaced or the damage is genetic. My grandfather’s two brothers both committed suicide by hanging so maybe there is some gene that was passed down.

The same thoughts keep buzzing in my head and I get no closure. For example, my father had a “breakdown” when I was thirteen and he took his military issued gun and in a drunken stupor he threatened my mother and us kids while waving the gun around. My mother quickly grabbed us all and herded us into our car to a seedy sort of hotel (only hotel close to home) for the night. Now, I don’t know about you but this event caused me quite a bit of mental anguish over the years. Why do I even bring it up or why does it even play out in my head after I’ve grown up? Well, basically because my father has always believed that I was the reason our family was screwed up. When my mother passed away when I was twenty-four he said I killed her by making her worry so much that she developed cancer. I guess I’ve been waiting (all my life) for an apology from my father for the lovely mind bending abuse he has thrown my way. For some reason, he thinks that what ever he’s done to me in the form of punishment/abuse was because at age two I started to become a brat and he needed to help me over come my spoiled-brat tendencies.

Time and thoughts with no closure equals basketcase.

Sunday, May 01, 2005


Can anyone tell me if gas is a side effect from taking diet pills or ADD medicine? I'm talking extreme frequent gas, the kind that is obnoxiously loud and the smell is akin to mustard gas or rotten eggs.

Just so you know I'm not the person taking the medicine.

Letting go

I’m giving up, the chance that I can ever have a decent relationship with my sister (or family) is nil. I can’t keep putting my heart on the line only to have them trash it. My self worth dips to new lows every time I’m faced with the ugliness that spews out of my family’s mouths. I just don’t get it. I don’t feel I’ve done the unthinkable or lived a life that would push my father to cut me out of his life with such finality. I have two views; my friends and husband feel I am wonderfully sweet and giving. My father feels I’m a “drain on society” because I can’t hold down a job and I have no medical insurance. I’ve never been arrested, never put in jail or even spoken to a law enforcement officer except to call for help for one of my neighbors who was being attacked. I’m exceedingly kind and never speak maliciously about anyone. I don’t abuse drugs and I only drink alcohol maybe once or twice a year. I don’t steal, I generally don’t cuss and I’m as responsible as I can be in any given situation. What I was as a teenager and early twenties was a rebellious, potty mouthed, spoil brat that was dealing with a boat-load of baggage from my early years when I was sexually molested. I made plenty of mistakes and made my mother worry…a lot. That part of my past is over. The worst you could say about me now is that I’m a whiner. But because I’ve put my father in the hot seat by asking him for money a time or two I am a leper, leech, louse and the lowest form of human. I don’t know if its fate nor do I understand why but my husband and I have always had financial woes. Since we’ve been married I’ve been laid off from work (when I was working) twice and my husband three times. The last lay-off drained us of our savings and dignity as my husband was unable to find a job within a year and a half and we ended up living in our car for six months. The killer part is that at that point we hadn’t asked my father for anything for years. In fact, we didn’t ask him for anything while we were living in our car. I wrote him a long email and updated him on our situation but I never asked for money. He in turn, wrote back a nasty letter claiming that I was horrible and selfish and that there were people in the world that had “real” problems and that I needed to grow up and get a job. Fed up, I wrote him exactly how I felt about his letter (using only facts not spitefulness) and that’s when he disowned me and cut me totally out of his life.

With my father throwing me away, my older sister decided to follow suit. She no longer calls me or emails me but I do get a birthday card once a year. My brother who used to be my buddy growing up has decided that my father was correct in his assessment that I need to quit playing games and grow up and find a job. The clincher is, none of these family members knows or cares how I’m doing or have been doing in the past three years. They have all written me off. Even the sister I live with treats me like a second-class citizen. Just yesterday she let me know that when I move out she wouldn’t be the one to keep our relationship going. None of them acknowledge my illnesses. When I was diagnosed at age 27 my father acted like the disease wasn’t even a real disease. Even after reading my medical history from my medical chart he still acted like I was making it up. It was and still is infuriating.

I’m the one being shoved aside, put out to pasture yet my family members have done some pretty despicable things. Why does my father hold my siblings to his breast with love and concern and not me? The biggest part is my sisters desire to be Daddy’s favorite and they fill his head with outrageous lies about me. One day I’ll have to give you an example but my hands are too tired to type.

My heart is so profoundly sad.