(no subject)
Some people think it's funny to pull your momma jokes and what not on me. It's not to funny so let me have a repeat entry from Mothers Day this year:
The Story of my Life Nobody Knows:
I'm 10 years old. My mom, a heavy drinker, an alcoholic if you want to call it that. So many times I grabbed her six pack and threw it out the door at 10 years old. Mabey even younger I prefer to keep this story deep in my mind.
The Reoccurance? (Mothers Day)
So before I begin this story let me answer the question of how many people have heard this story? The answer: mabey 3
So, why do I let it out now? Why not.
10 years old, I went from my aunts house, my uncles, to other drinkers houses with my mom. Sometimes she would go to her sisters and stay for days. She didn't work, she did when she was young but not with me. My brother was older and by this point he was gone off to college. I stayed with mom 24 / 7. I slept by her side, I would be dragged from place to place when she went. I think she went because she got mad at my father a lot, he worked a lot and was always gone so mabey she left just to not be alone. It doesn't matter I remember him coming to get me numerous times. Did she try to stop drinking? Yeah she went to the rehab centers but always told me it was harder than it looked. I had a fear of the dark when I was little, I'd seen many doctors when I was little. Nobody knows or new about me or my illness, but it was to an extreme. Nightmares haunted every night of my life, I would scream, cry, the darkness wasn't something I enjoyed at all. I would even hallucinate when I awoke, to this day I can still remember the dreams and even the things I saw when I was awake, the shadows of moving arms, the clown nightmare of me being ripped in half by a clown pulling me into a game while my mother tugged me out of it from a laundry matt. I remember it all, but beyond all this I bring you the real story:
The day of her death.
It was mid day, I took naps with mom often because I never slept at night. She would sing me to sleep. It was great. Even when I was sick, which I was a lot when I was little she would pray beside me to take the sickness to her. She was a follower of christ, a true believer. She laid down to go to sleep. I was off around the house playing and went to wake her. It took me a good 20 minutes, mabey more mabey less this has been many years ago. Over 11 but it seems so clearly. She open her eyes and looked at me, she knew I was there I told her simply to go back to sleep because at this young of age that's all I knew. I figured she was tired. I went off playing again, but around evening 4:00 or so I went to wake her again. My father was at the store working. She wouldn't wake I shook and shook and shook. Friends, this is the part of my life I bring to you nobody knows. Struggling as a child, 8, 9, 10 mabey I lifted her up trying to get her up, trying to stand her to feet thinking she would awake I ended up placing her in the floor by the bed. That's when I got scared, called my father who simply thought I was just scared cause she was sleeping and was shrugging me off. He came home after work and realized it was true, he said she had a pulse when he saw her but I will never know. I remember the ambulance coming to get her, how I had to motion them down, clear the furniture. When we arrived at the hospital she was dead. It was over, her suffering had ended and mine too, the day spent with my dying mother was at an end. I blamed myself so often for not keeping her awake when she looked at me the last time. I'll never forgive myself, but then again I didn't know.
Other things tie into this story. The fact that nearly 6 years later I relized I had a gift in speaking in tounges. (Corinthians II 13) speaks of these gifts. I even went into a prayful dream on a youth retreat to see my mother, and when I myself awoke I was praying in tounges. When I got home from the retreat I found in a drawer of my mothers her national award from the church of christ for speaking in tounges. She is my saint, my guardian in the heavens above. I give this story to you all in hopes you will love your mother on mothers day and remember not all of us are as lucky as you. People at bojangles ask me if I got my mother anything, I tell them no, they continue to ask, telling me I horrid person for not doing so. It's only until I break the silence of screaming my mother is dead. Respect mothers day, it's not all for the "good" mothers who have done "well". It's for those mothers who survived, those who succeeded. Respect the mothers that cry on mothers day because they have commited abortions. Are they still mothers? In a way yes, honor thy father, love thy mother.
- The End.
The Story of my Life Nobody Knows:
I'm 10 years old. My mom, a heavy drinker, an alcoholic if you want to call it that. So many times I grabbed her six pack and threw it out the door at 10 years old. Mabey even younger I prefer to keep this story deep in my mind.
The Reoccurance? (Mothers Day)
So before I begin this story let me answer the question of how many people have heard this story? The answer: mabey 3
So, why do I let it out now? Why not.
10 years old, I went from my aunts house, my uncles, to other drinkers houses with my mom. Sometimes she would go to her sisters and stay for days. She didn't work, she did when she was young but not with me. My brother was older and by this point he was gone off to college. I stayed with mom 24 / 7. I slept by her side, I would be dragged from place to place when she went. I think she went because she got mad at my father a lot, he worked a lot and was always gone so mabey she left just to not be alone. It doesn't matter I remember him coming to get me numerous times. Did she try to stop drinking? Yeah she went to the rehab centers but always told me it was harder than it looked. I had a fear of the dark when I was little, I'd seen many doctors when I was little. Nobody knows or new about me or my illness, but it was to an extreme. Nightmares haunted every night of my life, I would scream, cry, the darkness wasn't something I enjoyed at all. I would even hallucinate when I awoke, to this day I can still remember the dreams and even the things I saw when I was awake, the shadows of moving arms, the clown nightmare of me being ripped in half by a clown pulling me into a game while my mother tugged me out of it from a laundry matt. I remember it all, but beyond all this I bring you the real story:
The day of her death.
It was mid day, I took naps with mom often because I never slept at night. She would sing me to sleep. It was great. Even when I was sick, which I was a lot when I was little she would pray beside me to take the sickness to her. She was a follower of christ, a true believer. She laid down to go to sleep. I was off around the house playing and went to wake her. It took me a good 20 minutes, mabey more mabey less this has been many years ago. Over 11 but it seems so clearly. She open her eyes and looked at me, she knew I was there I told her simply to go back to sleep because at this young of age that's all I knew. I figured she was tired. I went off playing again, but around evening 4:00 or so I went to wake her again. My father was at the store working. She wouldn't wake I shook and shook and shook. Friends, this is the part of my life I bring to you nobody knows. Struggling as a child, 8, 9, 10 mabey I lifted her up trying to get her up, trying to stand her to feet thinking she would awake I ended up placing her in the floor by the bed. That's when I got scared, called my father who simply thought I was just scared cause she was sleeping and was shrugging me off. He came home after work and realized it was true, he said she had a pulse when he saw her but I will never know. I remember the ambulance coming to get her, how I had to motion them down, clear the furniture. When we arrived at the hospital she was dead. It was over, her suffering had ended and mine too, the day spent with my dying mother was at an end. I blamed myself so often for not keeping her awake when she looked at me the last time. I'll never forgive myself, but then again I didn't know.
Other things tie into this story. The fact that nearly 6 years later I relized I had a gift in speaking in tounges. (Corinthians II 13) speaks of these gifts. I even went into a prayful dream on a youth retreat to see my mother, and when I myself awoke I was praying in tounges. When I got home from the retreat I found in a drawer of my mothers her national award from the church of christ for speaking in tounges. She is my saint, my guardian in the heavens above. I give this story to you all in hopes you will love your mother on mothers day and remember not all of us are as lucky as you. People at bojangles ask me if I got my mother anything, I tell them no, they continue to ask, telling me I horrid person for not doing so. It's only until I break the silence of screaming my mother is dead. Respect mothers day, it's not all for the "good" mothers who have done "well". It's for those mothers who survived, those who succeeded. Respect the mothers that cry on mothers day because they have commited abortions. Are they still mothers? In a way yes, honor thy father, love thy mother.
- The End.