Dreams

Sr Grumpy passed away, a little over two months ago, and I still CONSTANTLY find myself thinking of him. I don’t know how many times I look at the clock waiting for his bus to drop him off. Every time I’m out getting dinner I always think of what I can get him that would be easy for him to eat. The other day, the thought popped into my head, when his next doctor appointment was.  

The last two days, I’ve had dreams of him. The first dream, we were having a family party and when I turned a corner there he was sitting on a bench with my uncle Arturo. Now, why I dreamed of Arturo, I have no idea; but he’s passed as well. I was unsure if what I was seeing was true, I was aware that he was dead. So I kept asking people if they ‘saw’ them too. But finally I couldn’t help myself and so I ran to him. When Sr Grumpy saw me, he smiled this huge smile at me and he hugged me. I told him how much I missed him.

The second dream, I was driving in the car and he was in the passenger seat. I didn’t recognize the streets but I knew where I was going. He never spoke to me, but at one point I told him: “We’re fine. Nothing bad is going to happen". That’s when the car went up a curb and we flipped, I was going 70 mph. I remember focusing on his face as I felt the car flip around us. The next moment, the car was right side up and we were driving into a gate; the car was destroyed. I spoke to the guard; he asked if I was okay. I told him that I was fine but that Sr Grumpy was hurt; I had looked at him before turning to the guard. Sr Grumpy had a cut over his left eye that was bleeding. The guard looked at me like I was crazy, when I turned back to Sr Grumpy, he was gone. The next moment, I was in a hospital - alone.

I haven’t told anyone about these dreams; I’m unsure what they mean. But I know I don’t want to forget them.

Chains, Not Necklaces

I spend a lot of time with my aunt, I love her dearly and she is one of the most important people in my life. We are similar in so many ways. We’re always on the same wave-link, but even with our same taste in toys, food and movies there’s so much that we differ in.

One day, I was hanging out with her and her granddaughter (my second cousin) when a conversation took place that I wasn’t comfortable with.

Cousin: 'Mommy says boys don’t wear necklaces'.
Aunt: 'That’s right. Girls wear necklaces and boys wear chains'.

How odd is it that we have to create a completely new word for an item that’s the exact same thing just so it can be gender specific?

And of course it would be taboo if the “chain” was thin and had a charm hanging from it; or had any decoration that might be considered “feminine”.

Why can’t a boy wear a necklace? Or play with a doll, wear a dress, paint their nails?

Little girls have a little more “creative” freedom. They can play with cars, action-figures, and play dress up in anything they want to. Because that “creativity” makes them stronger and more confidant. But if little boys play with "girl toys" or like the color pink, it makes them weak.

It saddens me that we live in a double standard world. That is FAR from changing.

You Are LOVED!

Mercy triumphs over judgement. What a powerful and life-changing concept - if we can accept it.

Sometimes that's the hardest part. It can be so hard for us to accept God's love and mercy. It's in His out stretched hand, all we have to do is grasp it and be dramatically changed.

I encourage you to watch this video and allow God's mercy, grace and love to dramatically change you.

Stop standing on your own, you don't have to any more.

be blessed (for Mami)

Today marks 10 years that my mother has passed. I've tried so hard to come up with a meaningful idea to memorialize my mother on this day. But I can't.

My heart is full of so many emotions. And my mind keeps going back to that day so many years ago. 

I was holding my mother when she took her last breath. She died in my arms. When my mother took her last breath, I knew it. I can still hear my scream echoing in my ears.

We were rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. I had to sit with a social worker; and the Chaplin was there also. With his comforting words. To this day I still don't understand why he would say those words to a young person who had just lost their parent minutes before.

I can't remember her voice or her touch or the smell of her hair. I can't remember hardly anything about her. Except for that day.

Deep down, I still secretly blame myself. I was 17 years old, I was scared and freaked out. I didn't want to leave her side. I didn't want to leave her alone. She would have hated that. So I stayed by her side instead of calling for help.

I hated myself for that, for years. And still do, sometimes.

I'd like to think she'd like who I've become. That she'd be proud of me. But honestly, I don't know. I don't think she would... I'm so different then that young girl. I have so many more scars.

But one thing I do know. She'd tell me to stop crying, to whip my eyes and to keep moving forward. "Stop being stupid." She'd say. "Don't look at me, look to God."

My mom was a strong God-fearing women. I remember every morning before school,  she would pray over my coming and going. Pray a hedge of protection over me. That God would keep me safe. I know, without a doubt, that her prayers are the reason why I'm still here. Why I'm alive.

Yes, it's been a decade since she passed. But her faith and prayers are still going strong. And touching me still.

I might hate what I did. And I might hate this day. And I might not be able to remember anything. And she might not like who I've become. But she loved me so much, that her love is still reaching me now, 10 years later.

Maybe that's something to celebrate. Instead of mourning.

"This is the day the Lord has made; 

We will rejoice and be glad in it." 

- Psalm 118:24 New King James Version

Be blessed. I hope you have a grand glorious day.

Hospitals

I took Sr Grumpy to the doctors yesterday. He is getting higher up in age and seems to be slowing down more quickly, so I try to take him every month.

The doctor told me his blood count was low from his last blood test (taken in May) and wanted to take a new one to see if it was the same, had gone up or fell lower. This morning, the doctors' nurse called me and told me that his blood count had dropped lower and that Sr Grumpy needed a blood transfusion.

When I heard this news, my mind instantly zoomed to a memory of my mom lying in her hospital bed getting dialysis. My breathing quickened and tears rushed to my eyes. For a split second I was overwhelmed with anxiety. However, I was able to pass it quickly and was able to soak in everything the nurse was telling me.

After I got off the phone with the nurse. I had to take Sr Grumpy to the hospital to get his blood drawn and matched for the transfusion - tomorrow.

When my mom passed, I told myself I'd never go back into that hospital. I have spent too much time there. Luckily, we didn't have to go into the "main" building. I have been back to the hospital campus a couple of times since my mothers' passing, but I've never had to go into the main building.

We had to go into the 'out-patient' center today to get his blood drawn. It is RIGHT next door to the main building. Again, when I exited the car to get Sr Grumpy out, my breathing quickened, tears rushed to my eyes and my anxiety spiked. Again, I was able to get my emotions under control quickly and forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

We entered the center, I checked him in, filled out the paper work, and that was when I was informed we would be getting the transfusion in the main building tomorrow. My stomach sank and my mouth went dry.

 'No. No I can't do that.' I thought quickly to myself. Just as fast as it entered my mind, I forced myself to dismiss it. I finished the paperwork, Sr Grumpy got his blood drawn and we drove home.

Now that the day is coming to an end and all the preparations have been made. All the feelings I kept pushing away are lingering their way back to the forefront of my consciousness. Everything is starting to sink in and my mind is now able to process all the information of the day.

Sr Grumpy isn't my mom. He doesn't have cancer. And he isn't dying. He's healthy.

My mom is in a happier, healthier place.

It's just a building.

God has healed me of all my hurt and pain.

Everything will be fine.

I have faith that everything will be fine...

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." -Proverbs 3:5-6

Triggering Thoughts

I find myself on a daily basis fighting back regretful memories, who've found their way to the forefront of my consciousness. But the last few days, I feel like I've been spending half my day replaying the regrets of my life. I literally had to yell at myself, out loud, this afternoon to stop.
I've caught myself placing my finger nails to my skin to scratch deeply. I've been able to stop myself right before I do it.

I've also caught myself placing the side of my hand against my forearm; then moving down quickly in a cutting motion.

It's crazy what our bodies can do without us noticing it. Involuntary spasms, that we've picked up, that come out at the oddest moments.

I'm edgy, the littlest things are triggering me. They're not sending me off the edge, but they're causing me to act out.

My body is reacting in self-destructive ways to the emotional stress, without my knowledge.
It's rather scary.

I've also been chanting "I want to die" or "I want to kill myself" more the past few days. Is it odd that on a 'normal' day, I say these phrases at least twice a day?

Overcoming and recovering from self-destructive patterns and depression is a hard and long path. It can be overwhelming and all consuming. You can run yourself in circles and into the ground, trying to keep your head above water.

At moments it's terrifying and unsatisfying. And it's so easy to give up; to call 'mercy' and to lie in the dirt. 

Sometimes It Lasts At Love...

If you’d ever visit our home, you’d instantly think we’re either lovers’ or hoarders’ of cars. We have four “classic” cars that line the side of our house. Three out of the four cars, anyone can see and admire their beauty. They’re not restored, but they’re gorgeous in their old age.

However, the fourth is not a rare model, it’s not made by a special company and it doesn’t have a fancy body. It’s small, blocky, has no leg room and it’s not that old (for a car). It’s just a car from the 80’s that’s covered in dirt and has degraded flat tires.

The other day we took the ’53 Chevy pickup truck for a drive (the ‘Twilight’ truck). Grumpy is slowly restoring this truck and we take it out from time to time to keep it in working order.

After our drive, I hopped out of the passenger seat and ran to the drivers’ side to place the cinder block behind the back wheel – just to make sure it’s secure. And that’s when I saw a little yellow card stuck between the Renaults’ driver’s door and window.

“WE BUY JUNK CARS”

The card was a business card from a local company promoting their removal services for old vehicles and machinery.

“Marty is NOT JUNK!” I shouted loudly as I showed the card to Grumpy. He looked at the card, chuckled and shook his head. Who knows how long that card had been there; and that I would find it a week from my mom’s birthday. But seeing that card on her old car – upset me.

Marty was my mom’s first ‘real’ purchase, at least that’s how she always told me the story. After her first marriage ended horribly, my mom was on her own and Marty was the first thing she bought by herself. She was always so proud of him.

My mom drove that car everyday till the day she died, for over 20 years. My dream is to one day restore Marty, better than he was, and drive him for another 20.

The next day Grumpy and I were driving home from a day of fun, when the song “Someone Like You” by Adele came across the speakers. Since the release of this song, my dad has always associated it with my mom.

“Nothing compares
No worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes
They are memories made.
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

Never mind, I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you
Don't forget me, I beg
I'll remember you said,
‘Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead’”

There we were in front of the house, sitting in my car, listening to the song, singing along and staring at Marty.

“They thought Marty was junk.” Grumpy chuckled – and I laughed.

No. No, Marty isn’t junk.

When I Met You

April and July are hard months for me. April the month my mom was born; and July the month she died. This year marks 10 years that she’s been with God. It feels so much longer; I can hardly remember her. She’s been gone almost half my life.

My moms’ twin, aunt Stella (who I was named after), really struggled with my mom’s passing in the beginning. After years of therapy and healing, my aunt is finally on the “acceptance” stage of grief. I feel like I’ve reverted to the “depression” stage. I know grief can be a cycle; we can cycle in and out of the stages of grief.

It’s really hard for me to deal with this.

I did so well when my mom passed. I truly believed (and still do) that God had a purpose for taking my mom. It was easy for me to “work through” the stages of grief after she passed. I did it in one night actually.

One long, late, tear-filled night.

A week or so after God took my mom. I sat in my room, listened to music and with my emotions fresh, I unleashed all of my thoughts and emotions to God. I remember so vividly, sitting in a corner, the tears running down my face, hitting the floor and yelling at God. I’d randomly get up, pace my room, hit the closet, kick my bed, and scream into a pillow.

“Why God? Why did you do THIS?!”

“Why did you take her?”

“Why couldn’t I save her?”

I’ve struggled with the guilt of not saving my mom on and off since her passing; but that’s a story for another journal entry.

I remember staying up past 3am. I gave all my hurt, pain, anger and questions to God and He filled me with peace and gave me reassurance that I would be okay.

This is why cycling through the stages of grief is hard for me. I know God healed my hurt. I know God took my pain. I know God was in the room with me when I was grieving.

God hurt with me. God grieved with me.

And it’s not that I still don’t believe that. I know I’m healed. God took my brokenness and put me back together.

I am healed. But, I’m also human.

Just because I cycle in and out of grief, it doesn’t mean I don’t trust God. It means I love my mom.

 And that I miss her.

“I remember the moment, I remember the pain
I was only a girl, but I grew up that day
Tears were falling
I know You saw me

Hiding there in my bedroom, so alone
I was doing my best, trying to be strong
No one to turn to
That's when I met You

All this time, from the first tear cried
'Till today's sunrise
And every single moment between
You were there, You were always there
It was You and I
You've been walking with me all this time”

Song: “All This Time” by Britt Nicole

The stages of grief

Just Keep Breathing

A couple of weeks ago marked the one year anniversary of me being self-harm free. I’ve said that three times in the last ten years.

So much has happened in the last ten years; so much happened when I turned 17. I started cutting a few months after my birthday. My mom was diagnosed and passed away from pancreatic cancer. I discovered my passion for music. The Internet became my world. And so many other things happened.

It’s so weird to think it’s been ten years. Ten years of me fighting the urge to place a blade to my skin. At moments, it doesn’t seem like it’s been that long. And at other moments, it seems like a lifetime.

It saddens me.

It saddens me that cutting has been such a big part of my life. It saddens me that I’ve only been able to stop three times; the first time for a year, the second time for two & half years and this third time for one year.

I was so lost last fall (Oct-Dec 2013). I had a fight with my dad, I packed my bags and left home; I couldn’t handle living in a toxic environment any more. I ran to the only place I could think of, my “sanctuary” became my trigger. The people who were supposed to help me, pushed me over the edge.

I knew what I was doing was wrong. And I knew if I gave in, it would be so hard to stop. But it didn’t matter, I was alone. Truly, and utterly, alone.

I cut more in those three months, then I had EVER done. I couldn’t stop. I was emotionally spiraling out of control. I was grasping for anything. It was SO BAD.

At one point, it finally clicked in my head to just stop and breathe. My thoughts were racing; I had to force my brain and emotions to stop. I needed a break. I was sitting in a Starbucks, writing in my journal and listening to music. I was hiding.

“2 A.M., too tired to sleep
When what you want's not what you need
And when these walls don't feel like home
Remember that you're not alone…

When heaven seems so far away
And dreams are just a memory
When love is all too hard to hold
Just take a breath and let it...

Go whoa oh, whoa whoa oh, whoa whoa oh
Just keep breathing, breathing, breathing
Whoa whoa oh, whoa whoa oh, whoa whoa oh
Just keep breathing, breathing, breathing”

I went to my dad the next day, we worked out our problems and I moved back in. I learned that sometimes being in a hard place is better than being in no place at all. And that good really does come from bad.

It was so hard to stop; almost unbearable.

I remember lying on my bed and forcing myself not to move. It took over an hour, but the urge finally passed. One afternoon I was walking in the hardware store with my dad, and we walked down an aisle with every type of blade ever made by man. And I craved them, like I never craved anything before. My skin ached and I became jittery. I was an addict hurting for a fix.

As the months have passed, the lust has subsided, but it’s always there. And I know it always will be. I will always struggle with self-harm and depression. But as long as I remember to breathe, I know I can make it to the next hour and to the next aisle and through my life.

Let Me Go

Why does love have to be so complicated? And hurt so much.

I’ve been dating this guy on and off for the last five years. We’re together for a couple of months and then we don’t speak for four or six months. He then comes crawling back to me and I always take him back; and the evil bitter cycle of hurt, disappointment and loneliness starts again.

I have a very strong, dominate and stubborn personality. I need someone by my side that can reign me in and keep me in check. Not someone I can push around and bully.

But he loves me, my bitchiness and all. He’s always there. And, he’s persistent.

No matter how many times I shove him in the mud and kick him in the face, he only wants me.

And that really messes with my head.

I mean, he has to love me to constantly deal with that – right? And even though I love him for never giving up on me, we’re never going to work out.

So, his constant pursuit of me is exhausting.

I can only hear his empty promises so many times. And my demands to “leave me alone” have no substance anymore, even to me.

The 27th Year

It’s so weird to think I’m turning 27 today. Not because I’m getting ‘older’, but because I never thought I’d live past my 21st birthday. I’ve lived six years more than I EVER thought I would.

There are so many moments where I tried to snuff out my light.

I should be dead.

I should have never woken up.

There was a time in my life, where I begged God to let me die. I couldn’t understand why He couldn’t just let me go.

The harder I tried, the tighter He gripped me.

I was so angry. I couldn’t see, I didn’t understand.

I’ve always felt alone and invisible. I’ve never thought that I’ve mattered.

But this last year, I’m starting to see a glimpse. A glimmer of what my purpose might possibly be.

I started making gaming videos and placed them on YouTube for others to see. I was hoping to make a friend or two.

Honestly, I was reaching; I was reaching for anything to keep myself stable. Something to distract myself, and to trick myself into thinking that I WASN’T wasting my life.

From a young age, I knew I was made for something bigger then myself. I just didn’t know what that something was. And over the years, I’ve really started to doubt myself. How can a girl like me, change the world?

I’ve defiantly made more than a friend or two, these last 8 months on YouTube. I’ve created this family of support, love and motivation. I could have NEVER imagined, posting short videos of me rambling incoherently could EVER make an impact. And I NEVER thought that making these videos would bring me healing.

I call my family, Fireflies. Small, bright lights of hope in the darkness. Who would have thought, that I would find my light posting gaming videos online? Who would have thought that ANYONE would have noticed my dimly lit light?

I had been posting videos online for a few months, when I almost threw in the towel. My Fireflies were calling out to me; they said I brightened their day, that they looked up to me and that I was changing their lives – it was too much for me to handle.

I had started to listen to the darkness.

You’re not worthy.

You’re worthless.

You’re damaged.

How can a depressed self-harming suicidal girl help anyone?

The darkness started closing in on me. Closer and closer. Tighter and tighter. The darkness was right.

I find myself looking back on my journal entries often when I’m searching.

So there I sat, in the middle of the night reading through my blog. And it all slowly started to click into place.

I’ve been through a lot in my life. I’ve overcome a lot in my life. I’ve fought and I’ve clawed myself out of the hole of death.

My destiny is not to die! My destiny is to LIVE! I am to live and to shine bright.

I AM A FIREFLY! Sure, I’ve made mistakes. Yes, I’ve done things I shouldn’t have. And I DO still struggle with depression. But that doesn’t mean that I’m stuck or that my light is covered.

I can share my thoughts. I can share my experiences. I can tell my stories and pour out my heart. I CAN help others! 

Even if the only reason I was placed on this Earth was to post short videos of me rambling incoherently to brighten others days.

THEN THANK GOD! Thank God I didn’t die. Thank God my prayers weren’t answered.

I’m a fighter!

I’m a firefly!

I’M ALIVE!

Fall to Pieces

It’s strange how memories fade and how even the pain of emotion can subside, but in an instant it all comes rushing back. Like the pressure of a damn being released, and how the water saturates everything in its path. How it makes you paralyzed and anxious all at once.

Human memories and emotions are funny that way.

The other day, I attended a funeral of a family member that I didn't know. So when I felt a strong sting of emotion I didn't know how to respond, I was taken off guard.

My first reaction was: ‘I need a blade now!’ And then I instantly rebuffed the thought with: ‘I can do this!’ I hadn't experienced these emotions in years; I thought I'd worked through them. I thought I overcame this painful memory.

I instantly knew the enemy was taunting me. He was trying to cause havoc, to make me falter to have me loose absolute control and to fall apart. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was safe. That everything was going to be okay...

And that he couldn't hurt me anymore.

I was molested as a child, by a family member. Over the years, since the incident, I'd see him from time to time at different gatherings. Always from a distance, I've always made sure to stay away.

But this time, this time, was so uncomfortably close. I hadn't seen him in years. And now, there he stood an arm’s length away from me. I had my back to him, trying to block his existence, but then I had to turn and greet him.

The instant my hand touched his in a shake, I cringed and couldn't let go fast enough. Luckily our group instantly started moving and I was able to distract myself. This was when my silent battle started.

Tears rushed to my eyes, my breathing quickened, and my mind raced. I had to make a decision, and I had to make it fast! Either allow the emotions to take over or fight; fight against the hurt and pain and NOT allow myself to be a victim any longer.

“I can do this.” I said quietly out loud to myself.

We found our seats, and again the enemy taunted me, there he sat right in front of me. I quickly started quoting scriptures and prayed a desperate cry of help.

“By His wounds we are healed.” Isaiah 53:5.

“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13.

A technique I learned in therapy came to me; I took a deep breath and calmed myself.

‘If little Star lived through this horrific situation, big Star can too.’ I lived through the situation once, I could relive it emotionally again. I’m stronger now. Braver. He no longer has the power to hurt me. I’m in control.

Once I took the power back, gradually I felt peace. The memories were still there, they were uncomfortable but not painful; the emotion was gone.

I had overcome the painful memory, I did work through the situation – but I never worked through the emotions of it.

The enemy saw the chink in my armor. The enemy thought throwing him at me would cause me to crumble. I faltered for a moment, but the warring – fighting spirit in me won.

For the first time in a long time I felt strong.

I am a strong. I am brave. I AM A FIGHTER! I need to remember this more often.

Shallow Breathes

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Everything will be okay.

I feel like I’m slowly suffocating. And some days, like today, it feels like the plastic around my head is crumbled and twisted. My little pocket of air is taken from me; I gasp for air trying to breathe, but all I get is plastic. Then the plastic is released and it relaxes and I can take shallow breathes again. But I can never fully fill my lungs.

I’m trying to survive.

It seems like that’s all I ever do.

Steal Kill And Destroy

This video is made to support The #SKAD1010 Project. I was not asked, prompted or received anything for making this video. I personally think SKAD is a wonderful non-profit organization and has an inspirational message. 

SKAD Information:
stellaskad@gmail.com
www.stealkillanddestroy.com
www.twitter.com/skadworldwide
www.stealkillanddestroy.tumblr.com
www.facebook.com/StealKillandDestroy

What's a Firefly?

I’ve slowly started telling my family that I’m making and uploading videos to YouTube. I kept it to myself for a while, because I didn’t know how my family would react. I knew most of them wouldn’t understand and I was afraid of having to explain it to them; because I knew I wouldn’t do it right. But honestly, I was afraid of having the idea rejected by my family. I liked having YouTube be my own private thing, my secret. But as my channel grows, it’s taking more and more of my time and energy and I had to let people know what was going on so they could try to “understand”.

There are only two people’s opinions in the world that matter to me. And I was terrified of telling them both.

I love how the first thing out of Aunt Stella’s mouth, after I explained everything was “And how can you bring God into this?” Ha ha, it wasn’t “That’s stupid” or “It’s a waste of time”.  Just, “How can you bring God into this?”

I just smiled and looked at her and said “How do I NOT bring God into it?”

Aunt Stella always knows the right thing to say.

My ‘slogan’ or ‘catch-phrase’ is “Love Will Save the Day”, for the banner/header on all of my social sites I have this slogan with John 3:16 tacked on the end.

I call my fans ‘fireflies’; little lights of hope and joy in the dark – Matthew 5:13-16.

I also pray often that God would use my channel and bless it.

But like my name says, Because She’s Star. How can I be me, without having God in my YouTube channel? I don’t know why, but this was a confirmation to me.

That I’m doing something right.

That I’m on the right track.

That I’m in alignment with God.

I’ve just got to be me and trust. And love myself, like I tell my fireflies.

vlog: fetch

CAS Remix: Ruthie Butler & Star Cord

YouTube Description:
A re-stylization of two of my already made Sims, Ruthie (my mother Sim) and Star (my Sim self).

A couple of months ago, I made a CAS in memory of my mother on her birthday. Today is the anniversary of her death. Every year, I try to do happy things on these days so that I don't focus on the sad. This year has been difficult to do that, but thanks to you fireflies I feel like I can make it through the day.

I miss you Mami.

I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my Mami you'll be.

Since YouTube is the only form of creative-expression that I'm currently motivated to use, I decided that I would create a video to post on July 7th.

I kept racking my brain, trying to think of what I could do. However, the one thing that kept pushing through my thoughts was that I wished my mom was with me. So, I decided that I would make that happen (in a small way of course).

I created a photo-shoot for my Sim self and my Sim mother, I posed them in different ways and took pictures of them having a fun, happy and wonderful day at the park. It's weird how this brought me peace and calmed my spirit. But it did.

Love WILL save the day.

I Have Hope

Normally on this day, I write happy cheery posts about my mom. How she was an amazing woman, how she’s now with God & how glorious that is, and I share a witty story. But today, today I’m just not feeling it. Because today, I’m not happy and I’m not strong enough to fake it.

I’m angry.

I’m angry at her for dying and changing our lives so horribly. I’m angry at her for leaving me and my dad; and making me deal with a woman that I hate and treats my dad so poorly. I’m angry at her for not teaching me the things she should have. I’m angry at her for making me feel like my words weren’t important, because now I’m too scared to share my thoughts. I’m angry that she told everyone good-bye but me.

I have hate.

I hate that the only things I can remember her saying are negative. I hate that I can’t remember her voice. I hate that I can’t remember how she looked, without looking at a picture. I hate myself, for not making her proud.

I’m weak.

I’m not strong enough today to put on a brave face. Today, I’m not willing to accept that she’s gone for some “greater good”. I’m tired of day-dreaming that she was by my side, I just wish she was. Today, I feel I will never overcome the pain that my mother’s death gave me.

I have faith.

I have faith that God won’t leave me in this horribly deep hole of depression that I’m in. I have faith that when I get to heaven, my mother will be there. I have faith that I’m not alone. I have faith, believe and know that the many powerful prayers my mother said over my life are still in effects today.

Today is a sad day, but I have hope that tomorrow will be better.

He Hears Her When She Cries

I’ve really been struggling with my depression this last month. I’ve almost cut myself three times. This last temptation, almost won, but I was drowning so far down that I couldn’t pull myself up enough to do it.

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. But, it’s not like I’ve ever really “known” what I’m doing. I flounder, it’s what I do. I bounce from space to space, never grappling to anything in particular. I’m like a helium balloon that’s been released. I just float; higher and higher, deeper and deeper.

I’ve been growing bigger on YouTube, which has been keeping me occupied; but doesn’t completely distract me. I keep thinking; if I killed myself, would my fireflies know? How would they take that?

I’m trying to stay strong. I’m trying to stay. But the darkness is calling me again. And its voice is so sweet… I just want to lay and rest.

I know these thoughts are wrong, and that I shouldn’t entertain them.

I have these young fans that look up to me. They call me their best friend; say that they love me, that I get them through the day. They say that I am this amazing person and I try to see myself through their eyes… But I can’t.

I don’t see anything, I just feel pain.

How can I help them, when I’m so empty?

How can I be a positive influence, when all I want to do it die?

…And then I breathe, and say a prayer and close my eyes. Because I know in the morning I will wake, and deep down, I’m glad for that. 

Song that accompanies this post:
 "When She Cries" by Britt Nicole.

Are You a Shopaholic?

Yes, yes I am a shopaholic; and I’m not ashamed to admit that. I’ve known this for a few years now. I discovered this about myself when I lived in Colorado. I’ve said this many times, but when I lived in Colorado I was in a really bad place mentally. I was barely surviving.

I would lock myself in my room listen to music, cut, and play The Sims 3. That is when I wasn’t at Build-a-Bear making more stuff animals then any young-adult really needs. Or buying crosses from Hobby Lobby to “grow” my collection (my collection took up one and half walls). Or at thrift stores buying books I never really intended to read.

I was constantly buying things. I would go to Walgreens and buy random things to make myself happy; stickers, candy, coloring books, and art supplies. I didn’t really realize what I was doing when I was doing. My main goal was surviving and living to the next day.

Now that I look back at it, yes, that probably wasn’t the healthiest thing for me. I shouldn’t have used materialistic things to comfort myself. Do I still do it? Heck yes! But I do control it better now.

I think, at moments we all need a little help to stabilize ourselves. And if buying something brings your mood up and aligns your thoughts & mind, then maybe it’s not that bad. Lesser than two evil’s, you know? I think indulging in ourselves every now and then is okay.

For sure we shouldn’t be doing it all the time. It shouldn’t become an addiction. The “only” way we can become happy.

Acceptance is the first step in recovery, and recovery takes time.