Tag Archives: Memory


I’ve tried hard not to lie on my blog. I won’t start now. I haven’t felt well in awhile. Not physically or mentally. When I have an overwhelming feeling to relive past experiences I know I’m headed down the rabbit hole. I don’t mean relive them in my head, I mean actually do them again or something similar.

I can’t hop on a plane to L.A. and have drinks with Lars, I can’t hop on a plane and annoy Sebastian Bach, I can’t charm my way on to a bus filled with musicians. I miss those days. It isn’t so much the drinking I miss, it was the person I was able to be. No medication or therapy has ever made me feel like that person. In my head I was confident, funny, smart, pretty, and everyone wanted to be around me. In some cases that was true. But mostly it wasn’t. It was nice that I didn’t know or care what anyone thought at the time. Those were brief periods of drinking where the Worm didn’t come out to play.

When I drank no one knew who I would be at a certain point in my drinking. My best friend called it “The Turn of Worm”. That was when I would become reckless, mean, or on occasion violent. Sometimes I would hurt myself. I jumped off of the deck of a building one time. It wasn’t high up so I hadn’t done any real damage to myself. My best friend wasn’t happy. She rarely showed emotion except when it came to me. Now she doesn’t show me anything anymore. I can’t blame her. I just don’t understand why you would babysit someone for over 20 years and then wait until they’ve been sober almost 9 years before letting them go? She actually started to pull away sooner than that if I’m honest. This breaks something deep inside me that I can’t even name. She knew me better than my twin.

I care too much about everything and everyone since I stopped drinking. Emotional overload has made me weak and tired. I feel the way I did as a child only my mom isn’t here to comfort me. She always knew I was different. I would hear her talking to my Dad. She would tell him I was more sensitive than other children and to just “leave me be”. So that’s what they did for as long as I can remember. I went to my mom to cry. I missed school a lot of days sometimes when I said my “stomach hurt” and they didn’t question it. My father only recently said to me what he thought “I should’ve ignored your mother and taken you to a doctor when you were little. Maybe you wouldn’t be like this now”. It doesn’t do any good to try to blame anyone. I know he has blamed her side of the family many times. I personally have blamed my Grandmother. I think she was a rotten Mother and a horrible person in general.

I constantly feel an ache inside me. It never stops except when I sleep. I have been to countless Doctors and Therapists. I’ve done every different method suggested from visualizing a stop sign, writing a daily journal, changing my diet, ECT, so many different combinations of medications I’ve lost count. I’ve been asked if I can be videotaped for students to watch like a lab experiment, my dignity and pride lost a long time ago.

There is nothing that interests me anymore.


She was born on a mountain April 1945 that became Fayetteville, NC.

She was born with nothing and longed for a better life.

She took care of her brothers and sisters when there was no one.

She sacrificed an education to provide, only making it to Middle School.

She first saw He at the same school and would find her better life.

She went through much pain and heartache before He.

She eventually married bringing her 7 year old son with her.

She loved He for loving both of them.

She and He had twin daughters, She was over the moon.

It would take He a little longer to come around.

She wanted a house full of He’s children, but it was not to be after the Cancer.

She accepted this unexpected blow and instead became everyone’s She.

She loved to cook for and comfort the wounded souls around her.

She supported, loved, and gave me hope almost everyday.

She became sick again and this time left us, me, with a hole inside.

She passed February 21, 2008 I remember the pain and fear in her eyes.

She is so beautiful, from her hands to her big blue eyes that

He still sees when he looks into his daughters faces.

She is missed the most by Me, her daughter, with the sorrow filled soul.

She is my mom. Gone 8 years now and it feels like an hour ago.

I grieve the hardest, loudest, and longest.

Because like she I love harder, louder, and longest.

 Mother, Daughter, Sister, Grandmother and She.


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