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I know it's been awhile since I blogged here, but a lot has been going on, some of which I won't go into. But anyways...

Since my mom passed away just a little over five months ago, things have been hard at my house, as is expected. However, imagine my surprise and shock when I went into my dad's room one day about a month ago and he was setting up a profile on an online dating site. My stomach turned and I so wanted to go off on him, but I held my tongue. I've been holding my tongue for the past month even though he LOCKS HIMSELF IN HIS ROOM and talks to random women online. The fact that he locks his door makes me suspicious. You can call me a hypocrite because I'm in my room on my computer all day talking to people my family doesn't know, BUT I don't do ANYTHING online that I'm ashamed of, and I NEVER lock my door unless I'm changing.

Okay, fine, I get the fact that he's lonely and doesn't know how to be single. He was with my mom for over 40 years. Now he's apparently found this woman, and they've already been on two dates. I have mixed feelings about this. I'm of course pissed off because it feels to me like he's trying to replace my mom, I hate the fact that he's even THINKING about dating again when it's ONLY been 5 months since the woman he was married to for 40 FREAKING YEARS passed away (from something she shouldn't have even died from, but don't get me started on that), and I loathe the fact that he thinks it's alright to let this woman come STAY AT OUR HOUSE for a couple of days. And no, I'm not even kidding either!!!!

On the other hand, I know he's a big boy and can take care of himself, but if it were me in his position, I would spend any extra time I had trying to repair my family (because I know all of us have at least some kind of mental or emotional trauma from the way he treats us) instead of trying to find a new woman to be with. My dad says I never watch my siblings, when he doesn't watch them either when he's at home. And when he gets pissed off at them because they're being too loud, he comes out of his room and yells and cusses at them, makes empty threats, and sometimes hits my youngest brother just because he's an easy target.

All of that sounds horrible, I know, but let me get back to what I was saying. My friends have been telling me mixed things: that I should let him be happy or that I have every right to be pissed off, and everything in between. You know what though? I'm going to be pissed, and I don't care what anyone says about it. If that sounds mean then I'm sorry but that's just how it is. To me it feels like he's trying to replace my mom. These are MY feelings and I'm pretty sure I have a right to feel them. Why haven't I said any of this to him, you may ask? Well, the answer is simple: I'm scared of him every second that he's home, good mood or not, because of what I mentioned above, and I don't know how to stand up to him.

When and if this woman comes to stay here, I know he's going to do his best to act like a saint around her. However, I know my younger siblings will be the monsters they usually are, my dad will go off on them, and this woman will see how he really is. Who knew my siblings being so horrible could actually come in handy someday? Don't get me wrong though, I DO want my dad to be happy. Just not this way. And I'm gonna be mad about this as much and as long as I want to.

Happy Birthday Momma

Today, January 13th, 2011, is the day that my momma would have turned 59. It's her birthday.

I could go on about how much I miss her and how much I want/need her here, but I'm crying as I'm sitting here typing this and I've already said I miss her countless times, and I don't want to cry harder while I'm typing.

Anyway, I thought instead I'd share a few of the good times I had with my mom. It's important to me that I keep her memory alive, and that I hold on to my memories of her, especially since I can't make any new ones with her.

Before she got sick, she did so much. Like I remember when I was in elementary school, my mom would clean my room for me every day before I got home from school. She never said a word about it, I didn't act spoiled because of it, and I tried to not mess up my room too badly.

Another thing I remember, and this came to me last night, was when I was really little, I went to Church with my mom. It was a special Saturday night service, and it was special to me and my mom because it was usually just the two of us that went. I was too little to really understand what worship was, but I just wanted to be close to my mom. It was in the middle of worship, and my mom was at the altar. She really became overwhelmed by the Holy Spirit, so she was laying on her back and worshiping. I was in my seat where my mom had told me to stay, but when I saw her on her back, I thought something was wrong with her so I ran to the front and wordlessly lay down on the floor beside her, watching her until she looked over at me and told me she was alright.

One of my favorite memories with her was when I was probably 16, she could still transfer herself from her recliner to her power chair, and we were both hungry. We were trying to figure out what to eat, then my mom suggested that I go to the kitchen and see if we had the ingredients to make her homemade chili. We did, so I got the ingredients out while she got into her power chair and came into the kitchen with me. She couldn't do too much because she couldn't stand for very long, so I did most of the work. It was a fun afternoon though, just her and me, talking and laughing and making the best chili I've ever had.

Last year on her birthday, she was in a hospital, and she had gotten worse so she couldn't go out anywhere. My family and I went out for Mexican food in her honor, because it was her favorite, and we all went to visit her beforehand. She tried her best to hide it, but I could tell she was disappointed for not being able to go out with us. I know I definitely wish she was there.

The last time she actually got out of the house besides to go to a hospital or a nursing home was May 15th, 2009. That was the day of my high school graduation. She couldn't walk at all by this point so it was, you could say interesting, transferring her to the car so she could come watch me graduate. I can remember clearly walking across the stage and looking out into the audience to see her reaction. She had the biggest smile on her face, I knew she was so proud of me.

I would like to close with this:

Dear Momma,

Happy 59th Birthday! *hugs* I love you so much Momma, and I miss you every day. I hope you're rejoicing in Heaven as you have your perfect body and are able to dance with Jesus like you wanted for so long. I know Heaven is a beautiful place, but it really and truly is so much more beautiful now that you're there. I will hold on to you forever, and I know you'll do the same for me and Dad and the rest of your children and loved ones. Please tell Jesus to give you a hug from me, and know it's me hugging you. Smile and know I still clearly see it and know how much your smile brightened up the room.

Love Always,
Your daughter, Sarah


Thank you for reading guys.

I'm Scared.

Okay, being scared is a hard thing for me to admit. This time though, it's different.

I went to the gynecologist this morning and had a routine checkup and some blood work done. That all sounds pretty normal, right? Well that's what I thought it was going to be until the doctor actually started talking to me. I went in for a complaint about my menstrual cycle, and he told me about all of these tests he wanted to run because he thinks one of the biggest factors contributing to this problem I'm having is my weight. He told me all of the risks that come from this.

He told me that because of my irregularity, I might not be able to have children someday. He told me something might be wrong with my adrenal gland. He told me all of these tests he wanted to run and the things he wants to do to rule the more serious problems out. When he was saying this, I nodded along and thought "Okay, this will be good, we're going to figure out what's wrong with me."

Nothing really hit me until I got home and had the chance to sit down and think about what this could mean. If something were seriously wrong with me, it would mean emotional and financial strain on my family, and of course it would affect me emotionally. I mean, what if I'm never able to have kids?? I so want to have children someday, but what if my stupid weight prevents me from doing that?

I'm so scared. I'm scared of what the future might hold. I mean, with everything the doctor said to me, how am I supposed to NOT be scared? If something is seriously wrong with me, it could quite possibly change my life forever. I know this may seem like I'm overreacting, but I'm really not. I've had problems with irregularity for about 8 years and have been worried for a long time.

Just... In general I'm scared.

Unsure

For some reason it doesn't feel like Christmas is coming. Yes our tree is up and the holiday movies have been playing and Christmas music has been playing and most of the presents are wrapped and it's cold and all that, but it doesn't feel like Christmas. I think it's because my mom isn't here to celebrate it with us.

A friend told me that whatever I feel having to do with my mom and this time of year, be it happy or sad, is okay.. so.. I feel sad and like no one understands what I feel. I don't want to sound mean, but whenever I see people talk about their moms and how amazing they are, it makes me sad because I can't share anything new with my mom. Not saying that people don't have a right to say whatever they want, I'm just saying this the only way I know how.

I have a feeling that I'll always miss my mom for the rest of my life, and nothing will ever feel the same, especially the holidays. My mom always loved Christmas too. I remember last year, she was in either a hospital or nursing home (I can't remember which it was, she went to so many of both) around this time, but the doctors thought she was well enough to come home for Christmas. I was thrilled, as was my family. I wish she could be here for this Christmas, I miss her so much. It doesn't feel right to celebrate it without her.

In fact, nothing feels right without her. Going about my daily life and tasks doesn't feel right. On the other hand though, what else am I supposed to do? I couldn't possibly lay in bed, dwell on this tragedy, and cry all day. I know my mom wouldn't want that, I know she would want me to be happy. It's just hard to be happy around Christmas because she loved it so much.

Even when she got sicker, her face would light up and she would smile all morning as she watched me and my siblings rip into the bows and colored wrapping paper on the gifts that she and my older sister had so carefully picked out for each of us. She lightened the room with her smile and laughter. That's one of the things I loved most about her.

I guess all I can do is try to be as happy as I can and remember that my mom is here with me in spirit, she's always in my heart, and I still have my memories of and with her. I will hold her close to my heart and pray and ask the Lord to give my mom a hug in Heaven for me on Christmas for me, since I can't. Without my faith I don't know where I'd be, but that's a whole other story.

Can't break free until I let it go.

Yesterday, as some of you know, I went to Six Flags. It was my second time to go in my whole life (the first was when I was a baby, so I don't remember it) so of course I was excited. Our youth pastor (I went with my youth group) passed out our tickets and said we were going on the Titan first.

We walked to it and waited in line for probably about an hour or more, then it was FINALLY time to get on! I was so excited. I'd never ridden a roller coaster before, and I was going to ride in the front two seats of the Titan with my friend Laura. I was pretty pumped, but my heart was racing. Laura told me that was normal, so I wasn't too worried.

I sat down in the seat, put the bar down, and realized it wouldn't go down all the way. I adjusted myself a little, and it still wouldn't. The lady that was helping out walked over and told me I couldn't ride because the restraint wasn't down far enough. I don't think anyone can imagine the embarrassment I felt when I had to climb out of the ride and go wait for my friends to finish riding.

I put my hood up over my head (it was cold so I had my hoodie on), stood in the corner outside the gate, and did my best to not break down crying, although it didn't work out so well since within minutes I had tears streaming down my face and my breath was getting shaky. My mood darkened. I immediately started feeling sad, depressed, angry, embarrassed, and paranoid.

Mostly though, I was feeling embarrassed. I couldn't believe that, to be blunt, I'm too big to ride the freaking Titan. After Laura finished riding, she came over to find me and tried her best to make me feel better, but it didn't work that well. I love her for trying, but I sunk into a dark mood, and once I'm in a dark mood, it's very, very hard to get me out of it.

What is the reason for this, you may ask? Well, that's simple. I'm bipolar, which means I'm either very happy or very depressed. Nothing sets these mood swings off really, and they can last anywhere from 5 minutes to a whole day or longer (for me at least). It sucks, but there isn't anything at this moment that I can do about it. I feel helpless.

It seems like lately, my moods are mostly dark and sad. It could be because I'm not happy with myself, it could be because of my home situation, I don't really know. It seems like as time goes on, I get sadder and sadder, and it's not fair. I just want to be happy, but it's almost as if I don't know how to be.

I don't know what else to say really, just that I hate being sad.

Crimson Regret and Betrayal.

**Warning** The content of this is not for someone of a queasy stomach.

She knows she's made a mistake,
One she can't take back.
As she watches the trickle of blood
Following the curves of her arm downward,
She feels so guilty she can't stand it.

She grabs a ball of tissue
And quickly wipes away the blood.
She cuts again and tries her best
To not cry out from the pain it brings.
She cuts again and again and again.

Tears slowly fall down her pale cheeks,
Tears of sadness, pain, guilt, and regret.
She hates herself for doing this to herself
But knows that with everything she has,
She can not and will not and dare not stop.

The next cut brings a whimper and more tears.
She bites her lip to keep from screaming
As she takes the blade away and once again
Watches the trickle of blood down her arm.
Again, she feels so guilty, but can't stop.

Eventually, there's so much blood
That she can barely see the cuts.
She instantly regrets what she's done
And wishes she could take it back
But she knows it's too late.

She starts sobbing and clutches her arm
Wishing with all her heart
That it didn't have to come to this.
She knows it didn't have to; but sadly
She felt she had no other choice.

She drops to the smooth tile floor,
Her body growing weaker, her eyes closing.
She hates herself so much for what she's done
And as a last attempt to punish herself,
She digs her nails into her arm and screams quietly.

The blood doesn't stop, it just flows faster.
She limply falls to the floor, her eyes half open,
Tears still streaming down her face.
Her cries get softer, and she grows weaker.
Her body lies cold and limp on the smooth tiled floor.

Suddenly, the pain stops. She's free from her sadness.
The blood keeps flowing, yet she doesn't feel it.
She watches her body laying limp and dead
As she blows herself a kiss and disappears
Into the early morning air.

She is finally free.


You probably don't have to guess what song goes with this.

I tried to kill my pain, but only brought more...

This might be slightly disturbing to some people, and it's a little graphic, so this is a warning if you can't handle it.

It happened technically last year, but it still haunts me now. During July of last year, I for some reason got really depressed. I can't remember now because I've chosen to block that fateful day from my mind.

Anyway... I got depressed, so I found one of my old razors, took the blade out, and I cut my wrist with it. It hurt a lot, but for some reason I did it again... and again... and again. I don't remember how many times I did it in that short time period, but afterwards I felt so guilty for doing it.

I don't remember the next time I did it, because as I stated before, I have chosen to block it out. It might have been September or October, but yeah, it was at least a few months after the first time I did it. At that time in my life, my mom had gotten sicker, and I fell into such a deep depression because I'd lost hope she would ever get better. For some reason I thought I had to punish myself for everything that was going wrong in my life. Cutting myself was the way I did that. It hurt, and I bled, I can't say it felt good to do it because it didn't. It was a seemingly endless cycle; I would cut myself, then I would feel so guilty for doing it that I would wait until I stopped bleeding for the moment and cut myself all over again. I don't know what made me stop every time; it might have been because I ran out of places to cut and wanted to wait for them to heal a little before I did it again. It might be because someone called my name and snapped me out of it.

This went on for a few months, and the point that I hit rock bottom was, ironically, on January 13th of this year. It's ironic because January 13th is my mother's birthday. It was sometime in the evening, and I had cut myself then remembered it was my mom's birthday, and I felt so guilty for doing it on that specific day that I got wrapped up in my depression and anger that I cut myself across my wrist on the inside of my arm, which I knew was the worst place to cut it since there are a lot of blood vessels there. I ended up bleeding for an hour and a half on and off; when I stopped bleeding I would cut again. It hurt so much that it was all I could do to not scream from the pain.

The pain wasn't just physical. It was emotional pain, spiritual pain, and mental pain. At that time in my life I was suicidal. I wanted to die. So many things had happened and I blamed it all on myself. Anyway, after I finally stopped bleeding, my sister knocked on my door (which was locked, for obvious reasons) and told me we were going out to dinner, so I put on a watch to cover the cuts I'd just made and didn't participate in any of my family's conversation. I put my iPod on Evanescence and let myself feel depressed. I got so wrapped up in it. When I got home later, I laid in bed because I was feeling kind of dizzy. Later on I started seeing spots and it felt like the room was spinning. When this happened it was about 1:00 in the morning, and I thought I was going to literally pass out. Not from being tired, but from blood loss. I was so scared and I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to wake anyone in my house up and worry them, so I laid in bed and worried and panicked and almost threw up, taking sips from the water bottle that was beside me every once in awhile until I fell asleep.

The next morning, I decided that I would never cut myself again. I wanted to, oh believe me I wanted to. It took literally EVERYTHING I had to throw my old razor blade away. It took all of my willpower to not find a new one and do it again. It was an addiction, and it was so hard to stop.

If I said I still didn't want to cut, I would be lying. If I told you I thought I was stronger from going through this, it would be a lie. I still suffer from what I believe to be depression, I'm sad all the time and I've become unfortunately good at hiding my sadness and putting on a happy face. I act strong and happy on the outside, when on the inside I feel like I'm dying from the crushing emotional pain I'm going through.

I know how selfish this may seem, because I have a family who loves me, friends who care about me, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food to eat. I still feel this way however; and I can't tell you why because I don't know. I wish I knew, because I feel depressed, sad, angry, lost, guilty, helpless, and hopeless. I think the last time I was actually happy was before my mom got sick in 2001. That's over 9 years of being depressed like this.

Anyway... Yesterday actually marked 11 months since the last time I cut myself. It's quite a milestone, at least I think it is. I let it take over my life, and I shouldn't have. Am I stronger after going through this experience? I'll let you know when I figure that one out.