Floaties and Training wheels.

I feel like I just learned to swim and I'm 10 feet into the ocean for the first time.

Even though, my bills have been paid by me, and there has been a roof over my head for the past seven years; this is the first time in my life that not one thought of anxiety, worry, or fear has consumed me by the plaguing of bad luck, depression, and plain old bad.

The reality of me leaving health-care is setting in.
Caring for myself, my dreams, is very very real.
It's like a cancer of my mind has been put into remission.
I feel clean.
Really clean.
I feel really clean;... all of the time.

The only thing I want is that I had people that knew me, people that hurt from the anger I had around me...I want them here now.
Just so they could see what I'm like without my pain and the reasons for it are all but one wiped away.
They could see me physically, they knew I was there.
But they didn't get to see my soul.
It hurts, more than anything I know how to describe,

While embracing new people; doing things I always wanted to do, living my dreams and cultivating really positive relationships with people I meet on almost a daily basis,.....
I can't have the ones I love the most, friends OR family around me.

This past weekend, two people that I met during the time I burrowed the deepest in my past visited.
My sister, and her mother.

The very fact that I got to hug them alone is a sanctuary.

I wish people knew that just having their siblings, or cousins around to talk to is one of the greatest things in this life. Far too often the way we treat people is a serious reason lives go haywire. It's also a reason lives turn towards greatness.

When My uncle and mother started bringing me to doctors I resisted.
I told the doctors how I was being treated at home, and then I was brought to a different doctor.
I told family members, and then I was no longer allowed to see that family member.
I fought, and was taken down by every lighting strike possible.

The house I lived in would shake when I was a child
It would tremor on the ground in which it stood.
Simply from screaming.
For hours at night, several nights a week, I could hear my uncle telling my mother that I needed to be put on medications for depression, or that I needed to be kept away from these kids at school for whatever reason he could come up with.
Manipulating to get out of doing anything parental....He got everything he wanted.
When he was home, I cleaned.
That's all I did.
That's all I was allowed to do.
And then I had to start taking pills, because If I didn't, well,
He would make sure that I would want to be sedated.
My mother always took care of my uncle, she coddled him.
Whatever he said went, even in her house.

For reasons I'm not going to enclose, because while I might have been the focal point of hurt in my mothers life, I still love her, and I love her too much to embarrass her stating the real reasons she even allowed all of this to happen.

I wish that I could someday protect her from all the hurt in the world.

She eventually put me on enough medication after being convinced that it was the right thing to do.
After being trapped in a bathroom for hours, while fighting two extremely angry and pushy adults from forcing pharmaceuticals down my throat
- like rocks down a soft drink straw -,
it was only residual for me to be left to vices of a man screaming in my face that I was puke.
I was scum. I was a filthy piggy mess.
He never failed to remind me of that daily.

How dare I want to be treated like a human.
Especially at the age of 12.

Every time someone tells me that I have a gift when I write, or that there's talent,
or suggests an idea....the gratitude is automatic.
But I feel like a narcissist. Getting this off my chest.
Right now....My story is the only one I can tell with passion. With truth.

I'm not a martyr, a saint, a goody two shoes,....there is no part of me that believes I'm perfect or better than anyone.
But I know the depth of what I've accomplished here....and I'm determined to take it to the next level.

To come to terms with the fact that my own mother decides to blame me for treating her like crap because I'm living my life for the first time after being consumed by a childhood and upbringing of complete abuse......what do I do with that?
How do I fight myself and my own moral compass?

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
Support is one of the greatest things in the world.

It's the fallback. The hug after a long day, and a friendly face of someone who doesn't judge you.
Phone calls are the best.

When I was trapped in that house, in a corner, crying my eyes out so much that they burnt.
I wanted to be alone.
Because I never believed that anyone wanted me simply to spend time with me. Not unless they would get anything out of it.
I was kept, like a dog.

And Now,...........
Now that I'm free from the evil, manipulation, and hate that bound me between both my families.....

I'm happy, but I wish every day that I could share it with the ones who didn't know.
The ones who I love, and miss.

I'm alone.
Not one person that I persistently reach out to gets it.

I know that in life it only gets harder, that's what makes you strong.
I want someone else to be strong.
I want a man, or a friend who will tell me that it's ok.
And that they love me.



I want someone else to reach out.



Still, I'll continue on. Because If I die, lets' face it. That's giving up.

In light of quitting my job, I have found a waitressing gig at a place I like.

What's so great about waitressing?

The people, the restaurant, the beer, the food...
I've been writing like crazy lately with inspiration.
Good things right?

It isn't enough for me.
It has to be great, the best, true love. In every sense of life.
All or nothing.

Last week I got coffee at the shop downstairs from my apartment,....and I took a stroll around town, down to the cemetery to a plot I found a few weeks ago when I moved here.

The last name was Story.
The plot has a pillar, and on that pillar, it said in etched words Mother Father

A Mother Father Story.

Then I remembered the Eagles nest that is about 20 feet from there on the river behind my house.

Recognizing that my dreams are in fact coming true,...the reality of what I already knew pushed it's way into my imagination.

It's not enough. I fought for my life.

I need to live it.

That's like buying Jimmy Choo shoes....or a Glock 17 and using either at the most opportune moment.

I'm pulling the triggor.

One thing I've always wanted to do is a road trip accross America.
But it has to be a staple. Better than the rest, memorable, original....like me. :D

Now I've been on road trips by myself before.
Short ones, road trips nonetheless....

So I thought

What If I biked!?!?!?!?! I could document daily or every other day....

And then I got an email, from my Meetup, from another girl who wants to do the same thing.

In the spring.
One way or another it's going to happen.
I've already begun training.

25 Years.

A Bike ride won't kill me.

2011 was my turning point and my healing year.
The Darkness is gone from my life. Damned better stay out.

2012, I fore-see a lot of writing, traveling and schooling.

The worlds not gonna end people......
The world is just beginning.