I guess this blog may seem out of order or confusing.. but I was here before. I was trying to be stronger than I am. I was trying to seize moment and embrace this community, and be supportive but it wasn't working out. So I took some time away and now I am back again...

Tonight I am feeling volatile, and bitter, hurt, angry, lost, depressed, hopeless and these are not typical "Mandy" feelings.  I have always been an optimist, always believed in looking forward and standing strong, and fighting hard for what is right.  I always believed that even when I was down in the dirt and feeling broken that there was hope.  when I was a child I didn't have many friends, I wasn't very social. I cared about my family and taking care of or playing with my little sisters. I liked to read books where I could put myself in the place of the heroes or heroines, where I could go on adventures without being judged or misunderstood and some how I made it though those years. 

I have never believed in much, I tried.. emotions were not the easiest thing for me. In third grade a friend died, his name was Paul. I remember everything about that week. I remember the counselors that came and spoke to the class. I remember making a memory book, and planting the tree behind the classroom, and putting our hand prints in the cement.  I remember that I told myself that guns were never going to be in my home when I was a grown up. .. that was my first memorable experience with death. I guess I was lucky in the department as a child. My family was young so I had never experienced the death of a family member. 

Years later, in junior high there were students from my school that died. a suicide, a car accident, an illness. Everyone was sad, there were prayers, and  more counseling available if we felt we needed it. I don't remember feeling much.  

My father was a reverend, so religion was prominent in my life. Did I have faith?, sure I guess I did. More like I believed because my parents told me too, and because they believed and because I believed in my family. I guess my real faith was in that; family. Family. I believed in rules, and honor, and respect and in Jesus, and in love.  

I guess my faith in family was tested often. My parents got divorced when I was in high school. Both of my parents got into pretty straining relationships after that. I was in my first long term relationship ever. I thought it would last forever. I swore I was in love. I became pregnant.  I love my son so very much.. but man I made a mess of things back then.  I guess I still do.. I am not sure how I feel about it anymore.. nothing in my head feels right these days.. 

anyway.. 

When I found out I was pregnant my faith in family fractured even more. My mom was less than graceful in her treatment of me at the time... and my father was off with his new family, I was not very welcome I was pretty much on my own.  So I thought I could make the best of it.. I guess I needed help and had no idea where to go to get it.. so I tried to make my life better.. but I suppose it is not possible to build a palace in the sand.  My relationship became abusive, I was all but estranged from my parents..  but I still had hope I still believed in Family and that I had a chance at a better life.. I left my sons father. 

I ran around a bit. Drank to much, messed around with the wrong crowd, but quietly.. nobody really knew me. I am not sure that anyone really cared, everyone I cared about was busy caring about themselves.. so I just tried to etch a path, something that worked for me. 

I met Dennis at work.  He was so different from my sons father. He said all the right things, My hope got me in pretty deep.  I thought I did it right that time. We had a daughter.. a beautiful, sweet little girl, my Julianna. She restored all my faith in family... in life. She gave me the world all over again. I married her father... we did well we bought a house, and had another baby.. Isabella had a rough entry into the world.. my pregnancy was exhausting, long, tiresome. I was sick a lot but I never complained I loved my family they were worth every bit of it. She made it and got stronger, and there were a few months of perfection.. 

Than death began to poke at me.. My sons father committed suicide. I hadn't talked to him in a year, he had been on and off of drugs, diagnosed with schizophrenia and was just lost in the back of my mind. My son was 7 when we went to his fathers funeral. I cried, I forgave him for everything that had me so mad at him.  He had been a sick man, not that he had been a man long. He was 27 years old when he died. It was fathers day 2005.  

2 months later I moved my family to Texas. we wanted a new start, a better home, a better life. But things were not that simple.. Death.. again.. 3 months after my sons father died my Great-grandmother passed away. She had broken her hip and gotten ill and never recovered, I watched her daughter, my grandmother, fall apart at the loss of her mother. I was hurt, but I had more than just that going on.. my husband had cheated on me, and I was pregnant and he encouraged me to have an abortion. I never thought it was the right thing to do.. but at the time I had a 6 month old baby, and just lost my sons father, and my great grand mother, and was uncertain about my marriage, and my health was not great... so I had the abortion.. and swore to myself to never have anymore children. I felt like a monster and became very depressed. 

a year and a half later my marriage fell apart. I still believed in family, but mine was not functioning, We had our home, the kids were happy, but I was not and neither was my husband. I never learned how to deal with myself, my emotions, my needs, ALL I knew how to do was have baby's and take care of them. Cook, clean, change diapers.. work, but not LIVE. I wanted to learn to BE someone but I was depressed because I hated the someone that I had allowed myself to become. 

My husband was ashamed that I was unhappy. So when he left it went very badly, he ruined as much as he could..He took everything he could and never looked back. We lost our house, I lost my job, at least I had my children. I still had hope. 

death again.. less impacting this time.. I heard that my ex step father had shot himself. my mother had moved on, I never really had much to do with my ex stepfather.. it wasn't much of a "big deal" t me.. but it happened and stunned us all a little.  I had a lot going on at the time.  

My three children and I lived with my grand mother and grand father for 2 years in Texas. I worked hard, focused on the kids and trying to get life in order.. I wanted to beable to do everything on my own. I wanted to be able to be a strong single mother that could provide for her kids, love them, make them happy. 

we moved from TX to Northern CA. 1 more year passed. 

DEATH again. :( Jan. 2011 My grandfather died. The Patriarch of my family. HE was like a father to me. My own father had been out of my life for about 9 years by then, just a distant acquaintance.  My children were heart broken. I flew to Texas to go to my grandfathers funeral.  I thought so much about my grandmother and how she had lost her mother and her husband. I wish I had known the right things to say.. I didn't figure it out.  I had been dating a guy for a year. I had fallen in love with him.. but I locked my feelings up, I didn't express myself enough I didn't open up.  didn't want to be needy, or intimidating, or vulnerable so he never loved me back. Feb 2011 to November I buried myself in work and worked really hard at being a good mom. 

Things werent perfect but we were functioning. I would work and come home to my kids. We were progressing, slowly but we were. I had hope. I was beginning to thrive again..I knew that all I needed was me and my kids. Somehow I would manage to do good by them. In October we started planning the new year, and had hopes to move and continue to do better.. 

but cruel reality put an end to my hope.. Nov 10 2011. I do not know how to recover from that day, I don't think that I ever will. I think that my faith in family.. my hope for a good future.. all of it died that morning. My little girl, my sweet baby, my Julianna, was taken from me 2 days before her 10th birthday.  Death teased me a lot over the past 5 years.. but this time it went to far, it took what was most precious to me.  death is not just for the old, or the ill, or the troubled, Death has no prejudice and no mercy. 

My daughter is dead, and it feels like my life is over. It has been almost 8 months, and my life is so fragmented. I have my oldest child, my son.. I love him so much but all the death has changed him too. He is depressed and withdrawn.  I have my youngest Isabella, the strong silent one. She has struggled with kidney infections all of her life, she came in fighting and she has been so brave, but there is a weakness in her now, her big sister, her best friend and in many ways her confidence, died right in front of her eyes.  Isabella watched as her sister was ran over by a negligent driver. She has been terrified of traffic ever since, and she was so fearless before. 

there are all sorts of small ironies involved with Julianna's life.. she loved gymnastics and I was often amused at the thought that she was the balance in our lives.  She was so full of peace and grace, and giggles that she just seemed to set the pace for balance in our little family. She didn't care much for birthdays, she didn't want to get older, she wanted to stay a little girl, sometimes when bithdays would come around she would be upset and say she didnt want anything for her birthday. That she didn't want to get old and die. When she was turning 4 she hid behind a sofa all day refusing to celebrate her birthday, This time.. she was kind of looking forward to it, for the first time ever. She wanted to go to dinner with me a special dinner at Joe's crab shack and then to the movies with her brother and sister.. but she didn't make it.. She died 2 days before she would have turned 10.  She wanted to be a donor, What 9 year old tells you they want to donate their parts when they die? Mine did.. she was very serious when she talked to me about it. Asking me to put a pink dot sticker on her school ID card due to the circumstances of her death we could not donate much.. but her beautiful blue eyes have given 2 people vision, and her pulmonary heart valve is on standby for use.

I am trying to find the hope and faith again.. but when I consider faith I feel nothing but desperation and anger, I was willing to give up ANYTHING for my children.. I lost so much.. my relationships, my home, my jobs, vehicles, but I never looked back, I never missed any of it.. because I had my children. I had my Julie, my little light.. All of my children are special to me.. but she had a unique perspective on life, a compassion that is not typical of such little children.. she was pure, and graceful, and loving always.. I needed her.. I NEED her.. 

I have been trying to decide whether I want to believe in God anymore.. I wish I could make myself say I don't believe because than I wouldn't have to feel so angry and hurt, so abused and neglected.. I have NEVER allowed those things to creep into my head.. but now I can not shut it out.. now the screaming within is so loud it drowns out all hope and all reason.. 

I pretend I am trying to hard.. but I am moving around with a vacant soul. I get through the day by shutting my feelings off, by closing up shop on my mind.. I dont dare really think about her while I am getting through the day. Making eye contact with people is a chore that I must endure to get through my day at work. I worry that they can read the vacancy in my eyes.. that they can see that i am soulless. I have leaned to answer their questions with so little emotion that I am concerned that "they" think that my daughter did not matter to me.. but its not true.. 

At the end of the day I can't sleep.. the feelings poke their heads out like so many small persistent daemons. Like fire ants ripping through my mind.. I stare at her pictures.. I hold a lock of her hair between my fingers. I whisper her name.. I SCREAM inside my head and tears fall slowly.. I weep and I  try to talk to her.. but I know she can't answer. I look for her face in a crowd, I look for newer more recent photos.. I think irrationally about how it is time for her to come home.. in my head it is like no time has passed at all.. and at the same time it is like a lifetime has passed. I feel caught in a paradox.. I don't want to live without her.. she was my heart.. I am fairly convinced that if I were tested with a stethoscope that no beating would be heard from my chest..I am just lost.. my mind travels and races between ration and fantasy.. I get stuck in that loop and it is hard to tear myself away.. but I do eventually.. and I lock the pain in its box and move on to the next task.. the next chore, or event.. the next day.. the next public appearance 

tonight my mind is stormy and tumultuous. tonight I am racing and tonight her blue eyes are on my mind. when I feel this way she just sits in my mind staring through me but I can't hug and kiss her, I can't hear her laugh, I can't see her smile.. I can't listen to her heart beat.. so my anger pushes the images of her life away.. and I an forced to think about other things, darker things.. her laying naked covered from the waist down in a blood splattered white sheet, her neck in a brace, tubes down her throat, her eyes closed, her body still, holding her cold little hand. kissing it and noting the scraped knuckles.. seeing the hint if chipped teeth behind her bluish lips.. I am sinking in my pain.. I am so very lost. I cant stop typing..  I am sure anyone reading has given up by now.. 

this is such a terrible blog here for my return debut, but it is my raw reality.. its what it really feels like to BE ME. 

there are still whispers of hope.. a calmer scene plays through my head. Her in her crown of roses, laying atop all the orchids, and roses, and daisies, her in her majestic beloved purple. A little sleeping beauty that will never be kissed. She was so loved.. it's easier to cry when I remember her that way..like she was the very last time I saw her face. I knew she wasn't in that body anymore.. but I loved that little body, with her perfect little freckles, the tiny mole on her hand, her long thick eyelashes, her bare feet. Loved it so very much, I watched it grow from the tiny pink person that stared up at me on that first day.. into a beautiful little half lady, and then I had to say goodbye. 

Now is when I get to post this with out hesitating, and curl into a ball on the sofa with the pictures of her I keep on my phone.. and cry softly until I sleep. 

good night moon, goodnight Julie.. I love you forever. I love you always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be.  

rest in peace my sweet girl.. almost 8 months now, and feels like but a second, Wish I could lay with you.. wish I could hold you and feel you breath against me, and feel my heart beat in your chest, I am so cold and lost and alone without you. 

 <3 Mommy.