Another Bazaar Year coming to a close

Hard to believe you could top 2020 but as usual just when you think things can't get any worse --they do.  

2020 was crazy, scary and weird in so many ways but 2021...no comparison.  

I've lost nine close friends and family members in the last eight months. No one knows what on earth is going on - not only in the U.S. but the world.  

The President of the United States, the leader of the free world and one of the world's largest superpower nations -- appears to be mentally incapacitated.  Not making fun at all.  I find it very sad and cruel that they parade him around allowing the whole world to make fun of something he cannot help. He is absolutely unable to string four intelligible words together.  The United States is now the laughingstock of the world and the most bazaar part of it is that everyone here keeps looking the other way and pretending this is not happening.  I thought last year seemed like we were living in an episode of the Twilight Zone, but I truly had no idea.  It is like we are living in an episode of the Twilight Zone running backwards now.

Eighty percent of the U.S. workforce has just decided "not to".  How this is possible - I do not know but most businesses have no one to work and restaurants have to close or at least close half the restaurant because they have no cooks, no waitresses, no help. Our supply chain is supposedly interrupted because they have no workers to unload ships, load the trucks and move the freight.  

Crime has begun to run rampant and that's not the unusual part - lawmakers and politicians are saying that it is okay.  They should be allowed to loot and steal???  Or to be allowed to shut down streets and entire sections of large cities and take them over.  And the local governments want to do away with police?  

Criminals can walk right up to a police officer and shoot them point blank and the officers cannot do anything to even defend themselves without being charged???

Along with every other employee shortage, we have a huge shortage of medical workers and all of the medical "Heroes" that were working during a pandemic, risking their lives, walking into sickness and potential death, risking the health of their own families to serve the public --these same doctors and nurses are now being fired from their jobs because they will not agree to take an experimental vaccine that neither works to prevent Covid nor works to prevent the spread of Covid.

The Government has decided that no one has to pay rent to private landlords and that those landlords cannot take them to court, demand payment or evict them. Instead, those landlords have to pay the mortgage on their rental property, pay the taxes and the insurance and the upkeep for these deadbeat renters but the mortgage companies are not giving them that same break.  Landlords have to continue to pay.  The Government is not giving them any kind of break.  So, they are losing their properties because of it but oddly enough the mortgage companies now have the right to get these deadbeats out of this same property.

Probably close to 40 percent of young people under 40 years old want "Socialism" - and they vote.  Yet not 2% could tell you what Socialism actually means or how it works.  

Socialism.  

What our men and women have fought and died to prevent for the last 200 plus years.  

We have failed our young people.  And we are going to pay with the freedom we all used to hold dear.

The Government is paying perfectly healthy workers to sit home so that private businesses will be forced to close.

The Government forcing medical facilities to fire good, hard-working nurses and doctors so that the public will be forced into socialized medicine.

The Government is allowing crime to take over so that people will beg for their protection and agree to give up their guns.

The Government is allowing people to live in rental home for free because they want to force all private industry into bankruptcy.

Socialism at its finest.  No private businesses.  No private homes.  No private medical care.  No supplies, no food, no medicine nothing that the government does not control.

What is going on now is a thousand times scarier than Covid.

If we aren't looking at "end times" then we never will be.  I believe this with all my heart.  If your heart is not right with God, you'd better be on your knees.  There have never been times like these before.  Never.  

We should all be looking to the eastern sky.  Come Lord Jesus.

 

Serious Writers Block

When I first began this blog I barely knew what a blog was.  To me, it started as an online journal.  Private at first and I had always intended for it to stay that way.  To me, it was a way to process all that had happened, all we had been told, all that we had lost, all that we couldn't talk about, all that I needed to get out of me.  I seemed to be "filled" to overflowing with emotions that I could not get out. Anger, confusion, deep, all-consuming sadness.  And there were so many questions hanging in midair that had nowhere to fall. 

I was also caring for my sister and sitting in the bone marrow clinic 5 days a week from 6 to 12 hours a day and trying to work my job in the evenings after things settled down.  I could not get a counselor to even answer my calls but if I had, there were not enough hours in the day to see one.  So this was "my" self-care my own answer to therapy.  This was my safe place to fall.  When the day was done with my sister and she was settled, when my work hours were logged, when everyone was fed and the kitchen straightened up - this was my time.  My time to cry, to talk about Brian, to express my confusion and scream out my anger, to question, to process - right here.  I looked forward to my time with my writing like a lifeline.  Nothing could make me skip it. It was key to my survival.  

I was so angry at the whole mess until I couldn't stand myself.  I was throwing terrible temper fits.  Screaming and throwing things and snapping at all the people I loved. All I could think about was how could anyone that really knew Brian ever, ever believe he did this.  It was all consuming.  And it was killing me that none of his accusers even knew him nor did they make the effort to even try.  After the official determination even those that had known him suddenly seemed to forget the person that he had always been, the dad he had always been. Never once in his entire life had he ever laid a hand on any woman not even the wife that tormented him for 18 years. 

All of his talents, his work ethic and abilities, his quick wit and keen sense of humor, all of his comical antics and practical jokes, his dedication to learning the bible prophecies, his love and dedication to his children for over 20 years --all of his previous life, any and all good he had ever done had been laid to waste. Erased in a moment even sadly, by some that knew him best. 

I decided I could not allow the general public to just believe what they were told about him without ever having known him or given him the chance to defend himself.  Although I had not wanted to make my pain, my anger and my devastation public and lay myself vulnerable to the biased scrutiny and wrath of the general public. And I knew from what people were saying on public forums I was opening myself up to the possibility of more pain and judgment - but I was Brian's mom.  Still - Brian's Mom. Now and forever and if I were his only ally and only defender then I would take it public and if I accomplished nothing else the general public would at least know a little of the Brian I knew.  I refused to let him be thought of only as a monster tried and found guilty in a court of public opinion without ever giving him a chance at a defense.  He may carry that title as I'm sure he will but some small part of me hoped and prayed that they would read enough of who he was to us before that god-awful August day erased all the good in his life.  Maybe if even, one would see him as a person with feelings, as an employee with goals, as a funny, talented, hard-working single dad trying to be both mom and dad to two children alone for 12 years, as my funny, goofy loving son, as a betrayed, devastated husband that lost his home, his wife, his children and his confidence in one fell swoop. If I could bring him to life for even one person and let them see him, know him before that day - then I had to try.

That one day erased his future.  I couldn't stand idly by and let it erase his past as well.  I couldn't stand knowing that all that he was up to that day counted for nothing.

I kept thinking of how it would feel if I were accused of some terrible, tragic crime that I did not commit and how awful it would be for everyone to believe I was guilty.  And I thought how I would at least be comforted in knowing that those people that loved me and knew me best would stand by me and would "know" without a shadow of a doubt that I was innocent.  I would know that no matter what the public thought the people closest to me, in my inner circle who knew who I had been up to that day -- to those people --I would not need to prove my innocence.  I would assume that my previous life, my history with them, all that I stood for and all that I had ever done right in my life --would be proof enough.  And I thought about who I was - Brian's mom - having to look him in the face someday and tell him I believed he was capable of something so horrific.  The person that knew him best; the one that knew all his faults, his fears, his weaknesses, his strengths, his beliefs, his good side, his moody side --all of him.  I just kept thinking about how he would feel to know I believed he was guilty.  I knew him.  The public didn't know him, but I knew him.  I had to stand up for him.  I had to be his voice.  I had to let others know a little of the person I knew then they could judge at least a little more fairly.  

At a bare minimum I hope I have done that.  

The blog began to take on a life of its own.  It was my way of processing.  It was my way of letting others know Brian.  It was my way of honoring and remembering all that Kara and Paxton were to me.  It was my first way of communicating with Kara's mom when I wanted desperately to contact her but was afraid to call.  I didn't know what was right and I wanted to be respectful and give her - her space always painfully aware of what she was going through and that in her eyes we, my family caused her pain.  I was also aware of the possibility of anger and even hatred at all of us. I so wanted to let her know how devastated I was for her and her family's loss.  When she asked my daughter if she could read the blog - it did what I never expected, it opened the door to a friendship.  And in some strange way she found comfort in what I wrote.  So, I wrote. And while I had spent my entire life writing suddenly that was all I could write. And now...well I can't even seem to write here either. Not sure if writing will ever come back to me.  I pray that it will.  In the meantime, I will just always be thankful that before it left me, I would be introduced to Praise and Worship music, I would find a dear friend in Kara's mom, she would find some comfort in my written word, and I could find peace and solace as I always have --in words right here.  

Kissing 2020 Goodbye

Well I should have known it couldn't leave without kicking and screaming its way out.  I am sick.

So for the first New Year's day in probably 15 years now I cannot spend New Year's with my best friend Kathie.  Doesn't feel like anything drastic but I don't dare expose her or her sister or her husband to anything because these days you just don't know.  So we will sit home alone - quarantined for the next 10 days I guess.  So now 2020 has officially hijacked New Year's Day 2021!

Today, for some unknown reason has been a very down day.  Its dismal outside but it was dismal inside as well.  Knowing I can't go to Kathie's like I have done for years has not helped but actually I think I'm okay with that.  Seems like we have had weeks of hoopla because Christmas was celebrated in several small gatherings so it kind of dragged on and I'm a little tired.

I've been reading a novel which is not usually my cup of tea.  Not much of a fiction lover but this is based on real events and I felt like I needed some down time reading.  It was a very good book but the subject matter was very sad and depressing and as it turns out I don't think that was what I needed right now.  The book was about a children's home in Tennessee that stole children and adopted them out to wealthy and powerful families, politicians, movie stars for a huge profit.  It was called "Before We Were Yours" By: Lisa Wingate.  The characters and details of their lives were fictitious but the premise of the story was true.  The Children's home was real.  The woman behind the baby brokering business was real.  The stories of cruelty, neglect, molestation and even murder were real.  It was a depressing, sad and horrific account and an eye opening realization of how cruel and horrible people can become for money.  It also cements the reality that as bad as the world is today - it has been just as bad in times past. People have committed inhumane atrocities for profit and power throughout the pages of history.  But it was not a light read by any stretch of the imagination and this was not a good time to read it. 

This has sure been a horrific year and I am glad to see it go however, the realist in me will not allow me to be overly enthusiastic about 2021 taking its place.  Too much lying in wait to believe that it is all going to magically get better.  Like we were going to wake up this morning and the virus will have disappeared overnight, all of our civil liberties and personal freedoms will have been restored, all of the businesses that have been bankrupted by this will have revived, people will want to work again and we will not be living with the threat of socialism and communism looming large on the horizon. We will be living once again in the land of the free in a United States that I recognize. And all will be sunshine and daisies.  

And as bad as this year has been and it has been like none other in history, I mentioned this morning to my husband that it is not the worst year we've ever seen.  And although I have always known that I would never get over losing a child - you say that without really knowing what that truly means.  And even after it happens you hope and pray that you were wrong.  That some day that pain would let up and you could live a normal life again.  All you have to compare it to is other, less horrific losses.  The grief was bad.  There was sadness and months and months of crying and guilt and sleepless night but then life began to slowly come back.  Days looked brighter.  You laughed.  Life continued.  You still missed the person you lost but you lived with the loss, remembered them with laughter and fond memories. And you picked back up and you lived again. So there is no way I could have imagined that 6 1/2 years would go by so quickly and that I would still be crying.  That I could still find it hard now to look at their pictures, that I would still be haunted by the unknowns of what happened and why.  Almost seven years.  That would have been far too much to live with had I known that in the beginning so I am glad I didn't know this then.  

However, today it no longer scares me because I realize with "acceptance" that it will always be.  Some days are better than others and I understand now that "some days" is the best I can hope for.  And I understand now that some days it will always hurt.  Some days it will be unbearable.  Some days I will cry.  Some days it will be like it is brand new again and some days it will be unbelievable.  And I know now that those days will always be with me.  This is not something I will ever, ever get over.  I will live with it and the pain will not be as sharp.  I will cry but alone and controlled and not as often.  I will wake up in total disbelief, but I will quickly recover and realize it has been like waking from a dream.  

I have finally come to the realization that this is life now and that's just how it is.  It will never go away.  How could it?  How naive of me to have ever believed that it could.  

I don't know how much the shame and secrecy contribute to that fact but I'm sure they don't help.  Perhaps if I could have grieved them openly, received love and support like normal people, if I could have been able to talk about them or hash out the confusion and anger and mystery or bounce my thoughts off someone, get feedback, miss them out loud, perhaps if I could speak of my children to people I meet like a normal person or perhaps if I had a socially acceptable answer to: "what happened?" instead of hiding my hurt and hiding the most horrific tragedy a mother could live through, hiding my children --all of them and the details of our life because I don't know how to answer: "How many children do you have?"  If I say three, they ask conversation starter questions - where do they live, what do they do?  Are they married do they have kids?  If I say two, I feel horrible.  If I say three and one has died, they ask what happened.  So, I avoid all talk of my children and feel as though I am living a lie at all times.  I feel guilty like I am rejecting or abandoning my living children like I am not claiming them, bragging on them, talking about their lives.  And keeping secrets will eat you alive.  How can I possibly make friends or get to know people when I have the worst tragedy in my life that has to remain untold.  They cannot ever "know" me, and I feel like I'm living a lie, not being true to myself, not even being myself.  Not at all living authentically and am not a "surface" person.  If I feel comfortable enough to tell them anything I begin to feel judged.  I start reading stuff into little slights and feeling as if they are treating me differently now.  It is changing me.  It is making me a loner.  Making me not want friends because it is too hard.  I can't be me so how real can a relationship with them be anyway.  I am sure that the nature of the situation has had a great deal to do with why I am still where I am.  And just like 2021 can't erase the tragedies of 2020 nothing can ever erase the tragedies of 2014