So today my oldest turns 23! Happy Birthday Jonathan! He is a miracle. I know. Other mom's say it... and I am sure they mean it with all the truth and love in their heart... But my son's truly are miracles! (For Real Real? We used to say that. Yes! For Real Real!) And there is a reason why....  (Ok its going to get graphic...LOL... so either quit reading... or be warned!) When I was 15 I had finally been placed with my brother and my sister-in-law. I had already been to several foster homes.... and had been neglected & abused for better part of half of my life (at least. I'm being generous.) By the time I got there I had no idea what a "normal" menstrual cycle looked like. I would start a period and bleed typically for 12 days and think nothing of it. One day my sister in law walked into the bathroom as we were getting ready in the morning.... I thought nothing of it by that time... we shared a small apartment with one bathroom... and we had to share... She happened in after I showered... I had passed a blood clot the size of a football. Instead of washing down the drain it stuck... I had to bend over and clean up the blood while my sister in law literally FREAKED OUT! I wondered what she was going on about.....??? (I couldn't stand girl drama... spiders and frogs... things that girls would scream about I cared nothing about... More boy then girl I always felt like I didnt fit in with girls... so the screaming? Ugh.) She calmed herself to the point she could speak and said "Cindy! What Happened!!!?" ummm my cycle? Nope. apparently the blood that was still pouring down my legs as I stand cleaning up the pile of blood in the tub was not "normal". Huh. Well it would have been nice if I had had a mom to tell me that. It had always been like that. She rushed me to the doctor. He used words we had never heard before. "endometriosis" , "bleeding to death" "so much scar tissue. More then I have ever seen! How long has she been like this?"  The pain that felt like child labor (which I didn't know until much later.) wasn't at all normal. I was anemic and very fortunate not to have bled to death and I was told that I most likely NEVER be able to have children.  *Blink Blink* I had no idea how to feel. I hadn't thought that far ahead in life. I loved little children. Had often babysat... but hadn't figured out if I wanted to be a parent... and now... I never had to think about it. It wasn't an option?  Thats why my 3 sons are miracles. Its not that all kids aren't special... But I was really never ever supposed to be able to. So MINE are SUPER special. My oldest still says out loud that he is a miracle. And its true. He is. But... Follow your dreams. And never say never.

Thats why when I became pregnant with him... and I was single... No relationship... everyone told me to get an abortion or put my son up for adoption. I didn't hear a single voice suggest I should keep him. I mean... I was a "wild child" actually... compared to others I hung out with I was tame... and especially by todays standards. I described it simply and still do as...  I was a child with no parents or family. I answered to noone... It amazes me still that I even went to school or did my homework. There was no reason too! People may have suggested... but their opinions meant little. I was disregarded to often... thrown away by society. I certainly wasn't "Ready" to be a mother... Much less to an autistic child? But God apparently chose me. And so did Jonathan... And WOW... My children all changed my life. I can honestly say I was a GOOD Mom. An excellent mom!... I held myself to some high standards... and that was to not do what ANYONE ELSE that I knew personally had.  So the orgies? Nope. Drinking and drugs? Not allowed. Even smoking? Not in my house. Outside. I paid $8.00 for cable and the only luxury I allowed myself... was the Disney channel... and it wasn't for myself... but my unborn son... I would smile and laugh and be happy 92.6% of the time! (Hey I was hormonal and very pregnant... and alone... I was entitled to a pity party once in a blue moon!)

 Eventually I got with my husband ... Jonathans father... thats a book all by itself. Or it deserves its own chapter. I was less "alone" then... but still very much felt like a single parent... My husband doesn't do discipline... He does fun... Alot. So he took over fun... and kept me in charge of the yelling... Blah. I got the bad end of the deal. Not what I had planned. And I still resent it.  But... there it is... I am a mother to 3 miracles. All special with each special talents and a piece of my heart... Forever... Even Kyle... although I still don't LIKE him very much right now. More on that later... My husband met with him the other day.... and it went.... as well as I expected. I wish I could still be surprised... but really... Nothing anyone does surprises me anymore. Its kinda a shame really.
Happy Happy Birthday Jonathan... I am hoping we can make it amazing... I hope it brings you Joy and makes you smile... you deserve it! Love Mom.

I am trying to move past my depression and disappointment. I realize I don't recognize my son anymore. But also am aware he seems oddly comfortable in the trailer park. I am suddenly very conscious of the fact that he seems to do the exact opposite of anything that may better his life. Before drugs, before alcohol. Before him just being a selfish.... Dick. There are no other words. My sons a selfish dick.
I think it finally set in my brain this last week... I knew it prior of course... but his friend calling me and talking finally clarified it for me. This friend... (the one who lived in my house for 8 months and used and lied to my family.) called... to apologize. To talk about what he did wrong. All the while I was aware of why he was calling. Tax papers are in. He knows his tax papers have "accidentally" been sent here... because neither of them had the sense to put in a change of address. Now of course I was also aware he was calling and NOT my son because my son is NOT sorry... (I am sure the "friend" isnt either... but the lying doesnt matter when he does it... He means nothing to us... too me... His words are empty... so lies? Whatever. ) I told Dan (the friend.) that I was still angry. That I was really detached emotionally now... like never before. My sons attempt at having me thrown in jail on false charges was the final straw. The hate he feels for me... High... drunk... sober... in general... all day every day for years... is beyond obvious. And its painful to the point I no longer want to fix it or be in pain. I asked Dan "Why? What was the reasoning?" . "Well the manager thought it would be funny... I had no part in it." (Uh huh. Wow. So this was comedy.). My husband is now supposed to meet with them... I of course was supposed to go... but honestly... I have nothing left emotionally or mentally to give to that situation. My husband didn't want me to press charges for their false charges. Thats hurtful too... It feels like my husband is again letting our son get away with the worst... I dont think my son has done anything worse then this... And there has been alot...

A few years ago he had left his email account open on my computer... I had seen a grant letter for college... I opened it hopeful that it would be a good direction for my son and hopefully he would be in college. How wrong I was... He had applied for a grant as an "abused" child. He had been turned down... The explanation was there was not enough documented proof. I showed my husband... and then went to my son... and asked... Why!??? He hadn't been spanked since he was 7 years old. (And then the only times our children were spanked was when they did something dangerous. Kyle once threw his brother off the top bunk of the bed cutting his head open and a large bump. When asked why? He said he didnt want him up there. He got a spanking and a lecture. Spankings only lasted 4 or 5 small taps on the butt... never abuse.) His reply too us was that he had "learned" when he moved in with his friends that if he lied about his childhood people offered him free things and did stuff for him. He learned of the grants from a teacher he had lied too... And he wanted the money. Heartbreaking. No guilt or thought to what he was doing. The stares that were sent in our direction... often with daggers in their eyes... he seemed unaware that people he was friendly with treated us differently. Or maybe he just didnt care. When people did know us? He dropped them... Women who helped pay his bills and who would loan him money ... he had no reason to speak to them after they contacted me for repayment... He knew after 15 minutes of getting the real story from us that he didnt need them anymore... because there would be no more sympathy... Just questions on why he lied. That was tough for me to get over... I thought I had... Until now. Him having the manager call the police... because its... "Funny" was too much for me. I have no more to give for now.  No hope that he will get clean or want more for his life... No more hope that these kids he hangs with will have real careers or futures. They all have records... and do drugs... and live in trailers... (Oh and now he is renting one too... a distant life from the one we have always provided for him... Owning our home and living on a Golf course.). I think the moment he quit caring was when he admitted to us they were buying the "spice" and "bath salts" at the gas station. He was doing drugs alot. He went from that to a serious cocaine problem. His roommate overdosed and died... Kyle... although living with the guy for a year , didn't even mourn. He said he didn't care... he didn't like him... But he kept his hat and wore it around like it meant nothing. I don't know this child. 22... with no soul. No feeling behind dead eyes.
So My husband needs to go meet them alone. My kids are scared... What if they do something to Dad? What if they lie and try to get HIM arrested? Well.... I imagine that means Dad shoulda parented Kyle before he hit age 22... When Kyle was calling me a bitch at age 15... When Kyle was telling me to "Shut up" at Christmas... When Kyle was telling me to leave and never come back... Maybe his Dad should have said... "Respect your Mother." and meant it.  All I know is I dont even want to see my son right now... Still. I worry he may die. That this may be it... that there may never be a time when its made right... But I know I can't do anymore. That I have no blame in it. That everything I tried to do was the very best parenting I knew how to do... and I have nothing I could do or give... differently... I couldnt love more...
I'm at peace with it. as much as you can be at peace with something thats wrong... completely. When you know you are right in it... but that the others are making a mess of it all... and you cant even sit and watch anymore.

I find myself unable to have real "discussions" with "friends" anymore. Most of my "friends" consist of people I have "been there" for ... emotionally... And they havent been here for me... So I feel let down. Best friends?  Maroon 5 says it best: 

"I was there for you

In your darkest times
I was there for you
In your darkest nights

But I wonder where were you
When I was at my worst
Down on my knees
And you said you had my back
So I wonder where were you".

Those verses could be repeated over and over for my theme song. So now I write this blog. People have asked me why I am writing this. They describe me... with words: "brave, stupid. clueless as to what may come of it all." Ha! All wrong. I started writing about my life and my viewpoint because it was my right to be heard. It was my right to have a voice. And this is it. And I have a responsibility... there aren't many with a story like mine... Orphan at a young age... in foster care... to grow up and have the health issues I have had and the accident and complications? To overcome that and have 3 children when Doctors said I would NEVER be able to have any...  2 autistic sons... And now one son so self destructive... Its a story that can't be matched in any book I have ever read... VC. Andrews couldn't imagine the twists and turns my life has taken. I am a survivor. A tired warrior... probably have a little PTSD... and the wear and tear? Forget it... White hairs and today... with the cold... I don't even want to move... I am in so much pain physically in my bones... and have never allowed myself to douse myself with painkillers even on my worse days... 

        So now I don't answer the phone when I don't want to talk... or I have no positive energy left... Whats the point... I keep my energy for people who can make me smile. Its a new condition I have made for myself... that noone knows about... "I couldn't reach you Cindy" Yes. sometimes I am just... unreachable. I'm tired of wishing my life were some other way. I need to let this all go... and somehow get happy again.

Last nights walk on the beach made me reflect. I realized on a good day? I feel like the Mad Hatter... In  a world I don't belong. Out of place and sorts... Realizing people are about as nice as you let them be , or you pretend they are. Last year was an endless WAKE UP call. A very close friend had not only hurt me... but hurt my family deeply. I realized that there was no amount of time you could get to know a person... and not have them turn on you in a way that you would never expect. When backed into a corner to face what they have said and done...ultimately they will show you their true colors... YOU... not the rest of the world... for the rest of the world? They will continue to lie and point fingers because you now know the true person. I take friendships seriously. I try to cultivate long lasting friendships that withstand the tests of time. I have a few. And even these I am unsure where I stand. I know I have repeatedly been there for others... but there hasn't been many times I have ever asked someone to be there for me... us... a family unit. Its strange. I assume in normal every day society... that one ultimately knows when a friend is needed; (Well a GOOD friend.) and they will reach out. During serious family illness? Nope. A crisis? Nope. A death? Nope. How about families? Best not to go there. Much of the same. John and I walk the beach and I tell him...... I'm lost in it all... Life sucks. Earth SUCKS. People LARGELY suck. I'm mad. I'm angry that Kyle and his addiction seems to be the norm in society. Drinking and smoking. That television is REALLY now a "Boob tube".

boob tube (n.)

"television set," U.S. slang, by 1965, from boob "stupid person" + slang tube (n.) "television, television programming," because the sets really did have vacuum tubes in them once upon a time.

 Even in our own home. Where I used to have them watch educational TV.... Society won out... Hard... Educational TV. wasn't even a runner up.  I look at the Hulu selection choices... And most of it is animated. Things that were once banned from my TV's are now every day normal program watching. The Simpsons (longest time banned from our household. My mother-in-law watched it and insisted my kids could too... This was a source of many a fight my husband and I had... until my mother-in-law got terminal cancer. Terminal cancer wins the battle. And yup. My children forever from that moment on chose the Simpsons. Kinda like Eve and that forbidden apple.) , Full Metal Alchemist (quite honestly I have never watched an episode... But assumed from the brief glimpses... I would hate it.),  American Dad (Aliens and Republicans? ummm no.), Southpark, (no no no no no no no... But they LOVE some Southpark and will watch SEASONS in one sitting.They have tried to force it on me SEVERAL times and when they find an episode they think will "finally win me over" they badger me to watch. So far 0-0. I'm not winning obviously... and neither were they. and a few more other cartoony adult shows I just don't get. When Big Bang came on TV I thought... finally! A comedy that I can watch with my kids and ENJOY... My eldest son won't watch an episode. "A show about SMART people? Thats funny? Nope." Exactly. We are on two different sides of the court. And it all started with Simpsons and a bad case of cancer. 

It may have been different if my husband had been on my "side". Which... he wasn't. Isn't. He really still doesn't see the connections. I wanted the kids to be athletic and outdoorsy. Hiking... Biking... Swimming... Things that end in "...ing"  TVing? Nope. Doesn't work. Videogaming? Ut Uh. And we never quite got there. My 3 herniated discs often left me in horrible pain. (I refused and still do... to take painkillers... Unless I can barely move.) and my very active childhood was to be repeated by my husband... as I sat at the sidelines cheering them on.  This didnt work. Not even a little. My once very athletic husband sat on the sidelines with me. I imagine just to keep me company. Now I am not thinking my children would be in the NBA. I'm not one of those mothers. But OUTSIDE!... Fresh air... Sunshine... Vitamin D in its purest form! It was a huge part of the reason I left Ny. Actually my reasoning was...

1. If we stayed in New York my husbands family or MY family will be the first people to introduce our kids to drugs and alcohol. (A challenge my father in law decided to prove me right on almost immediately. We announce our intent to move and that night he offers our 3 children a "beer with grandpa". Our children then 10, 12 & 13. Pack faster.
2. It's the ocean. Really. Do we need to question further?
   
3. Your career choice isn't that unique where we couldn't find a job paying just as well down there as we are making here. (Sadly still true.)
4. My brother needs help with my niece and nephew. They are grieving for a mother that they lost too soon to cancer. I know that life better then anyone since I lost mine when I was 4. History repeating itself... We should be there so they don't feel so lonely. ( A good point at the time... but my brother had baggage that I didn't know about. Ugh. Thats a whole book by itself. I love him. But not his choices.) 
5. I am miserable in Ny. Too cold for too long. Too much snow. (I end up doing all the shoveling with 3 herniated discs.) I am in constant pain and discomfort. There is NO SUNSHINE. None. The 3 months of decent temperatures often are filled with rain and clouds. 
6. Name one reason or person in why we would stay? (He had none.) 

What should have been a new life and fresh start? Good... But the baggage we had followed. My concern's (rightful) that my son would develop addiction issues because he is a follower and not a leader and would do anything to "fit in" and go with the crowd? Yup. Still happened... just different scenery to enjoy while contemplating it all. At least I can pull up a beach chair and wonder where we went wrong. I know Homers "Duff Beer" drinking problem probably ISN'T responsible. Alot of self reflection at this point... Wondering which part I got wrong.

I'm not sure that I did... It could be the draw of the cards in this Cosmic Joke of a life. I mean... Card drawing in this life? I was NOT dealt a winning hand on any account.  I try to justify this as "none of us are." Uh huh. And then I view my surroundings mentally... Unfortunately there is nothing... and noone I have even accidentally brushed up into in life that even competes with my sad story. One time while I was seeking help for myself and our family I was asked to tell my story so they could better asses our needs. First they questioned if it was all true. When I assured them it all was... they went to whomever was supposed to "help" with counseling..... therapy... And I was told " We are ill equipped to handle a case like yours. We have never had to deal with someone with your background or back story. They wouldnt know where to begin. " They of course were polite... had suggestions on where to try next... But not something that settles well in your soul. I know my childhood was a horror story. I lived it... (and still find humor in it and laugh about it... Daily.). It was once suggested to me that I write a book. Get it all down... "It will be therapeutic and help many people I am sure... With no voice and a tale similar to yours. Maybe other foster children... A tale of survival and a true achievement... " (They pointed out I was a survivor. Yes. Real survivor with the scars to prove it.). I said I had nowhere I would start but the beginning... and how do you right a book with that many twists and turns? You can't! Well not in a way that ends after 250 pages. It ends up being a VC. Andrews series. Flowers in the Attic part 1,2,3,4,5... I joked I was the original "Flower in the attic". No really. True. Old farm house in upstate Ny. My father shacked up with his Girlfriend after our mother died. I learned 4 years ago they were nudists. Real Nudists... Walked around Nude. Ok. I would have thought I would REMEMBER that... Well No Cindy... You wouldn't... You were in the attic. I was? I WAS!!!!!!! Yup. Deep deep in my mind... I remembered the attic well... And wondered what the HELL I was doing in the attic and why I was up there for so long... as a kid... cobwebs... broken toys... Dark and hot. Only one window that didn't open. Yup. There I was in the attic for months. I remember falling down the attic stairs... cracking my head open twice. Hitting the antique table at the base of the stairs and being yelled at for hitting it. Well GEE CINDY... What kinda fantasy land were you in that you had no idea you LIVED at a nudist camp? (I think it would have been officially called a camp... I was told other nudists were invited to go... be.... nude. Something I have never grasped. Not the Nude part. The walking around and living nude. I am a spiller by nature... Hot food's usually fall down my chest. It would not be an effective way of life for me... And Bacon... You definitely couldn't pan fry bacon. These were the points I made when my brother and father revealed the secret. I am super practical... Naked Cindy? Not practical at all... Don't you stick to the picnic table in the summer?) Yes. My life was a novel. No... correction... Horror novel. It could only be written as fiction... because I didn't want to always answer "Did this all REALLY happen?" If I actually published it as Nonfiction. 

Needless to say I didn't write the book. The publisher? My friend questioned if it was an actual publisher or a scam. (in my head I still think... Worse scam EVER... so must have been a real publisher.) I imagine he lost interest when I didn't submit a copy for review and couldn't get past sections, chapters and notes. I lost the contact information. My husband encouraged it... Thought I would do well with it... says its fascinating and he wonders how I survived it. He randomly splurts out... "Your Dads a stupid bastard!" Most recently when I found out my uncle had died... He's more mad at my father then I am... I never tried to give it much fuel... Never too much of my energy... My father has always tried to get me to sympathize for him and he sucks my energy when I have allowed it. My son will never know abuse. They just didn't. He lies and claims he did. Words like... 'My dad was mean and my moms INSANE!" Insane.... I debate it. I don't like the HULU list and they are all popular choices. Maybe I am insane.

I always have a different perspective.

My husband just informed me he didn't get the purpose of this blog. (frowny face :( Tongue sticking out. :P ). Its simple... My 2 kids are tired of Kyle being the household focus... I AM TIRED of Kyle being the household focus. But I love him. So... Blog. I am in "help groups". Groups for families of addicts. They have heart breaking stories. Stories of children ODing and dying... Stories of crimes and prison... I don't have that... I have "My sons a REAL asshole." stories. No really... He is. It took me a loooooong time to admit it... so don't make me feel bad for saying it now. And I admit it. He is the kid that will demand the new video game console that he nagged you into promising you would "consider buying". It doesn't matter that you have a million medical bills... Or that he's no longer 10... He's the "I WANT A PONY!" child... but even at ages 18, 19, 20, 21 & 22! You know. The ages when you thought... Ok... It will no longer be my problem that he's so demanding and bratty... he's an ADULT now... That same quality on what he NEEDED and WANTED and the constant badgering of what "other families do" for their kids... (huh... really? Because not the people I am Facebook friends with...) its this kinda behavior that finally had us agreeing to dip into our 401K savings to help him buy a car. Of course the PROMISE was he would pay us back. But as soon as I found his incriminating cell 3 weeks ago? (And the loan is now 11 months old. Plenty of time to have paid us back... but the amount of money he owed us grew. "I want. I need. I don't have gas. I can't pay insurance." ) His promises of paying us back became... and I quote... " Oh no... SCREW YOU TWO... I won't ever pay you back!". We have raised a little monster. A spoiled one. Green with jealousy over what his friends or co workers have and he doesnt... and eyes big so he could take it all in. Ironic that he is THAT kid... I have always said I could live in a sea side little hut with a thatched roof. If I could do that and have a garden and my photography... I would be happy.... reading books to entertain myself. I dont need alot for happiness... So how did a kid as selfish and greedy as he is come from our house? We rarely said "no." And let me clue you in... I am thinking if you don't SAY it? If you like the word "yes" too much and people pleasing as me and my husband BOTH do? Your in trouble as a parent. I can honestly say though our other 2 sons are nothing like that. So... It was a crap shot? A Roll of the dice. And its just how it ended up? Not in my head.... But probably. I will let God tell me when the time is right... because I look back? And I dont see a whole lot we could have or should have done differently.... We made sure we were clear of drugs and drinking (for the most part... some drinking.) in our home... Friends and family members with habit formed issues? Not allowed... And it was painful at times being close to someone and not wanting them around your family. Kyle was watched. We had "friends" over to our house... It was the hangout spot. We knew the friends and even intimate details of their lives... We kept it fun... (or tried too.) even when family drama came up... we tried to distance ourselves... but in still a healthy and helpful way... My brother got an ugly divorce? (we tried not to take sides...) Our kids hurting from the thought of losing cousins. I thought we had done good... and played it safe. My husband recently told me I couldn't write a "parenting guide" I wasn't ... parent of the year either... I questioned " Oh really? What? And when?" He had nothing. I mean.... NOTHING. He said I was the one who always punished and criticized and disciplined... I had tried to hard to make him do his homework. It does sound like questionable parenting too me... LOL... So now, day 18 in our new year... I am doing it different... a little chocolate Baileys in my coffee... Before 7 am... Yupo... the floor can remain covered in dog hair a little bit longer then is mentally "comfortable" for me. Laundry can pile up where I need to wash 3 loads. Its Ok. The world wont end. And I won't stain stick the stains as they pile up. My perfect little family isn't perfect... It wasn't a facade for people... It was a Goal I had... After my shitty little childhood... I knew my kids life wouldn't be that... It would be the 1940's America you saw on TV. Aprons and women cooking and vacuuming in high heels... Minus the high heels... I have a tendency too trip. I would bake homemade pie from scratch... and make homemade baby food instead of buying Gerbers... And I did. It was our home life for many many years... I'm just tired now. And a little sad of it all. So... I blog.

Day Dreaming

Yesterday wasn't much... but it was the world! After the start of me New Year... a break from what has become my Daymare (night is no longer alone for bad thoughts.) was needed... We decided all things Kyle would no longer be in our mouths... (At least for a day...) We ALMOST made it. Almost.  He's our son... we are going to worry. We are going to be mad that its like this... instead of "normal".
But after briefly discussing if the alarm system is STILL necessary since our son and his friends haven't made the attempt to break in quite yet... I assured my husband... that yes... I think $34.99 a month after the initial $200.00 is necessary. He has made it clear he wants in. Not for hugs and kisses and those Barney the Dinosaur watching moments I had created in early childhood... but to do us harm... And to rob us. His pals with their police crime records may help and join him. I don't feel safe with what my son chooses to do... or how he has treated our family.

My beautiful son Kyle when he was clean and not so angry.

The plan was the aquarium. Lock the house up tight... and leave for a few hours. Not every waking moment should be wondering and hoping and fear... Fear that he may never get it right. And fear that he is addicted to the life he has put himself in.

Watching other peoples little ones was my joy for the day... That and being with my youngest son and my husband... The autism makes Brandon a little less amazed. He doesnt get that look in his eye. Those are the things I miss... A childs amazement and wonder at small things we take for granted. So I watch other people and their young ones all day long... Enjoying the amazement. It feels strange... focusing on other peoples joy. But I have so little right now... So I can take a little right?

So much to see... Joy an amazement all over. Kids smiling and parents smiling... Then we walked by one little girl... And she is screaming and telling her parents to "Shut up!" and she "would do it herself". A silent look between me and my husband. Yup. I know that high pitched scream in public. The one where your hoping you somehow go unnoticed by all. Its our son Kyle allllll over again. Here I was dreaming of grandchildren all day and one little girl screams and brings me back to my reality. Kids are cute an adorable... But you can't control their actions or behavior... Its something that they can come too naturally. Deep in their souls and minds the moment they are born. I can feel the hope dying slowly in me. This sucks. John is still hoping he goes to rehab. But I knew the second we voiced that we WANTED Kyle to go? That was the end of that. Kyle likes to still pretend its opposite day. Lets do the opposite of whatever... Its tiring and draining. His self destruction mode never ends... Hopefully SOON... Have a good day!

My Uncle Larry

Up all night again. What started out as an innocent comment by my eldest son... A way for him to express his emotions and feelings in all of this he informed me a few times that his brother was "dead too him" not a great word choice when I am unsure what my son is on or even how much. I am mad... but refuse to say anything. My sons entitled to his feelings. No matter how disgusting and ugly it sounds. I get the anger. I am angry too! But death fills my nightmares and wakes me up and keeps me up. I do tell him I get how he feels... that I understand... more then anyone. That his brother has done this to him.... to US ALL... time and time again. Its not a drug addiction. Its mental illness... You know? The one that people hide deep in a closet? The stigma of it all. Yes. Our son "ran away" all his life. I remember a 7 year old Kyle packing a back pack. Upset because he didn't get the expensive video game he begged for or because he was yelled at for not putting away his lego's ... I can't remember the reason now. Nothing horrible. Nothing life changing. Nothing like I went through. But still... the childs answer was always to pack a bag and run. When I asked him one day what it was about... he mindlessly gives some offhand reply of never feeling like he fit in... with his brothers (understandable considering that they are on the spectrum of having Autism.) or with us. I learned a few months ago that he had told people he always felt like he was adopted. And then the woman dared ask me..."And WAS he? Did you adopt him and keep it from him!?" The things this kid would CONSTANTLY tell other people... things that always came back too me. Always questions and accusing tones. Something that hinted at "your the worst mother EVER. In America... In the WORLD." My son had THAT ability. He can lie like noone else. A gifted talent that the worst criminals wish they could posses... My son has it and then some... He looks at you with his soulful eyes and lies. No emotions. No crying. Like a Zombie. He always played Zombie Video games and innocently said "Zombies are real mom... Thats how its going to end. It will be a disease that makes people into Zombies." Like "Spice"? Yup. I remember when I learned he was using the bath salts. Now there's an education.
            I drifted someplace. This is all to suggest that they weren't close as brothers. They were close. They were too close. I forced it. With 2 autistic children.... they shared the same friends... shared the same likes... shared the same room at times. Initially Kyle would be the one to "take friends" a feeling that both of my other sons remember all too well...... "Mom... He always wants to be the center of attention!" And he did.  At school it was on stage... Looking for a show. He had to be liked the most. Talked about. My other 2... both very handsome boys as well would find little girls chasing them and Kyle would set out to "steal" the girl friends. It became such a habit... And happened SO often... (even girls Kyle had no interest in.) that the boys quit bringing girls home. I would ask why? "Kyle's going to steal her. Or try. He won't stop until she likes him." No. They were wrong. There is no way my son was that bad. That selfish. That heartless? He wouldn't be the one insisting that the girls they cared for most would like him the best. Well a few months ago it happened again. His youngest brother brought home his Girlfriend... he had been friends with her for well over a year and had never brought her home. They had only just started dating. She was short and heavy. Not at all what Kyle was looking for. Not his type. I imagine thats how she made the girlfriend cut. Secretly in Brandon's mind "My brother won't like you? Oh you may be the girl for me!". Of course it didn't end well... Brandon crying. They had split up. Kyle had forced himself into the conversation... he sat down with some beers and insisted he was going to "get to know the girl his brother had brought home." Tick Tick Tick... wee hours of the morning... 3 am... getting to know her... When Brandon couldnt hold the conversation like Kyle did... Kyle would "school him." NO BRANDON... Your doing it wrong. Let me Mr. perfect... show you how its done by the people who AREN'T autistic. What Kyle secretly meant all the time... and my son Brandon with his super high IQ knew... was Kyle thought he was better... and smarter.... and cuter.... and... well everything. And even though Kyles IQ is much lower then his brothers... he is smart too... (smart like a fox.) and he had to have known if he "taught" Brandon in front of the girl... She would back off... And somehow become attracted to Kyle more. So before daylight hit. Before I was up and headed to the ocean to take my pretty sunrise shots... Brandon was crying... His heart broken in little pieces... Kyle drunk and smoking like a chimney... telling him to "Man up."  The girl had told him she couldn't continue on in the relationship with her being "attracted" to his brother... and they needed to go back to being friends. All I could say... was "Kyle? REALLY Kyle?" I say that alot. Shocked by things I probably have no business being shocked about anymore. I am guessing Jonathan and Brandon are VERY right.
            So.... my uncles dead. This is where I am supposed to break down and cry... I am supposed to be heart broken and sad... and say "Why GOD!?" and "It's way too soon!" but I have this weird thing. Well weird in the sense that most of America grieves. All the time. Every time I turn on Facebook or the internet... there is some news story of death. People I know... family members... cry about loved ones that died decades ago. I am truly lost and baffled at the experience myself. Now don't confuse me for the emotionless person that my son seems to become and my father and brothers always were...But, I'm not. I'm sad. I get sad for the loss... My loss... Days that I will never have... things left unsaid... But my mother died when I was 4. A long long drawn out illness and I cried and cried and mourned for years. Us children weren't allowed at her funeral. The last image I have of my mother in my head was her waving out the window too me in her hospital gown. I wasn't allowed up... (I think it was hospital policy... but even not... my father wouldn't have seen the need.) She waved and smiled... I am sure with love and tears in her eyes... but I couldnt see... I was 4... and she was on the 3rd floor... a dot. About the size of an Ant... "Can you see her?" yes. I think thats her. After her death we were quickly disposed of. Put into foster homes. (not together... separated.) My mourning continued on privately. Until it got to the point where I was ready to end it... I had been raped... and needed my mother most. I cried and longed for her input... I longed for her hugs and words telling me it would be ok. I had my plan and it was suicide.... My life sucked. No family members and I often spent holidays alone. I lived alone and the plan was to die... equally and quickly... alone. As I lie outside planning my death I watched the clouds and the sky... I spoke too my mother all the time... Never was it a doubt to me that she was in heaven. I didnt know the layout... If it was the "Catholic" version of heaven or one of the many other religions that I had known "Methodist" "Mennonite" "Baptist" or "Protestant"; but I was sure her spirit was with me ALWAYS... and no matter what... So I would survive... And figure it all out. So my religious experience is much different then most. I feel God and Angels and my mom in a very REAL way... I can hear her speak too me... Not actual words... but I know exactly what she is saying. And trust me... I know. I don't believe in "one religion" I believe in ALL religions. God doesn't care if your White or Black... Baptist or Mennonite... The spirit lives on...long after... this.... This cosmic Joke... This nightmare... It was like in the field watching butterflies I discovered my own religion... That this was a test... to see how we learn... too see how we grow... Our Weakest moments have to become strongest... and we are repeating the same cycles until we get it right... I have witnessed it time and again in my own life... Things that have seemed to difficult and random... Repeated over and over... Until my eyes are opened... Things that would never happen repeatedly to ANY person. I have better odds then any lottery. True story... And if I told you... it would blow your mind. But thats a different blog.
            Its always fascinated me the amount of people who try to "convert" me. They want to bring me to Jesus... They want me to sing in their church... When in the past I have discovered I know more about it then they have even witnessed. My church has no walls... Its the world.
           See? I drifted again. So My uncles dead... And I'm not... "sad" like the rest of the world. I know he's not gone. I know he's here. Right here... with me drifting in and out... more like stopping by to see if I am dying... mentally and drifting physically... at that point again where I am lost and give up. I know this because I know how I found out and I know the timing... And I know what happened when my other uncle passed away years ago... I have these dreams... Dreams of death and happiness. What I imagine would terrify most I think of as a message being given too me...And I know they are dead. (But happy.) And then I do the search. And they are. So. Noone could ever tell me spirits aren't real... That there is no "life" after death... They are very real. Mine tell me when they have died. In life there was no connection really. I can't remember the time that they reached out. No phone calls from them... If I happened to look him up... then fine. But  there are periods of time when I listen to my inner voice speaks clearly too me (angels) and I follow my own instructions. Contact him. Reach out. So it wasn't too long ago... after DECADES of not seeing or speaking too him... that I did... maybe a year ago??I assume the nagging questions in my head at the time were "Do you have any photo's of my mom?" all lost too us... my father with his.... ummm...we will go with lifestyle..... had left them all behind... her pearls... her sewing... things she had made... everything that NORMAL families pass down from one generation too another? Gone. My Aunts who have trunks filled with photo's have always refused to help. "Too painful... one day..." REALLY? I am 42. With a 4 year olds picture in my head. I have children of my own... Now grown men... They may want to "know" my family? Even in tattered picture form only. Awwww... sorry you have pain. So I asked my uncle... and told him... "You know... you were always my favorite Uncle. I remember the laughter in the house... I remember how funny you were... I remember you calling me "Cindy Lou" And Thankyou. I know you.... tried. I know you wanted to take us in..." I could hear the smile "YOU DO!?" I do. I remember... And I get that taking 3 children in after my mom passed wasnt anybodys plan. I understand that death bed promises mean nothing. I'm an adult... and sometimes your just waiting for someone to die... so you can start to mourn... and the things said are so they smile...Its  not a REAL promise. He's released from the guilt he had... One that wasn't his to have really... He sounded good... and happy... and I knew this last time I was going up  to Ny... I would look him up. I would give him a hug and we would laugh... he would smile and say what he always says too me... "You look JUST Like her... Act... JUST LIKE HER... I don't know how. You were so young when she died... But your nothing like the rest of them." I know. I do... I am exactly like her. Forgiving and patient... Blindness to ego or danger. I just don't see what others see... Feel what they feel... its a curse and a blessing... But its why when I stand on the ocean... I feel... God.
          So I know how I found out my uncle was dead. I dont know the last time I saw him... Unsure when we last spoke... but like I said... I reached out... not too long ago... and I sensed in September that I SHOULD stop. I should be there... There was no time... Time... Always someone else... Demands... You know what I NEED CINDY? What I want? sure... Cindy to take Photos... lots... for free... So no time. So I was there in September. October he was gone. Yesterday the voice told me to look for Military pictures... They were in the military... I slowly typed in his name... and my fathers... Clicked on Image... and right there in my google search was my Uncle. A picture. I click thinking I might find more... And he's dead. A repeat of what happened too me when my other uncle had passed... First a dream... then a thought... then learning on my own that they were gone.
          I didnt tell my husband right off... Of course I was sad... And I mourn... I mourn for me... not for him... I know what I lost... The chance that I should have made time for myself... followed my instincts... And gone and seen him when I could have... should have... When I finally tell him... He's confused... No... You just spoke with him... not long ago.... I know... And he was fine!? Yes. And then... When!? October. I wanted to see him when we were there... "We could have!... We WOULD have!... Cindy... Why didnt you say so... ?" because its always something else... someone else... a commitment that needs kept. So we do those things. Are you mad? No. Disappointed at myself... Are you sad... No... I know he was here too see me... He suddenly attacks my father... He's a jerk! He's an idiot... (I agree... Anyone who knows or knew my father would be hard-pressed not too. A selfish sick man. Who I forced myself to cut ties with several years ago... I had tried to keep an adult relationship with the man... but his mental illness was too much. Thats also a different blog. A different time... a different story... )

           I am mad... At my son. I am mad he never knows what I am going through...I'm mad that family tragedies are never family tragedies... His brothers don't...connect to things... Jonathan still rocks back and forth at times... Because he's autistic and in his own world. I am mad its always about Kyle.The one son who COULD emotionally care...? Doesn't.  And I'm mad that SOMEHOW this child who was very much sheltered from my father... got his disease... like he drank from his coffee cup and it contaminated his mind. I wonder how he can think himself adopted when he is the same as my father... and very much the same as my 2 brothers... Selfish to the point of destruction... Uncaring and mean... And very very cruel... And I wonder how when I  move away from that graveyard they call Upstate New York... where I have always told my husband... in my soul... I felt... things go to DIE there. I imagine sick Deer laying on the ground... in Upstate Ny... begging for a hunter to come shoot it. We left. And many of the loved ones I know up there still mourn and cry over every day life. There is no sun... Lots of snow...I dont know how my son got.... like this. When he was surrounded by love... And sunshine... And vitamin D... and the ocean is 2 blocks away... He was forced to enjoy nature and the world... even when he didnt want to... So how are we at this point with him?
            I will continue to write here about it all... Jonathan and Brandon have both told me they are tired of how much attention he has demanded... and they want a day where I am not worried about Rehab and wondering if he will live... They are glad the focus can be off him... Finally... (and it breaks my heart for them... He has told them many many times before he will go away forever... and he will never see them again... Not caring if he hurts them... Always threats... And Brandons tears.)
            I am glad my uncle came too me to say Goodbye. I am glad he is up there looking over me... somewhere... and I am sure its not all the time... Just a few moments to make sure I am still struggling with life... and I'm not in some field planning on offing myself.... And then... he's gone.
Goodbye Uncle Larry... Thanks for stopping and checking on me... and say Hi too Mom. 

Seaside living definitely has its perks ; but it also has its down side. Bars filled with parties year round. While the tourists are here and even after they hop on a plane home. Locals then celebrate their departure. For me and my husband... its paradise. To smell the sea salt in the air daily... There is nothing closer to heaven. We enjoy it and lived a boring life. Our 3 sons? Nope. They always have a "friend" or a situation... or someone in need. Its the fast paced mind of being young I guess... Fueled with the need to find love, friendship and their own path. I don't know what this blogs about. I guess we will all discover that along the way. I have so much going on... And each of my sons is different and unique. A story all their own... And that is my story. The story of an old woman (ok. they say I'm not old... but 3 boys can make you feel it. so my old is 42.) ... an old woman trying to find HER life. The paradise she thought she had... and lost... while her sons fight and struggle to grow up... and make wrong choices... And live. Hopefully it will be a Happily Ever After where they all become prince charmings. Where they find the princess and a decent career where they can pay the mortgage... and finally give me those grandchildren I can hop up on chocolates and goodies, spoil rotten and then ship home so I can curl up with my good book. I like a good Fairytale.

             Right now my life is a NIGHTMARE. Fueled by my sons addiction to fast paced living. I think he's addicted to being... addicted... if that makes sense. Driving fast... being stupid, drugs, lots. All kinds. Drinking? Always too much. Never just a beer at the end of the day. Not the example we set or the "plan". Yes. I thought I could have a plan... LOL... 5 year plan. Whats in the future? Silliness for sure. Plan a future. Nope not really. I can't even guarantee my belongings will remain in my home. (Our son and his fast paced fly by night boys have threatened to come into our house and take.... A threat I "deserved" for turning them in and setting up Rehab for my son.). 5 year plans are.... nice. Unrealistic as hell... But nice. Sure... lets look into the future. I see the Princesses and my sons all happy... I see me playing Frisbee with my grandkids on the beach. I see our sons hugging us and smiles and laughter... a 5 year plan... Thats where this blog can start. 

             My youngest and I had hoped for a Happiness Jar. http://www.ba-bamail.com/Content_7360/How_to_Make_2014_a_Happier_Year!.aspx The thought... a Happy one... Happy thoughts ALL YEAR LONG! One for every Happy Damned Day of the year! And Boy... was it going to be filled. Unfortunately we are on Day 15... My Jar still squeaky clean... we are waiting for the happiness to happen... Yeah. Its not. I sit and look at photos of warmth and happy days trying to make the happiness ooze out from whatever bodypart its hiding in... 

It doesn't work. The photo's make me smile... a smile with glazed over tear filled eyes as I wonder if my son will be alive tomorrow. If he will overdose and if we will get a call. I am sad and mad and disgusted all at once. THIS can't be MY life. I made sure it wasn't! I made the hard choices and left our quaint little village in the 1000 islands for this life! We gave up alot and built a fresh start... a new life... because I could see the future for my son... and I knew his addictive personality waaaay back then. Before he was an addict I knew he was an addict. I kept it secret... In my soul. My bestest best friends only knowing the truth... I believed one day I would have to fight this fight.
           So now I am starting the Day... January 15th... Hoping I can put my first piece of paper in my Happiness Jar. Have a great day! I hope your Jars are all filled to the top!