You can't appreciate the good days without the bad ones.
But what about the times that the good times aren't when they should be. I mean, some of my best times are with someone they're not supposed to be with.
I have a tendency of looking for something other then what I have. I seem to always think, eventually it'll be better, or, it will get better once.. happens.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like I might be finally letting go, finally living in the now. Finally able to live and feel, the way I need to.
I've been told, "it will take a while to get over this". And yet, seems like I'm being pushed to move on. Like what I'm doing isn't fast enough for what everyone else thinks I should be doing.

Dont forget me.

Dont forget me.

I feel almost an obligation to carry on, stronger then before. But at the same time, that makes me mad. That he got the easy out. That he got to quit and be the one to "inspire". That he could do that to me. But I know thats all in the past now. Now, I have to carry on. Now, I have to thrudge through everything and learn from it, learn how to live through it and help those around me. Help those that could be stuck there.

Grief

I know you mean the best. But sometimes people just say the dumbest things when they're trying to help.
When someone is experiencing loss, we expect someone to say "I know exactly what you're going through." Or "wow that sucks I wish there was something I could do." Or "wow, i can't even imagine."
honestly the most helpful response so far, seems to be none. Just the response of a look, and maybe a "wow, I don't know what to say". Because honestly that seems to portray the most accurate honest feeling. There are no words. Especially for what I've gone through. There is nothing to say, nothing that will magically make me feel better. So why do people try?
I'm going to be extremely bold and blunt here. You're not special, there's not some magical perfect concoction of words you can put together that will just happen to fall right so that I am able to snap out of it, or maybe even make me feel "better". Sometimes the best thing that one can do is simply say. "I'm sorry. There's nothing else I can say." Because then I at least know you're being honest with me, with yourself, and with the situation. Then after that, the most helpful things seem to be just hanging out. Either letting me cry, talk, or neither. Just being quiet or watching something. If I say I don't know, take that as truth. I dont know. But you know what, I don't have to know. I dont know what is going to make me "feel better", maybe I shouldn't "feel better" right now anyway. I remember during the obituary the pastor (his uncle) said "there's a time for grief, and now is the time for grief. we need to let ourselves greave.."
Everyone grieves in their own way. Some take no time at all, some take years. It also depends on what the grief is for. But so far in my experience it seems people tend to forget what others are dealing with until its directly brought up again or maybe you find someone crying. At this point you're jolted back into reality that "oh yeah, they're still grieving".

There is a song, A song that just about kills me every time I hear it.
Maybe, just maybe this might help someone to realize how things are effecting me.

Immagine sitting in a room across from a loved one who's holding a shotgun, drunk.

Say something, I'm giving up on you                      you're sitting there with a gun
I'll be the one, if you want me to                             If it would stop you
Anywhere I would've followed you                        I would have gone with you anywhere
Say something, I'm giving up on you           I'm trying to talk to you, help you.    

And I am feeling so small                                        There's nothing I can do..
It was over my head                                                 I tried everything I knew
I know nothing at all                                                .... I knew nothing

And I will stumble and fall                                      I don't feel strong enough
I'm still learning to love                                           I'm sorry I didn't know how to
Just starting to crawl                                                to love you wholly

Say something, I'm giving up on you                      I don't want to leave you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you                           I've tried so hard
Anywhere I would've followed you                        Anywhere, anywhere but here.
Say something, I'm giving up on you                      If I can't change your mind..

And I will swallow my pride                                   Since you want this, I can't change your mind
You're the one that I love                                         I realize that now, too late
And I'm saying goodbye                                          for the last time

Say something, I'm giving up on you                      I can't change your mind
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you                   So. Finally. I'm leaving.
And anywhere I would've followed you                  Still, I want to..
Say something, I'm giving up on you                      Please, please dont

Say something, I'm giving up on you                      Don't give up on me
Say something...                                                       on us.

9-2-14

Yesterday I finally decided to tell Dustin that I needed time alone to figure out what my needs were because I always think of everyone else before myself. He tried to change my mind and when I was finally firm enough for him to understand that I had made up my mind he asked"so you want me gone?" to which I told him "no I don't want you gone, but I need time alone". I didn't realize at the time that he was saying that he was going to take himself out of the picture forever permanently.
Shortly thereafter I left for work and he told me he would be gone by the time I got home.
Dustin called me at work to tell me that I shouldn't go home right away and maybe stay at my parents house that night. It took some convincing to make him tell me more of what was going on. I then realized he might be drunk, when I asked him he said "oh yeah. And not a little bit. You know the difference between people who want help and people who want to die? those who want to die aren't stupid enough to ask for help." At that point I realized what the situation was and started pleading with him to not take his life. I could hear him playing with the gun in the background the whole time.
After a while of talking with him i convinced him to at least let me come see him. I went back into work and had to call my boss in and left before he was there because i knew that I couldn't wait. I drove home, I used the carpool lane with no carpool, I did everything to go as fast as I possibly could.
I then texted my mother to let her know that he was trying to kill himself with a gun. She asked me not to go and let my dad go instead. I knew that if anyone other then me walked in it would be over. So I drove there, didn't call the cops and went up to the apartment. This whole time I was on the phone with him, talking with him, trying to change his mind. When I approached the door I told him "I'm opening the door now" then I put the key in and opened the door. He was sitting there with a shotgun in between his legs. To be honest it was a bit startling, surreal.. I slowly walked in and put my backpack down and sat on the couch across the room from him. I continued to talk to him and try and plead with him to change his mind. We laughed about some things. At one point he said there was no point in going to a physiologist because he "couldn't admit I have a problem. look at me, I'm sitting here with a shotgun between my legs and I can't admit I have a problem." I got up and went to the bathroom and when I came back I sat in my computer chair that was a little closer. I knew that I was not in danger at all. I knew I could have lunged at him to take the gun and he would do everything in his power to keep me out of danger first, Then keep the gun from me. I told him I just really wanted a hug. He made me promise I wouldn't go for the gun at all and he got up, put the gun down and gave me a hug. We stood there for a moment, and then we heard "Dustin Jones, please come..." he pushed me away and went and sat back down with the gun so that if anyone tried to burst in he could end it any moment. They kept asking him to come out with his hands over his head and then they started asking for me. They started calling our phones to talk to us. We finally heard them saying if you can't leave the apartment please answer the phone or call 911. I decided at this point to call 911 and they transferred me to Renton PD, and the dispatcher asked me to leave. I refused to leave because again, i knew if I left it would be done. The dispatcher said his dad was trying to call him so he should answer his phone. It then took me a while to convince him to pick up the phone. This whole time he had been asking me to leave because he didn't ant me to see anything. He didn't want to hurt me like that either. I made him a promise that if he answered the phone and talked to his dad and at least said I love you and goodbye, I would leave the apartment. He finally answered the phone and talked to his dad for a few minutes until he seemed to decide he was done. He then tried to hang up the phone and looked at me and said "you promised". So I started crying and told the dispatcher that "I was coming out, but it will be too late for him.". I then got up and walked out the door.
I heard the gunshot almost simultaneously with the door close. I then collapsed on the stair because I realized what had just happened. The cops across the way kept saying I needed to walk over to them. I tried, I didn't have the strength in my legs to hold me up. They kept asking, I kept saying "I can't!" to which they kept saying that I could and i needed to come to them. I finally tried again and got about halfway down and collapsed again. they encouraged me more, I got up again and walked down the rest of the stairs and got across the cement and collapsed into the grass. At this point they finally talked about coming to get me. Two officers came over, one covered me and the other and the other picked me up and helped me down the other side of the stairs and into the apartment across the way so I was safe. They then entered the apartment and started whatever they did. I sat in a strangers apartment sitting there crying. Eventually they asked if my family was there and they went and got my dad. He held me while i cried. They took my statement my sister was there too.. I don't really remember much after the incident. Everything is kind of a haze at this point.

I know he thought about it thoroughly.
He bought a gun that was a "home defence" shotgun
He bought "home defence" bullets so that if it did go through it wouldn't make it through the wall or ceiling.
He even angled himself toward the outside wall so that there was even less chance of hurting anyone else.
He told me "you'll be okay, you have family and people who will help you"
he told me "my dad is strong, he will get through it."
He didn't think about how much hurt it would cause everyone left behind.

Hurt

 Gossip, assumptions, Just slap a title on it. These things are so much more hurtful then most people realize. People make mistakes, thats what makes us human. What makes us christian is loving our neighbor like christ loved us, whether we like it or not.

I left my husband, for a few big reasons (some are non of your business) although a really big one was communication. But ultimately I made the final decision because I got so depressed I wanted to kill myself. And before you start thinking I didn't talk to anyone, apparently I am REALLY bad at communication because I thought I did. Really and truly. So finally I left. I left my kids. I left my family. I left my husband. I left every friend I thought I had. With no intention of returning. I've always thought "how could a mother leave her kids? I don't understand it". Now I do. Because parenthood is stressful, family is stressful, not having a real friend I feel I can be 100% honest with is stressful. Loss is hard, health problems are hard. I'm so tired of hearing people say it must be so hard on your sister (not saying it isn't), but maybe you're family isn't close but mine always has been. My sister's gotten the shit end of the deal on multiple occasions, and I dont think she deserves it. But just because its her kids that have suffered doesn't mean its not hard on me. I cry for my sister. I weep for/with her. It's hard. And I didn't realize how much I was trying to be strong and shut everything out. For so long I didn't take care of myself. Until I broke.
I've had multiple people ask me how I could take my dog and not my kids. There is a multi-faucet answer for that. One, I wanted to kill myself, I didn't want to expose my kids to that kind of environment. Two, I knew I couldn't take care of myself, how selfish would I have to be to try and take them with me when I know full well they would be safer, well cared for where they were. Three, it could have been considered kidnapping if I had taken them. And four, as silly as it may sound Amber is easy to take care of and supremely attached to me. I honestly think she would have stopped eating and other things like that if I had left her. I also had the thought that I was going to leave and never come back because, then my kids wouldn't remember me. They would be too young to remember who mommy was. They could move on with whoever Dave found in the future and connect with her. They might not even realize they miss me because they wouldn't remember me. And if they did, they could just play it off like "my mom left when I was two, eh I don't remember her so its okay".
I know these are all clouded judgements. But if you're reading (or still reading) this then you might be at least somewhat interested in whats going on with me. I want you to imagine a place where all those thoughts were considered okay. Where all of that was an acceptable variable because it was still better then the alternative which would have been "my mom committed suicide when I was two..."
I was in the hospital for a week, I was a voluntary admit. But only slightly. I was admitted into the ER, then at that point in order to get discharged I had to pass a psychological exam. And I knew I wouldn't do that. Not if I was honest. And I had my mom and sister there to keep me honest, so it was pretty much no turning back.
It was extremely healthy for me. I discovered a lot about me. I learned how to communicate. I realized that I do a lot of conversation holding in my head then think I've actually had the conversation so I dont say it and leave the other person out of it. Sometimes I've had such a thorough conversation that I genuinely think we've had the conversation so I confuse myself.
I cannot see my kids unless I have direct supervision from another adult, these are standing orders from CPS, because I have admitted that there have been times that I have had thoughts of hurting my children. So again, I say; try and put yourself into the shoes of a person who can think that.
I'm not okay. I will be okay. But I need to work on it.

I'm afraid to go back.
I'm afraid of where my mind will go.
I'm afraid that I will fall back into old habits and end up in the same place.