Merry Christmas…

I used to love Christmas, but this year I don’t like it anymore. It’s just another day. I know it’s Jesus’s birthday and I’m happy that he died for our sins. But I don’t like this holiday. People are just fake. No one cares about anybody but themselves. It’s unbelievable to me the people treat each other so badly.

I’ve been trying so hard to figure out what I’m doing wrong. Why can’t I ever get it right? Why does it have to be so hard? Why does my family not support me? Why does my daughter hate me and won’t talk to me?

I was told by someone much younger than me, that I have never taken responsibility for my actions. I didn’t deserve to be a mother. I’m telling you I could have went through the internet and pull that girls hair out of her head. She doesn’t have a clue what I’ve been through. She’s never walked in my shoes. But she blames me for things she did as a child. Talk about taking responsibility for your own actions, please!!!

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know if I’m going to stay in California or I’m going to go back east. I know I’ve never dealt with any of my problems. I’ve always been told just keep on going. I wasn’t even supposed to mourn William but a week. You stand in somebody’s blood and tell me that it’ll only take you a week to get better. I drank and I drank a lot and yes I wanted to talk about it. But every time I did I was told to shut up. I just want to get better. I just want to be happy. I want my family back. But I won’t get it. Maybe one day my daughter will love me again. I hope so. I hope it’s before I die. If not then I’ll just have to live with that. Because I can’t make her do anything, I never could, I wasn’t allowed. I never had anybody that was there for me. People say it’s not all about you and I know that’s true. But they sure do think a lot about themselves and how they’re so much better than me. If that’s the way you’re supposed to be to be a good person, I don’t want to be one!

So, Merry Christmas…


Dear Santa,,,

Oh, I thought long and hard before I began to write this. I feel that there has been enough time, although there is never really enough time. I had to learn the hard way, so it seems. Suicide, it’s debilitating. So, this time of year, fond memories start slowly creeping in…

Santa Claus, oh what a happy memory. I remember that some of the best days of my life were at Christmas and the worse days too. Even if it was not heartfelt all the time, people tried to keep it together a little better than the rest of the year. It was something in the air- the smell of red-eye gravy, homemade biscuits and coffee and it was death too. Uncle Harry died.

He was my dad’s youngest brother. He was extremely tall and apparently the blood reverses flow, at times and it didn’t start back for Uncle Harry. He worked across the street from the hospital that I was born. CPR would have saved him, but in 1967, it hadn’t been discovered.

On December 27, 1967 my baby brother was born, six months premature. The lining of the womb had a tear and he didn’t make it home to meet me. He would be 50 this year. Happy Birthday, baby Brother! I miss him and I never laid eyes on him. The months that followed were hard on my mom and dad. This is where mine and my mother’s relationship ceased to exist and we even know it. My mom, she’s tough, couldn’t show signs of weakness. I, however, could bring out the worst in her. It was definitely not the sign of a weak woman.

I remember good times at Christmas. Seems we could always count on Christmas making things “alright” again. Just give me a Sears and Roebuck catalog, oh my God I would sit for hours writing down page numbers, sizes. What Santa could get if they were out of this or that. I bet I must have had a hundred things that Santa could choose from and I just wanted one. But I would make a long list, just to make sure that I got something that I wanted. Something he didn’t have to worry about was me being picky. I wanted to make sure he had eaten his cookies and drank his milk. He had a lot of that on Christmas Eve night, you know?? I didn’t at 3, lol.

I just wanted to fill you in on the significance of Christmas. It was such a big part of my memories throughout my life. I didn’t realize it for a long time, but as I grew older and moved and moved and moved again, I would come back to the house. It wasn’t the same house, but it was their house, my parents house.

Everyone has to get up early on Christmas morning and if we didn’t spend the night there the night before, they waited on everybody to get there. That was a chore for Miss E. We ate a huge breakfast with grits, biscuits and gravy, sausage & cheese egg casserole. It wasn’t the same as when I was little, but for a little girl name Miss E, it was the beginning of her enjoyment of Santa.

How I miss those mornings, watching her open presents. One Christmas she’s hollering, “Oh Mommy, mommy I got socks!” If I could take it all back now, everything I ever did I would. But I can’t, so now I’m asking Santa to listen very carefully, because what I want for Christmas is not going to be an easy task.

I want to be forgiven, by a little angel named Miss E. I know I don’t deserve it, but I ask you with all my heart, to show her how to forgive me. So that she can go on and live, without regret. I don’t want to cause her anymore pain.

I used to sing to her until she went to sleep. She was in junior high before she wouldn’t let me do it anymore. “You Are My Sunshine”, I sang that song so many times. I’d be horse, but I did it over and over, just for her, because I loved her more than I love myself. I got lost and forgotten. Trampled on and beaten, until I couldn’t see the things around me. I gave up, not on her, but on me. She means everything to me. Some people say I was a bad mother. Maybe I was. People say that I’ve never taken accountability for my actions, never taken responsibility. They also blame me for doing things that even they knew they shouldn’t do. Because why?? Because they took responsibility and learned from their mistakes?? I on the other hand, should be a better person than that. I should not have allowed it. Maybe so. I don’t remember getting the memo on how you’re supposed to take on the weight of the world. Sure they may not get in trouble, but I didn’t even get the book on how to raise child and do it right.

No regrets. I do remember my mom telling me that I was a good mother. I was at one time. I don’t think I was that bad a mother. I did the best I knew to do at the time. They had no regard for what I wanted anyway, it was all about what she wanted and what they wanted and the hell with Kim and what she wants. She’s only the mother. The same people didn’t talk to me for 3 months after I told them I was pregnant and not married. These people were my parents.

Santa, take care of my Miss E. I always gave her the best of things. It wasn’t enough. I thought she had forgiven me, but apparently I was wrong. Give me the strength to not get mad when people say foolish things that they have no idea about. Help me to understand that I am human. That I’m not perfect and I have made a lot of mistakes. I would just like one day to be able to hold her in my arms again and love her the way I used to do when she was a child. Maybe coax her to call me sometimes, LOL. I don’t think she’s a bad person. I think she’s been misguided. I think she needs to learn forgiveness and compassion. Make the light shine on her this year. Let her know every turn every Moon every Star that falls from the sky that I’m there with her always. I will be with her even after death. I don’t want her to have to suffer and learn things over again and again like I have.

Thank you Santa. I hope I know what I’m doing now. Things have been so disorganized and bad since William died. It left me in a hell of a mess. I have nowhere to go anymore. I don’t have a purpose. But I’m trying to heal. I know people think I’m not trying at all, but I am. Also I just like to say this while I’m asking Santa, would you please give us this year.? I really feel like this year I’ll be at a point that she’ll understand me now. I think she’s grown up enough. Just open her eyes and let her see me! Because I’m not that bad person that I used to be. I’m her mommy or as she used to say, Mammy. Give her big hugs and kisses for me please and I’ll just wait patiently. I know patience is not my virtue, but I am learning to be more patient and understanding.

Thank you Santa. Thank you God. Bless everyone this year…

Dear Santa,,,

In Three Days…

It will be three days until the morning of William’s suicide. Suicide has been a hard thing for me to grasp for the past two years. I’ve made so many stories up in my head I really don’t know what I believe anymore. 

I’ve found a gentleman who makes me feel like a woman and friend. He’s very straight forward and harsh at moments, but I think that I’ve known him before. You know, when I made the decision to come back to right my wrongs. It’s a struggle at moments, but I like him a lot. Maybe it’s love. It’s not the same. I can’t change this man to be what I had. 

We’re trying to get a place together and tonight we’re in Carlsbad, CA, on the way back from Oceanside. We had the most wonderful dinner. We were walking towards town and these lights caught my eyes. It was a winery Restuarant, PAEO. It was the first really nice dinner we’ve had since we met. 

The boat will be my new home. Live aboard status, as they say. I’ll have a HOME, again. It’s taken 2 years to be able to let myself try to love again. It’s very hard for me to think he’s really gone. These next days are going to be a blur. My family, Miss E have no memory of what’s gone through my mind. They thought they knew me, but I don’t even know myself. In the next three days…


I have a reminder app. I looked at it yesterday it already had a reminder…My last name is Bryant

It was already reminding me of my last name. Makes you wonder what that could mean. It could mean so many things. I speculate that it would mean that I’m strong, resourceful, intelligent, classy and down and dirty when I need to be. These are all the qualities that I admired in William. 

So, I just need to keep remembering

My last name is Bryant

I Have To Admit…

I have bronchitis, no fever, take naproxen and gave me an inhaler.  Follow the drill. Oh, don’t forget the steroid shot. I take enough pills a day, I don’t have any room for anymore. 

My problem and it was my problem, is that my roommate told me, for the second time, that he would be there for me a little. God forbid. I love these guys that say they do EVERYTHING for you. Tickles me to death. They wouldn’t know if something spectacular hit them in the head. My roomie said he’d be home by 12. At 2:30 pm he still wasn’t here. At 3 he was. He did something good. 

I’m used William. He treated me with respect, never putting me down, he never did something expecting something in return. I miss him. I’m sick and he’s not here to take care of me. Nobody else cares. Nobody else cares. It’s going to be 2 years, August 26, since he left me that morning. I honestly don’t know where I’ll be, mentally or physically. 

Men or so they call themselves just don’t have the class like they used too. Opening doors, actually being interested in what the girl has to say, caring how she feels and making sure she’s following Drs orders. 

I think all this is coming up because  I have to admit I’ve been having some weird dreams/memory’s lately. I have to admit I think it has to do with the rapist…

I Don’t Know Why…

I really need to write a blog everyday. If I don’t I can really get out there and way beyond myself. I’ve had things that I needed to talk about but I’d either forget what it was at that time, which made it useless or it wasn’t appropriate. It’s like I wait too long or things just get in the way.
I have to start alloting time everyday, each book and my blog. right now i think my blog is more important, but maybe more important, or first consideration is my GROUP. It’s a Yahoo group. I call it mine because it’s for survivors of suicide, but it can be anyones group. I can cuss, I can rant, I can say whatever I want to, about whatever I want to, this past time it’s been how William shot himself right between the eyes.
One of the members didn’t understand how I could just say that. I told them because I
understand what such a deliberate and intentional act he had committed. I don’t know why…

A Day In Bed for us

I remember those days, it could be a weekend at a  historical inn or calling in sick to the boss; oh he was the boss. He was tougher on himself. He expected 110% because that’s what he gave. 

I find myself sleeping longer at times now. Still haven’t been able to go back to bed after breakfast. I miss the those mornings of breakfast in bed. How he loved it. That OMG he didn’t just smile at me smile. Sheer pleasure for me and how could I deny him when his heartfelt sincerity won me over. 

He was like that. If one of us had to leave to do something and we were smoking, the other would finish the cigarette. No waste. I miss laying on the couch eating popcorn (okra). It was left over from supper. Fried okra William loved it. I had some before I left NC. Snuggling, turned in toward his chest. I can hear his heart beating now. I’d fall asleep before the show was over. He’d always act like he was mad. He knew when I did it what was going to happen and he loved it. 

So, even thinking about a day in bed brings back so many good memories, but I don’t foresee ever having another one before I leave this life. I don’t know when that will be, but I can assure you it’s not happening and when I get to where I’m suppose to be, then I’ll ask for A Day In Bed for us…