Tag Archives: death

The Death of a Stalker

In truth, I can’t feel that bad for her. Originally Aris tried to get me to feel bad for her as this poor transgendered woman who can’t come out of the closet and he’s trying to rescue her to garner my sympathy… Then a professor snapped me out of it when she saw I was sympathizing with someone who threatened my sense of safety as a brand new mom and painted me as crazy so Kai didn’t have to take ownership of her actions. Every store I walked into, she followed me. Every parking lot I crossed, she followed me, and she knew exactly where I’d be because Aris told her where I’d be. When Aris gave me a hug I watched her collapse to the ground and sob, hiding behind the bushes. Then next day he said I was crazy, she wasn’t stalking me, and the whole thing was a coincidence.

For my sense of safety, I’m glad she can’t come after me anymore. While a part of me is genuinely judgemental that I can’t look at her and feel bad, the comfort is I know others who do care enough about her to do so. At this point I refuse to call her a “him” because she doesn’t deserve that respect, and as sad as it is, I cannot mourn the loss of someone who hurt me so bad as a new mother, leaving me defenseless and weak. While I understand many trans people would say this is offensive, to those that read it and feel offended, that is their choice to personalize something that ultimately has nothing to do with them. To other trans people in my life, I use the pronouns they give and I respect them. I have no problem with the trans community and would gladly march by their side… as for Kai? This is perhaps the only dagger I have for someone who made me feel my life was on the line, and I will cling to it till I’ve moved on. Knowing the pattern of women Aris sets out for, I know she too was codependent and a victim in the end, but that doesn’t change or justify her actions or the fear she put into me. A part of me truly wants to mourn for her as say “poor thing”, but I need to learn to cling to and care about myself, and this is in part all I have.

Knowing the pattern of women Aris sets out for, I know she too was codependent and a victim in the end, but that doesn’t change her actions or the fear she put into me.

>>>>>>>>>Kai’s Death

Looking at his text I’m calling bullshit. I know the only person he’s ever mourned the loss over is himself – like when I told him he was going to be a dad, and then when he cried because he begged me for an abortion and I told him I was going to leave him… Then he popped the question and asked me to marry him. >.>’ he told me he’s never cried over the loss of his grandfather or others he’s been close too, but the difference is he’s stoic, showing no emotion once that person is gone. In the context of grief work and narcissism, where my problem is I was shamed for grieving and didn’t know how to mourn my own losses, but mourned the loss of others, I have to wonder if he’s incapable of mourning the loss of others and only for himself. This was a huge red flag and a major warning sign when he told me he’s never cried over someone passing, and now I know why. I remember asking about this in therapy, but the answer was something about how everyone grieves differently.

Aris is truly terrifying in the context of things, and although I know why I fell for him, there’s another piece of me that still begs to ask… How did I ever fall for him? I ignored all the warning signs… I should have listened to that empathy, that intuition, that small panic inside my chest, but I didn’t. People warned me to stay away from him, but I found it strange that these people were all his friends, so they were all rejecting me, not him. This not to say that because I wish I’d never been with Aris as long as I was that I’m not thankful I’m a mom or a college grad, which all came about as a result, but I could have saved myself so much heartache instead of wanting him to save me. I truly do hate him. I also hate myself. I’m sure Kai hated herself too on some level… The women I’ve crossed paths with who have fallen victim to Aris all bare that likeness.

Somehow I see him as the predator he truly is now. I’m in shock.

Blending Experiences

Yesterday I did the Hecates ceremony and a tarot reading with a few simple questions with powerful results.

Before the Hecates ceremony I caught myself in a religious state I hadn’t experienced in a long time… But the emotion was strong and intense. Whenever I prayed to God as a Seventh-day Adventist Id always end up acknowledging my flaws and inadequacies before approaching the throne of the lord, since pride is not acceptable, as it was Satans downfall. Confession is a huge part of it too, and the feeling of forgiveness helped me to feel acknowledged and connected in my religious worship and prayers. 

Coming before Hecates I noticed that same process occurring…

“What if I’m not good enough? What if I’m not worthy? It needs to be perfect so which ceremony should I go for?”

That’s when I realized she’s not God, she’s a goddess, and because of what Hecates symbolizes, I can come before her strong in who I am because she’ll accept me as a woman at the very least. I’ve been on the right path for a while, and Hecates will show me the way, since that’s why I’m coming before her in the first place. I don’t need to feel pervasive insecurity in who I am before her, and as a goddess of power, she calls me to find ways to lock on to it. 


As I did the ceremony I was surprised how grounded I was, and the expansion of the heart chakra. My crown chakra is always on overdrive when I dip into a spiritual place and yawn profusely, even though I’m not tired. Certain reading material do the same, as my healing hands book from the library does. I felt more whole, centered, calm, and deeply relaxed in my practice, and it was a sensational novelty to both create and take part of. 

After a while I took a break and did my own thing for a bit… Made the psychic tea and it was pretty tasty, though I was disappointed it wasn’t spicier. It said it had peppermint and cayenne in it, but I didn’t experience much of that. 

With time nearing midnight and needing to go to bed so I can wake up in the morning, I asked The Goddess to guide my tarot reading, and the results I got were as follows:

What is one thing I can grow through for the next few weeks:

Upside down King of swords:

Represents someone who is overly regimented and militants in their routines. They’re harsh in their judgements of others, and of anyone who does not fit into their stereotypes. Could be accused of having a narrow outlook on life, without room for accepting new people, ideas, and new situations. Key factors of this card are intolerance and narrow-mindedness. 

Should I get involved in Politics?

King of Pentacles:

Successful and powerful with a great sense of responsibility towards family, friends, career, and community. Often successful because they have someone to provide for. This driving force is a motivator towards success, and achievement is measured through the security of family and views of oneself through important relationships in their life. Does not come across as overly confident. 

Should I become an energy healer (2 cards)

Heirophant: need to seek professional advice; alternatively any ritualistic service that is performed should have the appropriate spiritual leader.

Upside down Wheel of Fortune:

Although you may have had a run of bad luck in your past, things are changing and your life will soon take a turn for the better. Everything is on the way up and now it is time to enjoy the positive changes coming your direction. 

Should I consider selling adult toys through intamacy tickles, and will it be profitable? (2 cards)

10 of Wands for selling:

You have a lot of stresses, strains, and responsibilities, but you are quite capable of handling them so don’t worry too much. 

2 of Pentacles for finance:

You need to keep the balancing act up for a bit longer. Don’t make any decisions to drop any one aspect of your life just yet; you will need more information before making that choice. 

*personal reflection on the meaning and value of those answers to come later as I haven’t worked through it all yet, but I get the gist of it.

From there I called it a night and thanked the goddess for our reading and results. 


I had a dream that when I woke up from, I realized I’d ad multiple dreams like this in the past. Although it’s sexual, I’ll post it because there is something deep and profound in repetitious dreams, but I’ve never really bothered to assess one like this, as I did in the dreams where I’m drowning. The dream, though blended in details because of its repetition, follows to the best of my understanding like this:

First I’m in a house. Men keep running in, one at a time, trying to steal an object and leave; as one theif was done and leave, another one would soon enter. I’m trying to stop them in multiple ways – screaming at the top of my lungs so my brother would hear, setting up traps, chasing them, fighting them, but nothing seems to be effective. The more I fight to defend, the bigger and grander the house gets. 

The house is now a mansion, It’s “Christian” mansion from 50 shades of grey, but for some reason Christian is played by Liam Needon, so he’s a lot older than he should be but a great voice! Anyway, one loser busts in the house and I fake being injured and holding a secret blade in case he comes near, and I’m screaming until someone else hears me and arrests the guy. The last theif I fought was one I used seduction to stop him. He had tattered and dirty clothing, teeth were rotting and a few were missing, but he was younger than me by 2 years and I could tell he was looking for money for drugs. I managed to lure him to the couch and grind on top of him. I refused any real sex or oral because he stunk of sweaty balls (vomits). That’s when Liam Neeson comes down the stairs and see’s me! Finally, someone who could help me stop him. I quickly blurt out he was a theif and this was the only way to stop him until someone would help, and Liam glares and the theif. Then, for whatever reason, the words out of his mouth was that famous one liner.. I will find you, and when I do, I will get you.. Or something like that. 


I use to have sex fantasies like that all the time… me seducing men or women. Particularly its a theme of me seducing someone who has power over me to either protect myself or try and get my wants and needs met, and enjoying not only the sexual thrill, but the feeling of control, leaving them weak and helpless. My very fist sexual fantasy was something like that too… I was a government spy trying to get information out of a certain historical figure I was learning about in 4th grade. I dressed in one of those “I dream of geanie” outfits as a disguise and… Well… I got my information to say the least. 

I’m sure the meaning of these dreams is staring me dead in the face but I still need it decoded. It has to be more than just taking power away from someone. 

Blah… Long ass blog. I’m sitting at the coffee shop blogging all this. This morning I don’t know if I should feel proud or ashamed of myself for handling something between me and Kylie the way I did, but she left 2 weeks worth of trash for me to take care of and out agreement was that she’d start helping with dishes. 

“Hey Kylie, what’s the situation with the dishes?”

“Umm, what do you mean? I have dishes and plastic in my room that I wash and take care of?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t our agreement. You were doing that anyway.”

“Okay, well I guess it goes back to how things were.”

“Sounds good.”

The agreement was that rather than buying plastics and stuff she’d go back to doing dishes and helping out since I’m helping her take trash to the curb because “she can’t do it by herself”, but two weeks ago she did exactly that – she took all of it out. As a result, I only took out half the trash instead of all of it since she didn’t help with any of the dishes at all, and was simply using me. 

Of course, the tarot card I pulled falls in line with this as being militant and controlling, but I have to consider my own needs. I refuse to overload myself with work, or allow myself to be taken advantage of. I know this points back to living with mom and feeling like my sense of purpose and value in the household and as a woman was trying to clean and raise her kids, and homeschool them, but healthy boundaries requires balance of what I will allow myself to take on and be responsible for. Where it’s obvious she never had any intention on helping me, and I already clean up after her when she spills something on the stove or uses the restroom, I refuse to be her thankless nanny or mother. Where she’s constantly looking to feel enabled, I won’t be doing it. Do I feel guilty for what happened? Profoundly and immensely on an unhealthy level I do – but I didn’t attack her or anything, I just asked a simple question and she had the same idea I had. Im protecting myself, and even did it in person instead of through text as she requested, despite how obviously uncomfortable it made her. I need to come to terms with my power and find the balance without shame or fear. This sucks, and I really hate it. 

*sigh* why does being me have to be so complicated. I wish someone would just give me the solution to the problem on that one – am I doing the right thing, and how do I know so I don’t have to harbor these feelings of intensity and insecurity for putting my foot down. I could attempt to take pride in myself for doing what I did, but I don’t know if I should or why, allowing Kylies problems to be her own instead of bearing the burden of interaction between us. >.>’ fucking hell. I should not be this tense and panicked before work. I need to find a way to decompress. 

Family Drama and the Best Man

Im in Boston or some other huge city trying to avoid my grandparents, Angie, Ashley, and Danny; I have no prob running into Ryan. I seem to recall being in a mall at first, but then it transitions into the city. Architecture and landscaping looks familiar only to me because I’ve been here before in my dreams, but it doesn’t exist in real life. It’s always when I run away from people or am trying to catch up too then I end up here. I remember giving Ryan a hug in the mall and trying to catch up to him while Angie and grandma are combative and present a faux grandur in their confrontation towards me. Ashley and grandpa are paired up together as information exploiters and drama creators; I hold my head high around them with my own air of pride and conceit, but it’s the defense I use so they can’t get me down. 
At some point the dream transitions and I end up being a backseat observer, following the events that unfold before me with no real attachment to the storyline, much like an extra cast in a movie to walk down the street. I remember this guy named Christian watching me dance at the mall (now watch me whip, now watch me nae nae), and he invites me to this wedding as part of a dance party. I love weddings, so sure, I follow him…it turns out Christian was the best man and had to give a speech, but once we’re at the wedding everyone begins to wonder where the bride is. Someone finally receives a text, and the bride decided she’s not showing up. She fled the country and she’s not coming back. The husband, fearing how this not only reflects on him, but worried about the guests who’d all showed up at their own expense for this moment, decided that it is a party and should remain that way, but before people start to enjoy themselves, the best man must now give an impromptu speech at the grooms request in light of circumstances, in order to comfort people and talk about how amazing groom is. It turns out Christian is terrified of public speeches with major anxiety, and now that the events have changed, he has no speech to read off, and he’s in the spot light. He couldn’t get beyond 2 words before choking over himself..

“Uh… I..”

I could hear his thoughts. Christian wanted to say he thought the groom was amazing, but couldn’t. He didn’t know where to start, he didn’t know how to begin it. I’m in the audience hearing his thoughts, hearing what he cannot say, when suddenly something goes horribly wrong. No longer is he figuritey choking on his own words, he’s now doing it in real life. He turns a deep blood red color, collapses on stage, and dies in front of everyone to the horror of the groom. We find out later Christian died from a drug overdose combined with the single glass of alcohol he had consumed at the wedding. It was purely by accident, and the drug was ecstasy, meant to be used as some form of elation to counter the anxiety he was anticipating before going on stage…

Strangely enough, I felt sad for Christian, and it never occurred to me to feel bad for the groom until hindsight kicked in from writing this dream… The groom lost so much more, but all I could feel was sadness for the best man. 

Synonymous


Love is terrifying.

In one of those free-association activities in the love yourself heal your life workbook, I recognized my own apprehension to answer certain sections… They have one on men, women, sex, money… Then love. I did the one on love and out of nowhere I donged on me… love is terrifying. Then the blog post from yesterday crept up on me. I’m terrified of being loved because somehow, it’s painful. It’s why I can’t handle being touched.

This makes me so sad… Incredibly sad… Profoundly sad… Sadness.

My Dearest Nightmare

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Day 1

To My Dearest Love,

Forgive me if I don’t know where to begin – I’m afraid my thoughts and feelings fall and scatter before me like a summer rain; I welcome and observe with a sense of melancholy what lays before me, but try as I might, I cannot catch them all. I suppose if I might run or dance through them, I may catch more, but in this moment, I need to stand back and observe my thoughts, my feelings, and the sensations that occur. Unlike most, I welcome the storm – I do not fear it, but I suppose you knew this about me already.

Since you’ve set sail for the sea, twice now I’ve attempted too swim, twice now I’ve laced my life with death, twice now I’ve drowned, and twice now I’ve washed ashore to the starting point on the sands below the precipice where we built our home.Be it Odin or Poseidon curse or vengeance towards a goddess who could rival the Gods, I know not, but what I do know is that the emptiness consumes me, the longing embraces me, and this wretched turmoil has been forever immortalized by sonnets and prayers. Of all I’ve had to carry, being the burden barer that I am, this is the one that sits like a boulder within my chest. I imagine the sea beside our home regularly supplied by the tears I’ve shed.. watching… waiting… my blessing is the location that I’m in for the beauty is still distracting. 

Day 2:

I’ve slept on the shores again. As I awoke I caught the sun shining through the cracks of dark clouds, promising the warmth of a new dawn, a new hope, and a new life. The vibrancy of blue casts a spell on this land, enchanting all out of it’s slumber; two doves of white were soaring overhead, one carrying an olive branch… who knew this prison could be so beautiful? The symbolism of the branch however is not lost on me, for perhaps, just perhaps, those doves were messengers of hope. I go now to set the table for two, pray chance you should surprise me at the table.

Evening of Night 2:

My love, I wish you could watch the sun set before me over the ocean – hues of red, and gold, and purples mix into the realm of twilight. Legend has it that demons come pouring forth about this time to lace the world with sorrow and suffering, but I refuse to believe it.

I listened to the pastors sermon today; it was a message of what faith can do if we can just believe. A family had nothing to eat for the holiday of Noel, and the parents had told the children that a feast would come. The children then countered ” but we have not set the table, if we believe that food will come and have faith that God will deliver, then we must set the table.” The rest of the logistics escape me, but someone remembered this family, and delivered a feast for 5 by the afternoon. The irony of this morning is not lost on me, and indeed, the many mornings before… but it becomes a painstaking process the moment I question why you are not here, but my faith so palatable. It was difficult to clear the table and dispose the food… there is something sacred about your chair, as if your aura should have been here. I can’t tell if it brought me comfort or grief, but this home has become a temple for you that I worship from. Oh, how I long to have you near me.

Midnight Hour:

I can’t tell for the life of me if it is morning or night – it’s too dark to know for certain. I just woke up dripping in sweat and tears, the salt of my wound mixing with the salt of the sea. I must calm myself… I must get this emotion out of me. The terror of the night enveloping me in the very same darkness that would hypnotize most to slumber, but instead, the darkness of time betrays me. The scent of you is fading from these sheets of ours, and the longing comes back with a vengeance.

The dream… I must get these fragments down… there was you, maybe 10 years ago, standing above the rose hedges at your grandmothers estate in Darbishire; the sight of you was breathtaking and overwhelming, surpassing the handsome features the country has to offer.I could feel the tears as they pricked against my eyes, and I ran to you, as fast as I could, feeling each step getting harder and heavier with each passing stride… but I made it.Nestled in your warm embrace, the maelstrom of emotions breaks free, and I cry into your chest, banging my fist against you as a child might do.You chuckle, most likely amused by my reaction, and simply hold me, kissing my head on occasion, waiting for my tears to subside. Slowly, things fade away with my eyes closed nestled in your embrace… how much time has passed… seconds… minutes… hours… then panic grips me.

“Shit!” I open my eyes while and find myself plummeting to my knees…. you’re gone, and suddenly I find myself in an ancient forest that hasn’t touched the light of day or the silhouette of the moon for centuries. There’s something in here that threatens my very existence, and I know my life is on the line. Briefly assessing, the woods are somehow gradient mixtures of black and gray with no discernible source of light – dust seems to cover everything, and I’m not sure how any of this is possible. Not a sound exists… no sound is capable of existing here… no wind… no movement… it’s terrifying. There is no life other than the trees which somehow maintain enough energy to block anything from entering this place… or leaving. “I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be here…” 

Suddenly I am running, unable to contain the panic; I know I’m running from something.The darkness closes in again, and the harder I run, the more painful it becomes, and the faster the darkness approaches…

“No”

It’s coming…

“NO”

It’s hard to breathe…

“NOOOO”

I jolt from my bed, screaming aloud. 

>>>>>>>>>>>(Blah…. too much to write and edit. I’ll be fixing this later… yes I know it’s rough, but this is just copy pasta from my journal I keep in my room anyway.)

Flesh Eaters

Man I hate my scarab dreams. I’t been YEARS since I’ve had one, but because of this, I remember the contrasting outline between now & then.

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I’m in a school of some kind with a mixed range of students from middle school and up. I dont entirely remember how it happened but I’m pretty sure I walked by one of the classrooms on break and heard a couple of people discussing their fear because thousands of people had died from scarab beetles traveling in massive quantities underground, destroying everything in it’s path. When I heard this I asked him if this was true, and he said yes. Based upon my other dreams of this kind and why people had died, I immediately took control of the situation and made everyone clear the halls and get into their rooms. People started to do so, but then I noticed they weren’t closing their doors. I shouted the instruction down the hall and made it clear their lives depended on it. Many listened and shut their door, but one room did not. I went in, moved the chair that was blocking it, and thats when I heard them… massive amounts of beetles storming the hallways. I tried to shut the door in time, but a few got in. They were underneath the carpets. I tried to stomp on them, but they were indestructible. I waited patiently to see what would happen and told everyone to keep calm. No screams coming from the other room – thats good. It may mean it’s just us who are in danger. Unable to handle what might happen next, I’m forced to wake up and reflect on this.

Murder

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I’m out and about with my dad at nighttime in this highly crowded place – most likely Florida and during Mardi-gras. People have drinks in hand and as they walk down the street, and a few were a little too obnoxious. We make our way to the car whens some heavy African american dude tries to get into a rumble with my dad. My dad tries to get him to back off, but then they exchange words and a gun is produced from the fat guy who picked a fight. Before he can fire in his inebriated state, the gun falls to the pavement and my dad scrambles for the gun. I try to stop them from a fight but getting the gun out of my dad’s hand so no one would get hurt, and I dont know how it happened, but as I was trying to take the gun from my dad the gun fired and it shot and killed him on the spot. I wept bitterly over my father. I really dont know how it happened, but I blamed myself – even though I didn’t pull the trigger. He was pronounced dead on the scene.

I wasn’t arrested right away, but a detective did take me to some school. He was also heavy set, white, dark hair, brown eyes. “Remember this?” he asked. “No” I replied, what is this place – and why are we here? It was a classroom with a single classroom desk in the middle of the room and no chairs. It was in some massive business building on about the 17th-23rd floor. It had the traditional 90’s school floors – white cut out tiles that were made of some kinda linoleum or plastic. No matter how much you mopped it, there was always dirt. Anyway, the detective starts to ask me questions about the room and if I remember it. I said I have no memory of the room itself, but I have a bad feeling about this place that I can’t put my finger on. Then he told me this is where I murdered a little boy when I was a child. I was dumb-struck and couldn’t believe it. Then we went through the details of how it happened. It was also an accident, but they let me off because I was a child, and I genuinely had no clue what I was doing – I was too small. As he tells me the details my mind starts to unfold as I envision what he said and was made to believe it. “Where did he lay?” I asked the detective. He pointed to the floor. I broke down over that spot and wept bitterly. First I killed my dad, and now I’m forced to remember killing this little boy who was no more than 4 or 5 when I was his age. The gun back then belonged to the teacher and he irresponsibly left it out, so he was charged instead.

Never the less, people start going into the room when another gentleman shows up; he was a light-skinned African american, about 35, handsome – dressed in a wal-mart blue button-up shirt and jeans. Both of us were under the impression he needed to speak to the detective, but he was there to speak to me. I step aside for them to talk and he approaches me for a chat. He asked me about the details as to what happened with my dad, and I explain them. I bitterly wept again having to try to relive the trauma. When all was said and done I told him I knew what happened was an accident, but legally I’m held guilty and plan to plead “guilty – no contest.” Someone had to pay for what happened and I felt too grief ridden to try to blame the owner of the gun or seek a lawyer.

I leave outside and am transported back to the scene of my fathers murder; it’s night time again. I look for dads car to take me home. I get inside and find the keys. Out of nowhere, dad shows up in the front passenger seat from beyond the grave. He tells me he forgives me and that Nana and pop are gonna take it really hard, and there’s a will with money I need to look for for Jamie and myself. I drive back to his apartment in Sarasota and walk inside to look for Jamie first and see if he knew what had happened. As I step into his room his head hangs low and he refuses to look at me. The blinds are shut behind him, but the light from the morning sun invades the darkness, creating a blanket of shadow that envelops my brother. I try to tell him it was an accident and that I’m eternally sorry for what has happened, but he looked so lost. I weep as hard as I can on the floor again. Dad steps in and tries to say something, but only I can hear him. I translate what he said back to jamie, but he’s still too angry and upset to listen.

I wake up with tears in my eyes and a runny nose.

Of Birth and Defense

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I remember being in the woods in a caged in area. There were a few log cabins, and it was divided in the center. Evening was upon us. There were two teams, mine and theres, and the objective was to run away or fight to death to survive. We had 6 hours to try and stay alive, and the group I was apart of was on the defense. About an hour before the time runs up, I grab a little girl with beautiful blonde curls and blue eyes and run away from a fight. Eventually I had no choice but to stand my ground. I pushed the little girl behind some fencing and told her to hide, but just as I turned away from her, I was cornered and had to fight, or risk them capturing her. As I fought the guy, I felt more and more trapped. Paradoxically, the more restricted I felt, the more he shrank in size until eventually, he resembled a cocky anime-based 10 year old boy from yu-gi-oh. I hit him a few times and he and his friends took off running scared. Eventually I knew they’ed come back and retaliate, so we started to run away as well. I searched for the little girl to come with, but couldn’t find her.

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The dream transitions out into a home where Lizzy, Katie, and I live together, but its not my home. In the back room was a mother rabbit that was heavily pregnant. I asked lizzy about the bunny and she told me she’s due any time now. I go back into the bedroom and the rabbit is squealing, panting, and there’s blood on the wood chips she slept on. I rushed out to let lizzy and katie know the rabbit was delivering. I rushed back in to help the new mommy rabbit give birth, but as I got in, there were 4 baby rabbits that were squirming side by side. There was no fur on them, and they were adorable. All of them belonged to Katie. I know with cats there is usually some after care the pet owners need to make sure of, so I ignorantly helped on the basis of common sense and care. I had lizzy and katie clean out cage, care for the baby bunnies, and put food and water in for the mommy. My job? I cleaned up the real mess – the blood all over mommy. When I picked her up she was lying on her left side with her right leg straight up. I figured it was because she was in so much pain, and may have been torn up a little after delivering. I picked her up and she squealed for missing her kids and being in pain. I grabbed some warm wet wash cloths, and gently wiped up the blood on the fur and rinsed her with a little warm water. I figured the temperature would help her to relax. I didn’t want anything too invasive on her like soap or something tough; I didn’t want her accidentally developing an infection. I also only washed a very small area so she wouldn’t get cold or uncomfortable trying to dry her fur. I remember at one point being concerned the mother might harm the runt of the litter, but she did okay. Once the cage was cleaned up with the mommy back in place, I put some fresh greenish hay in myself. Her leg still stood straight up after cleaning her. I nudged the babies to the mommy to feed, but the dream ended right around then.

Prayers for the Lost: Connecticut Shooting

I have been closely following the tragedy unfolding in Connecticut. Today. I must have cried at least 3 times putting myself in their shoes – especially as a parent.

Words cannot express the level of grief I feel for these children, and the loved ones who wont see their kids ever again. Gone are the opportunities to watch as their kids learn to drive, fall in love, head on to college, or create a family of their own. Friends of the children who were murdered now face the coldest and harshest wake-up call into the real world, breaking the innocence of their youth.

What I wouldn’t give to be down their with everyone else to help them in their suffering – but there is a way to help.

I know at least 1 SDA church who will be holding a prayer service at 6pm this evening in honor of those who’s lives were cut short. While I may not be able to join them physically – I can at least meet them in spirit as I pray for those who have fallen as well. My hope is that you will do the same.

Support for these families is critical at this time, and many will move on:

http://www.cnn.com/2012/12/14/health/school-shooting-trauma/index.html?hpt=hp_t1

For the parents however – if I were in them, I wouldn’t want to smile anymore. Its a brief moment of joy spent without the one I love. I hope they don’t feel the same way.

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