Tag Archives: Personal story

Blue (from Blue’s thoughts)

I know how it feels to be scared. I have spent most of my life being scared. I have felt like there was no-one to trust but many to fear. The ones who were suppose to help me and keep me safe, are the main ones responsible for the fear I have inside. I do cope, if you could say that. Sometimes I relive things and sometimes I imagine things . Using different scenarios I will let my own mind move through it all, until I see what lies at the end of that particular scenario. I have always felt like that is what keeps me from totally cracking or falling apart. If somehow I could imagine things and have myself deal with those imaginations, of worse case scenarios, I would be more prepared and equipped to deal with them should they become a reality. I guess.

A lot of things have happened to me that only I know. As is the case with others, I’m sure. I remember lots of things but never really all in one sitting. The remembered parts of my life, come in segments , sometimes at different months, years, or days. Nothing really has to “set them off”. The thoughts of remembering, just happen when they want , usually. I don’t think anyone could really understand the way my life has truly felt for me. I doubt anyone has a decent clue, even. I have talked about things at various times and those listening will sometimes just nod. Sometimes, those listening to my stories, will comment on what I have told them. None listening or commenting really help me to feel better. In fact seeing their expressions make me feel more isolated, more misunderstood. It is a vicious cycle. I want others to know, to hear, to feel what I did, but how can they, really? Is it even possible?

There has always been that voice inside my head that tells me, “Maybe you have made up half of the stuff you think or say has happened.” It eats away at my mind’s sanity. I mean it could be possible, couldn’t it? Then there is the pain and feelings I felt that flood into my everyday life, into my reasonings, my thoughts, my pain. That would have to be real, right? I mean I have seen or read about someone making up things that they truly believe has occurred or been done to them. They believe in what they have said and feel so much, perhaps they have unannounced to them, convinced themselves of something that is erroneous. I have no doubt that our minds are very powerful motivators for things we do and the actions we do as well.

Why was I put in the life I find myself in? Why must I constantly doubt that true love is something I have, will have, or is even meant for me? I constantly doubt the sincerity of people’s actions, and I question their motives. This comes from the fatherly betrayal and from my own mother’s problems with me, and in dealing with her own life. I find it hard to let myself just relax and lean on another person. It is and has always been a long and strenuous journey for me to come to terms with. However, I must keep going through it, trying to understand it, and keep love in my heart. It would be so easy to not care for anyone, or even myself. I must constantly tell myself I am worthy of love, real love. I must also tell myself that there are genuine people out there with genuine feelings for me. I must never stop believing in faith and hope and charity. Never!


Author’s note-

My journey is not the most terrible one that has ever occurred. There are people that have experienced extreme treatments and hurts, and have had awful lives, at the hand of another person. I believe each person is different, feels things differently, and deals with things in a fashion that is appropriate for them. For me, my home life,, has it’s share of secrets, heartaches, and sadness. It is not however without good times, happiness, and love. This has always been my own story, my own life. Being Blue has been one of the hardest burden, to bear. I hope that one day I can help others, the way a few have helped me, by telling the story, so many live and know, as well. I hope in sharing my life that others will find the strength and the courage, for whatever battle they find themselves facing.

Thank you for reading 🙂


It’s my life…/ personal share


focus photography of a ignited firewood

Photo by Lum3n.com on Pexels.com

It was always cold in here, not one bit of heat, except from my teacup poodle, who I kept beside me to help with warmth. I never knew why my room was always the coldest one in the house. Perhaps it was because my door to my bedroom was always to stay shut and we only had a fireplace with which to keep the house warm. Much of that house was cold…in a different sense. Why was my brother allowed to keep his door to his bedroom open and mine had to be closed? I bet it was because when it came to him, nothing was second best,, he always had the choice among choices, the supreme choice, as far as my mom was concerned. He was much younger than me but that did not really matter or put his needs in their proper order of ages. What he wanted, he always, somehow, no matter if needed or not, he got .

Back to the heat issue…

My room was next to the living room and across from my room was my brother’s room. So we both should have received warmth from the living room’s fireplace, just my opinion, of course. I often dreaded winter time because I knew I would freeze through the night and have to stay bundled up under a tremendous amount of cover. My poor little dog was always shivering and I bought him a sweater to put on during the winter months. He was a mere 5 pounds, dripping wet. He was my best friend and more than not, my protector. Anytime my mother would barge in my room, disgruntled or in a bad mood, she would start her tirade of demeaning words and my dog, would take a guarded defense stance across my lap as if to protect me. It was a good thing my dog was scary to my mother or he would have surely been hurt doing his guard of me. I appreciated him on that fact alone, he was an ankle biter to all but me. The lack of heat was not my only issue at my parent’s house growing up but one I am choosing to share.

What was it that made my room off-limits to the heat from our fireplace? Why did I have to stay cold while the other family members were warm and toasty. In fact my parents camped out on our couch bed I the winter time, because they wanted to stay warm. Their bedroom was in the back of the hall where there was also a bathroom, and my bedroom and my brother’s. So if my parents needed to stay warm, just imagine the cold I felt inside my bedroom. I was at my biggest weight 105 pounds. I was petite and small framed and needed a lot of warmth back in those days. Haha. I can’t say that now, in fact I run from heat, just kidding, but seriously close to the truth.

A lot of things come to mind when I think of my parent’s house, my childhood life. Not everything was bad there, but there was ways that would make a person question what  the reason behind their actions could have been. I was often not as “special” to my parents as my sister, or brother. I did not even have to hear those words, because they showed me. I am not sure what causes parents to treat their children with such difference and disdain. Being a mother I have a lot of things I would like to change about my children but they are who they are, and they all are special to me in one way, shape, or form. I really hope they know that.

Anyway,  I hope you treat your loved ones with the love they deserve and nothing less.

Each person is an individual, no two the same, if people were clones we would never be “special”.

Thanks for reading,

MwsR <3

Thank you for reading 🙂