Karma doesn't exist...

As I sit here pondering life and the world around me I can't help but notice how ugly it is. Maybe this is a dark post. Negative view of life. But the reality is there is no such thing as karma, there is no such thing as people who get what they deserve.

Good people that do good things and always try to do the right thing don't have the fairy tale endings. They end up with tragedies, heart break, and sometimes death.

Those that do bad things, evil things, wrong and selfish things, seemingly end up getting whatever they want out of life. Maybe not always, but sometimes... They end up living--winning, and carrying on. Gloating as if the world is theirs and never feel an ounce of karma, or suffer the consequences of their actions.

The world is an ugly place with only small moments of joy and happiness that very few of us seem to get to enjoy for a very short time. It is not just... it is not fair. It just is...

I have always tried to do right by others, give to others. I have helped with funeral costs and arrangements for a new born baby that died of SIDS, I have donated to a little boy fighting cancer. I have raised funds for a mother that lost her husband weeks before the birth of a new baby. These are only some of the things I have done to always be a good supportive person. I didn't do it for glory, recognition or personal gain. I did it because it was the right thing to do. Or I thought it was the right thing to do.

My husband always tried to be a good person. He was always so negative about himself, but he was always giving to others, when he could. He would climb school buildings to get a little girls Frisbee off the roof top. He would walk across streets in the snow to help old men that slipped on ice. He always tried to be a good. He said it was so he could maybe get recognition from God for all the bad choices he had made earlier on in life, and make up for them. Although from so many stories I heard from his friends and his family he was always genuinely a good guy, that just sometimes, or often made bad choices, but even then, some of those bad choices were for good, no matter how misguided, reasons.

He was there for me when I became a single mother of four children, about to lose my home, with a car that was falling to pieces. He was there for me to give me fight and courage to keep going even when I wanted to give up. He gave me a safe haven.

He was a father to our children. The best father that he could possibly be. He gave our children structure. He encouraged them, and believed in them. He gave them a role model of what to do and what not to do. He was our protector, our strength.

Somehow him being a father, a good father! Was the beginning of a downward spiral of his demise. He fought for so long for his child, his children, to protect them, and their innocence. Yet in the end the world turned against him. Using his past against him. He was punished. Stripped of his right to be a father, because rules were not something that a teenager can abide by and in his own words "the legal system that kidnapped [his] daughter". The amount of torment that we endured was excruciating. 

Suddenly hearing that you have been nothing but a drug addict, and abusive your whole life, and needed help, even though he had sat on that couch for months resisting his urges to use, staying away from bad people, and being clean. Listening to all the work and sacrifices he made in life, were for nothing, because that child didn't want to live with you, or abide by your rules, that he "needed help".

To read documents stating how "abusive" he was from the mothers, yes plural, of his children, one he had not been apart of her life for six years. The other mother that refused to pay a dime of support, and be supportive and mature when we begged her to be. To read those damming papers of his own child saying "he wants to pimp me out to make money". For his last visit to be told he was abusive because he asked about her grades, and when he made a point that one grade can't slip to improve another. To get berated from DFS on how he talks to his child. Because he cared about her grades?

The pain I myself endured, for all the times I held her while she cried when her "mother" broke a promise or lied to her about money, or sending gifts, or fighting for custody. For all the times I was there giving up time with my four children, because I loved, and believed she was mine. I was at every sideline of every single game. I was there when kids were cruel to her at school. I was there taking her on shopping trips, I could not afford, because she felt down about herself. The money I gave her mother for gifts at Christmas, so that her daughter would not feel left out during our visit over the holidays, even though her mother was $20,000 back in child support and had not paid more than $60 in the 6 years she had been living with me. Paying for dance lessons she wanted, and soccer she wanted, even when I couldn't afford my other son art lessons. I gave, only to hear insults that she "never saw me as a mother figure" that we had a strained relationship because she "refused to call me mother". Even though not one single time did I request this. Never once did I force myself on her. I just loved her. Suddenly it was for nothing.

Now here we are life....

Her "mother" the only person her father said she ever truly loved, receives a pay check from my husbands death. They are all a "happy family". A family I can't help but resent. Because it was me that fought for her relationship with the mother of his other two children. Sending birthday gifts, enduring the abusive insults for years from his ex, before I was able to break through and finally get her able to talk with her siblings. The trips I would run late at night and short on money to run her across the mountain in the snow to be there and rekindle their relationship.

The family with the "mother" that refused to ever support her daughter for years, only lies, and broken promises. The "mother' I endured countless name callings and insults from, attacking my looks, my weight, and even as low as telling me my first husband did what he did just to get away from me. The "mother" that for years Brian would tell me to break communication, block numbers, etc. But I refused, because looking at the little face of the girl I loved so much I could not remove her from her life. So instead I helped her go behind her father's back and ask everyone to please be mature, and why we can't all just get along and find a way to support one another as if we were an extended family. I wanted that little girl to have all the love in the world she could possibly have.

Now here I am eight years of all the tears, the sweat, the time and the money spent and I am nothing. She has her family and they are all happy. Completely disregarding everything I did to help them be a family, a family that ultimately destroyed my family.

They are happy. I was happy once too... we had a happy family once, or so I had believed... I guess it was always a lie. All the texts, all the messages, all the essays, and poems written about me being such a great "mother" and how lucky she was to have me and how much she loved me. All a lie... Just one giant lie to get what she could out of me, for all of them to get what they wanted out of me.

I struggle every single day of my life. Not only emotionally, but financially, still fighting for my children and keeping their home, their livelihood. Even though in the end it was me that loved him. It was my kids that stood beside him, and defended him, and loved him. We receive nothing. Nothing but the insurmountable bills.

No this isn't about money, but the fact of how unfair it is that these people all bashed my husband, through countless messages and posts wishing he were "dead". What a "dead beat father" he was, how much "help" he needed. How "abusive and evil" he was. Now they all get to enjoy in the glory of his death. Nothing more than a paycheck to all of them. Well he was so much more than that to me, to us, to my children. He was my husband, he was their father!

The only thing I want--is my husband back. I want him alive. I want him next to me every single day. I want to love him. Hold him. Kiss him. Bills were exhausting always, but with him I felt hope, and that it was all worth every moment. Every time I worked late, every time I was sore, and could barely move, it was worth every moment for my family. I fought for them, I struggled for them. I loved them...

I think back to my ex husband that is sitting in prison. How much does he suffer really? Was it worth doing the right thing? I turned him in for molesting my daughter, protecting my family, and for what? He will not ever have to worry about how to feed the kids every day, if the mortgage gets paid, He lives. When he gets out, he gets a whole new life. By the time he gets out he can actually start a new family if he wanted to. As disgusting as an idea this is, he can. He is sitting in prison, so child support is not something he worries about, in fact in the decree, since he is set to be in prison throughout my children's youth, child support was not ordered.

What was the point in making the right choice? If I had not turned him in, I would receive child support. If he were dead, the kids would receive social security. So, he pays no bills, he gets to live and be secure for his next meal and the lights are always on.

I guess there really is no price to pay for the protection of my daughter, as well as the protection of any other possible victims... There is no price you can actually put onto that. It just kind of sucks that I feel as though I am being punished for his mistakes, and for doing the right thing.

This isn't even just about me, and my family, and the unjust bullshit we have had to endure in life. It seems to be people in general. What the fuck is Karma? I have done nothing but try and do all the right things. I see others that are good people always doing the right things. Where is this so called Karma?

My husband received his "karma" by being dead. By beaten down to feel as though he was nothing but scum on the bottom of these peoples shoes. That the lies that were said, and lies that were reported, that he gave up trying to be clean, tired of feeling, tired of fighting. He gave up hope on why he should try, if his own daughter didn't want him, and everyone worked against him based off from his past transgressions, and criminal history. A criminal history that wasn't even violent. The karma he received by trying to be a good father and trying to protect his child from making mistakes, mistakes that could destroy her life.

Where is this supposed karma? Vacations and shopping trips? Happiness and freedom in new lives that was awarded with a check and not even a second thought for who was hurt? So long as they just keep receiving that check every single month.

The karma for the people that "legally kidnapped" his child. The lies, the harassment, the judgement, and overall mishandling of this case from the very beginning. They all got to move on close a case file and carry on their jobs to continue destroying other families. We are nothing but a fleeting past thought, a closed case. Who cares? They got what they were after proving my husband was "nothing but a junkie" not a person, not a father to the four kids that did want him. not a husband to a wife that adored him, that needed him.

No they won... they all won. Everyone except the five people left in this house that always believed in him, loved him, and wanted him to be their father, to be my husband.

Karma? Karma doesn't exist. Bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. Karma was a word formulated to create fear or that "feel good feeling" that people are searching desperately for in their moments of hope, or moments of pain. Wishing karma on those that have done you wrong, or those doing good things, because you believe something good will happen to you because you were a good person or did a good deed.

Will I stop doing good things because I call bullshit on karma? No... I don't think I am wired that way. I don't like seeing others hurt. I will always help people when I can because frankly I am not an asshole. I am not "buying my way into heaven" I am not trying to prove any point. It is just who I am by nature. Will I ever get a damn thing out of it? No... I will still come home and wonder if my lights will be on today, and worry about my kids next meal. There's no magical check coming my way and no change of events. I will still have to get up and work my ass off every single day of my life, even though I don't even want to leave my house.

I don't know that I believe in miracles at all any more. I think there are good people and bad people and I think some people are fortunate to have good things happen to them not based on whether they are good or bad people, but just because shit fucking happens, and you either get shit on, or you get lucky.

There will still be assholes out there never having to admit they are assholes and never facing consequences for their asshole decisions that destroyed people's lives. They get to go on about their lives with their "happy families" and fuck the family they destroyed.

There will also always be the good people out there in the world always giving of themselves, and loving others, and will never receive an ounce of recognition, no pay back no "karma". They will still struggle, They will still live their shitty lives but they will do it with a smile and a hope for humanity. I believe I was once one of these people... I will still always give and do for others because I guess it's how I am wired. But my faith that good things happen to good people no longer exists.

Truth is, the world is an ugly place with a mix of good people and bad people. You have a choice if you want to be good or if you want to be bad but this notion of Karma, is bullshit. Be an asshole, hope it makes you feel good. Hope it makes you feel good destroying peoples lives. If that's your game, great, stay the fuck away from me, I am done with people like this. I am done believing that the world can intermingle and get along. Ugly, heartless people will band together and never change, so go live your heartless lives and hopefully you're happy. I just hope that the beautiful people with great hearts will never be tainted with negativity and can stay strong enough to create what little beauty that is left in the world. The world needs more light.

The one thing we need to stop is the notion of karma. There is no karma. Just life and actions, and consequences of our actions--of our choices, and the choices of others that effect many.

I am glad it is so easy for all of you to forget when this is my life, surrounding me every single second of every single day and every single night, until one day I may be blessed to no longer wake from this life, this hell that is on earth--in due time, since four children only have me that is left in their life. I live, no matter how much you wish me dead. 

Without you...

I am struggling today like any other day I guess. Just sometimes it becomes so incredibly unbearable! I have no idea where to turn to or who to scream to. Feels as though everyone is tired of listening to my same sorrows. Always trying to give me words of encouragement or telling me to get on meds or med check, counseling. You name it they all say it. There is nothing I haven't heard yet.

I don't know how to go on without you, I keep trying. I keep trying to find motivation, inspiration, and surround myself with my kids who need me. Yet, sometimes I feel like you are calling me to come to you. Or maybe that's more my own desires just wanting to go be with you...

This pain is excruciating. I love you. I have always loved you and to live without that love, feels like there is no purpose to live at all anymore. I miss our family that we once had. I miss the laughter I miss the love. I miss that I had someone to come home to and share in my day, my frustrations, my successes, my goals.

I try hard to cling onto Kiki, and knowing she needs me, I know all my kids do but the boys are so independent and Kiki has been through the most pain, and them most loss, I can't leave her. It feels so unfair sometimes to feel the burden of life.

It is so difficult to do what is right by my children when the only thing in the world I want to do is find the spot you died, take the sleeping bag you were on, that I sleep with every single night, and inject the poisons into my veins and let it all slip away so that you can come to me and take me, and I can be with you.

Life is so cruel, and the world is so ugly. I have no choice but to live on and keep going. I wish you were around finding ways to encourage me and give me strength to keep going--keep fighting. Instead, all I want to do is find you and be with you.

Never, not one day in my life have I ever not wanted to work, and yet I don't want to get up and exist outside of my home. I wish I could just find a way to stay home, not be apart of the outside world. I just want to stay here. If I can't go be with you, I would rather surround myself with you, your belongings, your memory. I am tired of pretending. I am tired of putting on the fake smile for the benefit of others. I just want to be left alone, be alone, if I can't have you apart of my world, I don't want to be apart of the world...

Unspoken Questions Answered

Sometimes in life we are put onto paths that truly humble us and educate us. I believe Brian sent me on one of these paths for a reason.

A few months ago, I woke up in the morning like every other morning, sad. I laid in bed put on my makeup and fixed my hair for the day, all while listening to songs that reminded me of Brian over and over again. I stopped, looked over at his pictures and his urn beside me and said "Can you talk to me? Send me some kind of sign like you care." I took a deep breath and continued getting ready for the day.

While I was at work talking with my coworker a bird flew up to the window, perched on the seal and looked in at us. I stopped mid sentence and looked at that bird, searching to see if that was by chance my husband reaching out to me. The cynic in me said "No, it's a bird". 

I then went to talk with our office manager that said she was thinking of me and the new fire pit the kids and I had built over the weekend, and she said she was contemplating buying me something at the store but wasn't sure, until she opened the car door and there was a penny laying on the ground. She is a firm believer in "pennies from heaven". So she bought the kids some supplies to make smores, and roasted starbursts. She said she knew it was him, and then gave me the penny. 

I went back to my office feeling just a little bit lighter, and while browsing around checking on my companies and any upcoming events I should be promoting, I came across an old Elvis Presley song "In His Hands". 

I had an appointment that day. See I suffer from SEVERE knee pain, I can barely walk most days it gets so bad.  Since my husbands passing I refused to take any medications. I didn't want to see any more pain doctors, to me they were all the same. They wanted money, they didn't care about the person. It had been about 4 months and the pain had gotten so bad that the only way I could describe it was the tin mans joints that were rusted and stuck. Now I don't abuse them, I take an extremely low dose, and I plan to always keep it that way, so I don't become dependent. I am too young to have the surgery needed on my knees, and no doctor has a clear answer on exactly HOW to treat my knees since they are a disaster in there. It took a lot for me to call the doctor, but I caved and had scheduled an appointment with the last doctor that prescribed my husband narcotics. 

I was very anxious. Not sure I wanted to go in there, but knowing I had no other choice. I was thankful I did. The doctor sat across from me and told me she was so thankful I came in. She wanted to reach out to me so many times but didn't quite know how to, or if she even legally could reach out to me, so she waited hoping I would walk through that door. 

Suddenly I felt as though Brian were in the room with us, sitting right next to her encouraging me to listen, like he needed me to hear this, the truth. His last moments. 

Everything I had thought happened at that doctors office was wrong. Brian had walked in there that day and wanted to be prescribed 4 oxycodone 30mg a day, and wanted Xanax. She looked at him and his charts and knew he had a problem, but she wanted to help him. She refused to give him any Xanax, and only continued to treat him with the 3 oxycodone a day, that had been previously prescribed from his referring doctor. She only gave him two weeks worth and told him when he comes back he needs to bring "his wife" me, with him. She wanted to make attempts to help him get off from oxycodone, but knew he needed support and her trust. She knows she could have turned him away, he followed all the behaviors and patterns of a drug addict, but she looked at him and knew there was SO much more to this man. She could see the goodness in him. She knew she wanted to help. 

She showed me that she was not the doctor that prescribed him Xanax. Now I know I could go searching for the doctor that gave him the Xanax, but the reality is that it won't change anything. He was seeking pills and he played the doctors. She wouldn't give him the Xanax he was looking for so he went elsewhere. I doubt the doctor that prescribed the Xanax knew he had just gotten prescribed oxycodone. He filled both prescriptions that Friday and that Saturday morning he was gone.

I had carried around so much bitterness and so much anger for the injustices of my husbands death. I am still angry, but now my anger is more directed at the original doctor that would not listen to me from the beginning that gave him an absurd amount of prescriptions that helped pave this horrific path we found our selves on over the course of the years. I still harbor anger for all the people that I had previously mentioned in other posts. But this time, this doctor, she was right. She has a great heart. I was humbled to realize that not ALL doctors only care about the money. She told me countless stories of people that she has turned away in the past, or patients she encouraged to seek treatment, and helped them manage their addictions. She showed how much she cares for people, not the money. 

I am thankful every time I see her. I find her heart to be true, and someone I can trust. She will make a difference in this world with one patient, and one addict at a time. Why? Because she truly cares, and I hope she never loses that passion, that heart, and that drive. 

Thank you for believing in my husband, thank you for trying your best. I am sorry we did not meet you sooner. Brian was with us that day. I know he was, because he needed me to listen to you, to trust you...and I do.

Happy, what would have been...

Yesterday I would have celebrated Brian's 34th birthday. I had hoped I would write this long commemorative blog this day. I really didn't know what to expect. I think it went better than I had planned I suppose. I didn't leave my bed all day. I took plenty anxiety medications to help me keep my emotions in check, nervous I would have some extreme moments. The tears came, off and on, but nothing too our of control.

I have found myself on the edge, several times, of just ending the pain. I had to fight off those demons within me and it took every ounce of strength I could muster to get through it. I eventually always made it but I don't think anyone understands how exhausting it is to get through those battles and those moments.

Today I woke up at noon, I don't ever sleep that long, but I guess I needed it. It was a lot of emotions I have been building up as of late...

Brian hated his birthday. Every year I would try to do something subtle for him, so that I could say I love him, and how thankful I am for his birth and his life, without making him feel uncomfortable.

The very first year we were together I made the mistake of buying him some birthday gifts and cards and took it to his door. He was vacuuming and he just looked at me, I stood there in the door with a huge smile of anticipation across my face, extending out the gift bag to him. He just stared at me with disgust, before saying "I don't want that." I was so angry I stormed out of his apartment and stewed over it for hours as I went to Riverton to do other shopping. When I got back I took the crumpled bag and left it at his door in a total crumpled mess. Then I wrote a note and that said "If you don't want it fine, take out your own trash."

The next day he showed up to work wearing the gift I had gotten him along with the cologne. He applogixed to me and told me that birthdays were just not a big deal to him and he preferred being left alone on his birthday.

Over the years I learned subtle things to celebrate. I made him a birthday cake with the Bengals emblam and just left it in the fridge, and went to work.Other times I would buy cologne and make him personalized cards and leave them on the bed while he was in the shower and I would head off to work. I have left his favorite candy and cologne in his night stand drawer for him to find on his own. His favorite gift, that even he couldn't ignore was the year he came home to his puppy, his beautiful pitbull puppy he always wanted. It was instant love. He cared for that dog so much! She was so much like him, they were comfortable laying in bed all day, sometimes until 3 in the afternoon. I could never understand it, but they were content. We named her Felony, it was the only gift he repeatedly thanked me for time and time again.

He never believed he was worth celebrating. He had so much self loathing for the mistakes he had made in his life. He always thought he would be dead by the age of 24. He never felt as though he was worthy of life. He had such a negative view on the fact that he was consistently battling his addiction, never saw himself as more than his addiction. He hated all the people he had hurt in his lifetime.

In his mind he had two kids that despised him and he never got to see them, and it tore him apart, and the one daughter he did have, he always said she hated him and wanted nothing more than to be with her mother, and him being alive was the only thing stopping her from being where she truly wanted to be. He always believed my kids would be better off without him, and that I could do so much better than him and he did nothing but complicate my life.

It tore me up every single time we had these conversations. He could not grasp the fact that I loved HIM. I chose him. I wanted my life with him. Was it always easy? No. It was damn hard! But it was worth every single sacrifice. Every complication. He was worth FIGHTING for! I fought like hell for him... I would have fought for him until the day I died, he WAS worth it.

He was so young. I am so young... To have to go on through this life without him is devastating. He should be here right now. For me to leave little secret presents. To enjoy the cake the kids made for him last night.

I love you Brian. I am happy you were born, and happy you came into my life and loved me, and gave me real love. I miss you.

My Eulogy...

I will always remember the first time I met Brian. I knew in that moment my life was changed forever. We had a strong bond and relationship for two years before we got together. He helped me and my children through a horrific time in our life.

We needed him, we needed Alexis; we needed a family. He saved our lives in more ways than one. I believe I was also there for him in his time of need. We needed each other, I knew God sent me this man and his beautiful daughter for a reason. He game my children the father they deserved and helped sculpt my young boys into amazing young men. He made my daughter feel safe and loved.

We had many ups and downs over the past 8 years, but I always believed we would somehow get through it, together, we always seemed to. We had a great love and even when we were pulled apart we were always drawn back together.

This man is my hero, always has been. My Superman.

Our last days together were a struggle, but even still, we knew we loved each other and even said as much. He will forever carry my heart...

We tend to rely on forgiveness and surety that our loved ones will always be there as I know I did. I thought we just needed a second to catch our breath. In our last moments there were tears, anger, and pain, but never short of love. I wish the last thing I ever said to him was "I love you". I wish I had held him in my arms, kissed his sweet lips and gazed into his gorgeous eyes full of love.

I will miss his smile, his smirk, his heart beat under my fingers as I rest my head among-st his chest as he would hold me and kiss my forehead. I knew I never wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

There are a lot of things I would take back if I could. To have him with me now to grow old together as we had promised. But life is too short, life is too unpredictable, and you don't know when it will be your last moment.

What I am trying to say is to: count every second, every moment as your last. Never take your loved one for granted. You will never be able to take back those words, those regrets. Love each other and be sure they know you do.

I love you Brian, although I know you knew I loved you, I should have said it more, I am sorry. I love you and will count every moment and every breath until we are together again.

Jordan's Eulogy

You could say that Brian and I had a rocky relationship, but most of the problems I had with him were stupid--like I would get mad when he told me to do my chores or to go to bed, but in reality he was just looking out for me and made sure I got my stuff done. So that I was ready for the next day. I only now realize the sacrifices he made for us: his time, his sanity, etc. He was always there for us and wanted us to make it in life and use him as an example of what not to do. But, if there is one thing that I made an example of is his love for his kids and my mom, I want to love my future wife and kids the same amount if not even more than he loved us, if that is even possible. Sure I am not going to do the bad stuff he did, because I didn't really make an example of that. Right now or ever for that fact, am I going to look back and think about all the bad stuff he did. I am going to look back and think about the good times I had. like playing Halo with him or him giving me life lessons to the very simple things like teaching me how to shave. My mom always thought that I never really had a male role model in my life and I never would, but Brian was a role model for me. My role model didn't need to be perfect and I didn't have to like him all the time, but he had guidelines that I respected and that I am going to take on as my own. For example: sacrifice for my loved ones. He sacrificed so much for us with little in return. Most people thing that we would do better off without him, and I used to think that too. But in reality, without him I would be a problem child, more than I am now. I wouldn't be here either, we would have lost our house and my mom would have been deemed unfit to care for us and we would have been taken and split apart into different foster families. Brian is the only reason why we are together and why we are here together and hopefully we can always stay together forward, without him.

DISCLAIMER: I never would have lost my children, but in the minds of a young one, I could see where this would be a fear.