Screw You World

Ok, so I'm a little pissed off right now. I am not mad at the whole world, because that would just be stupid. I am annoyed with certain people. If I'm helping you out, don't be an ass. I can say screw you and leave anytime I want. As some of you and your stupid comments about my tattoo, don't freaking ASSUME! Just ask. I don't care if you ask, but don't be a jerk. Would you like it if I looked at your crap and said you look like a freaking idiot with that shirt or your dumb kid show tattoo. That would just be mean. Please just ask nicely or use constructive criticism. Just please be nice.

Checking In

This past week was the first week of school. I'm actually really excited about it. My classes are most likely going to be very hard, but I'm looking forward to them. The crap thing about school starting is that there are so many people on campus it's not even funny. There aren't anywhere near enough spots to park, especially for anyone handicapped or injured. I have the pass to help me get to my classes without being in a lot of pain, but it doesn't matter. I still have to park all the way out in nowhere. It's quite a hike, but I try to make the best of it.
I got a new tattoo Friday. This one's different. Not only is it done by another artist, but it has quite a lot of heritage to it. I am very fond of it. I felt quite compelled to get this one and I'm glad i did. It means a lot to me.
I know that I haven't written in a week, so this is just a quick check in. I will elaborate more on other stuff late. :)

Wha'd Up Writing

These past few weeks, I have been drawn to writing. I know i have mentioned this before, but today I have officially written my first 4K chapter for my, possible, book. I am very excited about this even if there will most likely be chapters with many more words to them. I'm just excited that this is the first one. For some reason, i hadn't been able to go over 2K. Now I have. Wha'd up!

The Original Native

I find it interesting what things I am drawn to so powerfully. A fantastic example would be Native Americans. My problem with that term though, is they are just Natives. There are the only Natives. There have been certain things bringing me back to the Native culture. In school when we learned about the Trail of Tears and the other horrible things that were done to the Natives, I would become very emotional about it. It was almost like reliving things that I had already experienced in my life. The only thing is, there is no way I was alive then. Well unless Karma and reincarnation come into play. I found out a few years ago that I actually have a line of Native in my blood. On my mom’s side, we are part Mohican. The only sad thing is that we are such a very small part Mohican. I would love to have much more Native blood in me. I have not only found Native men very attractive, but I will admit a few times I have thought about leaving everything to find one. Though obviously that plan is very flawed and, what I have been told in my Ego, kicks in. Besides the obvious that Natives of amazing looking, both the male and female, I would love to learn about their culture. I don’t mean that in an anthropological way. I mean that in a I have thought about being a part of their beliefs. I would love to experience the amazing things they did and most likely still do. My whole life I have had a Dream Catcher. I am particularly attached to them. I sleep with one close to my head ever night and the nights I don’t, I experience many night mares. There are times that I wonder if the Dream Catcher is why I have the amount of dream I do and if that is the case, the amount and the ability to remember them so well. Life I have mentioned before, dreams seem to flock to me. I don’t mind though, I love my dreams. Both the good and the bad ones seem to have some type of amazing meaning to them. It is interesting how some of the ones I had when I was younger worked out in reality. Not the nightmares, but the strange ones, especially the reoccurring ones. I now see how the dream of all of the children being stranded in a strange home happened. I can see how all those parts of the dream that seemed so trivial but vibrant were almost like messages.
Things that are extremely important to me, I make a part of me. Though I have not made any of my family members this way or my love, things that impact me so significantly that they change me I like to visualize. I like to see a reminder of what I have become and to see the amazing story that goes behind it. At the moment, I do that as tattoos. Some people thing it is weird that I have such diverse tattoos, especially since I am 20 years old. I have heard people tell me that I will regret them and want them removed later. To me though, I do not understand that. Why would I remove something from me that changed my being? Why would I want to forget something that impacted me so significantly? Sure, sometimes those impacts were bad at them time, but in reality they created something good. I love my tattoos and I never plan to remove them and I stand by that no matter how many times I’ve been told to never say never. I do not want to forget me and they represent me. I have been asked why would I put it on me permanently. Why not get some type of artwork that I can hang? Well, I love art and tattoos are art that you wear. Besides that, art can fade and be destroyed in fires or disasters. Sure tattoos can as well, but they cannot be lost and if they fade they can be revived without compromising the original. It also permanently becomes a part of you, just like my experiences. I love who I am, even on the days when it seems like I don’t, and by wearing these important symbols I get confidence and show the world who I am. Look, I am not saying tattoos are for everyone or that some people do not make silly decisions when getting them, especially at a young age. I think there is always an exception to that rule.
This Friday August 27th, I will be getting a Tattoo of a dream catcher with a Celtic knot making up part of the webbing. An artist I have never met before, but whom I was drawn to instantly, will be creating it for me. He will make me an amazingly unique piece that will also have the artist’s signature. I do not mean that literally, I mean that his style will be shown in his work. I am going to see an artist and it is unfair to ask an artist to compromise themselves to please someone else, just like it is wrong to ask a person to compromise themselves to be with or around others. I am both excited and nervous. I will have seven colored beads on it. Each one represents an important part of Native culture, each of which I believe in completely. I was aware that the beads had meaning, but I was not aware what exactly they were. I searched and came across quite a lot of useless information. Right when I was about to give up, I came across “Dancing To Eagle Spirit Society.” They had everything I wanted to know about Natives. Well not everything, but quite a good chunk of it. I was so moved by the information and the amazing pull of this society that I even thought about joining it. However, I do not know if I fit the profile, though I am very compelled by the way of the two-spirited people. If you get a chance to read about them, please do. It is amazing. This society was actually how I remembered and was given more information about the story behind the Dream Catcher.
On a side note, I am hoping that a lovely lady name Joy will be able to help me find my way. I actually hope that my way will have a tie to Native culture. I have to admit, when I found out that my mother’s spirit guide was a Native I was very jealous. That is ok though; she is also pulled into their culture and deserves an amazing guide like a Native. Well, that is my main thoughts for today. Well yesterday, since it is now after midnight. If you have any comments, I would love to hear them and I would also like to say thank you for reading.
This is the “Dancing To Eagle Spirit Society” website. It is amazing, please check it out. ---> http://www.dancingtoeaglespiritsociety.org/index.php

Stalked By Butterflies

Yesterday I found myself be stalked by butterflies. It was rather strange. One was a black, orange and yellow one that followed me on my mile walk. I have absolutely no problem with butterflies on them following me, it was just weird. All the butterfly did was cruise around with me very similar to what Maggie would do when we would take the exact same walk. The other butterflies were at Garrett’s house when I went to feed the cats with Tyler. They came down and met us at the bottom of the driveway and followed us to the house. Then when we left, they were still outside and followed us back down to the street. I don’t know where they keep coming from and why they are following me, but it’s kind of cool. It makes me feel special. Before Maggie passed away, a black one kept following me around. When I looked it up, it said it represented death. I even check it in other culture beliefs and it all came out the same. In light of what I found out about Maggie after being stalked by black butterflies for days, I looked up this particular type of butterfly. I didn’t find anything really specific, except that they are lucky. After search for awhile, I came across a Native American entry that said that when a butterfly follows you like that (especially if it is similar to someone you known’s behavior) it is a loved one following you around. It came be because they miss you, they worry about you, or they can sense you need them again. It was really interesting and it hit home really hard. I have always loved Native American culture. It is so amazingly spiritual. They don’t waist anything and they respect the earth for what she has given them. Reading about it made me miss the culture and also remind me about how I dislike certain parts of Wicca. If there was a religion that was like the Native American religion, included the three fold and pay respects to the god and goddess, as well as Yin and Yang I would be part of it. The interesting this about different beliefs is that they belong to different cultures. If you are mixed culture, why not embrace mixed beliefs? I don’t mean that as a confusion type way, I mean that as taking parts to create a new whole. I know it probably doesn’t make much sense, the connection of butterflies to beliefs/religion, but to me it does. I like the idea that there is a giant mix of energy that surrounds the earth like an atmosphere. Just like I believe balance is important and so is the threefold or Karma.
Anyways, back to the butterflies. The butterfly that followed me around made me think of Maggie and how she was taking her walk with me like we always used to do. Sometimes I would go for a walk because I needed to burn energy and she would come with me. She would trot right along side of me and smell everything she could. After surgery, we would go for slow walks because neither of us could really handle anything fast. We would hobble along and cheer each other on at the end. Sometimes we would look at each other, sigh and then look forward. We looked absolutely pathetic sometimes. It was funny. We were like two pees in a pod. Yesterday was my first walk since she passed and I think she might have been there with me making sure I was alright. Who knows, but I like to think she’s with me.

Bustin Out the Books

The school year starts next week and I am both looking forward and dreading it. I’m hoping that taking two science classes at once isn’t going to be suicide, especially with a psychology class on top of that. I’m not saying I won’t figure out a way to make it work, just that I hate all the serious mongo stress that makes you have melt downs. Plus, the fact that I’m still on pain meds and in pain makes me a little leery. I think I would feel more confident if those two factors were gone. I know I pulled off taking a full class lode on even more pain medication, but I also got my first D ever. I cried a lot when that happened. Luckily I am still in Phi Theta Kappa, now all I have to do is stay in it. I have the up most confidence that I will. Now all I want is for my toe to be fantastic by the time school starts, because I can deal with my ankle, and to be able to memorize conversions for both of my biology classes. Oh conversions, how I despise you.

Cymbalta is EVIL

I have been on Cymbalta for awhile now and decided to stop taking it cold turkey. Now I am going through the most annoying withdrawals ever. Basically that's it. Just wanted to vent a little.

The Woes of Writing

                Writing. I like it and hate it all at the same time. I have recently started writing more than the strange thoughts that pop up in my head, such as the book I had been writing for years now. I have been putting it up on a site for original works to get feedback on it and I think I have officially hit the wall on people who are interesting. It seems that even though I have added four new chapter’s in the past two days, I have only have four visitors and none of them have left comments. Also, none of them have read the actual new chapters. It makes me wonder, what is wrong with book type thing? Is it the basic idea behind it? Is it the main character? Is it the writing itself? No one is really giving me anything to work with and the person who used to before I didn’t update for months, has not said anything. I wish I knew what the problem was. Everyone at home I’ve read it to says they like it even when I ask for honest honest answers. I find this very unhelpful. What to do, what to do …

Side Note

Side note for the day. Garrett and I were having a debate about Star Wars and how Anakin and Obi won's hair at the end of Episode one looks. I said they both had raqt tails and he said they didn't, but then he admitted that he didn't know what a rat tail was. I googled it and this is what I got. We laughed for a good 5 minutes. Classic.

D is for Darth Maul

Star Wars, what a fantastic thing. I would never read it as a book, but as movies I enjoy it. I wonder if it’s called a trilogy squared because they take place in two points in time or if it’s like a sexogy or sextuple. Hmmm, the epic questions that need to be answered. Anyways, today I have been watching Garrett play Lego Star Wars: The Complete Saga and we ended up discussing Darth Maul and the spelling of his name. Garrett made the comment that it sounded like it was Darth Mall and I laughed and said it did sound like that. That then created a mental image in my head of Darth Maul walking through the mall like a teenage girl with arms full of bags. Ultimately that created a laughing fit between the two of us, with me wishing that I could draw well enough to create an image of that scene. Oh the little joys of life and well of course Darth Maul shopping at the mall.

The Big Toe Incident

Ah, the big toe incident. On Friday I was at Port Discovery in Baltimore with Garrett. Well during the first 10 minutes of being there I hurt myself. It was rather painful and funny. I was determined not to let it ruin the day for Garrett so I kept going. Sure it hurt a lot and I had to walk funny, but I think he enjoyed himself. We even walked to Hard Rock because Garrett was able to eat there. Not too long after lunch though we called it a day after hitting the gift shop. I think he had fun, he seemed to anyways. It sucks I couldn’t do a whole lot with him, but lucky Jen was able to crawl around in that awesome three story play area. Anyways, I get home and my toe is pretty pissed at this point, but I’m in an eh oh well mood. Well it takes my mom pulling my shoe off for me to well, to get it off. Anyways, I thought it might be ok but after taking off the shoe it got progressively worse. This ended with me at the hospital, which was the last place I wanted to be. I actually ended up making up strange songs about cutting it off while sitting and waiting. My toe is not broken which is always a good thing, but now no one really knows what is going on. Surprise there. I have to call my foot doc on Monday to see when he would like to take a look at it and piss it off more. It still hurts really badly, but it would be so much worse. The only thing that really peeves me about the whole thing is that my big toe is causing me so much pain. Something that is so tiny is more painful than my ankle has been for over a month. I find the whole situation amusing and disappointing at the same time. Oh well, guess we’ll see what happens. Until next time!

A Sad Day

Today is a sad day. Maggie went to the Pet Playground today a little before 7pm. We all miss her very much and wish she didn't have to leave. At least now though, she is happy and no longer in pain. We love you Maggie and you will be missed by everyone you met. Because you touched everyone's hearts.

Death: Both a Good and a Bad Thing

I look at my dog Maggie laying next to me and it just makes me wonder what’s going on in her head. Her breathing is labored and her saliva is very thick. She doesn’t even want to eat or drink. I gave her some fruit loops a little while ago, which she was very happy about and had that look like she wanted more. Why can’t I give her more? She’s going to be leaving us tomorrow after she gets to see Cort. I think she’s been waiting for him to come home and so does my mom. I can’t blame her; I would want to wait to say good bye to him as well. We are all family and love each other, we at the very least would like to say one last I love you. I feel angry every time I think about how my sister doesn’t want to really be involved. Maggie is our family, if it was Cort, mom or I she would hopefully get involved. Why is now different? Why can’t she come say good bye? What’s going to happen when Jack or Sally pass away or become very sick and/or old? She will be forced to deal with it then.
Death itself is a hard thing. It is hard for everyone involved, except maybe the caretaker or embalmer. It is good for the person and/or animal passing away, but it is very hard for the people they are leaving. I bet for some of the people and/or animals that are dying it is hard as well. Wouldn’t you feel torn if you had to leave everyone you loved? I found out an interesting thing one day when my mom made a comment about butterflies and how one had been following her around. I found out that black butterflies normally symbol death and/or a very large change. For some reason that resonated with me. Yesterday when I went for a walk I had four of them fly in front of me. I had a feeling they were warning me about Maggie, but it didn’t make it any easier. Last night I cried harder that I had cried in years. My chest hurt, I couldn’t breathe and my body didn’t want to function. I almost collapsed at one point. I cried like I had when my dad left. It was the same feeling all over again. I also talked to Maggie last night and told her how much I loved her, about stories of her life I remembered, that she would see Misty again in the Pet Playground, and I also said good bye. When I Tyler came in I completely broke down all over again and actually called my dad. I don’t know why I wanted him so badly all of a sudden. I just wanted to sit in his lap while he held me, telling me everything would be ok. I felt like a terrified little girl all over again. I was rather disappointed when he never called me back, even today. No text about it, nothing.
Recently we watched Dead Like Me and it explored many parts of death. I was able to see it in some many different ways and understand it more than I had when I was a preteen. It doesn’t change the fact that I love Maggie with all my heart. I asked that we have her cremated so we could keep her with us no matter where we went. That was I could still talk to her and have her around when things were bad like she always is. I feel so lost and confused right now. I want her happy and no longer in pain, but at the same time I’m not ready to let go. This isn’t about me though, this is about her. I love her and whatever she wants, I will do whatever I can to make that happen.

Thoughts Of a Bride

Is everything in order?
Does my dress look strange?
What about the bride’s maids?
Do they really like their dresses?
Or are they just lying?
What if he’s not here?
Does he still want me?
Do I want him?
How do I get rid of these butterflies?
Should I have a drink?
Maybe go for a walk?
Oh know, is it time?
Am I ready?
What if I trip>?
Do I look alright?
What if my dad won’t give me away?
What if I don’t want him to?
Where did the flower girl go?
Did she already start walking?
Is that were the bride’s maids went to?
Why does my dad look so nervous?
Are his eyes tearing up?
Are mine too?
What if everyone laughs?
Why can’t I breathe?
How do I walk again?
One foot at a time?
Will he be looking when I look up?
He is.
He’s smiling.
I’m smiling.
Perfect.

Maggie (What A Sweetie)

Maggie is an amazing dog. That doesn’t even encompass who she is. She loves you no matter what and she will always try and make you feel better. She smiles at you and wags her tail. She loves the snow. It’s so cute how she hops around in it like she’s a rabbit. She still chases the vacuum cleaner like she always has and she still chase the laser or flashlight around the room. Her life should not have been so short. If she had been human, she would have been the most amazing human I have ever met. She is so much more than a dog. She is family. She is my sister, my daughter and sometimes my mother. When I’m sick she’ll stay close to me, which always makes me feel better. I wish I had taken better care of her. Like most kids, I wanted a dog and promised to take care of her and walk her every day. As I got older I lost that, but there were times when I would take her. She didn’t care that it had been months since we had last gone for a walk, since I’d last brushed her or even fed her instead of my mom. She was always excited and happy about it. I still feel horrible that I had accidentally dropped her on her head. It wasn’t on purpose, she was a little puppy and I was holding her. She started squirming around and I lost my hold on her. She didn’t land on her feet like a cat. My brother and I felt horrible about it. We all love her so very much. We just want her to be happy. No matter how hard it will be for us, it is more important how she feels. I don’t want her to be in pain her last bit of time on earth. Misty had been in pain when we were younger, before we put her to sleep. I remember how sad it was and how much pain she was in. I just want Maggie to be happy because I love her so much. I just want her to know how much we love her and that it’s ok for her to move on when she’s ready.

Placebo Journal

Thank you Placebo Journal for bringing this to my attention. It seems that the government is discussing banning home made school lunches. Besides the simple fact that school lunches are nasty, what about the kids who can't eat the school lunches? Anybody hear of allergies? So, instead we're going to make kids pick between starving or anaphylactic shock? This is just ridicules. I understand home made lunches that are bad for children are a problem, but not all parents are that irresponsible. If you have a few minutes, take a quick read.

http://placebojournal.blogspot.com/2010/08/banned-home-lunches.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+PlaceboJournalBlogMedicalHumorWithAPurpose+%28Placebo+Journal+Blog%3A+Medical+Humor+With+A+Purpose%29

I Wish ...

Today is one of those days where I’ve been wondering, what’s wrong with me and why am I even here? Besides the fact that there is a majority of people who ponder their existence, I don’t seem to understand what made me special enough when I was six to make it through cancer. Then after making it through that, which was hard enough, I’ve had to get through my parent’s divorce, foot surgery on both feet, appendix removal, gallbladder removal, sinus surgery, and of course the ever popular wisdom teeth removal. Look I’m not saying I’m anything special and I learned quite a lot going through all of this, but I would like for my mom to get a break. I can deal with all this medical crap, partially because I have my whole life, but I would really like for her to get a break. She has gone through so much in her life and she’s still going through it. She deserves so much more, like a man that loves her and treats her well, a job that doesn’t kick her ass so hard she’s like a zombie when she gets home, and just to be happy. What is so wrong with me that I put my mother through medical trials since I was born and why didn’t I just kick the bucket when I had cancer? I’m not saying I want to die; I just want things to be easier for her. Why did she get stuck with me? What did she do to deserve this? I love her to much to watch her have to go through all of this pain, stress and heart ache. She’s the most amazing person I know and I wish she could see that. I wish she could be happy all the time and dance around the house with us again like a complete idiot. Those were some of the best times I’ve had with her. She deserves a break, so when the heck is it coming to her?

Upside Down and Spinning

I remember the day I felt like my dad had died like it was yesterday. Here my parents, who I thought loved each other dearly, were getting a divorce and my mother was devastated. The night they talked to my brother and me, I felt like someone had just hit me with thousands of pebbles. They started out small and grew in size slowly at first and then rapidly until I hit the floor. I couldn’t breathe and my whole body didn’t want to function anymore. All I could do was grasp for air and cry. I cried so hard I couldn’t see, my body shook and I felt sick. I remember pushing my body as close into the cabinets as possible so that no one could get me. I just wanted to disappear. Here we had just spent an amazing day at an amusement park over the weekend and now my entire world was spinning out of control.

Everything was really hard. The day after, I was such a mess I screamed at my gym teacher, was sent to the guidance office, and balled for 20 minutes. Then I went home where I proceeded to cry more to my older brother on the phone. For some reason my brother and I had some uncanny connection since I was little, he was always able to make everything clearer. My younger brother didn’t seem to be as a mess as I was. I still don’t know why he seemed better off than me, why he seemed to understand. I think the reason it hit me so hard was because my dad, the guy I had just written a 3 page essay about how he was my hero, had just smashed my entire world into millions of pieces. Pieces I couldn’t even begin to figure out how to put them back together.

Besides the fact that my parents’ divorce was a big helping of dysfunctional, my mom was trying extremely hard to not say anything bad about my father. She had remembered how it was for our older brother and sister. She didn’t want to mess up any type of relationship we might and most likely would have with our father. She just wanted us to be happy. My dad, I think, tried to not say bad things about my mother. Though there were times, mostly when he was really angry, he would say horrible things. Things that didn’t make me hate my mother; things that made me hate him for saying them. He used to say that my mother was keeping us from him, when it reality, we just didn’t want to be with him. We didn’t want to listen to those horrible things that he and his side of the family would say about my mother. We hated it. I remember one time we were at my grandmothers and my little brother went to the bathroom. While he was gone I got grilled about my mother, what she was saying and how she was such a horrible person for not letting us be with them. When In reality my mother had told us that anytime, anytime at all, that we wanted to go over to our fathers or grandmother’s house she would gladly take us. She wanted us to be with our family.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not blaming one particular party. I am not saying that my mother did nothing wrong. That is just not true, but she tried very hard to do what we wanted and to take care of us. She just wanted us to be happy. She took us to councilors so we had someone outside of the family to talk to. Counseling was both helpful and unhelpful. I mean really, after 4 counselor’s never call you back a kid starts to get a complex. My dad’s view of counseling was reading a book. I am not discounting reading in any way. Sometimes those self help books can be helpful for some people. However, if our case we felt it made things worse. All of a sudden my father was doing and saying weird things, things that made me rather uncomfortable to be around him, even in public places.

Finally, the court system made him go to counseling with my brother and I. Most of the time my brother and I dreaded it, counseling with my dad was like having your life force slowly and painfully drained out of you. I imagine it is similar to a Dementor draining you in Harry Potter. Poor harry, I feel for you. There were times we left and my voice was horse from yelling. It also got very repetitive. We would try and tell him the same thing session after session and he didn’t ever seem to get it. Even the councilor tried to explain it to him and none of it really seemed to ever get through. I actually started writing down the conversation word by word so that way I could go back to it as a reference at a later date. My father and I used to get into such petty arguments that I saved all the e-mails. Most of the time people wouldn’t believe what they said, even councilors. I remember printing them and giving them to one of them. That was the same day I was asked which of us was supposed to be the adult and apparently I had an excuse for my behavior.

I look back on it and I feel rather disappointed in myself. What had possessed me to burn all of that energy? Why had I let this situation make me so depressed I was medicated for a year? It became so difficult to explain what was going on to people that when I said that my dad had “left” or was “gone” I let them assume that he was dead. It was just so much easier. I was able to keep what little energy I had left. There were so many times I remember crying myself to sleep feeling like he was dead. I even thought that maybe my real father had been taken by aliens and they had replaced him with a robot. Where had my super hero gone? The man that picked me up when I fell and wiped all my tears away? The man that had hugged me so tight sometimes I couldn’t breathe? Where was the man that would listen to my real and make believe stories? That man, the man that would slow dance with me in the snow when I was little, would never have left my mother and his family as shattered as they were.

The whole things messed me up pretty good. I didn’t trust very many people and I thought most people were lying to me. Even now I still have that thought in the back of my head that worries about the people around me. What if the man I love with my whole heart leaves? What if he shatters me like my father did?

There were times when I tried. I tried to have a relationship with my father again. Right when I thought I could see my super hero at the end of that long dark scary tunnel, he would morph in front of my eyes and break me all over again. Every time it happened, my mom was there to pick me up again and trying and put the pieces back together. She would let me scream and cry at her for hours, even in the middle of the night. At a certain point, I gave up. I gave up on ever being able to see my real father again. He was going to forever be that monster that ate my energy for breakfast.

The interesting thing about all of this is that after I met the love of my life, things started too changed. I got up the courage to try again because believe it or not I missed my family. I missed all the fun times I used to have with them. If it wasn’t for him I might not have ever given them another chance. He would let me squeeze the crap out of his hand until he couldn’t feel it anymore and he would let me babble completely freaked out the whole way there. He is the whole reason I was able to slowly spend more and more time with them. I went out to lunch with my dad on my own not too long ago. I had that glimmer of hope back again, that maybe my real dad was in there somewhere. That day gave me even more hope that there might be an end to this tunnel. He invited me to come spend a week with him and his family at the beach. I knew I probably couldn’t do a week, but maybe a few days. I would have my love right next to me the whole time and I knew he would keep me safe.

That long 3 day weekend at the beach was the break through point for my father and I. I saw my super hero dad again. The man that had kept me safe and loved me no matter what I had done when I was younger was back. I was so happy, that I cried. I didn’t let him see it because I didn’t know how I would even attempt to explain it. I had the most fun with him that I had in a long time. I felt like a little girl again. I wanted to curl up in his lap and cry asking him where he had been all these years. I wanted to tell him about this horrible monster that had pretended to be him for so many years. The day my love and I left the beach, I cried again. I didn’t want to leave my dad. What if he disappeared again? I don’t think I could handle that. I couldn’t watch my dad die again, it was too hard and I don’t think my heart could recover from that again. Not now, not since I’ve seen and been with him again. My super hero was back and even though his suit might not fit quite right anymore and might be washed out some, it was still him. He had come back to life. It might still be a little while until we have even an ok relationship, but I’ll take it. I can’t wait to catch up with him. I’ll keep my zombie dad thank you very much and if you want him, don’t expect to get away with it without a fight.