#our family got sick for the 3rd time since november and i am so so tired and drained

[zevrans-remade]

.

[94monkeys]

November, December and January were the worst months of my life that started out as the best months of my life. I am better, but I’m still not okay.

CW: death (not mine), medical stuff (no gore), emergency room experience

The first week of November was the election we’d been building up to, frankly, 4 years. I was basically eating, sleeping, breathing work from mid-August until the election, and then for several days after until we got the result that we wanted.

The second week in November, I found out I was pregnant. We were shocked and thrilled. (It was intentional but it was still, like, surprising that it actually worked???)

Turn back now because it only gets worse from here.

The third week in November, I find out I’m getting laid off. I was given a lot of reasons, none of which made sense, but basically a casualty of office politics way over my head. I was told that it wasn’t performance related, but it still felt brutal to have to do this after pouring myself into work. I’ve been laid off before, and it’s always a cold experience. You remember that your company only cares about you to a degree, and at the end of the day, they will always protect themselves and not you. I personally don’t understand why you would replace a professional with two part-time dilettantes on your public facing communications BUT ANYWAY!

I was asked to stay through the beginning of January and I accepted.

The fourth week in November was Thanksgiving. We were home about to make dinner for 2 (COVID). During the day, I started to feel sick and crampy. I called the urgent care nurse line and they told me to go to the ER. I live very close to a hospital, so I literally packed my biggest warmest sweatshirt and a book and walked there, leaving my spouse and the turkey still in the oven (luckily that was his purview anyway).

The ER was, surprisingly, very quiet. I was there for about 4 hours while they ran various tests on me. (They had to call a specialist in from their Thanksgiving dinner, which I felt terrible about.) Ultimately, they could not determine whether I had miscarried or not, so they sent me home with instructions to take it easy and to go in for more testing.

In December I had a doctor’s appointment where they confirmed that I was not pregnant any more. (The tech was very cold and impersonal… I was crying on the ultrasound table. I know that it was so early, but I was crying for myself and my spouse and the dreams we had invested that never came to be. I was sad because this was our first time, and it was so terrible, and we won’t ever have a first one.)

They flagged something in my blood tests that was troubling, so they ordered regular testing. I was going in about 3 times a week for blood draws. Luckily I’m not scared of needles so it was more annoying than anything.

I was also applying to and interviewing for jobs (without success) and also still working at my job where I felt literally invisible. It was a really dark time. I don’t know how else to describe it. I don’t know how I got out of bed every day. It felt like everything in my life had just collapsed at once. I didn’t feel unwell, but it was just like a big weight dragging me down all the time.

In the 3rd week of December, I had another ultrasound and then met with a new to me doctor, I’ll call her Dr. S. I had been going along with all the additional bloodwork, but I was starting to push back on why it was necessary.

It was a Friday afternoon when Dr. S met with me and said: We think that you have an ectopic pregnancy. I didn’t know, but I would soon learn that this was a pregnancy that was not in the right place, would not grow, but could rupture and kill me. She recommended surgery to address it.

Okay, I said. I had the next week off, so I assumed it would be either that week, or in January while I was funemployed (but still had my good health insurance).

I was thinking this weekend, said Dr. S.

So it was that I went to a Friday doctor’s appointment and found myself signing into surgery on Saturday morning.

It was my first ever surgery with anesthesia, and everyone took great care of me, but it was still EXTREMELY disconcerting. I had laparoscopic surgery so I only have 2 teeny scars, but I was in a lot of pain and confused when I woke up.

Work was closed all week, so I basically spent the whole week sitting in 1 chair in my apartment either watching movies or reading. I didn’t want to get into all the details with people, because a) 2020 was already so… 2020, b) I was still nominally job-hunting and I didn’t want to give anyone a dumb surface reason not to hire me or make them think I was a pregnancy flight risk (I love being a woman of a certain age!), c) I just didn’t want to talk about it. On the other hand, almost no one at work checked on me. I found their treatment very cold, again.

In January I put myself together for my last week at work, we had the runoff elections, we had the coup. I had my surgery follow-up where it was confirmed that it was an ectopic pregnancy. That was my January: medical follow-ups, but at least I don’t have to schedule them around the job I no longer have!  

WHEW. If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for hearing me. I have since gotten a new job working on communications for politics, but also nonprofits and city agencies. My stress has been cut by probably 70 percent. In my job I’m doing a lot more writing, which is probably what enabled me to write this long overdue update with most of everything in it.

We are starting to explore our fertility options. I had a doctor that really catastrophized me in terms of how intense we need to go about it, but likely we will start slowly and see how it goes. They still don’t know why I had an ectopic (and probably won’t figure out), but I am at higher risk of having another one, so any potential pregnancy will involve a lot of testing and monitoring. That’s why we haven’t “started” “trying” again, because there are tests and there is my new job and so on. I had a hysterosalpingogram, which you should definitely Google if you’re not squeamish. (It didn’t hurt but it was totally weird!)

I am better, but I’m not OK. I’m still mad about everything that happened to me. There are moments when I get catapulted back to my surgery and everything, and I completely freeze. I just got my doctors’ records from November and December (which I had to pay $35 for!!! MY OWN RECORDS) and even though I didn’t learn anything new from reading those records, I still had a lot of emotional trouble processing what happened. It’s weird that so many of them start by noting that the patient was “not in acute distress.” Must be an automatic fill-in because that doesn’t match what I was feeling ever!!!

Dr. S literally saved my life and I think what was not clear to me at the time, because I was still mourning what could have been, is that I am still here. I am more than everything that happened to me. 

I am looking for a new therapist and I am trying to look on the bright side. Unfortunately, one of my oldest friends in the world endured a similar health issue back in January; fortunately, we are each other’s best comfort because I know she won’t judge me. This summer may bring good news on this front or maybe not, but at least vaccinated we can do more than we have been able to do (picnics in the park! Visits to family!) I have to believe my luck is turning. It’s how I get by.

[c-swirlz]

Denial | Sanders Sides Oneshot (Logan ‘Birthday’ Special)

Summary: Logan is still adamant that his ‘birthday’ isn’t November 3rd. However, when his family takes it as seriously as they do, he supposes he can be persuaded otherwise.

OR

Five (5) times Logan insists it isn’t his ‘birthday’ and the one (1) time he doesn’t.

Pairing(s): None

Content/trigger warning(s): Knife

[AO3 link]

|| This was meant to be posted yesterday (because it was November 3rd in my timezone), but I got distracted partway through writing and didn’t finish it in time. Therefore, this is -- technically -- a day late. ||

“Happy Birthday, Logan!”

Logan stared at Patton, utterly perplexed. The paternal Side was grinning brightly, his hands clasped together in front of him as he contently swayed slightly from side to side.

Logan shook his head, breaking himself free of his momentary trance. “Patton, it’s... not my birthday.”

Patton frowned, tilting his head to the side like that of a confused puppy. “Whaddya mean?” The moral Side gasped, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth. “Oh no, did I get the day wrong?! What’s the date?”

Logan summoned a calendar and examined it for a moment before banishing it. “It is the third of November.”

Patton breathed a small sigh of relief as his hands lowered, his shoulders visibly sagging. “Oh, okay, thank goodness--”

Suddenly, a realisation seemed to dawn on Patton, and he stared at Logan.

“Wait. If it is November third, then... why did you say it’s not your birthday?”

Logan’s brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a tight line. “We are not real people. We were not ‘born’ in the same sense Thomas was, therefore none of us technically have a birthday. However, if we were to have one, it would surely be more logical for it to be the same as Thomas’ as we are all fractions of his personality, not individual humans.”

Patton’s frown became impossibly larger, almost becoming a pout. “Aww, but Logan! Just because we aren’t real people doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to have and celebrate our own birthdays!”

Logan shook his head, almost apologetically.

Almost.

“Apologies, Patton, but if you insist on celebrating my ‘birthday’, I would much prefer you wait for Thomas’.”

And with that, Logan turned and walked away. Guilt began creeping in, but he shoved it down. Guilt was an icky, human emotion that Logic didn’t need. He refused to feel it.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to.

~---~

“Ah, Specs! Fancy seeing you here!”

Logan turned around, his expression neutral as Roman strolled into the kitchen. “Salutations, Roman.” He turned back around and continued preparing his beverage. “We all live here and enter the kitchen quite frequently, so I don’t really understand your latter statement.”

Roman rolled his eyes fondly, walking up to stand next to Logan and lightly punching him playfully in the shoulder. “Nerd.”

“Prep,” Logan responded automatically.

Roman chuckled, gasping quietly as he seemed to remember something. “Oh, by the way, happy birthday!”

Logan made an odd sound in the back of his throat, which Roman picked up on.

“Okay, Patton did tell me you weren’t a fan of the whole birthday thing, but c’mon, Calculator Watch! The sooner you accept your deemed birthdate, the sooner we can celebrate!”

Roman pulled off his iconic pose as he sang the last word, holding for an -- admittedly -- impressively long time on the a.

Logan bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from releasing a huff of amused laughter, lifting the cup containing his beverage to his lips and softly blowing on it before taking a sip.

“Your festivities would be wasted, Roman. Why not wait until Virgil’s ‘birthday’? It is only forty-six days away, and I’m sure he would appreciate it so long as you didn’t catch him by surprise.”

Roman opened his mouth to respond, but stopped as Logan turned around and began walking out of the kitchen.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”

Logan strode towards the stairs, leaving Roman alone downstairs as he travelled up.

The guilt returned.

He ignored it.

~---~

“Oh, Nerdy Wolverine~!”

Logan sighed, barely flinching as a knife was plunged into his shoulder. He simply waved a hand and the blade vanished, the wound healing instantly. A nasally whine rang out, and Logan glanced over his shoulder just as Remus clung onto him, having caught him in the hall as he’d left his room to retrieve a book he’d left downstairs.

“Remus,” Logan greeted.

Remus grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “A little birdie told me it’s a certain nerd’s birthday today~”

Logan grit his teeth. “Patton, I’m assuming?”

Remus snorted. “Yep! But you don’t seem too happy, Specs. What’s up?”

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes as he pried Remus off his back. “I am quite honestly getting rather sick of explaining it.”

Remus clicked his tongue, picking at his moustache. “Eh, fair enough.” He stopped picking at his moustache and looked back up at Logan, staring at him for a moment before his gaze seemed to drift towards Roman’s door.

“Is dear brother Roman in right now?”

Logan shook his head.

Remus brought his hands together with a loud clap. “Goodie, I can fill his room with my latest creations! He’s sure to love them!”

Remus darted over to Roman’s bedroom door, opening it and stepping inside. He poked his head back out, exclaiming, “See ya, nerd!” before closing the door.

Logan blinked.

That was... odd.

~---~

Logan knew Janus had entered his room before the snakelike Side had even announced his presence.

“Salutations, Janus.”

“Hello, Logan,” Janus replied, adjusting his hat before taking a few strides forward to stand beside the logical Side, who was sitting at his desk typing on his laptop at superhuman speed.

“Tell me, how long has it been since you had something to eat or drink since you started your work?”

Logan stopped typing, but remained silent. That was enough of an answer for Janus.

“I assumed as much.”

Suddenly, there was a glass of water and a Crofter’s sandwich on a plate sitting next to Logan’s laptop, and the ghost of a smile was momentarily visible on his face.

“Ah,” Logan cleared his throat. “Thank you, Janus.”

Janus began examining his gloves where his nails would be underneath. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Logan could see the small smirk on the deceitful Side’s face.

Janus didn’t stick around for long after that, and it wasn’t until he sunk out that Logan realised the serpentine Side hadn’t acknowledged his ‘birthday’ whatsoever.

~---~

As evening rolled in, the card sticky taped to the outside of Logan’s door came as a surprise to him. Curiosity got the better of him, and instead of simply ignoring it like he usually would, he carefully peeled the sticky tape off, removed it, opened the card and read the text inside, which was written in Virgil’s distinctive handwriting.

Hey, L.

I know you think having a birthday’s illogical and all, but I still wanted to wish you a happy one, since... y’know, November 3rd’s considered to be yours.

~ Supreme Dark Overlord of Negative Commerce

Logan’s grip on the card tightened, and he almost crumpled it into a ball as an odd surge of anger washed over him. However, he stopped himself, taking a few regulating breaths before re-entering his room, fuming, though he refused to acknowledge it.

“It. Is. Not. My. Birthday,” he muttered, sitting back down at his desk, opening his laptop and resuming his work.

~---~

A knock on the door aroused Logan from his slumber. Wait, when had he fallen asleep? Apparently only about twenty minutes ago according to his laptop’s clock.

“Logan?”

That was Patton’s voice.

“I know you’re probably really busy right now, but could you please come down to the kitchen?”

Logan didn’t respond, and an awkward silence hung in the air for a moment.

On the other side of the door, Patton sighed. “Well, kiddo, we’ll be waiting... please come down.”

We...?

Logan listened for the sound of Patton’s fading footsteps before venturing out the door, slowly descending the stairs only to glance in the direction of the kitchen and stop in his tracks as he reached the bottom.

Everyone was there: Roman, Patton, Virgil, Janus and Remus. They were all smiling somewhat sheepishly at him, and the logical Side’s eyes were drawn to the cake he could see sitting on the bench behind them.

“Now before you say anything,” Patton said suddenly, breaking the silence, “we know you don’t consider today to be your birthday. However, we consider it to be, and we weren’t about to let the day end without at least making you a cake!”

Logan did have to admit the cake looked rather delicious, but he made sure not to show it. His family were looking at him expectantly, and he allowed his lips to curl up into a small smile. He sighed defeatedly.

“Alright, I suppose I can... embrace my deemed ‘birthday’. For the time being.”

When Logan returned to his room a few hours later to find a small pile of gifts on his bed, he supposed he could cope with November 3rd being his ‘birthday’ despite it being nowhere near Thomas’.

[bloommelon]

Everything Is Blue

WARNINGS: severe angst, suicidal themes, suggestive sexual content, eventual suicide, mental illnesses, eventual character death, unhappy ending, suicidal content, graphic suicide

A/N: please don't read if you're depressed, this is a very sad story but im proud of it because I actually finished something for ONCE. NONE of this is based on real life, it's all fiction. Jaehyun just fit my idea of this character, and I hope no one gets the wrong idea that I tried to glamorize suicide. And also, I do not feel suicidal and I am not depressed because of writing this, i simply got this idea while thinking I should try and write angst. On another note, I hope whoever reads this likes it or at least it makes you feel some type of emotion. Thank you. *i did not proofread at all btw*

Song: Colors by Halsey

✖✖✖✖

August 3rd

Jaehyun and I sat in a field of Nemophila by the river, the sun shining and clouds floating above us eating strawberries and our laughter filling the hot summer air. Jaehyun had taken me to the museum to see his favorite painting an hour beforehand, telling me it reminded him of me. It was a simple painting, blue sky with fluffy white clouds on a sunny day. I'd almost stayed home that day, not wanting to go anywhere due to a flurry of sudden panic attacks that week. "When you're feeling anxious, come here and call me and I'll come as quick as I can." At that moment, I'd been filled with happiness due to Jaehyun's caring nature but I should have been the one making sure he had somewhere to go when he was upset, but his feelings of sadness weren't noticeable back then. Giving him a hug wasn't enough to stop the pain he felt daily just from living. Laughter hurt, and so did seeing me smile making guilt rush through him at the fact that I brought him some happiness, but not enough for him to change his mind.

September 19th

Jaehyun wrote poetry about clouds and sunshine and the color blue. He would have  painted himself blue if it was socially exceptable. Most of the poems he let me read brought tears to my eyes, ruining my mascara. He always wiped the mascara off, then he'd kiss all my tears away telling me that's how poetry should make me feel. I told him many times how intense it felt, the emotions brought out by the poems he wrote and he'd stare at me and say" that's how i feel about you." Intense. Wildly. Airy. Bright and warm like sunshine shining down through clouds. Most people tell you to write when you're feeling blue to get whatever you're feeling out of your system so that you can feel yellow and bright again,but he still wished for the sun to poison him. He wished for dehydration and shock to take him away instead of writing useless poems.

October 13th

Friday the thirteenth. Bad omens were shown, I just didn't recognize them. I look back now and something had been off about Jaehyun that day. His smile wasn't the same. It was crooked in a way that it was almost a frown, but to outsiders it passed as a normal expression of happiness. He painted sometimes just like writing, and his paintings left me feeling blue just like the blue sky in august, like the painting in the museum, like the color of the walls in his room. It wasnt even a sad painting-he'd painted a red rose in a field of baby blue eyes by a river at night. It wasn't even sad, but when i touched the paper after it dried, I just wanted to cry. He'd held me telling me about the meaning behind it. "It's supposed to make you appreciate things and people that are different, but still appreciate the normal things and people too. No one should be left out. That everyone and everything is more than meets the eye, you just have to look deeper." The way he talked made me want to cry, and he could sense something was wrong, but the fact that I couldn't look deeper to notice his sadness made me tell him everything was fine. I pretended I was fine and I pretended he was fine, so that in the moment, I could feel like everything was fine when nothing about that day was fine. That night he'd went home and cried himself to sleep, and he'd almost done something heartwrenching but I couldn't ask him a simple 'are you okay?'. He would have lied anyways, but maybe if i would have pushed him to answer he wouldn't have cried alone that night or almost took a razor to his skin.

November 7th

Jaehyun and I would sit in my room for hours in comfortable silence, him drawing while i read books. He'd been noticeably upset on this day. To the point where I kept asking him what was wrong and was everything okay. He started rambling about death and blood to the point where fear bubbled up inside of me, spilling out into the world and when he noticed I was terrified, he had cried and apologized repeatedly. He'd thrown his drawing pad in the middle of all of this, it getting lost behind my bed. I'd held him for hours after that, hoping he would feel better and calm down. It worked on the outside, and I foolishly believed I'd helped him on the inside as well. He wasn't okay, and the way he had talked about blood and death so freely spoke volumes about what he thought of daily. If only I'd tried to look deeper. Most of us take what we see on the outside and assume that there's nothing more to see and we should look away as to not disturb the normalcy of the world.

December 25th

Christmas day was snowy and beautiful, the sun fighting it's way through the clouds to shine down on everything to try and melt the snow, but the snow was relentless and the roads icy. The gifts didnt matter that day as everyone was together and that made Jaehyun filled to the brim with happiness, which mattered a lot more. That night we lay together wrapped in nothing but the warmest blue blanket we could find, the snow falling against the window and the christmas lights above us in my room shining down us painting our faces in green and red. He was happy, but that didn't mean the pain had suddnely disappeared and that family made the bad thoughts run away, he was just hiding them. That night he whispered how much he loved me , lips against my temple. He told me I was the only gift he needed. He didnt know that he was the only gift I needed, and that him staying could have been so much better. Maybe that's selfish. On Christmas some people expect everything they want to be given but give nothing to others. That year, I was sadly part of the people who expect and was given everything I wanted but I gave nothing.

February 14th

Jaehyun's birthday. I had thrown him a surprise party that he loved, wearing a blue dress with pink hearts on it since it was also Valentine's day. Once he opened his gifts, which was a copy of the painting with the clouds on a sunny day that he absolutely adored and a necklace with my name on it in the shape of a cloud. His dimples stayed out all day, like I wish they would have stayed for life. As a Valentine's gift he gave me a blue rose and a painting of me by the river sitting in the field of Nemophila. That night I ended up in only his blue flannel with marks of his love on my skin the next morning,his whispers of "i love you more than anything" ingrained in my thoughts forever. I'd told him the same, but it didnt count as much since he said it first, and knowing now that that wasn't enough for him to stay breaks my heart all over again.

March 2nd

We spent the day walking around despite him being vocal of not feeling like getting out of bed, and he was a bit angry with me until I got him laughing by singing embarrassing 80's songs and dancing awkwardly. We both danced until we got tired, our legs exhausted and breathing was a difficult feat. I told him that he didn't deserve to be sad and he told me "i deserve whatever the world throws at me" which made me worry about him for weeks. I didnt tell him that, although maybe I should have. I just didn't want to make him feel bad when i started having panic attacks again because of it. He didn't know and didn't mean to, he just was in so much pain.

April 20th

He'd cooked for me on this day, telling me he felt a lot better. He appeared completely calm and peaceful like how some people get after doing things they love. Which he was good at cooking and enjoyed it, so I was extremely happy. He hadn't cooked in months-not like this. He was also baking. He wouldn't let me go in his kitchen. "It's a surprise, darling. Just be patient" Although he acted normal enough, whatever normal means, i sensed sadness coming from his being. After we ate, I felt nauseous. He turned into a concerning boyfriend rather than a happy one which made me upset since I knew he was keeping his sadness a secret. While he went to clean the kitchen after throwing a blanket on my cold body, I felt even more nauseous and after contemplating on whether or not to run to the bathroom my body decided for me. Vomiting isn't something anyone is fond of, and Jaehyun was even more concerned when he found me lying on the floor against the bathtub. He threw all the food away after that and blamed himself for me getting sick, though It was just a case of me eating way too much. Once in his bed, he kept apologizing and ended up crying but I held him and told him everything was okay. He didn't tell me that every small thing affected him so horribly it'd leave him wishing he'd never been born. He didn't know that those small things were things he couldn't help, but his brain told him that he ruined everything.

May 27th

Sitting in the field of Baby blue eyes with him felt different this time. More peaceful. We laid down side by side watching the clouds, he always said he wanted to float in the clouds but not anything about how he wanted to be buried like the roots of the nemophila we laid on. He didn't tell me he didnt want to grow anymore, not by himself and not with me-not with anyone. Instead he told me how much he loved me, that he'd die for me and told me it all day. He wouldn't let his hands off of me, never letting go of my hand or arm or hips. He wouldn't let go. He asked me to stay the night and keot me in his arms until I had to work the next day, getting upset when I left. He didn't tell me I'd only have a week or two left of this. Left of being in love, left of seeing his pretty smile and those dimples he was known for showing almost all the time. He didn't tell me he was looking for reasons to stay, trying so hard not to give up.

June 16th

When I'd woken up, a feeling of dread left me near tears all day. I hadn't seen Jaehyun in three days and it'd gotten late in the day without a word from him which was unusual. I pushed the uncomfortable feeling to the side until I'd decided to leave to go see him after calling him and texting him repeatedly. While walking out the door I remembered that day when he'd terified me with that talk of blood and death and him throwing his drawing pad. Worry filled my being, making me feel sick as I pushed my bed onto the side to find his blue drawing pad.

Tears stream down my face at the drawing I found. In my hands was the reason for all his weird behavior,all his guilt and all of his pain. He wanted to die. My Jaehyun wanted to disappear from this world forever. I throw the drawing pad in a random direction and run. I call all of our friends and his family, wanting to know if they had seen him. None of them had. I didn't want it to be true.

My legs carried me to the field of baby blue eyes by the streaming river, the sun shining down so brightly and the clouds reminding me of the painting Jaehyun loved so much.

My legs were already cramping but I pushed through that pain to find the love of my life laying in a field of nemophila, his wrists slit so terribly blood is all you could see. Flowing from his wrists to drip onto the plants under him, it was so red and gory I stopped breathing, running over to him to begin screaming while on the phone with one of his best friends. Johnny knew something was wrong, his voice got further away as he told Mark to call someone. To call 911, to get help.

In Jaehyun's hand was a a razor blade and I grabbed it, throwing the wretched thing far from us. I kept shaking him and screaming at him to get up. Nothing worked. Around his neck was the cloud necklace, and despite the horror I could see, he looked extremely peaceful, his eyes shut permanently. My Jaehyun was gone, and he'd died where he loved, but he'd felt so unloved to come to this place.

I'd never enjoy bright sunny days or museums again. I couldn't, not when I couldn't see Jaehyun's dimples or hold his warm hand. As much as he wanted to burn, he'd left the world cold. The sun still shined so brightly down on us as if nothing had ever happened in this place.

🌹

[all-the-love-harold]

Chapter 20 - Earth Side

Master post 

Come and Talk about Harry and Poppy 

November 3rd  2017 – 29 Weeks

Harry walked into his house, chucking his keys on the table beside the door and bounding upstairs to take a shower. It felt nice to finally peel his suit off after having it on all night, through an hour-long flight and in the hospital with Poppy. Once he had it off, and scattered across the bedroom floor, he climbed into the shower, without waiting for the water to heat up, and let it wash it over him dripping down his side as his mind flooded with fears. He knew that for now, Poppy and the baby were okay, but her labour could start again any minute and he couldn’t bring himself to leave her alone for that, but he also knew that thousands of people had bought tickets to his remaining shows and he didn’t want to disappoint them either. He shut the water off, not wanting to leave Poppy alone in that hospital for too long.

“Fuck” he whispered to himself, realising that he’d forgotten to take a towel from the linen cupboard in the hall. He shook his hair dry and walked out of the bathroom. “Oh god” he used his hands to cover himself as he ran into Poppy’s mum in the hallway “Hi Linda”

She grimaced at him “Hello Harry” she answered bluntly looking him up and down “Left your wife alone again I see”

His nostrils flared as he wrapped a towel around his waist “I needed a shower and some fresh clothes” he ran his fingers through his hair, in frustration “she’s fine by the way, and so’s the baby, but you’re obviously more concerned with me than you are with your daughter and your grandson”

Her jaw dropped, not expecting him to retaliate like this “Don’t turn this around on me, I’m not the one that left her for months”

“I was gone for 3 and a half weeks” he snarled “and a few days here and there not months, but at least I didn’t leave her last night when she was terrified about what was going to happen. I was there for that. Where were you?”

“She didn’t need me then, she needed you”

“And I was there”

“But you weren’t there when it started, you weren’t there when she got that email from your lawyer, you’re only there when it’s convenient for you”

“You think getting back here last night was convenient? It’s not easy to get a flight from Glasgow to London that late, I had to cut a show short, leave all my things in Scotland, inconvenience the entire crew and venue staff, it wasn’t a walk in the park, but I got there Linda, because she needed me”

“Maybe if you never left, you wouldn’t have disappointed so many people”

“Christ” he sighed “how was I supposed to know? Touring is my job, Poppy knows that, she knew that before she married me, she’s always known that, she isn’t upset that I wasn’t there when it started, all she cares about is that I’m here now- so why does it bother you so much?”

“Because she deserves someone that doesn’t have to leave her all the time!” Lind yelled “Her family lives halfway across the world, if you’re not here, and I’m not here, who does she have?”

Harry wanted to yell back, but he could tell this outburst from Poppy’s mum wasn’t coming from a place of malice or hatred, but fear for her daughter, so he calmed his tone and spoke back softly “She has a lot of people here Linda, my sister lives only a few blocks away, my mum a few hours but she’d get here as quickly as she could if Poppy needed her” he sighed “everyone at radio 1 would drop everything for her if they needed to, she’s never going to be alone, if she doesn’t have her family then she has her friends”

Linda nodded, too defeated to say anything else on the matter “How is she? Were they able to stop the labour”

“For now” he answered “but she’s on bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy, so they’re keeping her in there, I came home to shower and get her things, I’m going back soon- are you coming?”

“Of course, I am” she smiled “I’m sorry Harry, I shouldn’t have been so rude to you, I just want the best for her”

“So do I” he said, walking into the bedroom and closing the door behind him so that he could get dressed.

***

November 4th  2017, 29 Weeks.

Harry strolled down the street outside the hospital, on the phone to the manager of his PR team, trying to work out the best way to tell his fans that the rest of the tour will be cancelled because he can’t leave Poppy. It had taken him a long time to make the decision, it wasn’t something he took lightly, but neither were Poppy and the baby, and right now, that was his main priority.

“You think a tweet and an Instagram is too insincere?” He asked, walking into the nearest café to get Poppy a peppermint tea because the hospital didn’t have any.

“I don’t think so, they’re going to be upset obviously, but there’s nothing we can do, and you’re still doing Victoria’s secret and the ARIAs, so there will still be some chance for fan interaction at both of those events”

“Ok” he nodded “I’ll write out what I’m going to say and send it through, so you can check it over before I post it”

“Great, send Poppy our best, we’re thinking of you both”

“Thanks” Harry said hanging up the phone and stepping up to the counter to order “Hi, could I get a large peppermint tea and a black coffee please”

“Sure” the boy at the counter said, “Take away?”

“Please” Harry took his wallet out of his back pocket and paid for the drinks, stepping back from the counter so the person behind him could order.

“Harry?” a voice said from behind him and he reluctantly turned, not really in the mood for fans today

“Hi” he muttered softly

“Oh it is you, I wasn’t sure” she blushed “I thought you’d be around this area though, is Poppy ok?”

“Uhh” he sighed, not wanting to seem rude but annoyed by the invasive question “yeah, she’s doing alright”

“I got her some flowers” she handed him a bunch of yellow daffodils

“Ahhh” Harry said, happily surprised by the gesture “Thank you, she’ll love those”

“I hope you don’t think this is creepy” she added “I work in the hospital she’s in and I saw you running in the other night in your suit”

“Not at all love” he lied “I’m used to it”

She smiled “I’m glad Poppy’s doing ok, I’ve been listening to radio one a lot, hoping that someone would say something”

He nodded “We’re not really sure what’s going to happen, so we’re staying quiet for a while”

“The peppermint tea and the black coffee” the barista called, and Harry went over to the counter, taking the two cups and thanking him, the girl following him as he did so.

“Well I hope everything’s ok” she said “Give Poppy my best”

“Will do” he said walking out the door. He pulled his hood up and walked quickly back to the hospital, keeping his head down so he would be seen by fans or paps. It was very sweet of that girl to buy flowers for Poppy, and it certainly wasn’t something that he expected, but  it left him feeling a little like his privacy had been invaded, and that was the one thing he hated most about being Harry Styles.

***

November 13th 2017, 30 Weeks.

Harry and Poppy’s lawyer had submitted a petition for Harry to take Poppy’s place at the court date on the grounds that she had been hospitalised, it was granted and now Harry found himself sitting in a courtroom, opposite Danny, waiting on the Judge to decide on the custody arrangements for their baby boy.

In the weeks since Danny had applied for parental responsibility, They’d both been visited by a law guardian, whose role was to speak on behalf of the baby, she inspected Poppy and Harry’s home, to see what they had done to prepare for Oli’s arrival and she’d done the same for Danny, asking them all extensive questions about parenting and caring for a newborn.

The case was unusual, most custody cases weren’t usually opened until the child was born, but in this case, where it was likely that the child would require medical decisions to be made for him from birth, the courts felt it necessary to have any parental responsibility disputes settled before the birth.

“All rise” the bailiff said from the corner of the room as he opened the door for the judge to walk in and take her seat. The knot in Harry’s stomach twisted as he stood, feeling the tension in the room rise he focused his eyes on the front of the room, avoiding eye contact with Danny.

“I understand we’re here today to settle a custody dispute for an unborn child, am I correct counsellors?”

“That is correct your honour, my client here, Mr Daniel Watts, is seeking custody of his son who he has been denied rights to thus far” Danny’s lawyer answered the judge

“Give me a moment to understand the facts of the case” the Judge said, filing through the papers in front of her “As I understand it, Mr watts has submitted to the courts, a Child Arrangements order where he has requested part time custody and parental responsibility for his child”

“Yes your honour” Danny’s lawyer said

“And Mrs Styles wishes to dispute this on the basis that Mr watts, in his current situation, is unfit to care for a newborn baby”

“My client, as the mother of the child, feels that Mr Watts will be unable to care for what may be a very sick little boy”

“And where is Mrs Styles today, Mr Tanner?”

“She has been hospitalised due complications with the pregnancy, her husband is here on her behalf, I’ve already had that cleared”

“Right, yes, I did see that somewhere” she looked at Harry over her glasses “At this stage in the pregnancy, is there any uncertainty as to who the father of the child actually is?”

“No, your honour” John replied “Both parties agree that, biologically, Mr Watts is the child’s father, but we’re not here to discuss biology”

She drew her lips into a sharp line “Clearly.” Her tone was blunt, and Harry could tell she was annoyed by the case “What are Mrs Styles objections to Mr Watts?”

“My client believes that Mr watts is unable to support the child financially, and has concerns about the effects that the instability that comes with unemployment, would have on her child”

“Your honour” Danny’s lawyer interrupted “perhaps if Mrs Styles is really concerned about instability, she would have thought twice about marrying a man that travels for a living”

“The case has nothing to do with Mr Styles, he is merely here on behalf of his wife” John said in retaliation “your honour, if you look at the home studies conducted on both my client and Mr Watts, you’ll see that Mr Watts is in no way prepared to look after a child”

“I have reviewed the home studies Mr Tanner, and in the interest of keeping this short, Mr Watts, I’d like to see you in my chambers please” She stood from her seat and turned towards the door behind her as the bailiff escorted Danny and his lawyer to her chambers.

Harry let out a deep breath as he turned to John “Is this good news?”

John shrugged shuffling through his papers “It’s hard to tell at this stage Harry” he sighed “I would hope that she’s reviewed Daniel’s home visit and wants to talk with him to see what he really wants from this because it’s pretty clear from that study that fatherhood is not for him”

“How long will this take?”

“Could be hours, could be any minute now, but we haven’t been given a recess, so we just have to wait here until they come back”

Harry looked at his watch, worried about leaving Poppy alone in the hospital for so long. He’d already been gone for hours and anything could have happened by now. With the rest of his tour cancelled, Linda had decided to go home, they were getting on each other’s nerves and with Harry home, Poppy didn’t need her there, but that meant today, she was alone again, and Harry couldn’t wait to go back, with good news.

“How’s Poppy doing?” John asked, bringing Harry out of his trance

“She’s ok, I think being stuck in that room is dampening her spirits a bit, but if I can go back with good news today that will help”

He nodded sympathetically “no more signs of labour?”

Harry shook his head, checking the time on his watch again “C-section is set for December…” The door to the judge’s chambers cracked open and a disgruntled Danny and his lawyer shuffled out and took their seats opposite Harry and John. Harry cleared his throat and straightened his suit jacket brushing his hands through his hair and resting his ringed fingers on the desk, feeling the butterflies rise in his stomach once again.

“All rise” the bailiff said, opening the door for the Judge once again.

She took her seat quickly and shuffled her papers, before speaking “After speaking with Mr Watts, I have unfortunately had to come to the conclusion, that, at this time, he is unfit to parent a child.”

Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief

“After much deliberation, it has become evident to me that it is in the best interests of the child to reside with his mother and her husband, in a family environment. So, it is with great regret, that I will not be granting Mr Watts petition today. With that said, as the biological father Mr Watts has asked that Mr Styles, is unable to adopt the child.”

John looked at Harry who shook his head in disbelief “With all due respect, your honour, if Mr Watts hasn’t been granted parental responsibility, then he is not the parent, and has no right to block the adoption”

“You said yourself Mr tanner, biologically, Mr Watts is the father”

“I also said that we weren’t here to discuss biology, it is clear that Mr Watts does not want to be a father, otherwise he would have made the necessary preparations, he wants to make Mr Styles as miserable as possible, and you’re allowing him to do that”

“If you let me finish Mr Tanner, I was going to explain my decision” she looked at him sternly

“Sorry your honour”

“At this moment in time, Mr Watts does not and will not have parental responsibility, or any contact with the child, however, if in two years’ time, Mr Watts is able to demonstrate his ability to parent appropriately, then the case will be reviewed, therefore, Mr Styles, will not be allowed to adopt the child, until that time. If, by the child’s second birthday, no applications for parental responsibility have been submitted to the courts, then the adoption will be allowed to go ahead”

***

December 22nd 2017 – 36 Weeks

Poppy hadn’t slept a wink in the last 24 hours, this date had been set for weeks now, and barring any complications, or emergencies that the doctor had to attend to, she’d be meeting her baby today and she was too excited for sleep. Harry was much the same, he’d spent the night tossing and turning on the hard hospital couch and woke with a sore back, but he chose not to complain too much considering that in a matter of hours, Poppy was going to have her stomach sliced into while she’s awake on the table.

“I hate you” she glared at Harry as he ate his full English breakfast on the table in front of her. She wasn’t allowed to eat because of the surgery but her stomach was growling, and she envied him with every fibre of her being as she watched him eat his baked beans.

“I’m sorry” he said, mouth full of food “but we get to meet Oli today, and once he’s here you can have biggest meal you’ve ever had”

“Make sure I get breakfast for dinner yeah? I want bacon”

He giggled, “You can have all the bacon in the world”

“Good” she sighed, rubbing her belly “we’re having a baby today H”

“You’re having a baby today love” he smiled “I’m just watching them slice into you”

Poppy winced “Don’t say that”

“Slice” he said emphasising the end of the word, cheeky smile spreading across his face as he ate his last mouth full of breakfast

“Stop” she nudged him playfully “I’m nervous enough”

“Sorry” he pouted “but at least you don’t have to go through proper labour”

“True” she nodded “But I think this will be bad enough”

The rest of the morning creeped by slowly, Poppy couldn’t stop checking the clock, and watching the door waiting for the nurse to come in and start getting her ready for surgery. She knew she had to wait for Dr Marshall to finish her morning appointments in her offices, but it was 11:30 and she was starting to get more and more anxious as time passed. She wasn’t hungry anymore, that feeling had passed hours ago and she was left with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she waited. Harry tried his best to keep her distracted, but by the time lunch time rolled around, there was no way she could think about anything else. Which is why, when the nurse walked in at 12:25 both Poppy and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“We’re having a baby today!” she exclaimed, it was Leah, who, throughout Poppy’s stay she’d become quite close to. She always knew how to bring her spirits up and when Harry was away for those few days for the ARIAs and The Victoria Secret show, she would spend hours with Poppy in her room, keeping her company, which she was forever grateful for. “Dr Marshall is on her way now, so things will be getting underway pretty soon, I’ve been sent in to put in your IV, to keep your fluids up for the surgery”

Poppy nodded and stuck her right arm out, “Stick me Lea” she giggled as she got all her things organised

She laughed too “Well, I’m glad to see you’re happy today, most mothers that are about to have a C-section are nervous as hell”

“She gets like this when she’s nervous” Harry added, sitting on the bed next to Poppy, so she could look at him instead of at the needle she was about to put into her.

Leah wrapped the tourniquet around her upper arm and used her middle finger to find a viable vein to stick the needle into “You have junkie veins” she noted screwing her face up in concentration

“I’ve had a lot of failed blood tests in my time” Poppy said

“Well I can see why, your veins are awful, but I’ve found one” she turned and grabbed the IV kit from her tray, keeping her finger on the vein “Alright, deep breath, this is the easiest part of today”

Poppy took a breath and buried her face in Harry’s shoulder, so she didn’t have to watch it go in. she felt the sharp pain in her inner elbow and let go of her breath as she finished.

“All done” she smiled, and Poppy lifted her head, and watched her connect the bag of fluid to the tubes that were now hanging from her arm. “Ok, so Dr Marshall will be in soon to give you the rundown of procedure, and shortly after that you’ll be taken down to theatre, where you’ll meet Kevin, who will give your epidural” she pressed a few buttons on the IV Machine to stop it from beeping “Harry, I’ll see if I can find you some scrubs” she walked out of the room and left Poppy and Harry in nervous silence.  Poppy kept her head on his shoulder and waited for Leah to come back.

***

“Ok, are we ready to go?” the hospital orderly asked as he unhinged the breaks on the bed. Not waiting for an answer, he began pushing the bed out of the room. Harry walked beside Poppy, until they got down to the operating floor, where he was told he would have to change into his scrubs and wait until after Poppy  had the epidural to go into the operating theatre with her.

“I’ll see you soon my love” he said placing a kiss on her forehead and squeezing her hand as a sign of comfort “real soon”

A few stray tears escaped her eyes as she kissed Harry goodbye. The orderly the rolled her bed into the operating room, leaving Harry on the other side of the door. The room was bright and filled with unfamiliar faces there was nothing reassuring about the space, it was harsh and cold, and her heart raced at the thought of what was about to happen.

“Poppy” an unfamiliar doctor said to her as she lay in her bed “I’m Kevin, your anesthetist” he held his hand out for her to shake “Once the table is fully prepped, we’ll get you to move over there and I’ll give you the epi and once that’s all done and everything is set up, your husband can come in and Dr Marshall will get started with the delivery of your baby”

The rest of the time in that room alone was a blur, she had the epidural and the scrub nurses had put the plastic curtain up in front of her as they brushed antiseptic all over her belly. She was basically naked on the table, with only a light blue sheet covering her lower half for modesty. When things were just about ready to get underway, Harry walked in, dressed in salmon pink scrubs and a blue hair net that covered his curls. Poppy could only just move her head enough to see him as he made his way over to her, but she was glad he was there.

“Hi love” he said softly, sitting down on the stool right next to her face “you good?”

Poppy nodded “Yeah” she whispered, burrowing her face into his hand.

“Alright Poppy” Dr Marshall said “are we ready”

A small “yep” escaped her mouth as she felt the slight pressure of the scalpel cutting through her stomach

“Look at me love” she heard Harry say, trying to get her to focus on something else. The midwife, Julie, was standing next to him, telling him to keep her distracted, so that she didn’t watch as her stomach was sliced into. Poppy turned her head and looked straight into Harry’s eyes, as he stroked her head “You’re doing great” he smiled.

Poppy could feel a slight tugging sensation in her lower abdomen, and she could hear the doctors muttering, the words didn’t reach her ears, but the expression on Harry’s face fell, and she guessed something was wrong.

“H?” she whispered, “what’s happening?”

He looked through the clear plastic and back at Poppy “It’s alright love, they fixed it” he kept his eyes fixed on her until Dr Marshall spoke.

“Poppy, you probably want to be watching for this bit” she smiled and her and Harry both turned their heads as they watched the doctor, lift their son from inside Poppy’s belly.  He screeched as he hit the cold air of the operating room and the tears were falling down Poppy’s cheeks while she watched the nurses pull down the screen in front of her so that he could rest on her chest.

“Dad” Julie said to Harry “We need you to cut the cord” she handed him a pair of sterilised surgical scissors and he stood from his seat, moving closer to where Dr Marshall held Oli, who was still screaming, so that Poppy could see what was happening.

“Just between the two clamps” Julie encouraged, and he snipped the cord, smile spreading across his face feeling like a dad for the first time. “Poppy, are you still wanting skin to skin?”

She nodded squirming a little as she tried take down her gown, forgetting that her arms were tied down to the operating table. Harry stepped in and gently lowered the front of her gown and Dr Marshall laid Oli down on her chest. His cries settled the moment he touched her skin, her arms were freed and  she placed her hands over his back, peppering kisses over the top of his head as the tears streamed down her face.

“Hi baby” she whispered, and he let out a little squeak “I love you so much little man”

Harry sat back down next to Poppy and placed his hand over hers on Oli’s back, the pressure, calming him even more “hey buddy” harry cooed “welcome to the world” he placed a kiss on Poppy’s cheek “congratulations love, I’m so proud of you”

“Merry Christmas H” She smiled feeling the slight tugging of the doctors putting her back together and behind her, she could hear the nurses getting everything ready to have Oli cleaned up and weighed, but she couldn’t stop staring at him. She couldn’t quite believe that this was real, that she’d just had her first baby, who she was now holding in her arms. This was never supposed to happen to her, but here she was, baby on her chest, and best friend by her side, she couldn’t be happier.

***

Harry sat on the couch in their hospital room with Oli in his arms as Poppy slept soundly in her bed.

“Hey little man” he whispered “you don’t know this yet, but that lady in the bed over there, she’s your mum, and she’s the best woman in the world, so us boys, we’ve got to stick together yeah? Make sure she’s ok, because she’s wanted you her entire life, and we can’t let anything get in the way of that” Oli, twisted his face into what looked like a smile, but Harry knew better “You’ve just pooped haven’t you?” he chuckled “You are on fire little dude- that’s three already, you’ve not been here for more than six hours” He stood and walked Oli over to his crib so that he could change him before he started to cry and wake Poppy up. He placed him down gently, but the minute his body touched the mattress and he felt Harry’s hands disappear he let out a loud cry, which jolted Poppy awake.

“What’s going on” she mumbled

“Nothing love” Harry said softly as he pulled a nappy out of its bag “he just needs a change, go back to sleep, we’re all good here”

She blinked a few times adjusting to the harsh hospital light “I want to cuddle him” she pouted

Harry cracked a smile as he unwrapped the baby “Alright love, let me change him and then we can all have a cuddle” he grabbed the nappy and unzipped Oli’s Babygro, changing him without a hitch and attempting to wrap him again as Poppy watched on.

“You gotta pull it tight over him so he feels secure” she instructed from her bed, pain in her belly reminding her that she had a large cut there.

“Swaddling is hard” he said as Oli’s little arm escaped from the blanket

“Bring him here” she reached her arms out and Harry picked him up gently handing him to Poppy.

“Hiya” she smiled taking the baby from Harry “daddy’s not doing a very good job is he?” she cooed “Lay the blanket down H” she motioned towards the space on her bed and Harry did as he was told, putting the blanket next to her. She laid Oli down on it and he let out another cry, which calmed as she pulled the blanket tight across his chest.

“Can you pick him up again” she asked “Stitches”

“Yeah” he nodded, picking him up and gently transferring him into her arms.

“That’s better isn’t it little dude” she said, pulling the blanket away from his chin “Daddy tried, so we’ll forgive him this time”

“Heyy” Harry said, sitting down on the bed and wrapping his arm around her shoulder “How many nappies have you changed so far”

“Zero” she smiled, rubbing his knee with her free hand “Thank you” she rested her head on his chest and she both looked down at her son

“We’re like a real little family now” he said, moving his hand onto Oli’s torso “My little Styles Clan”

“Yeah” Poppy let out a small laugh “It’s a Sign of the Times H” she smiled down at her sweet little Oli, engraving this moment into her memories, as the happiest she’d ever felt.

[daughterofamercifulfather-blog]

Christmas Eve Night, 2016- St. Anthony and the Donkey Statue at the Franciscan Shrine of St. Anthony. 

My Shrine of Solitude- The Place of Miracles....An Angelic Voice In Jeopardy. 

Since my last post worked so well on trying to find a link of Padre Pio and Sunflowers [insert eye roll], I am for, who knows why, attempting to do this, again. As I said the first time, I don’t know how to do this site. Maybe this is not for asking, maybe people can’t help? I don’t know, but I’ve got to do something!  

I may appear pious and prayerful, but I am not. I am in a rush to try and just start Christmas shopping, make mass, get in Confessions, pray, to pray and pray for my beloved friend, for her health and conversion.With so little time, little sleep, wanting to give up, I can’t. And I know it’s all up to Jesus, but I have to pray, that’s all I can do. And I get mad because more problems happen that I suddenly don’t know about, I lash out at someone because I am trying to fix it and am exhausted, have gotten no where, so I have to go make amends, and back to the confessional I go. But this woman who means the world to so many in the world that was diaganosed out of the blue with stage 4 pancreatic cancer, on the day of historic terror- September 11. Or, as I will know call it, “The Day My World Went Purple (that’s the awareness color for pancreatic cancer).”. I did not know what a pancreas even was before I learned of her diagnosis, which came at the worst time, not that any time would be appropriate. But, I mean I was going through it, really, and a week before an ending that I thought would end torture (that was only just beginning, which I’ve had to separate from and give to Jesus for my friend, but ultimately for myself), is when I find out this woman, who was  my first co-worker in my first “real-world” job out of college, along with her sister. 

To make a long story short (as this isn’t on this topic and I tend to write lengthy these days that makes no sense as I’m up all night doing or praying, and not getting anywhere!), after getting a B.A. degree in Sociology, otherwise known as “pessimism”, but with a concern for the social welfare of others- to the extreme (blame Mitch Albom and Tuesday’s with Morrie, I wanted to be him, I wanted what he had, and I did get it, except a love of sports, ability to play piano, the ability to write like him and the ability to make a difference despite any efforts without going nuts), I naively, and perhaps even with pride, thought I would have people knocking on my door to offer me a position now that I had a degree. I had worked in politics in college, learned fundraising, campaign lingo, legislative initiatives, drafting various correspondence, etc., as that was what I originally was going to get into- I wanted to be an adopted Kennedy, only I don’t have the jaw line. And while our politics are not the same, while I am much more Catholic than I was at first, though always was an elephant due to our Governor at the time, but the job I was at never asked and I never told!  And truthfully, I was in the middle, happily like Switzerland. But, I pathetically thought with that experience, in a recession, unlike any we had ever faced, I would have to do nothing. And then, once Obama was elected, and the country was happy, and then the excitement wore off, I was still at home. Then came looking for a job, and looking. Then desperation and depression. Until, I finally, after almost 2 years stumbled upon what seemed perfect- an advocacy like job working with those with intellectual disabilities, running a department where I’d write funding plans and and speak up for benefits these individuals needed. NOPE! Not it. My first day on the job, along with 2 others,  was the first of a 6 week orientation where I met the Director of Nursing, who came in, took out a bowl, a Tupperware of cereal, and milk and ate her breakfast, as she had been on duty all night, while explaining that we had to have our Med Tech Certification since we would be working in the building with those with intellectual disabilities and be on an on-call rotation, so we needed it “just in case.” I thought she was absolutely insane- and I had just received a message on my phone about another job (when I had heard nothing for 2 years, and desperately needed to call these people back!). But, I stayed, and on about the 2nd or 3rd day of her training she took us to the building down the street, and introduced myself, the new residential coordinator and one of the young girls that would be working in the Day Program to this laid back, tall blonde, who was the Day Program Coordinator, whose name, was “Woody.” And again, I thought, I need to leave. But, that was a nickname...from childhood, as it turns out they were sisters, and the Day Program Coordinator was rather new herself. After the training, which I didn’t know I needed any of that and still am scarred from it, and cannot look at a grapefruit without thinking of an enema (don’t ask!), I got to work. My position was a coordinator that ran what one would think was easy- a department for those that had mild intellectual disabilities, could live on their own with mentor hours, or staff I supervised that gave a few hours a week to take one grocery shopping, running errands to keeping them occupied. Or, it also meant, children, those under 21, living at home in the care of their parents, who were still getting special education services at school. But, it wasn’t that simple. 10-15% of my time was writing funding plans which I loved! There were other issues, most staff was out on leave due to babies or family leave. But the clients, as mild as their intellectual disability was, all the more was their mental illness. I have a deep sympathy and empathy for anyone with a mood disorder and that is a cause I will advocate for, as I, too, have one. I started antidepressants that November, after waiting so long and arguing to not want to take them. I then needed anti-anxiety meds, and I’ve been on them ever since. The job was a nightmare, I saw horrors no one should see, or experience. And I had no choice but to quit. If it was not for the woman whose office was next door, I would never have made it through any day of the week. She had a grace about her. And the crazy sister, well, they both are crazy, but they were the most normal in a place that wasn’t operating things correctly. The Director of Nursing, because she knew what went on and with whom and what was right called the higher ups, always in another building out on their violations, and was wrongfully demoted and she left. I followed suit, but it took gusto to get out, because the guilt to leave the clients was the worst. They were a handful, in my department, they could have killed me with kindness, with heartache, with a sharp tongue to a shovel, but I loved them. And 2 weeks before I was to depart, giving 4 weeks as a supervisor, one had to be admitted to the psychiatric hospital and I requested to extend that 2 more weeks, to make sure that client that really wore me down, to drinking a bottle of vodka every night, was okay. It was granted, and she was okay. And I left, but not a week later I ended up in the hospital for my first suicide attempt.

It is NOT the job that did it, while yes it played a part, I was a depressed person. The idea of leaving to go sit at home and apply for jobs didn’t sit well with me, or the idea of another additional medication, as it made it seem like I failed everything. But you find out things quickly when moments like that happen, who cares and who doesn’t. Who are your friends, and who are not. When the world walked away, when there was not a soul in sight, it was my co-worker, turned friend, turned family, who plopped herself down and didn’t leave. Annoying as that was. It was her, that was there in my darkest, and not my only one, moment. And as if that wasn’t enough, after family a brutal, and mandatory, though I was an adult, meeting, when you have lovely and wonderful parents who just don’t get it, but promise a stress free home, no annoyances, and some rest, the day of discharge, your Mom finds out after a bunch of negative tests, that she does in fact have a very rare form, one that only 1% of the population gets, of Breast Cancer. So, while my Mom’s health is certainly important, all those promises- out the window. But, the ones to keep them, as well as care for my Mom, make sure she had answers on medicines after a mastectomy to anything she needed, while making sure I got out of the house for weekends away to the beach or “Girls’ Night” was my family- the two crazy sisters. And when I needed a primary doctor, my next door office co-worker turned beloved friend, convinced the most popular doctor to accept me when she could no longer take on new patients, it was who her and her sister went to, who we sadly are losing, as of 12/31 because while young and top-rated, it’s too much paperwork and too many rules on how a physician can treat a patient. And that was a project, I should have been able to fix, but I didn’t have time, not with my sick friend and praying and deaths to all these other disasters. My appointment was last Monday, and it was AWFUL. See, I’ve gone on too long, this is never going to work- but no one can describe this beautiful soul and everything she has been through. That’s not her story, not in the least. And pancreatic cancer, I’ve done the research, I’ve joined the groups and it’s awful. No advances, the statistics are crazy, the median survival rate for stage 4, well look that up, I can’t. And all she can get is chemo, because her cancer is on the tail, she cannot get something called a whipple, she cannot get radiation, she can just get chemo. And it’s already spread, to her kidneys, and lymph nodes (if that’s how you spell?) And that’s all I will say, as this wasn’t meant to be on here, but, you know, this is about St. Anthony and his miraculous intercession, so if someone is inclined, here is a link to a GoFundMe page for her medical expenses, that I am not responsible for making up, the credit belongs to someone else. And prayers always work, too. I’m maxed out, financially, not prayer wise, but God gives us all we need, so I have to give that worry up, too.   Until then, I will be getting healed and forgiving and seeking forgiveness as quickly as I can, from the code of one of the greatest mystics of our time. For more on the mystic, you’d have to read my first post, and if you do know the link on sunflowers and Padre Pio, please by all means, as that’s for another friend. 

But, the real meaning behind this post was because, years ago, after this work situation, after being a binge drinker and crashing into a table one night before a family wedding, my oldest cousin who was getting married for the 2nd time after having a baby with her now husband and having recovered from drug addiction. It was not that reason for what was going to be the cause of lots of complaining from judgmental and opinionated, maternal aunts, mostly just two, who I can only pray for, but that it was a bi-racial wedding. Which doesn’t make any sense, at all. I really had scared my parents. And it wasn’t just the wedding, my Mom was still dealing with cancer, well recovery now (Thanks to God!), with one more surgery to go. And I had no job. Our family goes way back with a walking saint, a prison chaplain, a minister to the homeless and one who has literally nothing- he gives everything away to others. When my Mom and her family met him, he was a seminarian, assigned to their family church across the street. So, he performs everything,from weddings, to baptisms of all the grandchildren. Now, its weddings of grandchildren and baptisms of great-grandchildren. The last thing he presided over for our family was this past June, my grandmothers funeral. But, he also helped those in our family in moments of crisis, an aunt (a judgmental one), the cousin whose wedding he presided and that night as he went to leave I knew I needed help, and he gave me his number. It took being drunk to call him and a couple weeks, but I did. And I owe him my life (side note: because I’ve been up all night, trying to type this and figure what to say, I just remember, he gave me his favorite prayer, because I’m such a worrier. I have it in my old wallet, as he will be a saint, but it was his favorite! And, I don’t recall what it was, but it was a St. Anthony one...I will have to go find it now to see, how odd, yet, not).

And who he has brought in it, including a woman, a convert who was an atheist who became pious, way more than a girl educated in the Catholic School Systems her whole life that took me randomly one day to a festival, a celebration honoring St. Anthony of Padua’s Feast Day, in which I went to humor her. But, my gosh I fell in love! And that became my new home, my sanctuary, my resting place. I love all the friars, I love the grounds and it is truly a place of miracles. You can’t belong to a shrine, but I go regularly, a two hour drive because it’s my church family. And I could go on about so many wonderful, miraculous things that happened. But, I can easily tell you my first miracle, it was hearing the voice of, what do you call it, a lector, music minister? Most churches have okay music, though I’ve found exceptional ones in the last few years! Exceptional! And it makes a big difference. If you’re in the states and go to Steubenville Conferences, the Franciscan University, how can one not appreciate Bob Rice, or Dr. Bob Rice, as he is known now? If the speaker list doesn’t entice you, his music will! But, at this place, there was the heavenly woman who stood up with a guitar and belted out songs...and I had never heard anything like it. And that is why I bothered returning. She’s more than that...her resume is remarkable. I think she can play anything! She teaches music, she is a dialect coach, she gets involved in producing plays, or the actors, to being in shows herself. I have a special name for her, which I won’t say, as everyone know’s that’s what I call her.  So, if someone did get on here, they couldn’t know it was me posting, as I don’t know if this is supposed to be out of the bag, or what. But, I bought her CD’s, and I finally had to look her up and I sent her an e-mail to let her know just how phenomenal she was. It’s funny how the world of computers work, nowadays we have to worry about cyber bullying, but when I was young and computers were first starting to get into people’s home, with dial-up, I met one of my dearest friends that way. I had a love for musical theatre from my Grandmother, who took me to my first live show, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but had me watching classics when I was a toddler from My Fair Lady to Camelot. In middle school, while watching an Andrew Lloyd Weber Special, I fell head over heels for a UK singer, tracked him down as nothing was available in the states, joined a fan club, some mailing list that was too overwhelming to check and had to order everything overseas. Then one random day, I learn that very singer, the one whose head was imprinted on my pillow sheet, was coming to the states, and to my state and some woman got me in to the Public Television pledge thing, with the next day, this woman who was sending all these messages from the mailing list contacted me, an energetic woman from WA state who held get togethers in NYC every year for American fans, but come to find out she was my grandmothers age! But, it didn’t matter, because she loved what I did, and we began to e-mail multiple times a day and would mail each other playbills and when she got the chance she’d call on a special Sunday she was headed to Seattle to see a how (when cell phones costs extra to call half way across the country). She became one of my best friends. And my parents, as skeptical as they are, were in complete agreement to go to the gathering that following August in NYC, along with my grandmother, to celebrate our favorite singer, see shows, meet up with actors she supported-particularly one young man who I still support to this day in her honor and because he has talent and be friends, be present to one another in person. And the years that followed. Until she passed away, Valentine’s Day, 2005- which was fitting, as if anyone departed on a day of love, it would have been her. I took it not so well, didn’t listen to anything, didn’t want to see shows at the theatre, etc., until the angelic voice at the friary. She brought back the gift of music, and now look, as you’ll see post above (which that is much shorter than this turned out, so answer if you have a slight clue where to find the info, please!), while I’m no singer, or I don’t play a guitar, I now have another friend who wrote a musical that is brilliant, I’m helping as best I can to promote and market that and she is the one I knew to go to for direction on anything! And, I pledge a loyalty to this amazing talent, to do whatever I  can, though I don’t know yet what that is, as so much is being dumped on...and yes, selfishly, I need her music, especially now, too. 

Things change, I get that. Friars leave on new assignments, but some you cannot part with. One friar, I keep track of, though he doesn’t communicate through e-mail or computer and he is serving in a Spanish parish. We called him Padre Pio II. But he always has a place in my heart. And, this summer, a blow came when the Director, who as long as I’ve known about the friary, has been there, announced a big promotion- meaning he was leaving his post, though his new residence was just down the street, he’d be traveling. And that was hard to swallow, but I did. And he’s come back, and I keep tabs on where he’s at. A new director came in, and I grew to like him, was impressed by him, then went to a seminar, mini-retreat and did not like him, did not like his answers and refused to return. But I apologized, I did a Holy Hour and I did my best to make amends as he does do things that seem special, even humble. And I misunderstood the message, especially at the time I’m going through, it was not the time to go to such a lecture/teaching when you have a sick friend. And he was off the list, but in finally getting to this angelic voice and e-mailing her as she should be out there more, she’s super talented! I casually said something about her meeting with the new director and sarcastically said I hope this doesn’t mean you’re cut back any...but she is going to be. In a tiny chapel, this director, who has already brought changes that I don’t know if people do or do not like, depends on if they are a “regular” or a “pilgrim,” he wants to fit in an organ and a choir because it’s his dream. The faithful friar is young, and has well-meaning wishes, ambitious and wonderful ideas, tremendous devotions and even more than that to offer. But, if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it. And if it is his dream, not the dream of the others who buy her records in the gift shop, who cry at the staple song she sings on Good Friday, to thanking her after a mass she’s played at- how can he be shepherding a flock through his dream, and not through the message of the faithful Franciscan, St. Anthony?  This is someone who gives hope and peace, plus comfort, not to mention stories of Jesus from her own written songs to those who flock to the sacred shrine. This is more than just my first miracle of the shrine, this is the friary experience!

I am not sure on miracles today, I’m doubting Thomas, I’m the lost sheep, I’m the Prodigal son. But, I know this beloved shrine is in part beloved because of this woman’s music, and her heart. And in somehow trying to think how to link all this together, actually I believe I can, all of it, even the story on my sick friend. A homily I will never forget happened on one feast day celebration for St. Anthony, by my dear friar now somewhere else, who I said we called Padre Pio II. In saying, the importance of St. Anthony and what he meant, he told those in the church that whenever a problem arose, “Go to Anthony.” Because in his work, he was not just a Franciscan, teacher, preacher but he became a saint for the lost, a saint of miracles because of companionship. In each story I told, I found companionship, different places, at different times, always in a time of need. St. Anthony, as Padre Pio II said that day, and I’m butchering it, told us we should imagine what it is like to be the great pain, in tremendous suffering, to be at our loneliest and when we did to remember St. Anthony, because he was the ultimate companion, and always, no matter what the problem to remember to “Go to Anthony.”

If, you could pray for a miracle, to St. Anthony, or St. Francis of Assisi, or St. Cecelia (patron of musicians, arts, etc.), please do so, if you have a love of either 3, or for any saint you do have a love for, especially one that is also Franciscan- St. Therese, St. Claire (she’s the patron of TV, and gosh, that’s where this woman needs to be!), to my other saint who I send my guardian angel up to every day lately, Padre Pio. If you wish to support the work of this phenomenal woman, I am anonymous, and you came across her, and you can order a CD, or other product through her website.

If, I don’t know how this will work, but I just gave her website, so you can now tell what St. Anthony’s Shrine is being referred, but if this site works as intended, and I’m relying on St. Anthony and the Holy Spirit. So, with faith, with faith this long message is read, if anyone wishes to write a note, without mentioning the woman who’s site I linked, or that this plan is happening, this post, etc. Well, if you write it, I imagine you know what to do, but it would be addressed to The Shrine of Saint Anthony, c/o Director of the Shrine (you can look up as I can’t put name, first page of website, but don’t use email, that goes to office staff), address (bottom of the page). 

She’s too important to lose...no organ or choir, or fancy thing can replace the love of music, ministry and faith she has in heart. 

“The wisdom of God is reflected in the face of the soul: she will see God as he is, and she will know as she is known.”~St. Anthony of Padua, from Sermons of Saint Anthony of Padua

I know it’s Advent, and she does have a GREAT Christmas CD, Come to the Stable, but as in the post above, this Good Friday classic, Eyes, gets everyone every time- which is also available through website, on the CD, Love Makes Room. Or, at the very least, though not updated (but I’m trying to help with that when I get the time, hopefully, after Christmas!), subscribe to her YouTube channel! God Bless all who read this!

[minnesotadruids]

Remembering my Ancestors

Entry date: November 29, 2018: 99 Years Since the Massacre (Trigger Warning: True Accounts of Murder, Rape, and Terror) If you manage to read to the end, send love.

The purpose of this entry is to create awareness of the brutal attacks and massacres my ancestors experienced 99 years ago. They were citizens of Imperial Russia, In terms of religion they were called Russian Mennonites, though they were only of German descent.

At the time they lived in "South Russia," a region of Imperial Russia which today is known as the country of Ukraine. What made them unique is that they were Mennonites: pacifist Christians who led lives very similar to the Amish, believing in hard work, strong faith, and dedicated to freedom and nonviolence. They lived in tight communities: clusters of villages referred to as colonies. In these colonies, they would not intermarry with Russians, only other Mennonites of German descent. It goes without saying that citizens in each colony were closely related, and many Mennonites were related to members of other colonies as well.

Ninety nine years ago, for three days from November 29th through December 3rd, 1919, a cluster of farming villages called the Sagradowka Colony (a low German spelling of the current Ukrainian town named Zahradivka) were brutally attacked by a militant anarchist named Nestor Makhno. The death toll would reach 199. Russia was extremely unstable, the Imperial White Army was fighting a civil war against the Soviet Red Army. The White Army had pushed the Red Army into Ukraine, where many soldiers defected to Makhno’s Anarchist throng.

The Mennonites were mostly unaffected until now because they lived relatively isolated lives, were exempt from compulsory military service, and kept out of politics. Heritage is another strong value of the Mennonites. They believe it is important to know your lineage and many of them preserved their family histories in memoirs and journals. I have the journals of several of my Mennonite ancestors as well as journals of their relatives.

I am going to share the journal of Elizabeth Bargen, who was an aunt of one of my ancestors. Her native language was Low German. Her second language was Russian or Ukrainian, and her third language would eventually have been English after the survivors fled to Canada and America. The village names described in the journal are mostly Mennonite villages inside the Sagradowka Colony. Most of the former Mennonite villages still exist today, but were repopulated by Russians or Ukrainians and renamed after the Stalinist Purges a dozen years after these events take place.

Here is Elizabeth’s account:

On the 28th of November, 1919, we had butchered two pigs. There was plenty of every kind of meat. Both my parents and my husband's parents, as well as our neighbor, Johann Martens, came to help us butcher. There had been much talk of murder and violence that I began to feel sick and weak.

My parents, K. Regehr, went home for the night. My husband's parents, Peter Bargen, stayed night at our place. They thought it would be safer here in Tiege than in Altonau. In Altonau, many strange riders had already been seen during the day.

The night was peaceful, but the next day which was November 29th was the most dreadful day of our lives. In the morning, I took a liver sausage and some spare ribs to our neighbor, the Martens. He had ordered some meat. Mrs. Martens met me and seemed very scared. She told me that she had not slept all night. Mr. Martens hadn't even undressed for the night. When I entered the room, Mr. Martens began to cry and said, "Today is my birthday, but I'm going to be murdered today. They'll come and kill me!" I begged him to call Minister Frank Klassen who could comfort him and would pray with him. Rev. Klassen was at the Martens's home that afternoon. As I walked home, a great number of our neighbors were standing in our street, old and young, and were exchanging their fears with each other. Soon after that, Mr. Bargen left for home and his wife stayed with us. My husband Frank dressed in his worst clothes in order that the robbers would think of him as a poor man and not rich. On his feet, he wore some wooden slippers which he hadn't worn for years. Mother and I cleared away the meat while the 15 year old nursemaid Rosa played with the children and our housemaid Pauline cooked us some coffee. Frank, my husband, came into the house and told us that they were already murdering and robbing in Gnadenfeld. Towards evening I undressed the children and put them to bed. Frankie, our little son, was only two years old, and Lizie, our daughter, was nine months. The housemaid went out to milk the cows, and the nursemaid was going to set the table for the evening meal when a man entered our house. He came in running and his face was deathly white as he said, "Now they are here! They came from Orloff. It is burning!" He had barely uttered the words when our yard and house were full of the bandits. There were so many that they stood and walked close to each other. They were covered with filth and blood. Many carried their bare swords in their hands that were still dripping with blood! On some we saw icicles of frozen clotted blood. David Wiens of Steinfeld lived in our summer kitchen. Wiens, who was seeking his wife, pressed through the band of robbers into the kitchen. They yelled at him thinking he was head of this house. In his anxiety, Wiens said, "I am not the head, he is," pointing to my husband who was standing next to me. These men pulled my husband from my side and two men began wielding their blood splattered swords at him. One who was quite drunk, yelled time and again, "I'll knock your head off!" He would wield his sword again, but never hit him. All he did was chop big holes into the wall. Frank didn't say a word. I had my baby, already in her night clothes, in my arms and our son by the hand. I stood there and witnessed this terrible scene which I will never forget. Our son walked up to one of the murderers and tried to take his gun. He said, "Give that here, that's my dad's!" The men put his sword to the boy's back and said to his companion, "Kill the little one. He will only grow up to be our enemy," but the man stroked Frankie's head and answered, "Let the little boy live." While all this was going on, my husband had left the room. Because he was dressed so poorly, they thought him to be a worker and let him walk out. One man even told him to go and hide, for they were going to murder everyone. Frank took off his slippers and walked into the garden on stocking feet and escaped in the direction of Nikolaifeld.

From me the robbers demanded money and gold. They took me from room to room by poking their bloody swords at me. All at once, one of the men grabbed my baby out of my arms and hurled her across the room. She gave one cry and then lay still. I thought she was dead. In the meantime, I had lost track of my son and couldn't see him anywhere.

Then with much cursing and pushing me around with their swords, they wanted me to fulfill their desires. If I wouldn't, they would chop me to pieces. I told them they could kill me but first they should kill my children. Then my mother-in-law, Maria Bargen [nee Martens] stepped in and begged the men to leave me alone because I was sick. They turned their attention to mother and began beating her.

They forgot me, so I went and picked up my baby. She was blue and limp. One of the bandits handed me my son and nodded towards the door, letting me escape.

I took my children and pressed through the cursing troop and came out into the open. While these men had been harassing me in the house, I saw how they slashed Mr. Martens across the chest as I looked out of our window. After a few more strokes with the sword, the robber pulled a short gun from his pocket and shot him. Later I heard he was shot with an explosive shell. 

As I emerged into the open, the two maids called me from the pig pen which was built onto the shed. Here is where they had been hiding. There among the pigs and mire which almost reached our knees, my baby regained consciousness and began to cry pitifully. There was one window towards the shed in which a great number of bandits were milling around. They would have seen us had they only looked through the hole, but God kept his protecting hand over us.

It was very cold in this pig pen so that the mud around us got quite stiff during the night. I took off my dress and petticoat and wrapped my crying baby in them. By now, both children and both maids were crying. Inside the shed was such noise from the animals that they didn't hear us. Oh, how we prayed to God there, among all this dirt. The children fell asleep but we three sat there shaking and fainthearted.

Soon we heard some loud cursing and moaning in the shed. I was afraid it was my husband they were molesting, so I dared myself and looked through the hole into the shed. I saw a girl being raped by a shed full of robbers. All at once from out in the yard, someone yelled that he had grabbed another girl. The bandits in the shed all ran out into the yard leaving the girl on the straw. I called her and told her to come quickly to the hole. She was barely on our side of the wall when her tormentors returned. They looked everywhere for the girl, but seemingly never saw the hole in the wall.

We heard one bandit suggest that they burn the shed, then they would get even with those hiding in it, so we left our hiding place. We actually got away! As we were running and turned around to look at our village, we saw many yards in flames. We could hear the cattle screaming in the burning barns. When we sat down to rest ourselves, the girl told me she thinks they had killed my husband. How that hurt! I couldn't say a word nor shed a tear. On the next morning when others told her that her own father had been killed, she cried bitterly.

We fled all night and were running on stocking feet since we had lost our shoes. Over plowed and frozen fields, we fled. From time to time, we heard people passing not far from us, but since we didn't know if they were friend or foe, we remained very quiet.

When we arrived in Blumenort, we couldn't find anyone in the village. How lonesome a deserted village appears! We ran to Alexanderkrone. The girls changed off carrying my son. I carried my baby the entire time for that was the only way we could keep her quiet.

Before we reached the village we came upon some ice through which I broke. I sank into the freezing water til under my arms. My baby also got wet. I couldn't move any further. The girls dragged me to the first house.

The people, Peter Friesen, were just ready to flee. They gave me and the children dry clothing, loaded me on their wagon, as sick as I was, and took me to Neu Schoensee and put me into the house of Jacob Janzen.

Mrs. Janzen put me into a warm bed and nursed me as well as she could. I thought I would die, for I was in urgent need of a doctor. I wanted to die, and therefore welcomed it, for then I would see my husband again. In the afternoon, we got word that the bandits were approaching. Everybody fled; only Mrs. Janzen stayed with me, but those approaching were not bandits. They were people who were fleeing, and with them was my husband! What a meeting we had! Now I could cry. Until now, neither of us had been able to shed any tears. Too much had happened to us.

Soon after that, we had to flee Neu Schoensee, as an attack was feared. They loaded me on another wagon and drove me to Neu Halbstadt, where I was again put to bed at the home of Minister Janzen. Mrs. Janzen here cared for me as a mother looking after her child.

After about five days, when all the bandits had left, we were able to move back into our house, but oh my! Our house looked a mess. There wasn't a trace of clothes nor bedding. Neither was there anything to eat. The dresser drawers lay in front of the door, covered with human waste. On the table lay a pile of broken glass jars of fruit and jam. They even used the top and underneath the table as their bathroom!

No one could feel secure any more. Not rich or poor, German, Russian, or Jew. No woman, young or old, pretty or homely, well or sick, was sure of her honor. No man was sure of his belongings. It became more dangerous for those of us who had rifles. [A few Mennonites had found rifles as this was near the Eastern Front of the Great War. This was frowned upon as Mennonites shun the possession of weapons on moral and religious grounds.]   Robbing, raping, and murdering still occasionally continued whenever it suited the bandits. This was the atmosphere in which we lived until we were able to flee to Canada.

Each year around this time, I take a few days to read the accounts of what happened to my ancestors. Some lived, some died, but so many suffered. Sometimes I can’t read two paragraphs without breaking down. I can’t begin to comprehend what they went through. My great great grandfather Peter Bargen made 30 fake rifles out of cornstalks and formed a defense cavalry to trick the bandits into not attacking. Nestor Makhno put a bounty on his head when he discovered the ruse. Peter somehow escaped to Canada after many close calls. He lived into the 1960s always fearing they were still after him. Whether it was by PTSD or dementia, his last words when being taken to the hospital by ambulance were “They finally got me.” One of my great grandmothers was 11 years old in 1919 when she saw her grandfather murdered. She was spared. Most survivors who stayed in the Soviet Union later vanished into Siberian Gulags. How lucky am I to even exist?

In lieu of this mournful anniversary, I cannot help but think of the migrant caravan at the United States & Mexico border. They are fleeing areas of militant drug lords and gang wars much like my Mennonite ancestors fled from anarchists and the Russian Civil War. My ancestors escaped on foot, by carriage, by train, and their caravan was a steam ship. They came fragmented and en-masse to provinces in Canada and to Galveston, Texas. Let us continue to let in refugees. They deserve some human decency.

If you’ve read this far, the Like button doesn’t mean you got enjoyment from this. The button is a heart; this time it’s for sending love. If you dare to share the story of my ancestors, there’s also the reblog button.

[freelytinystudentblog-blog]

Beginning

So I guess for starters Im gonna say i am probably going to remain anonymous for a while. Also this stuff might get deep and personal so ill change all names. Since freelytinystudentblog is ridiculously long im just going to go but Eve because why not. Im not trying to look for attention posting all this stuff but i need an outlet and what better way to do it than anonymously on a website where it probably wont get read. So if you do happen to stumble onto this page then welcome. Hopefully you wont get bored. I guess its time for me to start with the beging which would be about 3ish years ago when I was a wee little lass and believed that because i was 13 i was basically the shit(which i obvously wasnt). I had moved a total of 3 times which doesnt seem too bad but it was always when i got really attached to people we moved and i never spoke to them again. This time was no different. We moved from one small town to another. Being one of the only mixed kids there besides my brother was surprisingly positive and annoying. Why youre probaly not asking? Well because my hair was everyones interest. A big ball of poof i always threw into a pony tail because honestly there wasnt much else to do with it. Everyone wanted to play with it or see how much stuff i could hide in it. It was fun at first but quickly got annoying. While there was that downside to the town it also had some positives. For example it was there that i realized that i was bisexual. To be honest i never thought about liking girls until my boyfriend at the time and his friend were talking about how they were both Bi and i said it to fit in a little. I didnt actually believe it until i realized the way girls made me felt. How i always caught myself looking at their chests and their butts, and how i fell for my friend Taylor. She was my first offical girl crush. Anyway this is getting a little off topic though it was important. Like i said there were many positives like the cool friends i got to meet, I got into blood in the dance floor and had a little emo phase and met a guy i thought id be with forever. That all sounds good but with all positives comes negatives. I began to get super depressed and even cut a few times. I felt trapped in my relationship with Damien. Whenever we fought hed threaten to kill himself or say stuff like “without you id kill myself” which is a shitty thing to say to someone in my opinion. I started doing things id never do like sneaking my boyfriend over and all that. But the biggest neutral that happened was me losing my virginity. No big deal it seems but i was freshly turned 14 and he was 16. We werent safe there was no protection. I know losing your virginity is supposed to be meaningful but i dont remember it. I wasnt drunk or anything so i dont know why i dont remember it. Anyway a couple weeks later i snuck out and walked around town and ended up having sex again in the graveyeard(insert judgement here) I knew something was wrong soon after. I felt sick so i told him i thought i was pregnant. He paled and asked if i was would i abort it. I instantly said no because i dont believe in abortions. After that night things got weird. Me my mom and my brother went to Tennessee. Driving up the mountains i felt sick to my stomach which i brushed off as carsickness. We get back from our vacation and i started craving the weirdest shit like frozen hot pockets, whole packages of cheese ect. I caught myself randomly thinking about having a baby and got scared. I ended up having my older family friend get me a pregnancy test and surprise surprise i was el prego. I cried for about 5 minuets before shutting down. I didnt know how to feel i was only 14. I called and  told Damien that night and he was as shocked as i was. Later on he told me he started crying after we hung up. So a few days later i went home and told mom. She wasnt as mad as i thought she would be. She refused to let me give the baby up for adoption because it was my mistake and i had to live with it. I dont think i couldve done it anyway. No one really understands how attached you get to the little baby inside you. I believe the same day i told the rest of my family. My grandma didnt talk to me for a couple of months. I had an aunt who told me i needed to give it up for adoption because i was gonna ruin the babys life.I had another aunt not let me see my cousin Bri for atleast 6 months which hurt so much. Me and bri are like sisters we’ve been almost inseperable ever since we were little which is funny since shes younger than me. Damien was determined to stay in the babys life and not leave no matter what. Me being pregnant at such a young age wasnt easy. I lost most of my friends and began homeschooling which was terrible. The nine months of me being pregnant was basically filled with me fighting with my boyfriend getting insanely jealous, cheating, and more sex. We shouldve left each other months ago. Looking back i shouldve left sooner. It was a toxic relationship for both of us. 9 months later my baby boy was born. Mister Phoenix. My angel. It was kind of ridiculous damien and i fought even in the hospital. We brought phoenix home and i was hoping the relationshup would get better. It didnt. I caught him sexting his ex and swore to break it off with him. I didnt. I swore to myself i wasnt going to let my baby grow up without a father. In july 2015 we moved 45 minuets away. Damien came on the weekends because my mom picked him up and took him home. That laster all summer until school started and he couldnt anymore. It seemed like us being apart made us fight even more. By november he broke up with me. Now i was 15 and a single mother. I was devasted. I had no one to turn to since i didnt have any friends in my new town. I was alone and began eating my depression away. Every month on the 11th i would sit down and cry. I wasnt in a good state. By 2016 i swore to myself id move on from Damien and become an amazing mother but it was so hard He kept popping in every 3 months or so flirting with me making me fall for him over and over again only to get crushed over and over again. It was a hellish cycle but honestly im glad i went though it. Why you ask? Well simply because every time he left itd give me more reason to stop liking him and even hating him. Now he texts me and i just roll my eyes. Going through that definately helped me move on. He wasnt there for any of the birthdays and i honestly am glad. I understand its my kids father but i grew up with a dad who lived in the same city and still couldnt come see me. I dont want my baby going through that. Once hes older i plan on explaining everything and giving him a choice of whether he wants to get in contact with his father or not. Itll be completely up to him. Now before you start judging me to hard think about this. I became a single parent at 15. The father never visted his son or even asked. Hell this january was the first time he saw phoenix in Two years. Two thats ridiculous. After the very awkward encounter he hasnt bothered asking to see him since. Its hard for people who dont have kids to understand this i know but i know what im doing is for the best. This sunday is going to be his 3rd birthday and his father came up with stupid excuses as usual. Now i know i left out some stuff but some of it is hard to put into words plus if i added anymore itd be unbelievably long. So this was the begining and current i guess. 14 and pregnant. 15 and a single parent. currently almost 18 and still doing it bymyself just a little better. Thats all for now. Ill probably make another one soon about relationships while being a single parent so yeah. Peace.

[katiesrunning]

Health Care Spotlight: Kendall

This is a segment of the blog that I am incredibly excited to introduce to all of you.

In this post and in similar posts once a month, I will be featuring individuals who desperately need their health care to survive.

I am a few days behind, but I had no idea exactly what it would take to put a post like this one together and, now that I know, I will be more prepared.

So, let’s get started.

This is Kendall.

Kendall  loves his dog, Penny.

Kendall is happily married.

Kendall enjoys playing video games, watching TV, reading science fiction and spending time at home. Though, when he was younger, he enjoyed having many friends, now that he is older, he enjoys the company of smaller, more intimate groups. He would choose the comfort of his own home over the noise and chaos of a bar or club.

“I'm an optimistic and positive person,” he says,”but you might say I have a short fuse. I'm very much a Libra and have always identified with the balance and the need to help and lead. I've always been a  leader, and frankly I don't do well in subordinate positions. But I make do.”

Kendall attended college and studied political science, stage management and acting. Finances eventually got in the way, however, and he did not complete his degree. Though he tells himself (and others) that he will get back into it one day, “I don't know. More and more I don't see it as worth it, as expensive as everything is. Anyways, my husband has an MBA so we'll hopefully be fine.  I really enjoy theatre but it's been years since I felt the drive or need to work backstage. It might be a hobby I used to have that I hold on to, despite not truthfully being interested anymore. ”

Side note: I feel you, Kendall. This is a fascinating phenomenon for me - the way humans hold on to things that used to bring them joy whether they continue to do so or not. The nostalgia and the fascination there once was combine to make us feel like the object is still providing us with everything we need from it. Yet, we leave work, rehearsal, class, etc. some days feeling empty and wonder why. I struggle with this often. I imagine we all do - as, in some cases, we have identified ourselves using the object to describe who we are. I love that Kendall describes himself here as someone who loves theatre, but admits openly that it may not be him anymore. It’s beautiful and honest.        

This is Kendall.

Kendall was diagnosed with HIV on January 3rd, 2014.

This is Kendall.

“I've definitely come to terms with it. It wasn't too difficult, because I've always had a very solid support system. My friends, family, and romantic relationship. My boyfriend at the time I was diagnosed was toxic and hellish towards the end, but he was always supportive of me and my diagnosis.

I was actually diagnosed at first at C-Street at CUPHD mobile testing facility. Since that is a rapid test, once it came up positive, I had to get the real test - the 2 week wait test.”

“So after I waited two weeks, they called me, and I avoided going in. Honestly, I spent the next two weeks reading about people who are inherently immune to HIV, some super-Aryan people in Europe or something. I always thought of my heritage as super white and super English, so I'd convinced myself I was gonna get rich - that my blood was the cure. It was dumb but it was better than sitting there stewing for two weeks.”

Kendall avoided receiving his diagnosis for two more weeks. Laws prohibit doctors from giving you your diagnosis over the phone since some patients react - understandably - rash upon receiving it. When he finally went in to get his diagnosis, he was lucky enough to be accompanied by his sister as well as by his best friend.

Fast-forward to four months later - he began Anti-Retroviral Treatment (ARV). Though his numbers weren’t bad, he and his doctor decided it was best to avoid waiting.

He took Atripla first. Atripla is known for being very good when you are first starting treatment. However, after prolonged use, it can cause damage in your liver and kidneys. So, three years later, in 2017, Kendall switched to Odefsey. Both drugs can have crazy side-effects - including dizziness, crazy dreams, weight loss/gain, etc.

In regards to these side effects, Kendall states that he has been very lucky, “ Thankfully I only ever experienced one side effect once. I woke up one night, around 2am, and I felt like I'd been spinning for hours - I was so dizzy I fell back onto the bed. Honestly, I woke up the next morning and thought it was a dream, and it was not a negative experience, but I'm glad it's been the only occurrence of any side effects.”

Other long term side-effects can include losing fat in the arms and legs, gaining weight in the upper back, harming organs later in life and heart-disease. While Kendall states that he worries about these side-effects as well, he has enough on his plate already. Aside from being HIV+, he also takes medication for high blood pressure and wears a mask when he sleeps so that he doesn’t stop breathing (a common treatment for those who have sleep apnea).

“I'm basically a mess, but I also rarely get sick otherwise - no flu, colds, headaches - maybe because, after so many years of ARVs, my T-Cells are very high. Who knows.”

Odefsey (a daily perscription) costs Kendall $88 a day - $2640 a month. He stated that Atripla was cheaper, but not by much. This medication treats merely one of his afflictions.  

As part of his treatment, Kendall sees his doctor once a year and must have blood work completed at least 11 days beforehand, “and it has to be Monday through Thursday, which sometimes I forget, and then have to reschedule.” The blood work is particularly expensive - costing him right around $400. Usually his insurance has covered this, but there have been a couple instances where he has paid this bill out of pocket.

He also sees his case worker at CUPHD once a year.

Unfortunately, Kendall’s current employer does not offer insurance, so his coverage is through the AHCA - costing him roughly $275 a month. This is the cheapest plan with the worst coverage. The upside is that paying for this coverage allows him to be eligible for various grants, co-pays and other helpful resources when it comes to his meds, visits and lab-work.

If he is able to get his hands on better insurance, Kendall states that CUPHD is capable of covering his monthly premiums. Unfortunately, they won’t cover the $275 that he is paying now, because it is “basically worthless.”

Despite all of this information that Kendall is constantly swimming in, there are bright spots.

One of his close friends posted a GoFundMe for Kendall last month during the lapse between his insurance coverage (he left one job and his coverage through the AHCA didn’t go live until January). Not only had his assistance programs expired, but he had also waited too long to receive assistance from his case worker - someone he had just switched to. During this time, he purchased about $1200 worth of Odefsey over the course of two weeks - going in every two or three days and hoping his coverage would kick in soon.

His parents, grandparents and cousins all donated to the GoFundMe to help Kendall purchase a supply of his daily medicine. Now that his meds have been covered, he has used the GoFundMe money to purchase an extra month’s supply of them, so that he is always a month ahead in case the same situation should occur. He is incredibly grateful to the friends and family who supported him in his time of need - and every day.

A figure from Kendall’s Walgreens bills states that the insurance he had between January and September of last year saved him $32,468.93. Yes, for those of you in the back (over the course of an entire year) that coverage would save him the cost of some American’s yearly salary.

Kendall’s husband takes PrEP (Truvada) daily to prevent being infected. He also has a yearly appointment at CUPHD. His pills cost him $66.80 per day - $2004.90 per month.

This is Kendall.

Kendall’s health is very important to him. On one of his arms, he has seven tattoos that are dedicated to his health conditions.

“Most of my tattoos on my health arm are by Keith Haring. He died of complications from AIDS and was a big activist in the fight against HIV/AIDS in NYC in the 80s. He died in 1990.”

He is in the process of planning more.

In fact, when I first asked him about his HIV diagnosis, he stated “I was diagnosed 1/3/14. I have it tattooed on my arm. Wait. No I don't. Just typed that, looked, and saw it was a lie. Well, I will have it tattooed on me.”

And, remember Penny?

She was a big part of Kendall’s coming to terms with his diagnosis. He adopted Penny the November before he was diagnosed. During this time, Kendall stated that he would often be at home, feeling alone but that Penny would come around and always made him feel better - feel loved.

This is Kendall.

This is the life of someone who, without insurance, would be choosing between living and dying every day.

This is Kendall.

Kendall has a right to coverage that will keep him alive and well.

This is Kendall.

Those of you who have been following my running might know that I have a GoFundMe as well. It is dedicated to raising money for Planned Parenthood - a company that provides affordable healthcare to those in need. The link is listed below. Please donate to help protect our right to affordable healthcare.

No one should have to choose between health and life.

http://www.gofundme.com/katie-runs-2018

[missaureus]

EXplOration in Manila Pt. 0.5

June 2019. EXplOration in Manila was the concert that happened like a flash of light. I did not even had ample time to go chronic drama queen about the announcement. Although months prior to the official announcement of EXplOration in Manila, a rumor was already circling about it to somehow mentally prepare our sanity and also our bank accounts. But it took me days to pass the initial shock that Manila was included in the first leg of the tour. It was even passed on that it could be on November. Joke was on us! An August concert!

My preparation for this annual EXO concert this year was less stressful I can say. Still, I had my own share of health-related battles prior to the event proper on top of my academic demands. Second week of June, my school year finally ended but I already accepted my fate that I could not cut any slack since the succeeding weeks were already fully booked. I was horribly much busier this year catering my medical scholarship duties. With so much happening right under my nose, I was not able to feel the intensity of the waiting game of the D-day announcement. Oddly, the announcements were pretty hectic compared to the usual 3-month gap.

I had a week to prepare my stuff for a conference in Bohol on the 4th week of June. It was a pre-immersion event for our DTTB shadowing which was scheduled 1st week of July. During that week of preparation, I had my clinic visitations because that is the only time I could address my diverse chief complaints lol- end of every semester. To be specific, I went to a Pulmonologist, Gastroenterologist, Dermatologist, and E&T Specialist. Imagine how tired I was. It seemed that every time EXO would have a concert in the Philippines, it is always a mile-high climb to the top. I still need to get through so much like a hero in a video game battling against all kind of demons in order to clear a stage and savor a reward. God! I hate being sick.

I had a week of breakfast with an ocean view after all those end-of-semester requirements. It was a much needed breather although the sessions are pretty long and some boring, at least I got my daily dose of vitamin sea. I went home alone from Bohol via Cebu route to catch up with my high school friends that I haven’t seen in the longest time. I also had a chance to meet up Nay Tsaris. It was an intense 48-hour lakwatsa challenge. I was happy. The crazy thing was, I was rushed to the ER right straight from the airport because the attack of the pruritic rash in my whole body gone madder, I was about to beg for anxiolytics! My dermatologist actually diagnosed me with ptyriasis rosea which is luckily non-transmissible and was attributed to stress and my decreased immunity.  I underwent treatment mostly topicals while I was away from home and it caused to much hassle in my part because the treatment was so time consuming early in the morning and at night. I had no choice but to endure and forget how my body chose to dysfunction during a very jam-packed month. 

July 2019. I had to contact the DTTB doctor assigned to me that I might miss my first day of shadowing, the workplace was a 2-hour ride away from Iligan because I wanted to go back to my dermatologist who then prescribed me other medications to alleviate my symptoms hahaha especially the itchiness istg it can make you go depressed that is why antidepressants are given to patients who have pruritus.

For my convenience, I decided to stay at our second house which is a 20-minute drive to my workplace. I brought one of my parents’ car as my service. Driving on unfamiliar routes to work for almost a month was a form of therapy to me. I can clearly remember that it was during UN Village era and I would blast the entire album in my car stereo while going to work and going back home. It was a pretty routine but it was liberating to explore somewhere I was not so sure of. A day prior to Baekhyun’s solo debut, PULP Live World officially announced EXO Planet #4 in Manila on August 24, 2019.

August 2019. I finally went home in Iligan since class will be starting in August. I also settled my accountabilities earlier than the usual ticketing schedule because I availed the ticketing assistance. To be honest, I had regrets hahaha. I should have done the easier way but with my uncertain schedule I cannot plot on when to do my responsibilities. I was so thankful to my friends who took initiative in booking our accommodation.

9th of the month, it was announced that EXO will be having a second day of the said concert on August 23, 2020. I was so happy especially for those who were not able to purchase a ticket. Sadly, it stirred so much ugly babbles from keyboard warriors. Malicious comments circulated how we could demand for another day but failed to sell it out. Many international fans tried to invalidate our points — being in a 3rd world country, amusement tax in the Philippines is actually mad. Philippines even has the most expensive set of tickets among all countries!

I had to drive to the nearest SM mall the next weekend after the confirmation of my ticket and it took a 2-hour drive to secure my ticket! I had to work on things with double efforts perfectly in order to not affect my already rigid schedule. With that, I am pagod af everyday.

Truth be told, I even had the same dilemma of preparing myself to swap my standing ticket to a seated one just in case I ended up feeling shit while still on the start of the academic year. School requirements made me out of breath at some time. What I had in mind was that ElyXiOn one is a top-tier hell since it was during second semester. I got through it apparently, I can realize this one also!

I bought my air tickets late since I was really waiting for the second day announcement. I was also contemplating if I can insert strolling around Manila before going home but it was impossible to do so.

Two days prior to my flight, I had my toot extracted. Finally pain free lmao. Ang dami ko talagang dinadala na I chose not to acknowledge. 

One day prior to my fight, my family had to move out temporarily to an apartment because they were planning to have an overall renovation of the house. I honestly had no energy left while juggling lots of stuff, so I requested not to move an inch of my stuff  in my room (I’d hate it) and I would do it after I go back from the concert. I was not able to feel the countdown that it happened so fast...

Past 11 AM of August 23, we we already heading to the airport. I rarely caught up some air prior to this since I was trying to act semi-responsible as a student that I still attended my class in the morning but had to ditch my last class of the day.

I was able to take a rest during the trip with Ate Elle and Ate Dhang on board. This is it!!!

[michelles-making-changes]

December 27, 2017

So I haven’t updated in awhile. I’m doing alright, my doctor put me on a course of antibiotics to try and clear up the fluid in my sinuses. Apparently, my eardrums looked like balloons ready to burst. Yay… It was amazing for the first few days. My sinuses were cleared and I could breathe like a normal goddamn person for the first time in months! But I got cocky. By day 6 of the antibiotics, I was back to where I was the week before. Damnit. I am beyond tired of this. I can’t get my tonsils out until I kick this cold, which doesn’t look like it’ll be anytime soon. Sigh.

Being sick has really fucked up my schedule these past few months. Royally. I had planned out 4 month semesters with a full course load. I was unable to maintain that and had to drop one of my classes. One of my classes was a pre-req for the course i signed up for in January and i was unable to meet the early deadline for mark submission, so now it will take me at least one extra semester to complete my degree. I also ended up failing a midterm and a final (because of the holidays I’m allowed to re-write into January - thank goodness - ), and as it stands now… I have 4 days to miraculously complete 3 papers. Ha! Fuck me.

As for weight-wise, I was super bummed with myself in my last post where I gained 8lbs. I’m happy to say that I’ve dropped 4 of those again, and have maintained it through all the holiday goodies and a period! I have been super bad at eating lately though. My period usually brings cravings and before I realize why I’ve already shoveled whatever that craving was into my food hole. I’ve had lots of fast food in addition to an enormous Christmas dinner.

Since my parents divorced, our Christmas Eve tradition has been my mom, sister and I making a smorgasbord of snacks and finger foods, settling in for a Christmas movie or two and just enjoying some family time. This year was a little different. My sisters boyfriend has been around long enough that he was invited to our girls night festivities, and my stepdad (finally back from the Caribbean) - is no longer on speaking terms with his daughter and unfortunately, his granddaughter as well (its a hell of a story) - so he was reluctantly invited along also. My sister decided she’s Martha fucking Stewart and planned a full turkey lunch in addition to our usual routine. So we ended up eating turkey and all the fixings for lunch, watching football, playing cards against humanity (my mom whooped our asses), having ½ the appies, watching The Grinch, having the other ½ of the appies and then watching something with Danny DeVito haha. We were all beyond stuffed but it was a good time.

CW: 160.3

LW: 264.0

I also feel compelled to update on a few other things not directly related to me. 

- - My coworker diagnosed with Stage 3 Cancer - She had her surgery a week ago. She’s doing well, doesn’t remember any of the surgery or hospital. Only counting down for anesthesia and being back at home afterward. A blessing in disguise if you ask me. She has homecare come and change her wound dressing for her - which is nice. She has a drain in place until she sees her surgeon again on the 3rd. For now, shes just enjoying family time and trying to rest. She’s not someone who can take it easy so I think she’s still running herself ragged. She needs her rest but I can’t stop her and she knows better.

- - My mom: I had previously said that my mom has been recently diagnosed with Early Parkinsons. The first neurologist she saw was an asshole. I told her to keep the diagnosis in the back of her mind, something to think about but not stress over, while she waited for a second opinion. Her new neurologist is amazing. the epitome of what a doctor should be. He took the time to explain the diagnosis, progression, available treatments and more - all in relatable terms. He took the time to make sure she was comfortable and answered any questions. He even pulled up her MRI and went over the areas he felt were concerning and explained why. She had a white matter spot on her brain. The MRI was almost a year old at that point so he ordered a new one - explained that he wanted to make sure that the spot hadn’t grown. I took her for her MRI at the end of November, she went for her results a week or two ago. The spot hadn’t grown BUT there was a new one. It’s suspected she’s had two silent strokes and a good chance of a significant stroke in the future. wellll, fuck. My poor mama can’t catch a break. First, it was her left knee - bone on bone osteoarthritis - two years of suffering before she got a total knee replacement in Jan 2016. She was in the hospital longer than most, they repeatedly mis-dosed her blood thinners. When she was released, she came to my place. 12 weeks. She had maybe 3-4 good weeks before her right knee caved to the overuse from relying on it to relieve the pain in her left knee. So now she’s faced with the same scenario in the right knee. Her Parkinson’s symptoms also started around this time. A mild tremor on her right side. Mostly affecting her foot in the beginning. Fast-forward to the present and it’s highly visible most days in her right hand and foot. She can no longer use a manual toothbrush, even an electric one requires two hands. She frequently spills or drops things because of the tremor and her writing is illegible most days. And now with two silent strokes on top of that, she’s struggling. I see the depression manifesting and I pray that instead of shutting down, that she battles through and starts to take control of what little she can control.

My next post will be a goal list for 2018, but I’ve got to get my ass working on those papers that are due first. I’m hoping to stay disciplined through most of my goals for this upcoming year. I’m also hoping 2018 sends some calm and relaxed vibes my way. My family and I have had a rough few years and could use a bit of a break.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Human trafficking in the FFWPU / Unification Church is despicable. Here is one Filipina’s story of her slavery in the US at the hands of Korean leaders.

                                               Lydia Catina-Amaya

Updated June 3rd 2017

Lydia Catina-Amaya started working at a factory in the Philippines at the age of 16. She was recruited by the Family Federation for World Peace and Unification, also know as the Unification Church, and trafficked into the US in 1998. She was used as a slave by Korean church leaders. Her story is told in a podcast and in several articles and a conference video. When Lydia made an escape attempt, the Koreans tried to hunt her down. On her second attempt, with the help of several UC members, she got away.

Lydia, 46, is now a community organizer at Damayan Migrant Workers Association, NYC. She was born in South Luzon, Philippines

Lydia was recruited as a missionary for [the Unification Church] in the Philippines and was brought to the United States under the auspices of helping the church raise money. She spent some years as a personal assistant for church members and then was given a position as a domestic worker [in New York City] for the [Korean] director of the church. [Among other things, she looked after his three sons.]

On her work life: “They make me believe that “You are a missionary, you have to follow what I have to tell you.” So I just don’t know what to say, how to say no. I don’t know my rights. As soon as I came, they took my passport.

That was 24-hour job. I don’t have days off. I was always hungry. They didn’t give me an allowance, nothing!.... They didn’t give me a salary. I remember they gave me a coat and watches—Gucci—but they didn’t really treat me as a human being. One time I got sick, and I was told that I had a spiritual problem because I couldn’t do the same work I was doing before... It was very controlling. I couldn’t even talk to my family; I was not allowed to have a friend.”

“It was really hard to trust people again... It took me really a while to be empowered... I was traumatized, paranoid. You just need the right group and the right community. We want our survivors to know that they are safe. We can embrace them and support them.”

https://broadly.vice.com/en_us/article/modern-day-slaves-filipina-labor-trafficking-victims-tell-their-own-stories

Lydia (in podcast): “They used my belief against me. I was trusting them because they were like religious people. I can't believe that this happened to me in America.”

Lydia’s FFWPU / UC story is the second of the two stories in this highly recommended podcast.

(The first story is about Eudocia Tomas Pulido, known as ‘Lola’. See The Atlantic magazine feature that has stirred up a debate – link below.)

We're Still Talking About “My Family’s Slave”

NPR  •  May 24, 2017

Lydia Catina-Amaya speaks

at 25:30.

Thousands of Filipinos have been recruited by the FFWPU / UC, and even more Japanese.

It has been rumored that the family involved in Lydia’s slavery may have spent time in the Philippines and came to the US in 1992. They were active in New York City and New Jersey. They had three sons. Those details fit with what is known of Lydia’s case.

Republic of the Philippines – Office of the President. Documented Unification Church cases include women eventually sold into prostitution upon arrival in Korea.

Korean Unification Church Reverend takes $10,000 from a farmer for finding him a Filipina wife.

Korean UC leaders made lots of money from “selling” hundreds of pure, faithful, Filipino sisters

Moonies demanded $2,000 from Koreans who wanted to have Filipinas as “housemaids and sex partners.”

UC mass wedding of 1,000 couples probed for recruiting prostitutes, nannies

Many non-UC Korean men and Filipinas are recruited or urged by local UC members and matched through UC ceremonies

Catholic Church helps Filipinas running from violent UC marriages in Korea

UNESCO Report: Korean-Filipino marriages under the UC sparked controversy and animosity

United Nations report:  Perspectives on Gender and Migration (2007)

Japanese 20-year-old woman recruited by the UC, and then sold to an older Korean farmer in an “apology marriage”.

“Please search for the 6,500 women missing from the mass wedding ceremony,” victim’s families appealed.

Why did a Japanese UC member kill her Korean husband?

The ‘True Father’ who could not forgive: “I haven’t been able to release my grudge towards Japanese people yet.” November 2011

Moon personally extracted $500 MILLION from Japanese sisters in the fall of 1993. He demanded that 50,000 sisters attend HIS workshops on Cheju Island and each had to pay a fee of $10,000.

“Apology marriages” made by Japanese UC members to Korean men.

Lydia Catina-Amaya on video at a conference at 5:10-10:10

5:10 Introduction: “Lydia started working at a factory in the Philippines at the age of 16, and was recruited to be a missionary for an international church, and eventually trafficked into the US by an international church and forced to become a domestic worker. In 2010 Lydia became a member of Damayan…”

6:30 Lydia: “I was a domestic worker for 12 years. Now I am a staff worker and organizer at Damayan. I am also an elected board member. Several years ago I was trafficked into domestic servitude in the US. Like so many of the sisters, I am a survivor. I came to the US in 1998 with a religious organization. With this group I experienced abuse and exploitation that is still too common in the domestic work industry. My passport was taken. I was given a special mission to be a personal secretary for one of the church leaders, but it was not true. I ended up doing domestic work in New Jersey. I took care of the three young children. It was a 24/7 job. I slept with the children in the same room. I had no salary; no communication with my family; I was always hungry. I was told I have no right to complain because I am a missionary.”

8:00 “I was able to escape my situation and became a member of Damayan in 2010. One of my first experiences in Damayan was to join my sisters in Albany for the New York Domestic Workers Bill of Rights campaign. I was still undocumented at that time. We were on the balcony at the capitol waiting for the result of the vote. I never experienced this in the Philippines. So I thought, even if we are undocumented we have this opportunity to sit here and watch this process. From the balcony you could see the legislators below, and you could see who is a supporter of the bill and who isn’t. When the bill was won, it was so emotional. We screamed, we hugged each other, crying.”

9:00 “For so long domestic workers had no protection, but at that moment we felt that our work is valuable. It was so empowering. We saw that if our organizations join together we will get justice. The domestic workers fight did not end there. There are tens of thousands of domestic workers in New York. We need to organize more workers and take our movement further with new strategies, campaigns and coalitions. Damayan partners with researchers, several of whom are in this room tonight. Those partnerships have helped us to develop our analysis, which in turn improves our work. Research helps us to understand the industry better and helps us to develop better strategies to winning our rights.

“Thank you again for being here. And on behalf of the domestic workers and the organizers, best wishes for a successful conference.”

Damayan is a grassroots organization based in New York and New Jersey of and for Filipino immigrant workers and led by Filipino women domestic workers. Damayan was officially founded in 2002 and became a 501(C)(3) in 2003.

Lydia Catina-Amaya, a staff member at the Damayan Migrant Workers Association details her time as a trafficked worker in New York City

Lydia Catina Amaya … was recruited to be a missionary for an international church, and was eventually brought to the US by the church to raise money in 1998. Lydia was forced to work as a domestic worker, for no pay, for one of the church leaders for three years. In 2010, Lydia became a member of Damayan. In 2011, she received a T visa as a trafficking survivor and has been an active member and leader since, testifying about her experience and encouraging other women to fight their case. Lydia has extensive training in community organizing and gender rights, through Damayan’s Abante Babae (“onward women”) Peer Training program, the National Domestic Workers Alliance two-year intensive capacity-building program, Solidarity-Organizing-Leadership (SOL), and in volunteer and member supervision through the New York Cares volunteer management training.

http://www.damayanmigrants.org/staff

My Family’s Slave – The Atlantic “Lola lived with us for 56 years. She raised me and my siblings without pay. I was 11, a typical American kid, before I realized who she was.”

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2017/06/lolas-story/524490/

Korea has a history of slavery

Slaves for sale in Korea

Why some Koreans welcomed the Japanese annexation of Korea in 1910, and later millions embraced communism

[photographylifeyogalove-blog]

So I'm starting a new book not sure if I want to publish it or not but here's some from the first chapter, input is awesome so please give me some

Small town family, moving into an even smaller town. The day was November 3rd 2015. Sarah an her family are in transition to moving into a new town near the city, but far enough to not deal with the city. In the lovely suburban area of Denver, Colorado. If you know anything about Colorado it's a lovely place to be, but also has nothing to do. Except focus on making yourself better. Thus, why the Jackson family has chosen to move here. Emanuel, the husband to Sarah, has family out in suburban Denver. Less pressure, than moving into a house. The Jacksons were a young family, mid twenties young, Finding a house is pretty hard on two twenty year olds with a five year old and a dog, who is more like a daughter. Daren, the son was a special little man, the only being in Sarah's life that is able to show her happiness, before meeting Emanuel of course. Emanuel was a man of pure kindness, that never stumbled. Now I get it, your wondering how can someone be purely kind? That is simple to answer. A person is purely kind the moment they finally meet someone, they can completely understand and give them what it takes to survive sorrow. I'm sorry, I get it. You believed this to be a happy story, but this my friends is a regular story. Trust me you'll want to read this though. Back to the family. The dog, better yet the daughter, Ella also know as Ella bee. Why is she the daughter you ask? Because being a dog by definition is a domesticated canid. Ella has evolved past the regular conformed canine, she has evolved into a daughter. "I hope we'll be happy here." Said Sarah, "what do you mean happy? Where you not happy before?" Questioned Emanuel. "Yes, of course I was happy before, I just mean I hope we can be as equally happy as before, here." Sarah replied. "Oh, that makes sense." Alex said as he continued to unpack the car with their belongings. This day wasn't like any regular day though. Yes the Jacksons were moving, but not only where they moving, the weather was obscurely hot for November, in any part of Colorado. To a normal person the irregular heat would just pass by as another day to figure out what shorts to wear or what is the best way to keep cool, but Sarah felt a change. A change that can only be felt by the ones being changed. Though the feeling can be discomforting and slightly stressful, Sarah decided it's better to ignore this feeling. Yes, this feeling would seem simple to ignore, to a regular think person, but Sarah she has had some unreleased traumas in her life. Sarah knew she was mentally sick just didn't know, how bad. Sarah was a victim of rape as a child. Now everyone knows children don't think the same way, logically, as adults. Therefore facing what actually happened to her, isn't something that children usually think of first. A child would go to the person who they feel most protected by. For Sarah this was her mother, but how does a young child explain what happened, if she doesn't know exactly what happened. Improvising, that's what Sarah did exactly, she improvised the best way she could at a small age. With a simple" I think I did something wrong mommy.", thinking this would help her and her mother go investigate what happened, but no, like most parents hearing this, don't want to find out what their child has done now. Thusly forcing Sarah's mother to brush off the statement and automatically punishing Sarah by saying, " I don't care what it was you did, your grounded." Ever since that moment Sarah pushed away the situation, from her mind thoughts and feelings. Until it found her and hunted her, ten years later, And when it finally came out, the mental damage had already been done. When Sarah pushed away this feeling of change, it was a big push, in fact it was the same kind of push she did as a young child. But not really understanding why? She hadn't been hurt or anything? So why was her body automatically making her try and forget this feeling? Forgetting wasn't Sarah's strong point though. Remembering, that on the other hand is her strongest area. Well it depends on your partake in strong suits. Anything that ever happened to Sarah she remembered. Yes, anything. Ever since she was 3 she started to remember. For instance she remembered her father, after the custody agreement, kidnapped Sarah and her older brother Jerome. She Also remembered how Sarah's mother tried to kill her father with a key. If it happend to Sarah, it stayed forever. "Ouch" said Emanuel, "what?" Questioned Sarah. "The damn dog is in the way, and I tripped over her!" Yelled Emanuel. "She is not a dog, Emanuel you know for a fact, this is our child. So say sorry to our bee, for calling her a dog. Do it!", replied Sarah. Emanuel exclaimed "I will not apologize to a dog! She's a dog I don't care, she's a dog!" After listening to Emanuel's nonsense, Sarah proceeds to go to Ella and in a baby voice tells her to not mind her father. " he's just jealous of our cuddles so he takes it out on you, the first chance he gets." Sarah vacitioutiously says, "yeah whatever, she's still a dog!" Emanuel mockingly says. After the exchange of dirty looks the two continue to unload their things into the new house. Finally reaching a point of stopping, they dramatically and tiredly fall on to the floor. "My legs, won't, make it" Sarah says "so, much, eggsastion." " wow! you are so dramatic, the couch is like five steps away." Emanuel replied " yes it is, and yet here you are next to me on the floor! What is your excuse sir?" Sarah saying irritated, yet amused "excuse? No excuses just facts and the fact is I am actually tired. The floor looked more pleasing anyway." Emanuel said with a smile on his face, forcing Sarah to look at the matter and smile as well. Now, Daren their son was off on a camping trip with Emanuel's mother and step father. Which ended up benefiting in the end anyways, because Daren loved his Omaha and papa, and Sarah and Emanuel would be able to move their things over with out the lovely nousense of their adorable son Daren. Even though he is a cutie, he also is a five year old. No five year old wants to drive back and forth from one town to the next moving things. Five year olds want to play and this would be Daren's last time to hangout and go on a trip since he starts school in a month. Which made living in the suburbs a plus, because the elementary school was right down the street. But that wonderful feeling of change kept sneaking up on Sarah. She then on the floor just begins to stair at the ceiling, and wonder "what does this feeling mean?" Which made her think extremely hard and by accident forcing her to say her thoughts out loud, "what?" Emanuel said " huh, what? Um nothing!" Sarah replied in an nervous voice that only made Emanuel want to know what that statement was for, but he knew if he presumed to question Sarah she would only reject the questions, then deny it ever happened. He chose to just lay there and hold her hand. The next day the couple was back to finish off their moving. Only Emanuel was going up to their old town,Colorado Springs, by himself. Not because he didn't want Sarah to come, but because he knew for a fact the Sarah's asthma wouldn't be able to take anymore climbing up and down stairs. He did need help though, he called one of his oldest friends Claud to come help him finish off the rest. Sarah got to do the exciting job of unpacking and placing all their items to where they belong. "What is the point of putting everything in a box just to take it out again?" Sarah complained " Its redundant, and pointless!", Emanuel knowing better knew she was mostly complaining because he was leaving and instead of answering the obscure question he just kissed her on the head, and continued to leave for the springs.

[nobody-needs-to-know-that-blog]

She was the youngest of the family

here is the other story. The story of 4 and a half years. 4 and a half years that i thought i was with the man i was supposed to spend forever with. I was just out of a relationship and a new drama season was starting and so we would be together almost everyday for about 4 months. Maybe a little less. I ended up asking him out via facebook because i was too chicken to do it in person. (i have learned now but not much) 

i asked if he would date a freshman he said he would depending on who. i was being stupid and asking for myself but i was like one of the people who was at set construction. For some reason instead of waiting a week i just asked before he went to FFA states. He said yes...  We werent really dating at that point... it wouldnt be for another year and a half before anything really happened between us. We were dating. He would always say these really cute things to me that would make me smile... Now they just make me cringe every time i see them or read them.. maybe even glance over them. (there is a reason i have a new device... so i dont have to go through my fucking screenshots on my ipod...) there are so many... oh so many... even on my phone i had so many conversations saved and for some reason i couldnt bear to look at them.

When a break up happens you like to think that you would look back and remember the good times.. But you wont. Even if you have a million and two pictures of the “good” times it wont be good... who knows... maybe you do think of the good times. 

so that is just freshman year of highschool... We kissed about 13 days after we first started dating. he told me that i had soft lips... im not sure how he could tell or why.. The story of our first kiss is funny... I was sitting on the back of my directors tailgate and he was messing with it and one of our friends was like dont kiss in front of me and like ran off... and then he kissed me... (in retrospect i think my eyes were open..) 

then shortly after that i had my first meltdown... i was on stage for our spring show, literally lying on the couch debating if i really wanted to be with this kid... i didnt... but i didnt think that anybody else would want me..

i stayed with him. 

then the summer came and i didnt really see him that much.. i didnt really want to hang out with him because i didnt want to be forced to do couple-y things... i was only 14 when i started dating this kid... i thought it would be a good idea... (oh how wrong i was...) He could not make out to save his life... it was gross and disgusting and i just didnt want to do it... 

so we didnt make out any more... until the rapture (12/21/12) that was a thing... we ended up making out in his truck before school started.... it was weird... better but weird.... 

so many things happen and when you look back on them you realize that all the warning signs were there.... 

the constant meltdowns, the pressure to please... all of that... He was on a high horse and for some unknown reason i wanted to keep him up there. His family still has him up there... he may be a little lower now that im not there because they all loved me and really didnt want us to break up... ( but apparently me “making out” with another human would be fine for me to stay with him because im the definition of a perfect child?? wtf idk)

I was constantly using my parents to not hang out with him. There was a little time frame where i was fine with hanging out with him.. but it wasnt often...

My junior year in highschool went just fine.. no really freak outs, except for the last day of spring play... i was balling my eyes out and i was sick and it was just terrible... I didnt want him to leave and i didnt want to not be at the lock in and yeah it was just a mess.

My senior year was a different story, i was stressed, he was stressed with honors advanced calc 2. I was president of NHS i didnt actually do much... Not like what i do now... The responsibilities of  high school to the responsibilities of college are so different..

Senior year was a roller coaster of emotions... I was in my first show in 2 years. It ended up being shown for two weekends instead of one. I went hunting on the day of the last show. This kid ended up shooting two deer. We went to the play it went off with out a hitch ( well minus the lights being fucked up THIS IS AN OUTRAGE... is one of my lines and i was actually hella pissed...) Well driving home after hanging out with him for a little bit, it was snowing... i wasnt used to the snow... I was heading north, i ended up doing a 180 and landing driver side down heading south but on the same side of the road that i was on to begin with... I was panicking... i called the boyf and he helped calm me down and then i ended up calling the parents because there was no way i would be able to get the car out of the ditch. Seeing the damage on the car, its a miracle that nothing worse happened to me. As hard as I hit when it fell, none of the airbags went off which is great, because that would have sucked and i would have had much worse injuries than just a cut on my knuckle...  ( i mean i may have some issues with my shoulders but idk)

that was at like 2 or 3 in the morning... i ended up going home and sleeping it off... i didnt go to church though and all of my friends were freaking out about me... it was adorable... I was fine... I mean i was still shaking and i was confused as to why i was shaking but it was fine. I was fine.  I joked constantly and i still kinda do... Dude gets two deer and i get a car accident... Parents were looking to get a new car anyways but i just happened to push it forward a little bit...  I had team sports the next morning and i was like im fine i can still play... ( no i couldnt i was in so much pain when i was playing lacrosse.... it was bad...) The next day i ended up giving a note to the teacher explaining as to what happened and she was like WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME???? lol it was funny, i thought i would be fine but i was sore, the adrenaline wore the shit out of me... 

The rest of the senior year went off with out a hitch ( minus the director saying that she wanted me in another play and then that not happening and me crying.... and yeah it was great... i love working the booth i love being in my home... Its been years since i have been back to the booth...) 

Summer after senior year went off with out a hitch, nothing big happened, but then i started school. My freshman year in college was his sophomore...  i spent the night in his dorm a couple times and he spent the night in mine a couple.  November came around i thought i was ready for the “D” i wasnt... i wouldnt realize that i wasnt ready until January...We had only had sex a couple times by that point... His uncle had died unexpectedly and i came home for the funeral... I am not selfish. I am very selfless... The night before the funeral i thought that giving him what he wanted would help him cope... It may have to this day i still dont know... and i would rather not know.. what i do know is that i was trying my fucking hardest not to fucking cry. Now a little backstory, sex has always hurt for me... im just now learning that it shouldnt hurt no matter what... that it only hurts if you werent properly turned on... 

That was January, we would hang out a couple more times before may but not much... I was busy with rushing the sorority and being active on campus... Then comes may. 

I finally got a job!! so did he. We were both super busy and making money... which was good. however that means that we had less time for each other in the upcoming months...

Now rolls around august. His annual family reunion, i always loved going to it and this was the 2nd or 3rd time going to it. I had warned him before that nothing was going to happen... he thought that i had just meant that we werent going to have sex... nope i had meant that absolutely nothing was going to happen between us. He was super frustrated with that and not happy with me in the least bit  

That was August. September rolls around, My first active semester of the sorority. First semester where boys are not allowed to spend the night in the dorm room ( not that that had stopped two of us but that comes much much later). I spent the night in the “tuba” house a couple times.. not often but a couple. September was super busy for me and he didnt like that i had a life outside of him. I wasnt dedicating all my time to pleasing him. I was learning to be myself... I just ended up hurting two people in that process.... And the rest is in the other story...

Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

[dianareagon]

I’m angry.  So this is a “vent sesh.” This morning started out rough as it was yet another sleepless night spent with three sick children all in my room at my parents’ house.  It has been months since all three of my kids have slept through an entire night and this trend continues along with almost a full month of my three little ones trading off being sick and, oftentimes, sharing days and nights being sick together.  Last night I had two little ones in my bed, woke up bright and early to get a shower, and ended up being covered in vomit, snot, and tears within minutes of putting on a fresh shirt.   During the first hard-fought nap for my 8 month old twins, I had a moment to think and that was my first mistake for the day.  It was the first time I realized I was standing firmly in 2017, the year my husband will divorce me.  The year I will have to fight tooth-and-nail to keep my kids as often as I can and the year I go from being just a full-time mom to mom and sole-provider.  Sure, he will have some child support, but not nearly enough to keep Bunny in gymnastics or allow for her/her sisters to have music lessons, play soccer, or participate in any other activities/sports they want to try.  This is also the last Christmas I will have all three of them and not have to shuffle them back and forth like property.  This is the last year I will have them for every single holiday, every weekend, every sleepless night, every sickness.... for every moment.  My new life will be built on the tidbits my husband left behind; it will be a shattered life where I am ostracized from my children’s lives and forced to watch helplessly as he introduces wayward thinking, unsound principles, new girlfriends, and tries to talk my children into believing divorce is okay.  I never cheated, never lied, went to counseling even when he refused, and have worked hard to improve my end of this marriage.  Yet, here I stand face-to-face with the reality that he will legally be able to rip my family apart and punish me for not being the wife he thinks I should be. So, that is how my day started.  It continued with Bunny having a fever of 101.7, Little Eliza (part of her middle name.... but what I really wanted to name her.... so I’m doing it during this post!) joining and both needing constant attention and affection.  Poor Little Edie-Bug played contently most the day while an overly tired, emotional, and ill Mommy went back and forth between rocking and coddling her sisters.  And here is where it gets interesting..... I opened up my email to see if I had anything from my lawyer when I noticed an email from my car insurance.  I opened it to find out they are cancelling the policy since it hasn’t been paid since November and is $224.15 overdue.  Well, if you know me, I’m a stickler about being on time in every sense.  I knew I paid and panicked as I sent Troy a text wondering if he had changed the automatic payment when he changed the email, log-in, and password when he got his second car.  No response; no surprise.  So I quickly checked my online bank account and realized it wasn’t my account that was going to expire, it was his.  He hadn’t been paying his car insurance since he got his extra car.  Whew.  Whatever... he never was big about paying bills on time before, so why would that change?  It didn’t matter to me as long as he was insured and paid-up once he started picking up the girls (which my lawyer later explained he’d have to be since it is a state law and he can’t drive a car without insurance).  Well, thanks to me pointing this out to him, I got an email later that said he made the minimum payment of forty-something dollars and will get to keep the insurance for now. You’re welcome.  But does he thank me? ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha....no. Instead, I get a nasty text later in the evening telling me instead of depositing any money into our joint account, he will hand me a check the next time he is “allowed” to see the children.  What?! Just so you all are caught up, my dear husband hasn’t seen the girls since 12/21/16.  It was ME who asked him what he wanted to do as far as seeing the girls for Christmas.  It was ME who suggested that Wednesday since we were going to be out of town the week between Christmas and New Year’s like we always are and it was HIM who said he had no problem with that and assumed that’s what we would do anyway.  It was ME who invited him over to my apartment to celebrate, helped him pick out what to get Bunny for Christmas, encouraged him to search the resale store for something cheap for the twins, and suggested he give a dress a co-worker gave him for free to Bunny as a gift, too.  It was ME who carefully folded up the gift wrap and handed it back to him so he could reuse it.  It was ME who said I was considering meeting him in my parents’ town to we could meet up and he could see the girls for a big IF we didn’t have other plans (forgot it was NYE... stupid, I know, but I just wasn’t thinking).  It was also ME who made sure he knew it was just an idea and it wasn’t set in stone.  It was ME who had to pretty much force Bunny to  call him on Christmas when she didn’t want to despite him asking (she spent less than a minute on the phone before hanging up on him) and likewise when he asked to speak with her that Thursday after Christmas (which surprised me since he usually doesn’t ask to speak on the phone more than two or three times in a month).  It was ME who texted him over and over asking if he would put money in the bank for rent and, after being ignored for three days, he finally responded with a vague and incomplete answer which, when I tried to get clarified went unanswered again.  He ignored that part and asked me if I decided to “not let him” see Bunny (notice he has only asked to see her and speak to her thus far) to which I responded that I had forgotten about New Year’s and that it was my Grandma’s 80th birthday, so we were at her house.  He got mad because I didn’t tell him we were out of town, but really?  We go to her house every year since her birthday is the 1st.  Why would I do anything different or tell him just because we were doing the same thing as every year?!  HE got mad and told me I needed to let him know in case anything happened..... though I can’t help but wonder why he cares now when he jumped ship and wouldn’t tell us where he was living, didn’t call/facetime/text/visit the girls for weeks, and hasn’t made much effort to be involved since.  Sure, he says he wants to.... but he still doesn’t call or ask if he can see them more than once per week despite him telling his lawyer that I’m keeping them from him (but more on that later).   So today, he tells me I am keeping them from him and now he will withhold money which doesn’t surprise me since he does that anyway.  The problem this time is that he hasn’t asked to see the girls since the 21st until this morning (the 3rd).  Of course, I’m dealing with three sick kids and need all the extra help  I can get from my sisters and mom, so I told him I’m not sure when I was going to be back in town, yet, but I’d let him know.  Well, during the day, I was watching Edie-Bug to see if she was doing okay and would be up for her OT.  She is.  I have also been watching the other two and it has become glaringly obvious that putting them in a car for two hours, in the cold (my car doesn’t have heat), while being SO sick would just be torture......  So, I decide I will bring Edie-Bug back and let him know so he can see her if he wants.  But he just assumed I was being vague and wasn’t going to let him see kids because I’ve done that before?!  Hell, no!  I’ve said “no” a total of two times to him.  One was because he waited to ask until late on a Monday night if he could see the girls the next day and I’d already made plans to spend the day with them and my mom.  The other time was when I suggested we meet up for a Thanksgiving meal and even offered to make one which he declined and said he’d take me up on the meal but would rather eat out.  Fine.  However, he also didn’t have money to pay for our rent..... tricky.  So, come the day we were supposed to meet, I assumed we weren’t going to do lunch since he couldn’t even afford rent and then assumed we weren’t meeting at all when our usual meeting time came and went and I never heard from him.  He texted later and got angry, but at that point I had made plans to meet with a lawyer since I just found out he had filed for divorce, too.  But, anyway....  And both of those times I made up with a different meet-up during the span of the week.  I’ve never said no to any other meeting he has asked for (and really, the second one was my suggestion, anyway) and have even made an effort to offer up more time when he hasn’t even asked for it.... like the time Playgroup was cancelled, or the many times I offered to pick him up when he didn’t have a car, or the extra days at the park and the mall playground, the meeting at Subway, seeing Santa, coming over to my apartment, the attempt to offer time at his work Christmas shop, stopping by after Halloween at church, etc.  And that doesn’t even include the many, many, many times I’ve called him to include him on things like the babies’ first baby foods, texted silly stories about the kids, or when I’ve encouraged Bunny to call him since he hadn’t called in a week or two.  I have many accounts of invites extended and several declined.  Yet, I’ve kept them from him? Now do I think he is a good role model and good parent?  No.  Not at all.  Every time I’ve mentioned that the kids have been sick over the last month or more, he hasn’t once asked about them, how they are sick, how they are feeling, or much less offered to come help with them.  And when I asked him to sign the 30 day notice for our apartment (since the girls and I are moving), he signed it but still hasn’t bothered to as WHERE we are moving to!  Can you believe that?!  And that’s been almost a week since I asked him to sign those!  And those are just recent things and exclude the weeks that go by with no phone calls, the only asking about Bunny and failing to mention Eliza or Edie-Bug, and the weeks he went without seeing them in August and September.  He lies and manipulates.  He has changed his story time and time again to fit whatever he thinks and feels right now.   Would you think of him as a good role model or parent?  Didn’t think so.  But have I ever kept my kids from when when he’s asked to see them?  No......not other than the two times mentioned and made up for.  Have I purposely gone out of my way to include him and invite him to see them?  Yes.  Do I want to especially now that he’s backed out of every agreement we have ever made (from “death do us part” to our verbal provisional agreements that we both okayed up until he backed out on the day-of-court....)?  Hell, no!  But here is the tricky thing:  I chose to marry this man.  I made a vow to God.  I want reconciliation not because I like this guy, but because I love God and want to obey Him.  I want to work on this marriage and get it to a point where he and I are both fantastic people who love God individually and have a marriage that shows our kids what it was designed to be a picture of.  I want that.  I can’t make Troy fulfill his vows, work on his marriage, obey God, fulfill his promise to Charlotte when we dedicated her, be honest, or stay faithful to me.  These are his choices. But I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize reconciliation while also protecting the children I brought into this world and made a promise to protect, cherish, love, and raise to know God.   Honestly, I could go on and on, but all I’m doing is wasting precious sleeping time.  So, I finish here.  No matter what Troy may say about me, the proof is in the pudding:  He talks the talk, but doesn’t walk the walk.  If you want more time with my kids, ask.... don’t just complain about it.  When I mention appointments, activities, groups, etc., why don’t you volunteer to come with or meet us before or after?  If you care about these girls, ask about them......when they are healthy and when they are sick.  It will show.  No matter if you accuse me of withholding them from you, the facts show.  And don’t withhold money that they need just because I didn’t answer your question the way you wanted this one time; ask for clarification, perhaps.  And don’t punish them with not having food for groceries, electricity, etc. just because they are sick and I don’t want to drag them out.....  Put them before your finicky happiness.

[ecotone99]

[TH] The Shards of Our Souls

Note from publisher: Yes, I am fully aware of the similarities between my story and AMC's "The Walking Dead". I can assure you that my story is a story and a work of its own, and while I was inspired by The Walking Dead to write this story, it has no relation to the show or its content, whatsoever. Yes, this story is long, but if you enjoy reading (even if you don't), I am certain you will find yourself hooked to it. I hope you enjoy!

Extra: I wasn't able to fit the entire story in one post, so I will have two separate posts for this story.

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The year was 2003, disease rates had dramatically increased, causing a wide range of death in people across the country. Many angry yet worried citizens started rioting against governments, to force action into more research in medicine and cure. This had gone on for several months until the government finally stepped up and pushed doctors and scientists to work nonstop until they could find anything that would slow the disease rates down. It took almost a year until researches finally found a scarce and unusual element, that kills every infectious pathogen at a rapid pace. It was tested on sick animals and other organisms and had proved its effectiveness. Unfortunately, the medicine only tested positive on blood types AB, B, and O, and tested negative on blood types A. But without delay, the medication was approved and distributed to every sick patient with the correct blood type. In fact, this medicine was so effective, it was distributed worldwide to as many ill patients as possible. Everyone had been cured within a day after the medication was taken. It was the most significant achievement in medical history. But, unfortunately, the researches were never able to identify that after a period of time, the medicine not only kills pathogens, it completely mutilates the human body on the inside; except for the brain. What came after, would change the world forever.

November 26th, 2004. One week before the outbreak. Brett Brax is a current police officer, who lives in Orlando, Florida, with his nine-year-old son Jett Brax. “What a great week it has been, don't you think, Dad?” Jett asked. “It has been, indeed. I still can’t comprehend how quickly everyone was healed. But I am mainly just glad that neither of us became sick.” “If we were sick, we would have no way of being cured since we both have blood type A.” Jett added. “That is why I am so relieved.” His dad replied. “Maybe now, this world can live in peace, without the worry of disease.” “That's a whole unit of science that can be removed from the books! That means less homework!” Jett said, happily. Brett chuckled. “Maybe so, but don't forget about that math of yours, buddy.” Jett rolled his eyes with a smile. “Goodnight, Jett.” “Goodnight, Dad, I’m looking forward to a better world.” “Me, too, bud, me, too.” Brett kissed his son goodnight, turned out the lights, and closed the door.

December 2nd, 2004. One day before the outbreak. Brett was up quick when he heard the horrible truth. A broadcast announced that every cured patient who took the medicine had died, mutilated on the inside. The vast population of the world had significantly dropped by almost sixty-five percent. The remainder of people on Earth only had blood types A, while everyone else was dead, never to return. Every convenient operation to the public was shut down and was said to not re-open. “Holy hell.” Brett whispered to himself. “Dad, this can’t be true.” Brett looked at his son's disheartened face. “I just got off the phone with Logan. Our friends are dead, Dad, they’re all dead!” Jett said in tears. Brett was speechless. He didn't know what to say to his son. There were no words. Brett pushed it away and thought to himself for a minute. “Jett, I need to go to the police station.” “No, Dad, please, I want to stay with you.” “Jett, stay here, I will be back, I need to see if anybody is there.” “I’ll… I’ll go with you.” Jett desperately replied. “No, I need to go alone.” Jett gave in. “Okay, but please hurry back, Dad. You know I hate being alone.” Brett laid a hand on his son's shoulder. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.” Brett started his car and drove down the deserted streets. As he arrived at the station, Brett noticed that the front door was barricaded. A note on the front door read: “How can we be a help anymore? Over half of the world is dead. What else could possibly go wrong?” Brett knew that most of his fellow police officers had gotten sick. He called one of the officers, who is also his brother, Charlie, to discuss the whole thing. “Charlie, you there, brother?” “Yeah, I’m here. What a damn mess this is. Where are you?” “I’m at the station. What’s the reason for barricading?” Charlie sighed. “After all of this happened, people began going crazy. So many families have been lost, Brett, leaving, whoever's left, alone and hopeless. They started demanding for something to be done about the people who created the medicine, like arresting them or some other kind of punishment. But is there a point to that? I don’t see what we can do about it. Imprison the people that tried to help stop the disease? Take away the few people that are left on this Earth? It just seems so unreasonable.” “Yeah, I hear you.” Brett replied. “So, what now?” “I mean, at this point, I know it’s a terrible thing to say, but we’ve just gotta move on, I mean, what else can we do? Life will continue to move forward. The clock will continue ticking.” Charlie replied. “I guess you’re right, I don’t see any other way around it, this is just our life, now.” “Yeah, unfortunately, it is.” They paused, both trying to, somehow, comprehend their conversation. “How’s Jett?” Charlie asked, to break the silence. “Not well, man. Poor kids’ lost his friends. I’m really all he has, right now. I don’t know how to explain this to him, I mean, he is only nine years old, how can he possibly process any of this?” “Yeah, look, man, this is definitely going be hard on him for a while, so you’re going to need to be there for him as much as possible. But, you know, the way he hits those target papers on weapon training, I can see he is a tough and strong kid. He’ll pull through on this, I know it.” Charlie concluded. “You’re right, he is a strong kid, and he will get through this. And I will always be there for him.” I know you will, Brett, you’re a great father.” I’ll see you soon, man.” Brett hung up with a sharp pain of sorrow in his chest. On his way home, Brett could see the faces of what used to be his happy neighbors, as they lay weeping and crying over their lost loved ones. Brett’s heart sank as he witnessed this. What a terrible time this had been for everyone. Brett returned home, still in shock of everything that happened since he opened his eyes in the morning. After putting his distressed boy to bed, he went to bed himself, his mind racing. Can this be a dream? Brett thought to himself. A nightmare? Is it real? Brett then felt a single tear rolling down his face just as he drifted off into a new world.

December 3rd, 2004. The day of the outbreak. The sound of the national emergency alarm frightened Brett off of his bed and onto his feet. Then, there was an automatic voice system, which had been reporting through all devices. “This is a national emergency. Multiple reports have indicated countless amounts of reanimation of the dead. These reports included dangerous actions and aggressive behavior that has been taken by the reanimated corpses of the recent death tragedy that happened on December 2nd, 2004. These actions are said to be murderous against humans. At this time, all military personnel has been requested to take a course of action on this case. All citizens of the world are required to stay inside their homes and are advised to barricade all entrances to their home’s. Keep radios on for further instruction after this case has been resolved. Conserve food and water supply, as the time to resolve this case, is unknown. All cities and districts have been qualified for military use and weapon fire. Do not go outside for any reason. Do not allow any human-like figure to enter your home…” Brett did not listen to the rest. He did not need to, to understand that they were in danger. The alarm continued to sound. “Dad, what’s going on?” “Jett, go back to your room and shut the door. Do not ask questions, just do as your told.” Jett nodded and did as he was told. Brett immediately went around and locked every entrance to his house and gathered enough wood to barricade them as well. After he did this, he attempted to call Charlie again, but there was no answer since all phone services had been disconnected. He tried again with the landline but still had the same issue. Brett continued on and grabbed a handgun and a shotgun he kept as a defense. He then put up a tablet screen of the security cameras he had on the outside perimeter of his house. But when he looked, he could make out, what seemed to be, a few figures that resembled people, but the way they walked was unlively, and the way they looked, blood all over their faces, ripped clothes, and those sick, menacing, bloodshot eyes that spoke of pure danger. Brett couldn’t believe his own. These were the people that died from the medicine, the people that the rest of the world lost, the ones they thought they would never see again. And here they were, dead, but alive, away from whom they used to be, just roaming the streets, looking for flesh. Brett did not hear gunfire or military action on the outside. But, all of a sudden, he could hear the screams of his neighbor. Brett quickly ripped down a plank of wood and looked out his window. He saw the zombie-like creatures ripping his neighbor apart, as he screamed in pain. Brett's first reaction was to jump out and help him, so he began ripping down the rest of the barricade on his window. But he paused. He knew he couldn’t risk allowing a possible entrance for those creatures into his home, and put Jett’s life in danger. Brett could only watch as his poor neighbor was eaten by those dead people, while he screamed in pain and agony. Brett turned away. “Jett, pack as much as you can, we can’t stay here.” “Dad, please tell me what is going on.” “Jett, something is happening that you would never understand if I explained.” “I could try.” Jett replied. Brett looked at his son. “Please, Dad.” “Okay.” Brett said. “The people that we thought were killed from that medicine are alive, but they aren’t themselves. They are dangerous, and they want to hurt us. Something brought them back to life, but not to their old human life. It makes them sick in the head. So we need to stay away from them. That’s all I can explain to you.” Jett’s response was unnatural. “Okay.” He said. Brett pulled out his handgun. “Here, Jett, take this and hold on to it, just in case.” Jett took the gun. “Dad, where are we going to go?” “I don’t know, right now, we just can’t be here.” Brett replied. Then, Brett heard his communication radio ring. “This is officer Charlie Brax, does anybody read me? Over.” Brett ran over to the radio. “Charlie, it’s me, where are you?” Charlie was talking through static. “I’m at th- stati-, I’m being surroun- by the...” “Charlie, come again, your cutting out.” There was only static and more static. “Charlie? Charlie!” Brett yelled. Then, the signal was lost. “Dammit!” Brett yelled. “Dad.” Jett said from behind. Brett turned to his son. “They’re coming.”

“Jett, this way, out the back door!” Brett began ripping off the wood he used to barricade the door. He could hear the moaning of the zombies as they scratched on the outside walls and windows. There were so many of them, far too many to count. Jett grabbed his bag, as Brett ripped off the last piece of wood. Brett pulled out his shotgun, as Jett pulled out his handgun. “Be ready to shoot these things if you must.” Brett demanded. Jett nodded. Jett had never shot anything, besides a target, in his life. Brett opened the door and they moved into their backyard, both holding their guns’ in a fire position. The fence was blocking the zombies from entering the backyard. “The only way out is through the gate, but it sounds like it’s blocked by them.” Jett said. “You’re right, we are going to have to clear it by shooting our way through. Then we will make a run for the car.” Brett had to come up with a plan. “Jett, I’ll need you to pull the gate open, and I’ll start shooting. Then you will get behind me and you will shoot as many as you can. You stay as close to me as you can, do you understand?” “Yes, but are we going to have enough ammo for this, Dad?” “Let’s hope so.” Brett replied. “Ready?” “Ready.” Jett grabbed the handle and pulled the gate open. Brett opened fire on the crowd. He shot each one right through the head, to end their lives for the second time. Jett, right behind him, shooting them the same way. It was the scariest moment of both of their lives. They fought and fought, and even after their path was clear, Brett continued firing at the ones on his street. He felt that he needed to avenge his neighbor for what they did to him. “Dad, come on, now!” Brett turned around, and they both ran to their car. They threw their weapons inside, Brett started the engine, and they sped off. Both of them were a bloody mess from shooting the zombies. “Dad, where are we going?” “We’re going to the police station, Charlie is trapped in there.” “I don’t think we have much ammo left, Dad.” There is an emergency hatchet in the back of the car. Give it to me.” Jett gave him the hatchet. “They seem to die faster if you get them in the head.” Jett said. “Then, always aim for the head.” Brett replied. He hated saying those kinds of words to his son, but he didn’t know how else to say it. Brett drove fast while going around the zombies that roamed the streets. Another car went by, being driven by a woman, maybe in her thirties. Brett ignored the worried glance she gave him and continued to drive. They drove down the side-lane of the freeway, full of empty cars, with a view of downtown Orlando. They could see multiple army helicopters hovering over the city, opening fire on the ground. “How many bullets do you have in your handgun, Jett?” Jett checked the magazine. “Only six.” He answered. “Take the shotgun, it has more.” “I’m not really familiar with that thing, but I’ll do my best.” “It’s the same thing, it just has a bit of a kick, so hold it steady.” Brett said. They arrived at the station. The place was surrounded by the zombies. “Charlie is in there, we’ve got to get him out.” Brett said. “All right, Jett, I need you to use what’s left in your pistol and shoot them in the head. When you run out of ammo, switch to the shotgun and do the same. You can stay in the car and shoot from the window. I will go and bash them in the head with the hatchet. We need to do this quickly before too many of them come for us. What’s left of them we will draw away from the station using the car and hopefully, Charlie can get out.” “Okay, will do, Dad.” “On go.” Brett said. “Three.” Jett aimed his gun. “Two.” Brett gripped the hatchet. “One.” They were ready. “Go!” Jett took his first shot and had a direct hit. The rest turned around and began to make their way toward Jett and Brett. Jett fired, again and again, hitting every shot. Brett raised that hatchet and planted it into the heads of the zombies. Fire, plant, repeat. Jett used the shotgun to hit them two at a time, while Brett swung the hatchet back and forth splitting their heads, and drawing blood all over himself. Fire, plant, repeat. This went on for five minutes until Jett said: “I’m out of ammo!” Brett kept going, though, faster and stronger for every hit, kicking back the ones that got too close, and punching them as hard as he could. Just as Brett and his son were almost overrun, a machine gun opened fire on the crowd of zombies, bringing them all to the floor, one after the other. Brett got to the ground and covered his head as Jett took cover inside the car. When it stopped, Brett got up and saw Charlie holding a heavy machine gun. “Brett? Is that you?” Brett was sweating and breathing heavily. “Charlie, are you all right?” “I’m fine, what the hell were you doing, Brett?” “Trying to save your ass.” Brett responded. Brett’s hands were on his knees as he spoke. “Thank you, I’m glad you came for me.” Charlie responded. “Charlie, what are you doing here?” Brett asked in a low voice. “I came here to grab weapons. Before I even knew what these things did, or even looked like, they had already gotten to me. They were banging on the door and walls, making these horrible sounds. I thought about shooting my way out, but there was just too many of them. So that’s when I rang out.” Brett looked at Charlie and nodded. “Where’s Jett?” Charlie asked. “I’m over here.” Jett answered, walking out of the car, shotgun still in hand. Charlie looked over to face him. “You all right, buddy?” Charlie asked. “I am.” Jett replied. “It’s your first time using that shotgun, huh?” “Yeah, it is.” Brett answered for Jett. “But for his first time, he did a damn pretty good job.” “Well, Jett, you might have to plan on using that thing more than just here.” Charlie said. “I’ll do what I have to do to make sure everything is all right.” Jett said. Charlie smiled and Brett nodded. “All right.” Charlie said. “What’s the plan?”

Charlie guarded the front door to the station, while Brett and Jett went to grab as many weapons as possible. After they had split up, Jett went into the dark room that had the target papers. He slowly walked and looked at all of the targets that were there and came upon his own target paper that had many holes right in the center. His name would forever be signed on it to honor his great shooting. Jett smiled. “You are a fine shot, Jett.” Brett said walking in. “Thanks, Dad. You are, too. After we take care of this mess, I hope to become an officer, someday, just like you.” Brett smiled and put a hand on his son's shoulder. “We will get through this, I don’t know how long it will take, but we will find a way to thrive. We will do whatever it takes.” “I know we will, Dad.” Brett patted his son on the back. “Come on, I got all we need to last us a while.” Brett said walking out. “Dad?” Jett said quietly. “Are we ever going to go home?” Brett stopped, looked back at his son and then looked at the ground. That was a question that he didn’t have the answer to. “I don’t know, Jett. We just… can’t right now.” Jett nodded. They walked out to the front entrance and saw Charlie a bloody mess. Brett and Jett looked at him with concerned faces. “Yeah a few of them came over, but I took care of them.” Charlie remarked. At least a dozen more of the zombies lay in front of them as Charlie held a bloody hatchet in his hand. “We need to start looking for other people, anyone who still has a mind.” Charlie said. “We haven’t seen very many people around, just a lady in a car.” Jett replied. “Come on, let’s get in the car and start searching for others who might still be out there.” Brett said. The group loaded the weapons and their things into the car, and they were off. “There is some military action going on in the city, a couple of tanks and helicopters.” Charlie said. “I know, we saw some helicopters hovering over downtown Orlando, on the way over here.” Brett replied. “Maybe we should head down there, maybe they can help us.” Jett said. “Maybe.” Brett replied. “But maybe we can help them, given our supply of weapons.” “You really think they will let two police officers and a child help them?” Charlie asked. “At this point, I don’t think they have much of a choice.” Brett answered. “They will need all of the help they can get.” Brett drove back down the deserted streets and drove toward downtown. As they were making their way down the side-lane on the abandoned car-crowded freeway, a few zombies had been walking around empty-minded and looking for human flesh. “Do you think any of these people got out?” Charlie asked. “I hope so.” Brett said. “Dad, stop!” Brett slammed the breaks. “What? What is it?” Brett asked. “Look.” Jett pointed to the other side of the freeway, where a lady was sitting against her car. She hugged her knees, and had her head down, crying, and also held a bloody knife in her hand. “That’s the same lady we saw before.” Jett said. “Yeah, I know it is.” Brett said as he parked the car and opened his door. Everyone got out of the car, each holding their weapons, as Brett walked over to the lady while Charlie and Jett stayed and guarded. “Miss?” Brett asked. “Miss, are you okay?” She didn’t respond, just kept crying. “My name is Brett Brax, I’m a police officer. I know we drove past you before, and, I’m sorry I didn’t stop for you, I just... I had to get to my brother.” Once again no response. Brett kneeled down next to her. “Can you tell me your name?” The lady took a deep breath. “It’s Avery.” She said, head still down. Brett nodded. “Okay, Avery. We are on our way to downtown Orlando, to get help. Come with us, we have food and weapons.” “No.” She said harshly. “I need to find my daughter.” Brett looked back at Charlie and Charlie nodded. “Then, we will help you look for her. How old is she?” “She’s only ten, she can’t be out here, alone.” “Where was she last?” Brett asked. “It was yesterday. I simply left her home alone for a bit, while I was out running errands.” “So, what happened?” Brett asked. Avery looked up at Brett, revealing her face for the first time. “If I had known that I wouldn’t have been able to get home for twelve hours, I would never have left.” She responded. Brett looked down. “The military was loading people who weren’t infected into trucks.” Avery paused. Her eyes filled with tears. “They executed people who were infected, right in front of everyone. People who seemed perfectly coherent. People who wanted to live. People who wanted to protect their families. And, like their lives were nothing, they were all shot in the head.” Brett covered his eyes, feeling the sorrow that invaded the earth. “I avoided being seen, so they wouldn’t try to take me.” I hid in a house nearby and waited until they cleared out. After some time had passed, I began hearing gurgling sounds from inside the house. I clutched a knife I found in my hand, and slowly went to where the sound was coming from. What I saw horrified me. A man was lying on his bed, blood flowed from his mouth all onto his clothes. His eyes were bloodshot red, and his face was discolored. He was dying. In his hand, he was holding a framed photo of his family. I desperately wanted to save him. But I knew I couldn’t.” Avery stopped. Brett looked at her knife. “I did what I had to do.” “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Avery.” Brett said quietly. Avery took a deep breath. “I finally drove down to my house this morning to find my daughter, which is when you and I crossed paths, and when I got there, the back door was open, and the house was empty.” “She couldn’t have gone far, maybe she’s close by.” Brett concluded. “I’ve looked everywhere in this area, and was going to go further until my car ran out of gas.” Avery said. “Do you have any friends or relatives that are around?” Brett asked. “The only person I have is my daughter, and now she’s gone.” “Don’t say that, she still could be around. Come on, we can help you look for her.” “Brett, we have to go, now!” Charlie yelled from behind. Brett turned around and saw many zombies closing in from either side. Brett grabbed Avery’s hand and they ran for the car, as Charlie and Jett shot at the zombies. They all gathered into the car, drove past downtown, and went back to the neighborhood. Nightfall had begun to set.

“We have to split up.” Avery said. “It’s the only way to find her faster.” “It’s too dark to split up right now.” Charlie responded. “We will have to wait till morning before we can do that.” “No!” Avery shouted. “She can’t be alone for another night, she just can’t.” “We’ll figure something out, Avery.” Brett said in a calming voice. “Does your daughter know how to defend herself, at all?” “I’ve only shown her how to get away from strangers, not how to get away from ravenous human eaters.” Avery shuttered at her own words. “Where do you think she could possibly go?” Charlie asked. “A friends house? A school, maybe?” “There is a park nearby, but it’s a long walk from my house, I don’t think she would be there.” “It can’t hurt to check, so that’s where we’re going.” Brett replied. They made their way to the park, Avery being desperate. “Okay, everyone, grab a flashlight and stay alert. All of our guns’ have silencers to avoid attracting attention from these things, so always keep your gun ready to shoot, if any get too close.” Brett said. “Avery, do you know how to shoot?” “Yeah, give me a gun.” She said impatiently. Brett handed her a pistol. “All right, since we don’t have a choice anymore, we will have to split up here.” Brett said. “Charlie, you take Jett, and I’ll go with Avery. If anyone needs help, you shout as loud as you can, and we will come to you. Everyone got it?” The rest of the group nodded, and they went off. The park had been pretty large for its size, including a playground, basketball courts, a field, and the whole place was surrounded by trees. “What does she look like?” Brett asked Avery. Avery smiled shortly. “She has blonde hair, like me, a light skin tone, and she is about five foot five in height.” “What’s her name?” Brett asked. “Elizabeth. But I call her Lizzy.” Brett nodded. As they were searching, crackling sounds came from behind them. They both turned around, with their flashlights in hand, and saw five zombies heading for them. Brett took aim, but there Avery was, shooting them all head, hitting every shot she took, dropping them all to the ground. Brett was stunned, as Avery walked passed Brett and turned around to face him. “What? Did you not believe me?” Avery asked. Just then, they heard Charlie yell Brett’s name from far across the field, with a slight echo. Brett and Avery took off running to Charlie and Jett’s direction. When they got there, Charlie pointed upwards. “I think there’s someone up in the tree, possibly a child. I tried to talk to whoever it is, but they’re not responding.” “Lizzy?” Avery said. “Are you up there?” “Mom?” Avery broke down into tears of joy. “Lizzy, oh, thank God, I’m here, come down!” “I can’t, Mom, I’m scared.” Lizzy responded in fear. “Brett, can you please get her down?” Avery asked frantically. “Okay.” Brett said. He began climbing the tree, but as he stepped on the branches, they broke, causing him to fall back down. “I’m too heavy to climb the branches.” Brett concluded. “Lizzy, you have to climb back down yourself.” Avery said. “No, please, I can’t. I don’t want to run anymore.” Lizzy said in tears. “Lizzy, you have to do this for Mommy, please, I know you can do it. You’ll be safe with me...” She paused. “With us.” “Mom, I can’t.” “Hey, Lizzy?” Jett suddenly said in a calm voice. Lizzy looked into Jett’s eyes. “You can do this. I know that you are brave, and I promise you that everything will be okay.” Lizzy then stopped crying. “All you have to do is climb down the same way you went up. If you’re scared, think about balloons. That always helps me when I’m scared.” Brett nodded at his son. Lizzy then began climbing down. All she did was think about balloons, just as Jett said, which did, in fact, help her calm down. Just as she was made towards the bottom, the branch she was on snapped. Lizzy let out a quick scream as she fell safely into Brett’s arms. “Are you okay?” Brett asked. “Yeah.” Lizzy said with a smile. Avery ran to Lizzy with open arms, hugging her tightly in tears, as Lizzy did the same. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, Lizzy, I will never let you out of my sight again, I promise you. Oh my, God, I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry for leaving the house, Mom, I was just scared.” “No, Lizzy, you did the right thing. You are such a strong and brave girl, and I’m proud of you. They hugged for a few more moments. Lizzy then ran to Jett and hugged him tightly. “Thank you for helping me face my fears. Now, I will always think about balloons when I’m scared.” Jett hugged her back. “You’re welcome, Lizzy.” Brett, Charlie, and Avery smiled. “My name is Jett, by the way.” “Nice to meet you, Jett. You already know who I am.” After that, the group began walking away from the park. It had been time to start a new life, in a new world.

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