Weed for the Aged

 The other night I decided to do an edible...

you know, the Devil's lettuce...the weed, ....the mary jo wanna.

Granted, I wasn't going to sit down and do a round of good ol bong hits or a loaded Swisher Sweet... I was just gonna have an edible. To be exact, a half of the smallest little blackberry fruit flavored gummi. I believe it was a Sativa , which was what came highly recommended from the 19 year old hippy/jugalo ( I couldn't quite make the distinction) behind the fully packed glass counter.  I told him I needed to sleep, to settle my brain a bit....I don't want to be up at 4 am looking for savory/sweet treats in the back of the cupboard. I just want to sleep. That is all. 

He said, "No Problem....You see, we have the kind that will give ya some energy for like...let's say cleaning the house or, like, some people go for a good run. Then we have the kind that will calm ya down...make ya feel relaxed."

"Ok, I'll take that"

"Great", he says. "What flavor and dosage? Is this your first time?" 

 I started to laugh and then stifled and small coughed instead. I wanted to blurt out "for fuck's sake it's not my first time. I grew up in the 80's. My generation made acid and mushrooms a weekly thing.  I spent half my high school years trolloping around the panhandle of Florida's cow fields picking psychedelic mushrooms out of cow patties, packing them in honey and selling them all over the tristate area...."

"No, but to not sound like an old person I haven't really done this new pot. My friend said they had a candy bar and ended up on the living room floor unable to reach the phone to call 911, which in hindsight she decided was a good thing, but her rendition of a fun Saturday night dinner with 4 friends is one I would rather not do....I just would like to sleep a bit "

with that I know I officially sounded OLD

He laughed and said " I gotcha, M'am", (which slightly burned my biscuits, but because he was honestly trying to be respectful I let it slide).  He reached into the glass counter a few inches down and all the way to the front and pulled out a little cup of blackberry edibles. He kindly showed me the name brand and the THC amount vs CBD : 10 MG THC per edible.

" I think, for you, because you want to start slow, this should be perfect....Now remember , just because you don't feel anything don't eat another unless you want to end up like your friend...just have a half ,or even half of a half, and give it time.  It should relax you and most people say they get a good night's sleep".

SOLD!

Took my little stapled bag and off I went.

Evening arrived and I prepared for my sleepy time edible.  As I tucked myself into bed I bit the ungodly sweet, sugar coated, slightly weed taste-smelling gummi into my mouth followed by a magnesium and a melatonin...swished down with my last sip of IPA. It was a Saturday after all.  As I waited for sleep to come I panicked thinking, "Have I just overdosed myself on 5mg weed and a 5 mg melatonin plus beer?" Oh jesus , oh lord....at least I didn't take a Benadryl too....I'll be ok, if not, i guess I'll get some sleep in the long run, right?

Fell asleep pretty quickly, which really isn't the problem.  The problem is staying asleep and quality, so that was yet to be determined. 

I remember having some pretty wild dreams. Was it the weed or the melatonin? I definitely slept hard. I woke midnight, as usual, to go to the bathroom. I was slightly groggy as I sat upright, not really paying much attention to anything except meandering to the bathroom. As I stood I realized my legs were heavier than usual, but assumed it was from my workout that day. When I went to sit down on the toilet is when it hit me.

I'm stoned.

hahahaha 

who made this toilet so short?

why does it feel weird in this bathroom?

do I need a snack?

No, I need to go back to bed and quit messing around before I trip on the uneven floors and break a hip. I wandered back to bed and giggled as I pulled the comforter over my head. Maybe I should have taken it a bit BEFORE I went to bed, not as I hit the pillow. 

My overall review of the experience still makes me giggle. It did work, although I didn't sleep 8 hours I did get a good 5 hours or so.  My biggest fear was if I attempted this on a weeknight, would I still be high for work? who knows ....

But what I do know...

I'm not to that point, nor will I be joining Snoop and Willie for 420 in Amsterdam any time soon, unfortunately.

emergency use only for me.

xo,

m

If It Doesn't Make You Wiser.... Quarantine Days

I get lost...

not sure what holds things down

or back

in my head.

This beautifully sad movie was not the ideal thing for me to watch today,

alone...

maybe too close to home....

Maybe made me feel 

too much

and the hole opened again.

so many things I need to sit and think about,

to fix

to not be another disappointment 

Being strong is what is expected...

The mean mom, the tough one,

the bitch ex wife....

(almost)

As I continue to try to run away, to escape and to be strong...

reality keeps seeping in.

I go back to work in a week and I'm not sure I'm ready.

I definitely don't want to continue to sit around but I also am not sure I can keep my shit together.

I really do not want to cry ...

I don't want to talk about it because when I do I feel the need to only say the good stuff, 

because there was a lot of good stuff.

Keep the sad or morbid stuff quiet...

then I realized today,

the bucket I cram all that into is nearing the top, with no overflow.

I can't sleep

it's not all about my job etc...that really just allowed me to but a name ,or an excuse, on my feelings.

Now it's everything

every dark spot I had ,or have no control over, is there and it feels pretty vast.

I'll be fine

but I wonder what others do?

I was sent this article 

"I Can't Turn My Brain Off: PTSD and Burnout Threaten Medical Workers"

I sit here and think maybe taking time off is really not the best idea...

Maybe that is the exact idea as to why they often require us to work continuously

Then I was sent a link to 10-33 foundation for reintegration...

I put it a folder last week...

today I opened it and filled it out.

I should probably write more, because I sure as shit don't want to talk more

I just want to laugh...

I want to be done with this divorce ...

because I cannot understand it and that kills me too

I get angry when I see him still sitting on the couch doing the exact same thing....

when he stuffs all my belongings in the basement and has ripped up and thrown away every family picture....

just seems really hurtful, but yet again...I hurt him

I still pay the bills and mortgage...

I'm not sure I have ever been much of anything except a bill payer ....

I don't want to talk to family because they really don't need to know

and even if they did,

what can they do.

As silly as it sounds I want to just sit and listen to the birds

or do something I can complete and be proud of...

have someone rub my back while I fall asleep 

and make sure I do fall asleep...safely

I would like to sit and listen to music

and not cry...not feel that overwhelming burden.

I don't want to think about how much more I could do for the people in my life...

son, daughter, friends, lovers, family, and the people I promise to care for within my job...

There is nothing I can really do

except wait it out

figure it out

keep smiling...

and hoping I can be the person I am supposed to be.

xo,

write ya later,

m

here.....if it doesn't make you wiser...

Wiseblood

Zola Jesus

This'll be my last home

But this stream will carry me through

But this stream isn't home no more

And truth can make immune

If it doesn't make you wiser

Doesn't make you stronger

Doesn't make you live a little bit

What are you doing?

And this'll be my one remorse

But this stream's kept me abused

And this stream is a hungry course

And time can make it new

If it doesn't make you wiser

Doesn't make you stronger

Doesn't make you live a little bit

What are you doing?

If it doesn't make you wiser

Doesn't make you stronger

Doesn't make you live a little bit

What are you doing?

In these parting days, I am losing all my senses

In these timeless days, I can barely see through

In this crowded space, I am losing all my senses

In these drowned out bays, I can barely see through

If it doesn't make you wiser

Doesn't make you stronger

Doesn't make you live a little bit

What are you doing?

If it doesn't make you wiser

Doesn't make you stronger

Doesn't make you live a little bit

What are you doing?

If it doesn't make you wiser

Doesn't make you stronger

Doesn't make you live a little bit

What are you doing?

If it doesn't make you wiser

Doesn't make you stronger

Doesn't make you live a little bit

What are you doing?

today

it is 3 months....3 months since it happened.
3 months since the 645 am phone call...
"your son is alive, but....."
no one asks me how I am and honestly , I am just me
my heart hurts today.
I have cried
I have tried to text people and I have tried to reach out.
2 people, one being my son, have responded....and he should never have to bare his mother's pain
I must keep quiet
I must be strong.
what I saw was what I saw...
and yes I was the parent notified that day,
only because my child was alive.
I saw her, I identified, I watched and cradled my son in the back seat of a squad car....vomiting and cold.
I shielded his view as they brought her out...
I blocked them from staring when the people on the street were curious...


I pleaded for them to retrieve the phone with all the numbers so that I could call her mom....
They said it is on the table...cannot move it now.
crime scene
They will call....they promised.
3 months later....
I still have the burden not calling.....
the pain of what I saw, yet grateful her mother did NOT have to see
even knowing she wishes she had been there....
I understand.

I drove home today....
3 months post....
contemplating death....
being done with the pain I carry, which should not be
It is my own ....
it would not help....
I know this.
my heart hurts for all of them....
I cannot fix it...
but yet for some reason....
I carry it
I still hear the cries,
I still see what I saw
I still carry guilt
wtf

I just want this to end...
for the sun to shine
to be done


no one asks how I feel or did feel.
what I saw....
am I ok


yes.
sure
I'm ok
we don't talk about it
we stay strong
mother
strong

m

Parenting with no handbook : Death part 3: "82 days"

He called and said,
"Mom, It's been 82  days and it has not gotten any easier, everyday still hurts like the first day"

it makes me cry....and I hate to cry. I cry for her, for you, for Gretchen and Charlie and for everyone who has to deal with this type of death.

Elliot never intended for any of this and would hate for us all to be so sad....I know this in my heart and you do too....but here we are, with nothing to grasp except sadness of this entire situation. We now have a hole where she was to be and grow and experience life with you, Ilin....that was cut too short....and as your mother, this has to be one of the most heart wrenching things to watch unfold. I can in no way take away your pain and that hurts. I had no preparation for this and I'm not sure you really were prepared either, even being in the situation.  Gretchen Ford my heart breaks for you, you know that...and nothing you could have done or said would have prepared Ilin or me for this either.

Here is something I would like to add as not only a mom, but as a person who lived a very similar life to Elliot....

1.) stop glamorizing drugs and the culture....
if you know someone who is thinking about trying these drugs, stop them...be stronger than the drug because if you never do the drug, you won't die from it....and I'm being serious. When I talked to Ilin as a young teen, I always said, " I know you are going to do things and try things, that is a known rite of passage, but I want you to know....never do heroin or meth....these are 2 drugs which you will never win with."
I reiterated this many times in Ilin's growing years and I feel that maybe it helped a bit to be honest. 
(A hard line sometimes has to be drawn) 

2. If you have younger siblings or friends...keep them from doing these drugs. 
They look up to you....
and you may think you don't have an influence, but you do.
The first time I heard to never do heroin, or ever even try it, was from my brother Jack....and I listened.
He looked me in the eye, and said'
"I've done a lot of stuff, but I will never shoot heroin, that shit will kill you, regardless of how good the high might be. Never do heroin, don't even try it.  Walk away if anyone tries to get you to do it or tries to make it sound good. It's bad, and it kills you"

3. If you know someone who is struggling, understand that this is not a game, and not a choice 
at a certain point, no one can help them except them selves, they have to try to get help on their own and it takes strength and the ability for failure. Often the type of people who get addicted to these drugs are not great at failure, so it is a vicious circle.....and they won't succeed without 100% support, regardless of the situation.
So if you know someone who is trying to get straight, don't push them in the wrong direction. 

Please.

4.losing anyone to an overdose is a horrible thing, but also, understanding that, most likely, dying was not their intent.... 

As Many of my good friends from my younger years can attest to....
with these drugs, there is no in-between. 
there is no...".I'll just do it today and then I'll be good for a a week....there is no, I'm pretty clean...."
5.The truth, the very hard shitty truth that no one speaks about because it sounds rough ( But sometimes we need some real life truth) either you are 100% clean and sober or you will eventually lose to the drug. 
This is a truth. 
so think about that,
 think about the pain to your friends and family that this may cause. 
Stop thinking it won't happen to you
....because...... 
we , this group of Elliots friends, family and lover, thought it would never happen to us..... 

I love you all and I want to see all our kids make it to their destination in life and fulfill their dreams, so start talking to your kids and friends and speak up!

 Jesus criminy....

if you, as a parent, think this is not in your kid's life...think again.
Ask them if they know anyone who does a little Molly, or smokes a little heroin in their weed?.
If you are ok with them vaping?....then you have a problem going on...
.ask them. you might be surprised...but you shouldn't be.

This little soul loved ice cream and sushi...
She danced and loved hip hop...
She didn't smoke cigarettes
then...
it became a thing, everyone was doing it.
then she met a person who said,
"You are beautiful, do this with me"
and it was about as simple as that...
One try...the wrong person, a weak hurt teen...
and then
we couldn't fix it.

xo

xox

xxooxx

write ya later,

m

fuck this shit

365 days: Mirrored Life and No More Public Sadness

2 weeks and my soul is still very heavy.

I went to bed yesterday at 6:40pm and woke at 8am....

Still tired, aged 1000 years and my list of shit I need to accomplish continues to grow.

I took this picture to remind myself I am still alive...

My son is still alive....

and my heart is still beating.

all the cocktails in the world will not help

my drug days are way over (thank you)...

Talking to people really doesn't help, because all it does is push people away in an awkward manner

and 

ignoring myself apparently will not help 

I have told myself this morning, as I drink my green smoothie, get ready for going down my list and accomplishing things such as brushing teeth, eating a solid food, going outside, laundry (because I stink), and try to exercise...

I tell myself that I am not going to be that friend people want to ignore after today.

My life is not that heavy and my problems should be mine and mine alone.

But I am going to share a one sided story.

Then I will say my thanks to the people I love.

I was Elliot.

I lived the life of bars, strip clubs...poor choices in men.

is it a gene? is it a lack of fatherly love?

who knows. 

Was I sexually abused by my dad?  NO

The neighbor boy up the street? Yes...

but I thought it was a game....

I have never been a victim.

even after being raped by a man I knew,

 who broke into my apartment while I was at work and waited for me.

my fault...

play the game and recover...

These people in my life were poor decisions and I set myself up for bad shit to happen.

I was young.

I was headstrong

and I didn't care for myself a whole hell of a lot.

I worked precarious jobs, but was always smart enough to not get too involved.

I worked with questionable people,

but again....

stayed solo in my life...

hopping from situation to situation with close friends often not even knowing where or what I was doing.

did I do drugs?  yes.  

with the promise I would never shoot-up...

I never did...

but, you can get the same effect smoking or snorting.

Waking up in people's house and not knowing where you are...

wrong side of town...

outside in a yard...

with blood pouring from a knife slice from someone I trusted...

 and a scar not even a tattoo can cover

funny stories, now....kind of...

Somehow I avoided death and the addictive gene.

I begged my soul for help to be stronger, and to not want so much...

I wrote letters to myself...

reminders...

you got this

all by your self....

you got this.

I knew (know) I was (am) a broken person.

wanting to be loved more than anyone can actually give.

I finally left that town...Atlanta.

I escaped... 

moved to the mountains in Colorado

I got a day job

I milked goats.

Someone who did not know a thing about me gave me chance waiting tables in a breakfast place.

I didn't have access to drugs...

I didn't have access to friends...

I was horrifying lonely...

sad...

really sad

I lapsed a few times with poor decisions...

but I made it.

here I am....

and maybe that is why I am so saddened for the death of Elliot.

Because I saw her resume sitting on the table that morning when the police asked me to go in and look around. 

She was trying.

She constructed an entire resume outlining her strengths and work ethic.

To go from nightlife

to the safety of day life.

but she did not make it

stuck in the night.

That is my short version of my story.

Many parts of my life are very secret.

laughable and haunting.

here I am at 50.

looking into a time machine of a young girl who was living my life and many other's

poor choices...

heartbreakingly lonely

and a young man who couldn't fix or love her enough

Elliot/Ashton

photo by : Ilin Blue

this is my last day of horrible public sadness.

It does no one any good....

I am thankful for the few friends who  have come to me....

 even though I say to stay away...

I'm good.

so thankful.

My dreams and thoughts still take me to the comfort of that certain someone else...

 multiple times a day

comfort, safety, and warmth...

and quiet...

wanting to escape to the safety of strong arms...

💙

last day...

My kids need me

Her mom needs me

I think I need myself

write ya later

xo,

m

Parenting with no Handbook. Death Part 2: .......64 Liters of Tears

I am not sure how a body can continue to produce so many tears,

they just continue

to flow....

stop. I say....

just stop

but they don't, 

The average person cries 64 Liters of tears in their lifetime and I am going to say this does not include trauma.

As the week has passed it only appears to get harder for the loved ones trying to find answers.
To sort through the life of what is left

"everyone has a secret life" I said as he sorts through all that remains.

Old purses, notebooks, clothes, bags....

I just didn't know, Mom....I just didn't know.

knowing the love was so strong, treasures were found with the evils 

but it is neither here nor there....

it really doesn't change anything

except to one.

He had to adult in a way no young person should have to.

Her mom requested he arrange everything she would want....

because, in all honesty, he knew her. 

They talked about death

He knew what she would want

She would want a natural burial...

no chemicals, maybe buried under a tree....

with a crown of flowers, like a princess.

So, that is what they did.

3/24/19

Her body was transferred to a small place where she could be seen once again,

before her soul would be set completely free.

My heart broke for him....

I was nervous for him....

death is not only cruel, but often ugly.

She was gently placed upon a table and he was allowed to go in alone...

Just him and her....

he told me, "Mom, she is so beautiful. I am so thankful I got to see her like this....and let go of the last time I saw her.

I kissed her and held her....

and we talked."

He dressed her in the vintage robe she wore at home, 

washed her hair and anointed her body with beautiful oils.

He traced the deep Y-incision with his warm hands upon her cold chest.

She was draped with a beautiful white cloth 

He placed his carefully made crown upon her head and spread fresh flowers delicately around her

Beautiful

She was so beautiful 

His lover, His best friend, His Muse.

Beautiful

He stood for 5 hours, one hand on her heart and one hand holding the other....

Beautiful

I met them for a short time and I cried at her beauty.

no makeup, perfect freckles, and lips still perfectly full.

The crown of flowers was perfect.

I cried for her, for him and for her mother...

I held her cold hand and whispered

"safe travels beautiful girl, safe travels....Keep Ilin safe from above"

I kissed her perfectly cold cheek

my heart broken.

"I will never love again....

I should have proposed....

I shouldn't have fallen asleep that night....

I should have known"

But you didn't 

and there is nothing you could have changed.

There is only a short in-between in this situation, my sweet boy.

It unfortunately, was inevitable...

you even said,

"I knew this would happen eventually ..."

xo,

M

Parenting with no handbook : death part 1

3/23/19

death of the heart

No one ever can tell you how to handle this.

no one.

there is no book,

 lesson, 

priest, 

therapist, 

or Shaman 

who can lead you through this labyrinth of pain.

by far the hardest job I have yet to attempt and let me tell you....

it is not because I want to

I have to

As a Mom I am required to be there
 receiving the call at 7am on a Saturday morning that your son is alive....

but

his girlfriend is deceased will put even the strongest soul to their knees...you cannot run.
Hearing your son screaming in pain and heartache in the background
will make you not stand tall to the job of parenting, but will make you want to exhale every ounce of breath from your body.
Arriving and seeing your child, although alive,
in his underwear outside in 40 degree weather vomiting,
alone, pale, with only a police advocate waiting
will crush your heart into a million pieces.
Holding his head, wiping his mouth, warming him as much as the cold, cold air will allow...
as he weeps, "she was so blue, so cold, mom, mom, I did the CPR....I did everything,...I did..."
I know, baby, I know.
"every bone in her chest broke...."
I know...I'm so sorry, Bubba....
I hate this.

They blocked his view...standing in front of the car so he could not see as the body of his young lover is brought down on a cold hard stretcher in a bag ....
by people who are merely doing their job.

"you are free to get what you need and go"
That's it?


Could it get worse...?
it could have for me...
the guilt of my having my living child bellowing in my lap was only made horrifyingly worse when the other mother called him.
the wailing of pain shot out of the phone ,piercing my heart
his wailing and apologizing
my panic and fear
her pain...
her questions,
her begging for why...why did this happen
grabbing the phone and pleading
I cry....I cry for my guilt...the knowing I was there when she should have been ...
to know I saw her broken, child as they took her out....she saw nothing, no closure , only pain
"we couldn't call we couldn't call...they would not let us call...."
I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry....

He won't sleep in a bed...
he won't be alone...
He wants my hand on him when he sleeps...
but he has barely slept,
he won't eat
"It should have been me"
Baby, it very well could have been you
and now we need you to stay with us...
She would want you to stay with us
"I'm going to try, Mom...I just hurt so bad"

It's been 3 days and I can barely sleep without picturing the horrifying scenario he has told me when we sit quietly.
my stomach turns
"mom, I love you so much....this is so hard, why, why is this happening"
Bubba, it will never be ok....
I refuse to say it will be ok....
you will never forget what you saw and the last encounter
but we have to get through this
with you here.

I am doing my best
this task of parenting, loving, and praying he stays on this earth with his broken soul

please, Blue
because without you...
I will die

m




this post was held in quiet limbo until anointing, viewing, and releasing of her beautiful soul was completed

💙
to Blue and Ashton