Jet To No Where

Help me find out if I am on a Jet To No where…or just on stand by.

Archive for the tag “death”

Fillicide

Marilyn Manson

“Is adult amusement killing our children, or is killing our children amusing adults?”  ―    Marilyn Manson

 

My son was gone.

I was screaming his name over and over, echoing through the vast rooms with high ceilings and shiny old oak crown molding. I was running down every stair case, looking into every room, searching…..scouring what was easily 25 old, Victorian style rooms. I yelled  his name so many times that I was hoarse. My through scratchy and tired, my heart pounding with each gasp.

“Jakob!!!!!”, I cried,……..nothing.  “JAKOB, WHERE ARE YOU???!!!???”, I bellowed down with each step. No response.

I don’t remember why I was looking for him. I know I was angry, but I have no clue as to why. He wasn’t answering me. He knew I hated that. I always told him that if he hears me call his name to never yell, “What?”, back to me. He was to come to where ever I was in the house. I knew he was mad, so that is why he wasn’t answering me and it infuriated me more and more. I was so angry, yet frantic…searching….”Jakob!”……”Jakob!”…..”JAKOB!!!”…..

I found him on the first floor. There must have been five or six staircases that I remember going down. I didn’t recognize the house either. I was a house from a faint childhood memory that I may have been in once when I was a little girl. Jakob was so angry that he would not even look at me.

I kept screaming, “Why didn’t you answer me?”….”What the fuck is wrong with you?!?”…….”I am going to kill you for this one!”…..yet, I don’t know why I was mad or what he had done to set me off so badly.

I had my hands around his throat, tightening my grip while he tried to yell….”Please, mom…..PLEASE MOMMY, DON”T….” I would stop and say, “This is what you get for acting this way!!!!”…..”This is what happens when you don’t answer me!!!!”. He fell to his knees and I stopped. When he started to speak, to ask me what was wrong with me….I started choking him again……”How do you like this?”….”Huh?”…..”Are you happy now?”….”Are you glad you didn’t answer me, that you IGNORED ME???!!!???”.

Then all I heard was a crack. I knew instantly what I had done. My arms fell. They hit the floor like lead. I was sobbing, ….NO…..NO….NO!!!”….What have I done?!?!”….”OH God PLEASE NO!!!!!!!”, I echoed the entire house. Then, his face faded away….. I was holding a screen…I think it was an iPad, cracked with the Apple on the front fading because I knew I had broken it….or him….

I just woke up sobbing. I am inconsolable. Why the fuck would I dream of killing my child? He is my life, my love, my legacy.

We went to IKEA today. It was Jake, Owen, Sami, Jayden, Seth and Jill. We met Robin and Miles, Jake’s best friend, there. It was such a long, exhausting day. If anyone has ever been to an IKEA, especially with one child, let alone five, they know exactly what I am talking about. Jake and Miles were running around the store, getting food in the cafeteria…..just goofing around as usual. He wasn’t especially bad…he was just bored and being 12 with his best friend. Robin had to leave early, so Jake went with them to sleep over Miles’ house. I miss Jake so much when he sleeps out. Sometimes I lie and say something like, “Oh, not tonight honey….we have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow.”, just so I have him home. He is my baby.

About two hours after he left the store, he called me. I had his iPod in  my purse, so he wouldn’t lose it while he was running around. He asked me to bring it over to him. I told him I was still here, at IKEA. He was angry. ….”What?”, he said in a disgusted voice. “I thought you would have been home by now.”….. You could tell he was mad. He was huffing and deep signing.

I said, “No, I told you it was going to be a long day and just because you forgot to get it before you left is not my problem…..There is no way I am….NEVERMIND!”,  I screamed. “I don’t have time to argue about this! Too bad!”…and I hung up. It was getting late. I was tired, frustrated with 4 kids and Jill was the same and getting on my nerves as well.

I spoke to Jake earlier, about 8:00 or 9:00 PM to say good night. He was fine…having a good time. We didn’t even mention the iPod discussion. It was long over and forgotten.

I know why I was holding a cracked, broken iPad now. I don’t know why I would ever have dreamt that I would have strangled my son. Truth be told, I wanted to strangle Jill by the end of the night.

I woke up screaming, crying, inconsolable. I wake up this way at least once a week. I have vivid nightmares of semi-real life events. They alway end badly. I sobbed and yelled, “No, no, no, no…” so many times, I cannot count. I was coughing and throwing up. I was still asleep for the most part. After about 3-5 minutes, I started to realize that it wasn’t real….I had dreamt the whole thing. Then, I was truly a wreck because I cannot fathom that nightmare. I cannot wrap my head around the fact that I dreamt that I killed my son….and for a reason I cannot remember….not that there would ever even be a reason to kill one’s child.

It was 1:15 AM. I called Jake sobbing. I said I was sorry for waking him and I had a horrible nightmare and needed to hear his voice. He was fine. He said he was still awake…that he couldn’t sleep. I don’t believe that, just because he sounded like I woke him up. He kept telling me to calm down and he was okay. He knows about my nightmares. I calmed down a little. I told him to call me in the morning so I could come and get him as soon as possible. He said okay. I kept telling him over and over that I loved and missed him so much.

I can’t even see the computer screen as I write this. The tears and just running down my face…my voice is scratchy and I feel like I am getting a cold. I didn’t even put my glasses on, so there is probably more than a dozen typos in this story. This true story. I write my dreams down as soon as I wake up or I would never remember the detail. It would never be as raw as it is now. When I go back to sleep and wake up later and come to read this, just as I have done countless times before, I am dumbfounded. I can’t believe some of the things I have dreamt and the sadness or violence of them.

I don’t know what to do with this information….why would I have strangled my son to death in my dream? I am calmer now, but still upset and crying. I love my son so very much is physically hurts at times…..my heart aches.

I guess I will be Goggling dream meanings after this…..or do I even want to know?

Back in Pennsylvania…

I slumped to the ground in a lifeless pile. The ground was so cold, so muddy. My fingers and hands that were so desperately trying to hold me up were buried in soggy cold, thick, wet dirt. The rain had not stopped all day. It was the type of rain that just kept coming and coming….no end in sight and pouring down. Every time I opened the door to see if  the guys had arrived, the rain was loud and insistent. I could see my breath outside on the back porch. I was wearing a white v-neck t-shirt and a long skirt….no shoes. The kids were inside playing video games and Ted was pacing nervously back and forth on the porch as he tried to put his best it’s-going-to-be-okay face on. It wasn’t working.

We knew something had happened. Something tragic, but we didn’t want to believe anything we read on the Internet. I only checked it twice and saw two news reports. I read only a little and closed them out….the computer was off from then on. I had a horrible sinking feeling of dread. I knew he did something really stupid this time.

I finally heard two bikes coming closer to the house. The sound was so faint, but I heard them. I had been listening for hours for that sound. I wanted to know what happened….the real story…… The bikes grew louder and louder until they finally arrived. It was Tom and Sam. They were wearing their usual jeans with their old worn in leather jackets. Tom had a cigarette hanging from his lips. He always had a cigarette hanging from his lips.

I stood on the porch, cold and barefoot, waiting for someone to say something. Ted was standing on the front steps, waiting just out of ear shot. They walked up to Ted so slowly that it seemed as if an hour had passed. They shook Ted’s hand. I couldn’t hear exactly what they said. I only saw tears and heads shaking.

Sam looked Ted dead in the eye and said, “I’m sorry man….there was nothing anyone could do.”

Ted walked back and forth on the porch while I just watched him. I gestured for Tom and Sam to go in, whispering there was coffee or beer. I still didn’t know exactly what had happened. I was afraid to ask Ted. I didn’t know if he was angry, upset or just completely distraught with grief. I kept looking over to him and he finally looked back at me.

“He was in a bad way”, he simply stated. His eyes were so welled up with tears that never fell. His head was tilted to the side slightly with a look that I ached for him. There was so much pain in his soft voice and crooked glance.

“No one could help him any longer. It just happened…..it had to happen sooner or later.” Ted said with a tremble. “He took a bunch of pills and wrecked his bike.” He went through the open sliding glass doors into the kitchen. I wanted to go and help him, console him….but I knew he wanted to be alone for a while.

On my way down to the mud I couldn’t control myself. I was inconsolable. I cried so hard my chest hurt. The kind of cry you had as a kid when you couldn’t catch your breath. My face down, struggling to catch the breath I could see right in front of me in this wicked rain….my hands grasping the mud, squishing through my fingers. I sat there in the yard getting drenched on the freezing ground. No one would know I was crying unless they heard me….the rain was sliding down my face…mascara running down with it.

I didn’t even like him. He had done so many awful things in the past two years to everyone who had tried to help him get on his feet again. The whole family talked about him taking pills, but no one ever confronted him. Everyone was great at that….talking about what was wrong with someone, expressing so much concern, but never doing a God-damned thing about it and then saying they couldn’t have done anything anyway. No one actually cared enough to sat anything….even myself.  Plausible deniability.

There was a certain look on Ted’s face. You cannot describe it….you only know it if you see it.

Guilt.

Guilt of never confronting him about the rumors of pills, erratic behavior and lies. Ted would never be the same after today. I knew it would be a long time for him to open up and talk about it, but I would wait. He would need me soon enough and I didn’t want to push him. He needed to feel the loss….face the pain….it was his only brother, after all.

Leonard was dead.

It’s not easy being Blue…

Being depressed is very difficult. I don’t mean the treatment of depression, the endless doctors and trial error of medications. It’s not even the hope of one day you may just get it under a manageable level. I mean it is extremely difficult to STAY depressed.

I have dealt and managed depression since I was…oh…about 22 or so. I have had thoughts os suicide over those years. I have never once attempted it, even in the slightest. I suppose now, if that fleeting thought renders its maniacal head, my children immediately spring to my mind and the thought is crumbled. Simple, easy…without a doubt. But what kept me from attempting it in the past? When I was at my lowest of lows….darkness closing in when I was a young, single girl (I would not yet say a “woman”, as the old cliché goes….”If I knew then what I now”.). Up all night after working in a club. Drinking, drugs, men  and women whom were strangers that I had a night with and never saw again. I know now why I did what I did, but why did I never try to “end it all”?

I do know now….as stated above, “If I knew then….blah, blah, blah….”.

I simply like being depressed.

I like sitting in my room undisturbed, thinking of all the problems I have to fix. Drapes closed when the sun is shining beautifully outside….most people would go out and relish in it all. Anything to get out of the rut of funk they are in. Not me. I actually enjoy being depressed.

I am an admitted  television junkie. I love to watch TV…anything on the proverbial “boob tube”. I have my favorite shows that I either record or get home in time to watch on weekday evenings, but when I am in my room in the depression mode, I’ll watch anything. My husband will come in and ask me what I am watching. Sometimes the answer is “Nothing important”. I will watch the same movie over and over again, even if it was bad the first time around. I watch marathons of reality shows that are not even entertaining.

I am having my pacemaker changed out this Monday. I haven’t had a good feeling about this for a while now. I cannot explain it, but it is an unshakable feeling, yet not one of fear. I am preparing to record my will today, maybe tomorrow. I need to burn a copy and send it to my lawyer, as my last will is incomplete. So, as I am making these arrangements, the inevitable thoughts of life and death have been plaguing on my mind.

So, as I sit here in my room, drapes closed to the beautiful day I could be having outside. Not even a fleck of light shining through with no desire to gaze at the calm waters of the lake I live on. What is on TV today? The Devil’s Advocate……Interview wuth a Vampire….various episodes on Intervention. Perfect material to entertain my depressive state of mind that I have no intention of even trying to dismiss. Life, death, dying, immortality, the devil, God, heaven and hell…..all the big ones.

I did manage to take a shower, which I have to thank for this writing. So many an idea has come out of my brooding in the shower. It’s where my best material comes from…or shall I say, comes together. The material has always been here.

Depression and anxiety are the new black.  Everyone is seeing a shrink and it is almost a daily conversation with people….”Well, what are you on to get through life”?  There is no stigma attached to depression and anxiety like there was 20 years ago. Everyone admits to it and openly talks about it, so I have no clue as to why anyone is even seeing shrinks any longer. One would think therapy is a couple of people having coffee at Starbucks these days. But, I rarely sit at Starbucks when I go. It is always in and out or the drive through.

So, Interview with a Vampire is over now. With all of the Twilight saga and True Blood now….you have your brooding, depressive vampires too. Louie is miserable…..Edward is suffering for eternity and Bill just wants to be one of the humans. Even immortality is getting depressing. So much for the glitz and glamour of living forever, being beautiful and never wanting for anything. That is out of the question too.

It’s 4:00 PM. I feel like getting up. I think I’ll go have a smoke. Yes, I still smoke with all my health problems and I don’t give a shit because I am not ready to quit yet.

It’s the only thing I enjoy besides being depressed these days.

In rememberance of all those who have given the ultimate sacrifice…9/11/2001

To live in hearts we leave behind….. Is not to die.

~Thomas Campbell, “Hallowed Ground”

American Flag

Quote of The Day

“Money’s only something you need in case you don’t die tomorrow.”

~~~Martin Sheen Wall Street

Blessings in Disguise

Evey time I drive by a church, cemetery….even temples or one of those flowered crosses on the side of the road where some poor soul had lost their life….I bless myself. I have been doing this for a few years now and it just became an automatic reaction after a while. I knew where every single location was while living in Pennsylvania. Then we moved to Florida.

I should have just left my hand on the top of my forehead at all times. There is a church of some denomination on every corner, in every town, in every county. Cemeteries are pretty much set back in the more rural areas, so they are not that prevalent. The crosses…..forget it. I had carpal tunnel within a week. I stuck with my tradition though. I just kept thinking…..if I stop, God will be mad, I will feel guilty and something awful would happen to me or my family. Hence the Catholic guilt creeping up on me once again.

After my last few post, I stopped doing all of this. I had to make a conscious effort NOT to do it. It was so natural for so long that it was difficult. Then I started to feel guilty…like I rebelling against God. I felt as if I was betraying someone….like He would be angry that I stopped doing a ritual that I started myself and something terrible was about to happen because I stopped it all. Why would the Baptists, Mormons, Lutherans, Muslims or Jews have a problem with my new ritual? I’m Catholic, but I was honoring all religions because I simply do not know who is right and I wanted to cover all bases. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous?!?

So, now I am free to drive without interruption in fromt of any religious buliding or burial ground. I don’t feel guilty any longer. I just drive like the majority of people now….not noticing if there may be a religious site or symbol to recongnize or revere.

So, yet again, I feel guilty for not feeling guilty. What is with me and this issue?

Do I need a  rabbi, priest or therapist?

 

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