We Honor You Today.

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To all of our veterans
Far and near.
We thank you for your service
For all those years.

You sacrificed your time,
And some gave your life.
You preserved our freedom
By willingly paying the price.

Many of you
Were sent overseas.
You were wounded in battle,
With scars and disease.

But courageous and brave,
You weathered the storm.
You faced every battle
With faith and beyond.

We honor you with joy
For all that you’ve done.
You stood strong for our country,
For our daughters and sons.

So no one stands alone,
We walk hand in hand.
Remember, we are with you.
Together we shall stand.

We salute you today.
Hear what we say.
Let our words speak eloquently
In this special way.

On this day,
Let us express our love and thanks
For the sacrifice you paid.
You served in honor
For many years and days,
And we will never forget
How you were strong and brave.

Someone’s child, left long ago,
A strange land,
Someone’s foe.

An unmarked grave, fields of green,
Resting quiet,
Just eighteen.

Winds of freedom, wash us now,
Remember him,
This I vow.

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I Hurt When I Look at You: A Poem About Mother and Daughter

It hurts when I look at you

You chin raised so high

So full of self-virtue

You don’t hear my cry

Your eyes full of judgement

As you survey around

Your lips spill your disappointment

As my confidence you pound

Your words so critical

Delivered with a smile

Your opinion of me brutal

Your own child you revile

For years I have tried

To earn more than your love

Needing your friendship, respect and pride

And receiving none of the above

Locked together by blood

Our family ties tight

What should be ours sacred

Has been killed by the never-ending fight

So please believe me when I say

That our time has reached its end

I never meant for it to be this way

But my life I’m no longer willing to defend

I miss what we could have had

But it was only a dream

I like my life good or bad

And no longer look to gain your esteem

It hurts when you look at me

Wanting to be close

And knowing we never will be

Not mother and daughter… now only foes

Here’s another poem I came across. The writer touched on every aspect of having a narcissistic parent.

When you don’t understand, or don’t know what narcissism is, you will forever spin your wheels trying to appease a narcissistic person. It’s difficult for a child to even comprehend what is going on. Not to mention that it is so very damaging to a child growing up in that environment. That child will grow up confused. To say the least.

I have JUST recently delved into reading and researching about Narcissistic personality disorder. Let me just say it is rather complicated. Because first and foremost a narcissistic person would NEVER admit there might be a problem with them. No no no! It will ALWAYS be the other persons fault.

As far as reading up on this subject. I have learned a few tricks. I have responded differently towards this person. Which has helped with having fewer full blown arguments. Because bottom line is you will NEVER win an argument (debate) with a narcissistic person. That is their passion to argue. They love to argue so they can say mean hurtful things to belittle you, and discard you. ( for the time being) Then they shower you with love JUST enough for you to let your guard down. ALL the while filling away all your responses and trigger points back into their memory bank, ONLY to use it against you in the next attack.

Having that happen to you as a child really wreaks havoc on the mind. But that’s another topic.

In my reading and learning on narcissism, I have noticed that most of my reading ALWAYS says to leave that person. Cut all ties with said person. Don’t answer phone calls, texts, or email. Even if said person sends you a card or letter through tge mail simply write return to sender. DO NOT open. And yes that’s what you do if your leaving a narcissistic partner. But it’s not that easy if you have a narcissistic parent. That parent will get older and need your help. My conscious will not allow me to abandoned her. She drives my absolutely batty at times. But she is my mom and I love her.

I know this is part of my problem. I can fix what ever is wrong. I think that’s a part of being raised by a narcissistic parent. We are constantly seeking validation from that parent. We or at least I did, became obsessed with getting a genuine complement. Some sort of validation from her. That’s enough for today. Whew this was not an easy thing to do.

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Depression And Anxiety

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I’ve been suffering with depression and anxiety since I was a kid. At the time, I didn’t know what it was. It used to feel like screaming inside and hoping someone would hear it and help me. But no one can hear silent screams.

Depression is not something you can explain – it is most definitely not sadness. Sadness is about crying and feeling. But depression- it’s the absence of feeling, a hollowed feeling.

Silent Screams

Can’t you hear my silent screams?
They are so loud they echo in my dreams.

Behind this face that carries a smile
Lies a dark road that goes on mile after mile.

My silent screams have been going on for years,
But it always falls on so many deaf ears.

How can they hear these silent screams in my mind?
They can’t hear my thoughts if I keep telling them I’m fine.

What can I tell them? These silent screams carry no words.
It’s just feelings of sadness and darkness that come in its herds.

How can I explain so people understand this?
It’s like walking around in a suffocating black mist.

It’s holding on to happiness like holding water in your hands.
It just trickles between your fingers and disappears into the sands.

I can’t explain how this feels; it’s so extreme,
So I hold my mouth shut to cover my silent screams.

This is another poem I came across that I like. It seems to really hit home with me. When I was almost 4 yrs old my real dad lost his battle with cancer. Seeing him laying on the floor is the ONLY image I have of him.

My older brother has memories of him pushing us on a tire swing, and he has other memories. But that’s the only memory I have.

I remember the day he died there was a lot of people in the house. But the one thing I remember most about that day is. I was sitting on the couch, alone, with my face in my hands crying. Oddly I was worried about who was going to pay the bills. Why was THAT on my mind for one thing. But also why was I consoling myself ? Then the next thing I know we’re living in Texas, and my mom has remarried. It’s as if from the passing of my real dad to the remarriage of my mom it was a total blackout to me. The weird part about it is, it’s as if I woke up feeling unloved. I was 6yrs old then. How does a 6 year old come out of a “blackout” feeling unloved?

I was laying in my bed one night and couldn’t go to sleep. I remember my mom was in the shower so I stayed awake waiting for her to come out from the bathroom. She asked me from the doorway of my room why I wasn’t asleep yet. I told her I couldn’t sleep. Her remedy was for me to read a book. But why didn’t she give me affirmation that I am loved? As the years slowly passed, life continued, rather I wanted it to or not. These years are so chaotic. I feel like after my dads passing and my “blackout” I have done nothing but spin my wheels. I hated school, because we moved around so much, I never had a chance to make or have friends. But at the same time, I don’t think I tried to make friends because I didn’t want to bother people. I mean that’s what I THINK happened, because even today, I keep to myself. I am not one to initiate a conversation, but if spoken to I will respond.

As I look back on my personal history, I see a pattern of solitude. Yet I long to be loved. I laugh internally at myself because in truth, I wouldn’t know how to act if I was loved.

I realize NOW that in my younger years I was treading water. If anybody paid any kind of attention to me I jumped on it as if it was my life boat. I was so desperate for love that I was blinded to the small unseen holes in that life boat, and found myself draining the boat with a very small bucket.

I found myself in a 15 year unrequited love relationship. Yet I was determined to make it work. It ended up breaking me. Now at my age I have given up. I have the words (Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be) I now simply go through the motions of life. Kind of a sad existence. There are things that make me feel happy from time to time. I love my son with every ounce of my being. He don’t know it but he’s the reason I keep going. He has always been my rock. I stayed strong for him. When he was young I put on mom mode and acted as if I loved life, I acted JUST as excited as he did when he learned something new. We used to go bug hunting. He never knew, in my solitude I was dead. Hindsight I could have been an actor. When he comes to visit I still put the brave happy front. But I digress. AND I need to start being unproductive.

Actually the house we are living in, the owner has decided to sell it. So I need to get it dressed up for photos. Which has my anxiety up because if he sells it. We may have to move. The owner said he hopes to sell it to another invester. But that don’t mean he wont want us to move. So he can flip the house and sell it again. Funny thing is….when I started this ecommerce thing, I hoped it would grow into something sustainable to eak out a living. But Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be

But just incase. Here are links

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When I Die

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I stumbled across this poem, a few years ago and needless to say I like it. I like poetry, but I am no poet. I just wanted to share this poem.

I try to talk to my son because I know he will be the one making arrangements for my services. He never wants to talk about it. He says he can’t think about my death. I know it’s not an easy subject for most people. But it is a reality that we are all going to die. I just feel that if we make plans a head if time it will be easier for the person who is doing the arrangement to know what to do. Because one thing I know is, these funeral homes will certainly play on the loved ones emotions. I plan to be cremated. Theres no need for a grave site, and the whole head stone and all of that. I always tell him my play list for my services. There wont be the typical funeral music in the background of my funeral. The only thing I’ll leave for him to do is write my eulogy. That is something that has to come from a persons own experience of how I made them feel. My one hope is that no matter what, but when people I have came across in my lifetime I always try to make fond memories or at least a pleasant experience. Most often times people wont remember you for what you say, but for how you made them feel.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there.

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No Longer Able To Play The Optimist.

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There’s a monster inside of me, eating away at my smile,
He takes all my sadness and makes a file.

These files are all stacked up in my brain.
Now my whole life just consists of pain.

It’s such a problem that I can’t sleep.
Nothing works…not even counting sheep.

When I’m in public I hide my tears.
It’s been this way for several years.

I hide my sadness behind a fake smile,
But the pain won’t go away…not for a while.

The hardest part is hiding when I cry.
It makes me feel like I’m going to die.

I feel like I’m slowly going insane,
But I am not the one to blame…

Blame the monster.
He goes by the name…Depression.

I’m just waiting for the monster to go to sleep now.

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Alone

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Edgar Allen Poe

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov’d — I lov’d alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

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