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About Tossed-into-the-Sea

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  • Loss Type
    Mother, Father, Grandmother, murdered boxer, family. . .


  • Occupation
    Trying to find two jobs to support those left behind.
  1. But i'm not. I. AM. NOT. OKAY. I needed to get ahold of my roommates. not having a phone, I went to yahoo messenger. Where i found that I still had my mother added to the contact list. . . I've been messaging her ever since. I feel like i'm just going to cry forever and ever and ever and i won't let a tear fall because once I start i won't be able to stop and I'd rather have my roommates think i'm lazy as hell for staring blankly at a computer screen then see me as weak and lonely as i really am. They have already voiced their opinions on how pathetic I am for being so hurt over this. It's only a joke, right? My mom is queen of tricking people. That's all she ever did. it's all a lie, right? just another game. She's going to get online and read my messages and apologize for leaving me behind! Right? i don't care if it's true or not! I NEED her to be alive!
  2. Lost Without Her

    21 days without my mother. . . And I might be pregnant. A few things to note: My mother wasn't a good mom. I loved her, I would like to think she loved me--at least when it suited her. We had secrets, though. Many secrets. I think my mother couldn't stand me because I couldn't be her. I wouldn't lie or con or steal or use and i would call her out if I saw it. I think that she hated me being able to see through her lies and actions. . . I think she respected me for being who I am. In a way, she could have loved me for never being her. I was my own person and my mother always encouraged individuality and supported dreams. Her two qualities that I will always cherish. So she confided in me. And I confided in her. . . . She wanted grandchildren, though. And the last time I saw her, she had pretty much said I wasn't a daughter because I couldn't have children and she had a new daughter (brother's nit wit of a girlfriend). It broke my heart. At fourteen I conceived child due to unwilling circumstances. My abusive older brother beat the baby out of me and tossed bleach on me two months later. I miscarried at fifteen. I then had a chemical pregnancy at 17 (unknowingly until the doctors informed me of why i was having such a strange monthly). In February of this year, I had a brutal miscarriage. I hadn't the faintest clue before hand that I could have been pregnant. Although we are a younger couple, we rarely have sex so this was a shock to he and I. . . I called my mother. She sighed. Said that there was no point in living to see a grandbaby now. A month and a half later she died. And now I think I'm pregnant. Terrified I will miscarry again and fell less than I should of myself. Angry if I don't because had I been able to carry before, my mother might have stayed alive. I know it is irrational to think this way, but I can't help it.
  3. my mom has been gone 22 days

    *hugs* 19 days for me. I know it's tough. We're all here for you here.
  4. This is. . . Difficult.

    Thank you, Keiko
  5. having a hard time....

    I have to force myself to shower. . . Bella, i had to quit school. I wasn't there when my mom died. I found out through a facebook post I was tagged in. I hadn't seen my mom in 5 months when she passed. I wasn't invited to the funeral or the wake. So I stay in my room. I've left my room 4 times (I mean, of course I've been in other parts of the house, but I've left my room with a purpose 4times) in 18days. My boyfriend tells me how lazy and useless I am constantly. And all I can think is, "why don't you just shut the hell up?". As for moving on. . . I don't know if it ever happens when loss breaks your heart and takes away a part of you. I think we can gather ourselves and continue living, but part of us will always be stuck on the pain of our lost loved one(s). Of course, I am no expert and I'm only nineteen, but that is my opinion. If you ever need someone to talk to, we're always here *hugs*
  6. This is. . . Difficult.

    Oh, Heartlight. . . I'm crying now. And not the tears of misery and pain wrought from wretched sobs. You gave me something no one else has. Hope and support and hope for future support and inner strength. Thank you.
  7. She was murdered. . .

    Molly was the love of everyone's life. She was half blind in one eye and had two tumors. When we got her her poor ears and tail had been so crudely cropped that they bled. But none of that mattered. She was the glue in our house. No one could dislike that nubbed tail wagging all the time. Or the fact that she would whine until everyone was off of the couch so she could have one tiny corner. She had such big eyes to beg with and like adding a little whimper of eagerness to go along with it. Of course, it always worked. She healed my boyfriend's heart while she stole it. Our seven year old boxer was our angel. Then, on one of the saddest nights of my life, someone didn't double check to make sure the door was 100%closed. She silently nudged her way outside. She was on the side of the road closest to our house, in front of the neighbor's. A van, on the other side of the road, saw her and sped up. Swerving across the road to hit her. The neighbors children witnessed it. We got the call. It was raining. It was dark. I ran out barefoot down the road to get to her. We rushed her to an Animal ER 2hours away. We had to put her down. We cried for days after. The worst thing is, I am pretty sure that I am the one who didn't make sure the door was latched.
  8. Lost both of my parents in 36 hours

    I understand your anger. It's all I feel. This might be juvenile, but you can't move on as if nothing happened. You have the right to stop, pause, and take a break. How is it right for you to go on every day normally feeling this way? It isn't. That anger is of a different kind. It will ruin everything for you. You don't have to fight this alone if you don't want to.
  9. I too, grew up in a very dysfunctional home and went through the foster system numerous times. I am nineteen with no parents--my father passed when I was ten, my mother just eighteen days ago. After nine years, I can't fully accept my father's death. And I can't seem to talk about my mother in past tense. My brothers followed the paths that my parents put out. Drugs, violence, gangs, alcohol, selfishness, carelessness, greed, and all things related. Still, I have partial custody for the two younger ones. I am attempting to get two jobs so that I can do my best to give them a good life although they live in a bad area with my aunt. My home is too small and my landlord will not allow them to be here and I do not have the money to move so they can't be with me. But I'm not like them. I've been self motivated. I am turning more and more like my mother in terms of being self destructive and angry. . . Still, I cannot allow myself to be her. I fear having children because I am terrified that my child would suffer the way I did. I understand your fears. Just make sure your boys smile. Teach them respect and kindness. Feed them and care for them and be a part of their lives. The fact that you worry you aren't being the best you can be means that you're a good parent. Do not fret, I feel that your boys are in good hands. As of right now, I am unsure how to fill the void. I receive no support from my friends or family--my roommates couldn't care less and my family doesn't acknowledge me unless giving them money is involved. I would like to think that a good friend could help, but I'm not sure.
  10. This is. . . Difficult.

    I've never done anything like this. . . . . . By "this", I mean talk about stuff. I'm not sure where I should begin. Uh, I am nineteen. I have two younger teenage brothers. My older brother is. . . well, he's useless. In the worse way possible. . . Our father died March 23, 2005. Crap. This is where it gets hard for me. In the nine years since his passing, I've talked about him to one person. Ever. I'll mention him in passing, of course. And when asked about him, I acknowledge his death. But that's it. I don't talk about what I went through or what shattered inside of me the day, I--my father's angel--learned of his death. I thought that hiding behind the anonymity of a faceless poster would allow me to talk, but thus far, it has come to no good. I can't handle that pain. My mother died March 23, 2014. I didn't even get to say goodbye. To either of them. In fact, it takes everything in me to not blame myself for both their deaths. And I'm angry. Oh, I am angry. When Daddy died, I suppressed it out of a 10 year old's confusion. It slowly poisoned everything. When my grandmother died (January 17, 2010) it started stinging so bad that I turned numb inside. I smiled. I did nothing but smile. That potentially hurt me more than anything. I couldn't allow anyone to see the pain that I was going through. Now, with my mother's death on the same day of my father's. . . Not to mention that she died four days after my beloved boxer was murdered. . . I think I'm broken. It's been 18 days. And I hate everyone. I am so very angry. And I don't know why. I don't know what's happening. My boyfriend has his entire family intact and didn't grow up with any of the turmoil and destitution that I had to. My roommate has both of her parents and sisters and rolls her eyes when I randomly cry. I don't have anyone to talk to because no one wants to hear what is going on, even when they say they do. I'm not handling this how I should. According to my friends, I'm a drama queen and I'm needy and fake and doing it for attention. I've left my room four times in eighteen days. Everytime I go out people either look at me like I'm insane or with eyes so full of pity it makes me sick. It doesn't help that I live in a two horse town and everyone KNOWS that I learned of my mother's death from being tagged in a Facebook post and that I wasn't there for or with her.