Someone always has it harder than me….
Published on: Jun 12, 2014 @ 21:07 –
It doesn’t matter how much I struggle with life, there is always someone else who has it much worse. That’s how I view life. I don’t go to social media for pity parties, in fact, I speak very little on Facebook, and even less on Twitter. I don’t care what people have to say. If I cared, I would post more on social media to get input. Instead, I write my occasional tales on my blog, which is not open for comments, and I post my videos on YouTube, which also is not open for comment. For every one viewable post on my blog, there are 10 that are private. For every viewable video on YouTube, there are probably 20 that people can’t see. I honestly just don’t care what anybody has to say. If there was a PhD in “Life” I most certainly would be close to obtaining it. I have gone through trauma that most people wouldn’t see in 3 lifetimes.
I haven’t posted very much in the last 4 years, noticeable only by my archive counts per year or month. I have kept very silent in fact. I’m more of a “suffer in silence” person. I’ve been stomped on and risen up; I’ve been chewed up and spit back out; I’ve been melted and hardened; I’ve been destroyed and rebuilt; I’ve been murdered and come back to life; I’ve been insulted and complimented; I have died and been brought back to life; I’ve been stolen and given back; I’ve given up and fought back; I’ve been defriended and friended; I’ve been sad and I’ve been happy; I’ve been bad and I’ve been good; I’ve bestowed trust only to be stabbed in the back; I’ve given with no return; I’ve been to hell and fallen from heaven; I have taken lives and given lives; I’ve been gutted and left with a hollow shell, literally and physically; I do good only to be painted bad…. And well, at least I get the point.
It’s not possible to make people understand me. It’s not possible to prove myself to anyone. The more I try to prove myself to anyone the more I fail at doing so. There are impossible things in life, but I never tell myself that. Instead I tell myself that nothing is impossible, and I set out only to fail.
I’m not a hateful person, I’m quite liking to people. I have a very small an enemies list, including one county and one particular deputy that could roll over and die in a single patrol car accident. But that’s only because he messed with my child. I’ve destroyed him already though. People do know if I am crossed the wrong way, in the worst ways, I will set out to destroy them. Not physically of course, my damage is done in words, always truth. I have taken down a hospital system, a sheriff’s deputy, smashed up an entire county, a filthy animal shelter, and I do not stand down to anyone.
I take the bullet so to speak for everyone, and when I’m right, I fight for what is right, and when I am wrong, I will take back everything said with grace. I document everything by recorded audio and video. There is absolutely no fight left in me anymore though. I so badly want to fight for my mom but I don’t have the energy or will power to take on another hospital system. I saw firsthand last night why my mother died. I was in the room she spent her final days, and saw that the “hourly” rounding was done every 2-3 hours. Fluids on given when needed, and not just because. My mom never had fluids, hence her condition at death. You push a call light and it takes them 45 minutes to respond. No heart monitors except once in a while to check vitals.
I can’t even tell myself how many times I’ve “coded”. I don’t have any recollection of events that occur prior to me waking up, except where someone has knuckled the middle of my chest and the pain from that only surfaces the following day. I just looked at my upper chest because it hurt really bad, and not only do I have a burning sensation, but I have a giant bruise. It’s a tactic they use to rouse you awake if you are out of it for whatever reason. I don’t remember them doing it, all I remember is telling a lady with blonde hair that my upper half of my body was burning up and hot while my lower body was cold. But anyway, I generally don’t find out until I get a copy of my medical record or if I’m lucky enough to have a nurse tell me. Nobody is ever there with me when it happens, I’m always alone. That concept scares me, because I never know why or how, what the hell just happened. I am generally in good health these days, my anemia has not resurfaced that I know of. They say all my blood work is fine except for freak fucked up things that happen to me. Life has taken a hard hit on me the last 8 months, the last 4 especially hard, the last 2 months even harder. It’s killing me slowly, and stopping my heart from beating.
My only salvation is creative output. If I didn’t have that I’d have nothing. I’m constantly challenging myself to different things only to keep my mind off my reality. I know what is real and what is not. I do not live in a dream world at all, and don’t choose to portray that front to people. Many people online portray themselves to be more than they are, when I’m just up front, honest, and real with people. If you can’t handle, you don’t belong in my world.
I am quiet person by nature, loud when I have to be heard, and my mind is always working hard, but my instinct even harder.
Tomorrow is the 12th anniversary of reality. It’s my oldest son’s 12th birthday. You can 37+ weeks of pure misery onto that, as and mouthy as he is would never take it back. June 13th, 2002…. Detroit Red Wings won the Stanley Cup. I watched it on television, for the first time ever being on pain medications, in and out of consciousness from a c-section, but still remember the chanting and fans parading with giant Wings’ flags down the street.
In 12 years of life for him, I’ve had 10 surgeries, 7 in the last 4 years, and all but 2 of them with some aspect of life threatening loss whether to me or his sister. And he resents me for every single one of them, except the one that changed me forever so he would not be embarrassed of me at school.
Yeah so anyway before I get too off topic as I already have, I do have a point, which is why this blog is labeled “Someone Always Has it Harder Than Me”. I was sitting on a bench at Celebration hospital. There was a good 12 feet of empty space on benches next to me. I’m the kind of person that values my personal space. This very nice black woman today, walks past me, and chooses to sit right up next to me. At first I was a little weirded out by that, but then I realized, like me, she wanted someone to hear her story. It’s a horrific story of her basically having an infected blood clot burst her bladder, and she was carrying around a burgundy bag labeled Florida Hospital, with her urine in it, and a huge catheter and had no problem just spilling the gory details to me, some random person. When she told me what she went through, it seriously minimized all my life problems. This woman was praising jesus for me and herself and I didn’t know what to say. She kept patting me on the back and telling me it’ll be alright. I just responded I know it will and thank you. I still don’t know what to say. I’ve been hit with so much how do I even embrace that notion. I told her that she is a miracle and that I hope I have one. I just didn’t know what else to say. But I don’t have to walk around with diverticulosis and a catheter and bag hiding it in front of her. I didn’t even realize she had all that going on until she moved her bag to show me (I didn’t ask to see it). So I guess as long as I’m still walking alive and free, there are people who are dead or closer to death than I have been.
So tomorrow I will celebrate my first life given, remember the 2 lives I contributed into taking (my parents), and remember all the lives lost lately that haunt me.
So there is a reason I call this video my “Jen’s I’m Not Afraid Campaign”. I don’t fear dying anymore, I don’t fear anyone. Nothing can be done to me to any worse, my soul already feels gone.
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