Earth: Magician's Secrets Revealed

My last post stirred up the emotion of challenged beliefs -- the instinct of self preservation, human beings defending what we know to be true even when that truth is wrong.  Many different acts have been committed against people who didn't believe in the same thing believed by a stronger, more powerful group of people.  The Nazi party of Germany had beliefs.  What determines the stronger dominant social practice of a country's beliefs?  Is it the collective idea which dictates the power of what we believe individually?  Many great thinkers tell us that we are our own moral authority, but we are subject to the influences of our environment.  Christopher Columbus told Europe that their flat-world was actually a round-world.  Does a unanimous opinion/belief make that opinion/belief a fact?  Our present society understands that the beliefs of our predecessors/ancestors were not always correct: the Salem witch hunt, slavery, the holocaust, etc.  Horrific events caused by the beliefs of humans.  Only through the power of opposition did those beliefs cease to be the dominant social practice of the places which hosted those horrific events.

The present moment of a human's understanding is that human's reality.  The present moment of your understanding is all that you know.  The present moment is an accumulation of all you have experienced and learned up to this always/only present moment.  When Birdie told me we are aliens it challenged everything I had learned and experienced at that moment.

I didn't expect to hear anything of value when I questioned "Birdie" about his statement.  He was a crazy  man who lived in a park.  I only asked, "How are we aliens?" because I thought it would serve as a humorous pastime for me and my friends hanging out in the park.  It was the craziest, most absurd thing we'd heard up until that moment. He pulled out a mirror and changed my understanding.  He said:

"Look in this mirror and tell me what a human looks like.  Do we look like we are supposed to?  do you look like you are supposed to?  Do you smell like a natural human?  Do you look like a natural human?  You don't look or smell like you are supposed to.  What does uncut, uncombed human hair look like?  How does a human body smell without perfumes and daily baths?  We detest our natural odor.  We detest uncombed or uncut hair.  It is part of our social contract.  Humans do not wish to be humans anymore!"

I looked in his mirror at my reflection and I couldn't see the real me.  I stared deeper into his mirror to see my reflection.

"The human race harnesses earth's secrets. A human thought, a human dream can be come real.  Imagination exists.  We create children without sex, we move without walking (all around the world) -- airplanes, boats, cars, etcetera.  We make light with no sun.  A human thought can be heard all around the world instantly.  These are unnatural creations of humans on earth.  That makes them alien creations.  Shaving is alien to your natural appearance.  Perfume is alien to your natural smell.  Telephones are alien to your natural communication.  Computers are alien to....?  Cars are alien to....?  Do you see where you are?  How far are we removed from our natural existence?  We create a synthetic world that is derived from our natural one.  This planet allows we/humans to bring the thoughts and dreams of our minds into physical existence.  Welcome to earth.  The planet of human magic."

Magic?  I couldn't see earth as magic.  Magic wasn't real.  Magic is entertainment to make people believe something that seems impossible become possible.  The magician tosses our thoughts and beliefs out and brings in our imaginations.  We watch in disbelief trying to understand as the magician performs and reveals things we cannot conceive with our normal understanding.  Birdie moved the mirror closer and like the magician, he challenged my understanding.  He said,

"Free your mind - Blank!  Think about all human invention.  Don't think about the process of invention. The process of invention doesn't allow you to see true magic. It's like a magician revealing the process of the trick.  How can you see magic if you know the process of the trick?  You can't see the magic like that.  Take away the processes of human invention and see what magic creations humans have pulled from the earth.  Allow your mind to remove the process it took to bring our inventions to life.  allow the inventions of humanity to simply appear from human thoughts.  Understand these inventions came from earth, but remove the process of how these inventions are derived from earth.  Allow human inventions to be thoughts which earth allows to appear in physical form.  A though, a dream, a nightmare can be born on this planet from the human mind.  It can exist and become a live through the collective belief of human social practice.  The belief of one mind can control the minds of many and many will fight to protect the collective belief created by that one mind.  Where do you think you are?  You did not design the system which you were born into.  The practices of your daily life have been taught to you .  Your family and those around you teach you from birth things that were taught to them.  You know nothing from birth outside that which you are taught to believe and even if that belief is not true, it is all you know in your always/present moment.  So, what happens when something you've been taught to believe (by everyone you know) turns out to be a lie?  I'll tell you what happens... You've been tricked.  What happens when I call you an alien?  Do your beliefs kick in to protect what you know?  It seems foolish to your understanding."

He removed the mirror from in front of my face.  The night had fallen upon us.  The city lights glowed and flickered in the background.  An airplane flew overhead.  He spoke,

"Look around you alien.  Your reflection is everywhere.  We are not natural to this world.  How many can survive without the grocery store?  How many can live in their areas without clothes?  Early human used animals.  Why do all other species live naked?  We are dependent on our creations.  Shoes have made feet too soft for the natural ground.  Grocery stores have taken our understanding of where food comes from.  Most humans on earth cannot hunt without a gun and most humans have never eaten from the bones of an animal they have killed.  The process of invention.  Even our food is made alien.  When an animal dies within two days the animal is in rigor mortis and old blood turns brown within hours because of coagulation. Why is the meat at the grocery store still soft and red weeks after the animal has been slaughtered?  Are hot dogs and hamburgers processes of human invention?  It is magic in this world.  Humans, welcome to earth."

The day I heard Birdie's theory my understanding of the world changed.  I began to notice human invention and I realized my life revolved around those inventions.  Toilets, toilet paper, windows, doors, doors that move by themselves, transportation (we move hundreds of miles in an hour?!), television, books, constitutions, space stations, space crafts (humans can live outside of earth), telephones, pictures, videos, tables, chairs, stock markets, shampoo, face lifts, liposuction, machines (x-ray) which can see inside a person's body without opening them?  How come I didn't see it before?  These creations came from a thought.  A thought in someone's mind is all around me and all of it came from earth.  Look into a forest and think about television.  Yes, the process was gradual, but the end result is still the same.  The television came form earth.  The computer came from earth.  I wonder sometimes, are inventions really free thought?

I ran into the street to tell everyone what I had learned and yes, I sounded as crazy to everyone around me as Birdie had sounded before I heard his theory.  We are aliens?  Don't sound so foolish.  We humans are just like every other species.  I don't talk much about this topic. I don't want the labels that come with a notion so absurd.  Don't look at this post as a nature platform.  Like a drug addict who flees from intervention, I don't believe I could cope well without my alien comforts.  I know what I am as I send this message all around the world in seconds.  I am just like you and everyone else reading this.  I am extraterrestrial.  Call NASA... Let's take a space ship to another planet.  I'll call you when I get there.

A Man Named Birdie

I keep my thoughts to myself about ideas, questions and answers I feel I have discovered through my curiosity.  I discover new things when I question my understanding of myself and the world around me.  I know I don't have a full understanding of myself and the world around me, so I/we seek to know more.  My questions challenge some people's beliefs about the world and as history has shown, it is very dangerous to challenge what someone believes in.  Challenge someone's belief in religion or politics and they will defend their beliefs.  It's similar to an instinct.  It can be as simple as an argument over who is at fault in any given situation where two or more people believe it is the fault of the other.  The argument is a basic instinct derived from self preservation.

My silence on things I have discovered in my search was directed only toward the masses (until now).  These thoughts were only shared with a few people like myself.  Those broad minded individuals like yourself, Cuddlebug, who dared to hear something which challenged what the believed.  The following analysis was discovered by two teenagers sitting in a park, looking up at the moon.

Evening turned to night.  The wind blew the leaves from the season of fall.  A familiar face passed mumbling and staggering.  The familiar presence didn't surprise us.  We understood we were in his home.  He didn't have a residential house or apartment, but he did have a home.  Why do we call people who live in parks and back alleys homeless people?  Those types of questions we ask each other for the sake of understanding.  A topic like that leads to a philosophical dialog that tests the limits of  understanding.  I attempt to question the question and we both ask why.  Why is the familiar face we know as Birdie considered a homeless man when he has lived in the same place for 20 years?  Isn't the park his home?  Birdie's presence in that park is as much a fixture as a bench, table, or swing.  All seasons Birdie is there.  He told us at the time, "There is no experience better than living.  Living holds all your experiences."  Birdie always spewed out random statements like that.  He didn't speak much in front of strangers and sometimes he only spoke in question.

The man known as Birdie lived in our community park and was accepted by all his neighbors.  People would go out of their way to make sure he was okay.  Old clothes, left over food, whatever he needed because he never accepted more.  His camp would be broken down and hidden from view before sunrise.  He seemed to open up the park every with the ritual of breaking down his camp.  That's the way we saw it.  He opened up his home to us everyday.  He wasn't a victim of circumstance cast away by our great society because he lacked the necessary revenue to survive.  He was someone who'd grown up only a few miles away from the park.  His brilliant mind took him to the heights of scientific education, he studied physics.  One day he walked out of school, jumped on a plane and came to this park.  He called all of us aliens.

We/I used to think he was just a crazy old man spewing random nonsense until he explained his theory.  His theory is as intricate and complicated as life itself, but it is very possible he could be right.  I know it sounds crazy and like he did to us, I am going to leave you with this outrageous statement:  We Are Aliens.  I want you to listen to how absurd that sounds, "We are aliens."  Even those who are open to consideration have a difficult time trying to grasp that statement as a possibility.  I did.

This is a thought I hadn't shared with many.  Not many want to understand or hear a statement so absurd.  I ask you this:  If that statement were true, what would that do to your beliefs?  Has this statement engaged our instinctual self preservation button?  It's absurd why?  It is absurd because it's not something required to learn in school.  In my next post I will share a piece of Birdie's explanation.  I am going to explain a theory to you that made a brilliant student walk away from all he'd been taught to learn to live in a park so he could watch people be outside.  I love you Cuddlebug.  Slowly the truth of your diary will be revealed.  I know you didn't want everyone to know how these questions blurred the fine line between the world's reality and yours.  Miss you.  See you soon.

Secrets & Confessions

What is a secret?  Is a secret as simple as something hidden from others?  Are secrets the same as deception?  I have kept secrets.  I have kept secrets to protect myself and I have kept secrets to protect others.  I wonder if there are people who have never had to keep a secret.  I have wished to live the life of a person who’s never had to keep a secret.  What a joyous wonder it must be to have a conscious which holds no secrets.  To be open and honest with everyone about everything; to not worry about hurting someone or divulging a something about yourself that you don’t want the world to know,  It must be an amazing existence not to have the secret.  Are there people like that in our society?  Are there still people in this country who don’t have anything to hide from anyone?  If there is anyone who lives like that, please share your secret with the rest of us (no pun intended).  A world with no secrets holds no lies.  The secret and the lie are husband and wife.  People lie to protect their secrets.  Secrets & lies spawn mistrust and deception.

My eyes have bared witness to things which I cannot discuss or share with anyone.  I guard my tongue with my life.  I hold secrets from co-workers.  I hold secrets from friends.  I hold secrets from my children.  I hold secrets from strangers…like you.  I hold secrets from my wife.  My spirit holds precious cargo.  Those of you who have read my previous posts know what kind of secrets I have held or been forced to hold.  Those of you who know the torturous burden of carrying a secret such as that, understand what a secret can do to a person’s spirit: stain which covers you.  Holding secrets doesn’t protect you from yourself.  You know the truth.  The people you conceal your secrets from live a blissful ignorance while you agonize over holding in the truth.

If we do things we don’t want other people to know, should we be doing those things?  Let’s make this question more precise:  Are you hiding something you enjoy doing from someone?  If society doesn’t condone the things you like to do then why don’t you stop doing them? Are we afraid to live our lives in the open?  Why are things private and personal?  If we all do the same thing then why do we seek to be private?

No society is going to collectively agree that everything someone does is perfect.  Is there a perfect person among us?  Is there at least a person we all agree does everything right?  Here we are allowing a society to define us but we as a society can’t get the perfect definition.  So what about our lives we can’t share with each other?  Why do we have secrets about our lives we can’t share with each other?  If nobody is perfect can’t we understand our imperfections?  If nobody’s perfect and nobody live the ideal life then why aren’t we able to be honest about who we are?  Are we all doing things we know we shouldn’t be doing?  Is that the reason for all the secrets?

I have found the opposite of a secret to be very rewarding.  I have found secrets’ opposite removes stains like a soothing bath.  Secrets’ opposite is a confession and confession cleanses the spirit.  This type of cleansing you can’t pass up Cuddlebug.  You may get in trouble for your secret, but at least it won’t be a secret anymore.  You have to remove these stains from your spirit or else the filth of them all will make you unrecognizable.  The burden of a secret eats away at your spirit.  I love you Cuddlebug.  I haven’t forgotten.  I miss you.

You Called My Name

I'm staring at a picture of you Sarah. I have wanted to post a picture ever since day one. In the beginning, there were pictures of you everywhere. Then, slowly the pictures went away. When we published your story, I wanted the world to see your face again. I wanted the world to see how beautiful you are, but for the sake of your own safety we decided against it. I am so scared for you.

I have received your message. I don't understand it. I went into the coffee shop like you said, on the computer. I've been waiting to hear something from you for so long. After reading your diary Sarah, I have been in a daze. I can't believe it. I have read this diary over and over again trying to figure it out. I have read this diary over and over again trying to understand it. Every time I turn to a new page, I hope and pray it brings me closer to you. I started this blog hoping it would give me a way to find you. After the first contact, I was extremely excited. My joy and sense of accomplishment climaxed when I received your message. I waited at the coffee shop for hours upon hours thinking how great it was going to be to see you again. I watched every person come and go until there were no more people left to watch. The coffee shop closed and my heart crushed underneath the weight of its doors. Since that heartbreak, I have sat in front of this computer waiting on a message from you and finally yesterday it came. I don't understand it.

Sarah, I know it's you because the name you called me in your message. No one knows me by that name. No one has ever called me by that name other than you. You are the one who gave me that name. I knew it was you the first time. That's why I waited at the coffee shop for so long. At that time I wondered if you had seen me. Now I know you did. Yesterday you told me to go the coffee shop and grab my favorite coffee. You told me it was your treat. I didn't know what that meant at the time. I went to the coffee shop a little early trying to catch you or see if you were there. You left a specific time for me to be there and you must have known I'd be there early because you were nowhere to be found. I went to the counter to see if there was an order placed for me. The cashier told me 'no.' My heart sank. I walked away dejected. On the verge of tears I exited the coffee shop. I walked almost to the sidewalk when I remembered and ran back in. The same cashier stood at the counter looking at me a little concerned. I walked into the cashier and said the name you gave me. The cashier turned to me and said, "yes" we have your order right here. It was my favorite order of coffee, a muffin, and a note. I asked the cashier 'who paid for this order?' She told me a gentleman paid for the order and left. I stood there for a moment wanting to ask a question but no question came to mind, so I took my order and walked away. It wasn't until I got home that I was able to read the message you left with the order. I still don't understand it. It read, "You will find me where the sunsets and the birds fly free."

Sara, I don't understand the message. I don't understand what you mean. Do you not want me to find you or are you in trouble? I know no one knows me by that name other than you. So who was that man? Who was the man who paid for my order? How can you watch me and not come talk to me? Sarah, if I find a way to the place where the sunsets and the birds fly free, I will make it to that place to find you. I'm not going to abandon you. I will be here for you. If you are hurt or afraid of the people you're with, I will be here for you whenever you come to me. Now that I know you are reading this, I will continue to write. I love you Cuddlebug. I miss you. Write more later.

Faces of Love

Every year in this country hundreds, thousands of people go missing. Each one of these missing persons has a story. Each one of these missing persons has a family. The family's and stories are not numbers or statistics. These are real people in a terrible predicament. The death of a person is tragic and it can sometimes be very sudden and unexpected, but closure comes with death. Accepting the passing of a person we care for may not come easy and it may take some longer than others to reach this acceptance, but how do you come to accept a missing loved one? How do you come to the understanding that someone you love is missing and you have no idea where they are? Imagine your mother, your sister, your father, your brother, or your child is missing. This is a horror that many people must face every day and unlike the acceptance of death it doesn't get easier with time. This is an open wound which does not heal without answers. This is what the family of missing loved ones must endure: a pain which seeks closure. It's a horror no one should endure.

Before my friend went missing I used to be like most people. I'd see a missing persons picture and think it was sad or be indifferent and mentally disregard it. I wouldn't commit it to memory. Those same faces could have walked past me on the street and I wouldn't have noticed. Those lost loved ones, who so desperately needed to be found, would have walked right past me. I'm not like that anymore. I may not be able to remember every name and every face, but those I do remember will be saved if they can ever cross my path. I can promise you that.

Those of you who read this today, please, please think about this message the next time you see one of their faces. You don't have to commit every face to memory, just be aware of the faces you do see. If we all participate like this we may be able to help those families suffering with this horrible open wound, receive some closure. Please help. Please don't disregard those faces. They are important members of people's families. We miss you Cuddlebug. TTYL.

April 2nd

I lost a dear friend at work today. I knew it was coming. I worked at a hospital. I work in a place where the cycle of life is constant. Life and death circle around me constantly. Babies are born; life begins to breathe air in this place I work. People die; life ends. Life takes its last breath in this place work. A vortex of human energy in constant cycle. My job is caretaker of human life. I am a nurse.

I do my best not to become too attached to the people who become patients at my job. I do my job. I take care of them and do my best to make sure their healthcare needs are met, but I don't get too attached. I learned early on that becoming attached to my patients can make my job hard. I learned early on that you can't hold onto life no matter how hard you try. When it's time for life to come or go, it is time. The children are always the hardest.

A young boy came into my job two days ago. He was the victim of a gunshot wound to his head. I've seen cases like this before. I work in a major metropolitan area where gunshot violence is prevalent. Young men and young women are shot (not always killed) every single day. I'm not used to it. I'm used to death but not used to seeing these kids. It's always shocking to see. I've become numb to the shock. It hits me and I absorb it. I absorb being shocked and quickly stabilize and proceed. I don't know what was so different about yesterday. At work, it always seems to be the same day over and over again. I enter and leave the same way, but when the young boy arrived my heart melted. I became overwhelmed with emotion. It was as if I'd known this little boy all my life. His little body lay motionless on the gurney. His energy surrounded by commotion: paramedics, nurses, respiratory specialist, doctors, police, firemen, and his mother. I'm used to the commotion which comes with the attempt to save the breath of life. This little boy was different. I wanted to know what happened to him. Why was this life so close to being gone? I wanted to ask but it wasn't my place. Still, this one was different somehow. I had to know. I asked one of the paramedics. He told me it was a gunshot wound to the head inflicted by a family member. He wasn't sure who. I couldn't be numb. Shock waves erupted throughout my body. Why? How? I heard his mom crying to the Cop taking her statement.

Her two little boys were playing video games. The younger one who lay motionless on the gurney was 10-years-old. Her other son was thirteen. Somehow the 13-year-old got a hold of a gun. He pointed it at his little brother playfully trying to scare him in an April Fool's joke and the gun went off. It wasn't her gun and she doesn't know where he got it from. All I could think was how in the world or why in the world does a 13-year-old boy had a gun? What has the world become? Children feel the need to have a gun or defend themselves with a gun? Children feel the need for protection from other children with guns? What kind of world do we live in?

I worked a double shift overnight and I constantly checked on this little boy whom I felt I'd known all his life. At some point I felt I'd seen him move but I knew he didn't. At some point, I felt light he'd make it through, but I knew he wouldn't. Early this morning before my shift ended he took his last breath. I kept my composure all the way to the car and then set in it and cried. A long drawn out cry that seemed to cleanse me back to my numbness.

This world is trouble. Why? Why did we say and do nothing? We blame and blame. It's time for me to do more cuddlebug. This blog I created for you may help someone someday. I'm deeply troubled. Tiffany made me some breakfast. I'm going to try and get some rest. I love you Cuddlebug. I miss you.

The Results

- This is the answer to my experiment –

We judge people and condemn people with our judgments and opinions. Sometimes we need, or use, a consensus to condemn a person. Once condemned, how does a person escape the confines of condemnation? The guilty are convicted by the innocent? Who is innocent? Is my sin worse than yours? Is it difference in sin which makes us innocent or is it the consensus of the time which determines our condemnation? I'm not speaking on criminal acts. Criminal acts cannot begin to equal the condemnation and accusations we place on subjects and each other every day. Most of the time these judgments and opinions are invalid.
Sarah, you know better than anyone how awful it is to be accused. People have read your story and come back to me asking, "How didn't you know?" I say, "know what?" They say, "know your friend did all of those horrible things." I always respond to those people the same, " I don't know if she's done anything." It amazes me how a person who wasn't somewhere can no more than a person who was. How do you know anything outside your own experience?
Amy's party was fun. Tiffany and I saw a lot of our old friends from group and a lot of my co-workers were there. Amy and I had a real good talk about things in general. I realized during our conversation that her transition was taking a little longer than mine. It's equivalent to me graduating from college starting my new life and career, while she's still at college trying to decide her major. Instead of me understanding where I came from and the process it took me to get there, I treated the situation with arrogance and disdain. I viewed Amy's struggle to find herself with condemnation. During our talk, I removed my opinions and judgments which allowed me to hear her words in a new way. I no longer heard her as a selfish, confused, good for nothing person. I now heard her as someone who still struggled to find the things which make her happy. Someone who went through this struggle just like me.
Amy and I made plans to have dinner in the future. Nothing on the books yet but these are plans I definitely intend to keep. You see, Amy understands where am in my life. Amy knows that I had graduated and found what I was looking for way back then. She told me she hoped to find a relationship which can give her comfort. She still spoke about guys who could care less about her, but I didn't say anything. I figured she find what she wanted someday.
Sometimes in life we don't allow people to be who they are. We expect them to have the same way of understanding life that we do but that's just not always the case. We can't apply our way of thinking and processing information to someone else's way of thinking and processing information. This is not so much a blow to them as it is to us. Us being the people who apply unfair standards to people who don't deserve our judgments and opinions. We do grow past people but that doesn't mean our little brothers and sisters don't need our guidance and support. They don't need us to tell them what to do. They just need us to be there. We have to understand there's a difference in giving someone credit for being a good person vs. them doing what we think they should do. I'd rather have one really good person than a thousand people I can tell what to do. If you dislike a good person because they're not who you think they should be, then you should evaluate your judgments and opinions.
I'm here Cuddlebug. I miss you so much. I hope this serves you well wherever you are. I know we're underneath the same sun, standing on the same earth, and that's what makes me feel close to you. Love you Cuddlebug.

The Experiment

There's this woman at my job named Amy. Every time I see her, it seems to bother me. I purposely avoid her. We used to be friends and in her mind, it seems we still are. She just doesn't get it. She'll text me and I refuse to respond. She'll ask me, "Did you get those texts?" and I'd tell her, "Yeah, but I'm really busy." I'll say it hoping she gets upset so we can fight and I will have a good reason not to talk to her. It's not that she's a bad person. She's a good spirit, but she gets on my nerves. I can't say anything without her already knowing the answer. I feel like I shouldn't even have a conversation with her. We had a lot in common years ago.

Amy and I both used to attend the same divorce group. We also worked the same shift at the hospital. We were the best of friends. That time proved to be a very difficult transition for me. I found Tiffany and together Tiffany and I found love. Amy didn't fit in that equation. I feel bad. The more time Tiffany and I spent together the less time I spent with anyone else. That's how the equation added up. In the beginning, I did my best to make time for Amy. I'd go out with her when I should have been in bed. I'd go out with her and wished I hadn't said yes. It wasn't the same. The bars and clubs we went to were all places she felt comfortable. Originally, she introduced me to these places and at the time of my transition, those places were fun. I enjoyed our time together. Our nights out became a wonderful distraction for me and then my transition became complete. I met Tiffany and came into myself. I finally understood myself. I began to understand my likes and dislikes. I began to understand my needs, wants, and desires. No longer did I live for someone else. No longer did I live to please someone else and sacrifice my life to do so. I got to know me and fell in love with myself. The bars and clubs didn't feel right anymore. I began to see Amy and her lifestyle in a new light, and I couldn't stand it.

In the years since then, Amy has continued being the same way. She goes out all the time and refuses to commit to anything. She meets a guy and he's either the man of her dreams or somebody she spends all her free time with and refuses to commit to. The man of her dreams always seems to be someone who could care less about her but she conjures up at deeper relationship in her mind. One guy she'd only seen six times and she was calling him her soul mate. She compared their relationship to me and Tiffany's. The guy didn't even give her his real name. Next thing I know, he's gone and she's holding on to hope of his return. Then the guy she spends all of her free time with can't get a commitment from her. She hangs out at the same clubs and bars we went to years ago. It's pathetic.

I'm not a mean person Cuddlebug. I feel bad about the way I have been treating her. I am one who believes that when we have a problem with someone it's because we want a problem with them. When you already have negative thoughts about someone, then your approach to them is negative. If your approach to someone is negative, then your interaction with them is negative. That person can never do anything right in your eyes. Some things they do are only annoying because it's them the doing it. If someone we favor does the same thing someone who annoys us does, our response is different. I recognize this and I don't want to have a negative response every time I see this woman who I used to call friend. Tiffany gave me some good advice. She told me to interact with her on a positive note and be honest about my feelings. She told me it's not always another person's fault when you feel a certain way. The reason she's so annoying is because that's what I made her out to be.

Amy invited me out for a drink this weekend. It's her birthday. Last year, I told her I couldn't make it. Not very many people showed and I wasn't surprised. I'm going to go this year and because of Tiffany's great advice, she's coming too. I think I need to be more supportive to Amy like she was to me when I needed her. We'll see Cuddlebug. I have to find a sitter. I'll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck. I miss you.

Take Your Power Back

It's late. I'm watching television. Can't sleep. You know how my sleeping patterns are, Cuddlebug. My demons come and I'm haunted. My eyes close and I see it. I feel it. I hear it. I want to escape it. I can't get away from my own mind. My own thoughts. The therapy doesn't always work. Sometimes I wish I was still getting high because it was a sure way to escape him. I could see him and smell him on top of me. I hated myself for so long because sometimes it felt normal. I'd close my eyes and imagine I was someplace else or he was someone else. I felt like trash. My body turned against me. He'd send my Mom out and I knew it was only a matter of time. I always wore so many layers of clothes. It never helped. I just wanted to cover up. I didn't like taking a shower. He took that from me. He's the one who terrorized my sleep. I'd wake up with his hands down my pants. He would come up to my room almost every night. I tried to fall asleep downstairs, or sleep on the floor in my room. Nothing worked. People tell me they can't understand how I let it go on for so long. Yes, my ex-husband said that to me. Until you've lived with an abuser, you don't know the power they have over you. I felt ashamed. I felt weak. I didn't want to hurt my Mom. I just know I wasn't the only one who went through this. It made it normal. It's just that sick! I felt like that was how things were supposed to be. When my ex-husband tried to touch me, I felt sick. I hated it. I loved him. I still love him. My ex-husband is a good man, but I can be no man's wife. It's too painful for me. No matter how much I block it out. He always comes back.
When I finally told my mom about it, he had been long gone from her. He left her shortly after I ran away. Some other girl became his next victim, but she was stronger than me. She went to the police. Before he could go to trial, he shot himself.
He robbed me of so much and in the end I wasn't able to have my victory. He even robbed me of that. I couldn't wait to show him how strong of a person I am. My ex-husband felt relieved. He said he didn't know if he could have refrained himself from attacking that bastard.
I felt unsatisfied because it seemed like he still won. He didn't have to face it. I felt like I let that other girl down by not saying something. Had I said something earlier, she wouldn't have went through the same thing I went through. I talked to her a while back and she told me it wasn't anybody's fault but his. I can't say I agree. I feel like I could have stopped him. I wish I hadn't been so weak.
In my counseling, I have learned I am a survivor. Other women like me have said they felt the same way. Yes, I felt weak all those years. My regret comes from hindsight. That's where the nightmares come from. I think about all of the times I could have ended it, but I didn't do it. I ran away and now I'm haunted thinking about what I should have done. If there is any young girl out there who's going through something like I went through, please, please, please tell somebody. Let somebody know. Take your power back. Don't let your abuser get away. Take your power back. You are not a victim. It is not right. Your abuser is a coward and once you take your power back you will see. Trust me. You have power.

These sleeping pills are starting to work, Cuddlebug. I'm going to try and get some rest. I'm still hoping you contact me again. It's been a week with no word. I'm still waiting. I miss you.

Questions / Answers

Sarah, I've been struggling with telling you something since starting this blog. Anyone who's read your diary knows. You know. It's about the baby. You've probably been waiting on me to tell you what happened. I've been struggling to tell you because I am ashamed Sarah. I hate what I've done. There's so much to tell you. I don't know where to begin?
When I left you that night, I was in a lot of pain. It was my step-father. In all of the years since that last night we were together, I have come to understand all of the pain I was in at that time. I drank and smoked to escape my reality. Even when I got away from him I tried to escape the reality of what had happened to me. It played over and over like a horror movie. The only way I could escape was to block it out. The only way I could look in the mirror was to block it out. I don't know when or how it happened because I would block it out. That's where my black-outs come from. I didn’t want to leave you. Your parents were gone and now, in hindsight, I wish I hadn't left you but I was in so much pain I wouldn't have done you very much good. My heart still stays heavy with burden. I couldn’t tell my mother. I didn't tell my mother until the day I saw that squirrel in the park. I gave my baby up for adoption six months after I left you. The baby was born addicted to drugs. I'm a horrible person for what I did to that child. My child. My unborn child was punished by me and my pain. I hurt my baby, Sarah. I closed my eyes when the nurse took her away. I couldn't look. I left that hospital empty and numb. I had no more tears to cry. That's when my drug habit spiraled out of control.
When I found out I was pregnant I was horrified. I've never had sex with anyone else other than him and I'd been doing it since I was 12-years-old. I never told you. I hated going home. I hated sex. I hated myself. I hated my mother. I hated everything but you, Sarah. You were the first person in a long time to touch my life who was real. When I told him I was pregnant and I didn't know what to do, he slapped me and called me a whore. He accused me of sleeping around. I felt like I'd done something wrong.
The first place I ran was to you. I wanted to stay with you and your family, but when you said your uncle wanted to call my parents I had to leave. I didn't want to risk him finding out where I was.
I don't know why I did it either. I'm sorry for leaving but I had to Cuddlebug. It had to end that night.
Sometimes I wonder what became of my little girl. I wonder what she looks like. I wonder how she's doing. I wonder . . . I'm mad at myself for what I did to this innocent child. I'm mad at myself for how I felt about this child. My child. I hated her, Sarah. I hated my own daughter. I didn’t know. I was a kid. I hated her for what I felt she was. Every day I looked at my growing stomach and hated myself. I felt dirty. I felt slimy. Watching her grow inside me. When she moved I felt sick. I used drugs. Now I realize she didn't deserve that. Back then, I knew she didn't deserve that. It's why I couldn't look at her when she was born. I know she was innocent and she didn't deserve the way I treated her for those brief moments when we were together. I wonder how she's doing 'cause I hope she's in a better place. I hope she's in a place where she's happy. I know she probably wonders about me. I know she wonders why I did what I did. Truthfully, I hope she never has to see me because I'm the worst person she ever could see. I have to go, Cuddlebug. I hope you can forgive me. I'm sorry.

Clean & Sober

I witnessed two people arguing today. Husband and wife. The argument wasn't a yelling match. There wasn't any pushing and shoving. If you weren't paying attention you may have missed it. You know how I saw it Sarah. The game …I still play. I still watch the people move about around me. I glimpse outside my life at the world around me. I read your diary and I noticed that you mentioned the game, but you left out some details. Since we discovered the diary, that part has troubled me the most. I wonder how much else is missing that I don’t know. There were other parts that bothered me also, but I don't want to discuss those things right at this moment. It's the profile game.

Well Sarah, with age, the game we played together so many years ago has evolved. When we were young it was about something else. We were adolescents. We looked at the world selfishly. We looked at only the people around us instead of looking at the world around us. (Now that I'm older, I see better. Not literally cause my vision has gotten a little worse. I wear glasses now.) We were missing a lot when playing our game. We didn't see the trees, we didn't see the bugs, we didn't see the animals like birds and squirrels. We only saw the people. It took me a long time to finally see past the people. I was sitting in Golden Gate Park waiting on the sun to come up. It was one night of many I'd wandered the streets of San Francisco all night long. I found refuge in the parks around the city; landmarks and monuments. I remember sitting in the park being glad it wasn't cold and foggy. Then a squirrel poked its head from around a tree. I looked at the squirrel and thought what its life must be like. Does it feel love? Does it worry? It was obvious the squirrel was in the same place with me physically, but it was not in the same place with me mentally. The squirrel lived in the park and I was a visitor. It climbed up the tree and disappeared. Then I thought . . . how long has that tree been there? The world seemed to open up to my young mind in that moment. I became clean and sober that day.

You see, Sarah, I was in a lot of pain. I would wander those streets in search of temporary solutions to long-term problems. Getting high. Getting drunk. Being intoxicated gave me relief. I didn't have to face myself. I didn't have to participate in real life. My routine gave me purpose. My mission every day was to get high or get enough money to do so. I chased the high every day 'till I found it. The chase and the accomplishment of the score gave me satisfaction. Almost everyone who suffers from addiction follows this pattern. The game we discovered so long ago brought me to the place I am today. That squirrel and that tree . . . I saw my purpose of existence through them. I realized I was not born into this world to chase a high. I was not born into this world to become an addict. I called my Mom and checked into rehab that day. I didn't wander the streets like that ever again.

Yeah, I still find myself observing people. That's why I noticed the couple arguing. I saw their wedding rings and their married chemistry. There were arguing over spending. The wife had spent too much money and the husband was upset. I thought about the squirrel. I wonder how many arguments the squirrel has gotten in with his mate? I love you, Cuddlebug. TTYL.

Media Messages

Hey Cuddlebug, I'm in here with the kids. Tiffany works so hard. She's on her way home. I'm glad. She's my best friend. My wife. I'm excited we're going to have some family time today. Nothing too big for us. The kids want to watch a movie. We believe in earning movies here. Television is not our family's primary source of entertainment. We monitor the children's media exposure. Our children are not allowed to watch television by themselves. I know it sounds a bit extreme or overbearing. I'm not saying they won't ever watch television by themselves, and maybe our way of doing this may lead them to be more interested in television because of this restriction, but I am concerned about the influence. We are raising our children. We are not going to stand by and allow the television to raise our kids. All of the things a television shows, that's input. It can influence their behavior. I'm going to continue to watch television with my children. Yes, they have selection and we evaluate their choices together. Programs they choose that are not suitable for viewing are delayed until they are the proper age to watch them. The most interesting thing about the selections (most of the things) they choose to watch are funny or educational program, cartoons and documentaries. You're going to love your niece and nephew.

This brings me to the troubling part of this blog; your YouTube message. I don't really do this Internet thing. Your message came at a time for me of great optimism. Your diary had just been published. I felt publishing your diary would bring you home without any trouble. I don't want you to go to jail. I want you to get help. We have been advised that you can receive help. This is my wish for the complex situation.

I got a call from a friend saying, "to look at this YouTube message." I saw the address and I instantly thought it was part it was some sort of promotion for the book. I wrote Tshombe and asked him did they put the YouTube up? He told me he hadn't seen it yet but he could confirm that the publishing company had nothing to do with the YouTube message. I wondered if there was some sort of prank. I went to the site and viewed it. I was horrified. It wasn't it your face but I knew it was you. I know you anywhere, Cuddlebug.

The way you looked on that video brought me to bring new realization I never wanted to comprehend. Cuddlebug… It's possible that you're responsible for the things you wrote about in your diary. It's possible your words printed on those pages are more than just a cry for help. They seem like a confession.

I've always discounted the possibility that you are responsible for those occurrences because how could a teenage girl your size have done things like that? The way you acted after your parent's car went off the road in that horrible accident did not match what you wrote in your diary. I told Tshombe and I told the police that only a few entries with my name had any validity. I cried and cried when I read the whole story. I told them that you must have been brainwashed or forced to do something, but after seeing that video, I'm not sure. I still love you. The Cuddlebug I know is written in those first pages. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever in danger. Your brother never had a friend named Erick that I knew of.

I haven't given up hope that you will contact me again. I haven't condemned you and I haven't given up on you. I believe in you, Cuddlebug. I know you are still good at heart and your nature is as pure as if you never laid eyes on a television. You're not evil. I cannot read these those words and believe you're evil. I don't believe it. I just don't. I'm still waiting on you Cuddlebug. Whenever you decide to come back home, I will be here to greet you with open arms. Whatever happens, we will figure it out together. Love you Sarah. Miss you. TTYL.

Rise & Shine

My only day off in nine days and I wake-up to screaming kids. My day off coincided with the children's school day-observance of President’s Day. I knew I was going to have to watch them and I had plans to take them out to run errands with me. Justice hates to go, but Free loves it. I'm still going to take them out, but I had to play mediator / life coach first – parenting.

Justice damaged one of Free's dollhouses. I'm not sure if he did it intentionally. He's a boy. He was playing Army raid on her dollhouse and broke a door and a window. It really wasn't that bad, but Free is a girly-girl and it upset her. She started crying and yelling at him which made him respond by yelling back, because he didn't think it was that bad. I woke up.

I'm not a yeller (really), but I did have the intention of yelling when I woke up to screaming kids. Free is ten-years-old and Justice is eight. They are not toddlers. When I entered the room, they were in a yelling match and didn't even notice me. For a moment I stopped and looked into the future. I envision them as adults fighting like this and I didn't like that vision. It scared me. I listened to what they were fighting over and looked at the dollhouse to inspect the damage. They finally noticed me in the room. "Mom! Justice broke my dollhouse. Tell him to stop playing with my things."
"I didn't mean to break the stupid window on your dollhouse!"
"Yes you did!"

I picked up the broken window piece. It only needed some glue. I looked at the door and it was completely broken off the hinges of the dollhouse. It needed to be replaced. The children, my children, became calm observing my energy in response to theirs. I didn't' yell. I didn't choose sides. I didn’t accuse or attack. I told Justice to go get some glue from the junk drawer in the kitchen. He didn't argue. He went to get it. I picked up the broken door pieced and asked Free if she wanted it replaced or could we just leave it off? She was still upset and so she said she wanted it replaced. I said, "Okay." Justice returned with the glue. I told him he'd have to take money from his piggy bank to pay for the door on the dollhouse to be replaced. He said, "okay" but he said it with a sense of force. I told him to come over to me. He did. I took my left arm and hugged him close. I took the broken dollhouse door and put it in his hand. I kissed him on the cheek and told him thank you for being a responsible young man and replacing your sister's door. I then called Free over and hugged her with my other free arm (no pun intended :-) ). I kissed her on the cheek and told them both, "We are a family. We work together. We respect each other. We work things out. When you both become older, you will need each other. If something ever happened to me, you both would need to stick together." Justice started crying and told Free “Sorry.” She came over and hugged her little brother. I hugged them both and everyone had tears, but the tears were happy tears. Justice said, "Mommy, I don't want you to go away." I smiled at his love for me. I hugged my big, strong baby boy and told him “Mama's not going anywhere no time soon. You owe me grandkids.” We both smiled. Then I told them to get ready because we were going out for pizza (and errands :-) ).

No, I didn't wake-up the way I thought I should have, but I wouldn't trade how I woke up for anything. Well, I have to go Cuddlebug. I miss you a lot. I hope and pray you come home soon. Your niece and nephew want to meet you real bad. I love you, Cuddlebug. You know how to reach me. I can't wait to hear from you.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Tiffany and I had dinner at a local seafood restaurant last night. We live in the San Francisco Bay area. This is a region in America of extreme diversity. This is a place where you can and will see it all. You would expect in a place this diverse with one of the largest gay and lesbian populations on earth that a lesbian couple could enjoy a nice Valentine's dinner without incident, but that was not the case last night.

Public displays of affection are normal for two people who are truly in love. A public display of affection doesn't have to be heavy petting, kissing, or graphic physical attention. It can be a simple matter of holding hands or wiping food from the corner of your beloved's mouth. Tiffany and I display our love in this fashion. I don't expect everyone to agree with our lifestyle.

I absolutely love seafood. I refuse to eat seafood in places that don't have an ocean within a five mile proximity. Land-locked states or inland valleys in California might as well not even have a seafood restaurant as far as I'm concerned. That's how I am about my seafood. Tiffany knows this and she knows where my favorite seafood restaurant is. She came home early and surprised me. I'm not big on date celebrations. I don't believe Valentine's Day is a day where I must express my love. I'm not bitter, it's just how I am but you know that already, Cuddlebug. Tiffany's not that way. She is big on all holidays. She gets this sparkle in her eyes I can't begin to explain. She turns into a little girl and it's like she's experiencing every holiday for the first time. I have come to expect her joyful mood and I embrace it. I get caught up in her love and energy and forget what day it is – holiday, weekend, I don't know. I just know that I love this woman and she loves me. She took me to my favorite seafood restaurant for Valentine's Day.

I ordered clam chowder, scallops, and beer-battered shrimp. Tiffany ordered shrimp cocktail and calamari. We enjoyed a bottle of white wine from a vineyard we stayed at on our honeymoon. The wine flowed and our conversation contained pure love. I held her hand across the table and we waited on dessert. We ordered a few slices of cheesecake. Both of our hands outstretched across the table. I do admit we kissed once, but it wasn't a long kiss. Our lips touched for only a few moments. Lost in her eyes, I didn’t notice the manager walking over to our table. He interrupted our trance. He said, "Excuse me ladies, but a couple has complained that their children are in the restaurant and they would like to have the public display of affection minimized." At first, I became self-conscious because there were children present. I felt bad and worst of all, I felt ashamed. In this day and age it is still taboo, especially for children, to see same sex public displays of affection. There's not enough education so those displays are very shocking to children and that's why I felt bad. I felt ashamed because in some sense I acknowledged we are supposed to be hidden. Then Tiffany said two magic words, "What kids?" I looked around in the restaurant and there were no children to be found. In that moment, I knew I wasn't going to eat dessert, nor was I every going to eat there again. I won't eat from the hands of people who don't approve of me. I asked the manager where the children were. He told us they left after the complaint. That's when I stood up and said, "You can't expect me to believe that. It's 10:00pm on Valentine's Day in the San Francisco Bay Area. If someone objected to two people in love enjoying themselves on Valentine's Day you and your staff should have said something to them, not us." I demanded the check, paid for our meal, and left that restaurant, never to return.

I cried last night. In this day and age, I can't understand how people can still put parameters on who can love who. My grandmother used to tell me that you can't put a bottle around happiness and sell it. Different things make different people happy. I can't believe the understanding of a person can be so limited that they could place their own personal standards on how someone else should be happy. If I found love, why should my love be subject to a different set of standards than someone else who's found love? The one thing I feel bad about from last night is that I felt ashamed. I'm not going to subscribe to the taboo of my relationship with Tiffany. I love her and she makes me happy. I love her and I make her happy. I'm not going to hide that or feel ashamed for anyone. That won't happen again. I just wish you would have said something, Sarah. I know you were there last night. I felt you. Stop hiding from me, Cuddlebug. I need you. I miss you. Don’t forget our promise. Write more later.

Still Waiting...

There was hope today. I thought today would be the day we would finally bring you home. I felt a sense of completion. I felt as though my efforts had worked. I started this blog to reach out to you. I started this blog to find you and bring you home. Every time I've posted an entry, I've known one day you would read it. I thought today would be the day that we brought you home. I was wrong.

When I read the diary for the first time, I was shocked. So many things you wrote didn't make sense to me. I was reading something that didn't happen. To me, it's a horror story. It didn't even sound like you Cuddlebug. If I had not seen it in your handwriting, I wouldn't have believed it was you. I've always had some serious questions about this since the police contacted me. I was a complete mess. I thought the cops were coming to arrest me for some other things I'd done while using drugs. I wasn't really hiding from the law. I only had a few petty shoplifting cases and disturbing the peace. I wasn't a serious criminal. I admit I had done some things I hadn't gotten in trouble for and that's why I thought they were coming to get me.
I had a post office box in my name. My general assistance check would come there once a month. The only time I'd ever go to that box was around the time that check would be there. That check . . . my junkie addiction pulling me toward that check. The full circle. They told me to hold on while they went to grab my mail. I waited. Two men walked up to me, held up some police identification and said my name. I started to turn and run. The addict in me. All I had on me was a few grams of hash, but I just know they were there to bust me for it. The funny thing about my desire to run was that I wasn't afraid to go to jail (I've been locked up for a few days before.) I was afraid I wasn't going to get my check and that meant no more drugs. I remember wishing I had my check in my hand so at least when I got out I could go use again. Then one of the detectives said, "We are here to talk to you about Sarah Brown." My mind went blank for a minute and all of my addict tendencies went out the window.

That's how I found out. That's how I learned what happened to you. I didn't see it on the news. I didn’t get a call from a relative or friend. The police took me downtown, asked me some questions and showed me a copy from the pages of your diary. I thought you were dead. I told the cops something must have happened to you and that they needed to find you. The cops weren't as positive as I was. They pulled out a few sections of the diary and asked me to verify if your accounts matched my recollections. I read each page with horror. It was this twisted mix of truth and fiction. I couldn't understand what it all meant. I pushed the pages away from me. The cops asked me again if I recalled any of it. I began to cry. In that moment, I knew you were not dead and that you hadn't been kidnapped. I told the police the truth. I told them I did not recall the events in your diary. Then I went and got my check.

From that day when I wandered the streets, I always had this hope that I would run into you or that you would find me or I would find you. Yesterday I thought I received a message from you. I really thought it was you. Maybe it was. There were things said that I still feel only you would know. We were supposed to meet at the coffee shop today. I waited . . . I waited . . . I waited . . . and I waited. I waited there until the shop closed. I waited three hours after the shop closed. I showed people the picture I have of you from when we were kids and asked them had they seen you. With no luck I ran home thinking maybe you left a message on the blog. You didn’t.

Sarah, if that was truly you, please contact me again. I won't tell anyone about it. I just want to see you again and know you're okay. I love you Sarah and I miss you so much. Please. Please. Contact me again. We miss you Sarah. You know how to reach me.

Insecurities

Tiffany stayed out late last night.  That sounds bad.  I'm putting that wrong.  Sarah, do you remember what I told you about how we phrase our words?  That's what I'm doing.  I'm putting my words wong and it's showing the way I feel.  Can you see it?  I know.  I'm not being fair to Tiffany.  She's working late.  She's a hostess at a French restaurant. Some fancy investment bankers are basically buying the place for the night.  She's working later than usual. I'm home with the kids.  I just put them to bed.  It's my night off.  I have to work tomorrow and I wanted to at least talk with her before I went to bed.  Now I'm going to go to sleep without her.  There a lot there huh?  Yeah.  This blog would have to be a book for others to understand what I'm going through.  I've been cheated on.  It seems like every time I fall in love or trust someone something bad happens and I lose them.  Sometimes I really don't know what to do.  Is it me?  Am I the problem?  Do I sabotage myself or do I attract it?  Maybe I'm looking for it?  It shakes you.  You see the face which is unfamiliar -- the stranger.  How can someone you love be a stranger?  How can someone you know be a stranger?  How do you explain that?  I couldn't, I can't and because I can't, I'm punished.  I'm punished because I can't understand that question: How can someone you love be a stanger?  That's how it feels to be betrayed or mislead by soeone you love.  It's a nightmare.  Who can you trust if you can't trust someone you love?  That question poisons the world, causing us to mistrust people who really love us.  The truth! The truth is always.  No matter what you believe, truth is beyond understanding, because there is always more to understand.  My insecurity is unfair to Tiffany.  Tiffany is living her life, and she is sharing her life with me.  I said, "She stayed out late." She's working.  She's not staying out.  LOL...I know you're laughing Sarah.  You caught the phrase from the tone.  When you heard she was working you knew.  I made her somebody else.  "She stayed out late tonight"?  She's working.  I'm suffering though insecurity.  I know you know.  Your life was filled with loss Sarah.  I hurt for you because I know what you went through in life is far more than what I went through.  I feel it is an insult to compare.  I wish I could take some of your pain away.  All you know is loss honey bear.  Everything you love taken away... I don't know.  I'm here complaining about someone who truly loves me.  I feel you everyday Sarah.  I feel you everyday.  I trust wherever you are, you are okay.  The phone's ringing be right back...  It was Tiffany.  She was calling to check on Justice and Free.  She missed me too,  Insecurity.  It's unfair to the people who love you.  Hope you're okay.  Miss you.

Port Au Prince

Compassion is a lost art.  I've seen so many people numb to suffering.  If it doesn't directly affect them and their lives, then it doesn't matter.  Yes, there is a great number of people suffering.  There are more people suffering than one person can help.  It's easy for us to write off.  Some of us talk about how sad it is to see the suffering and then run back to our warm safe places and block out the rest of the world.  What if it was us?  What if it were you?  What if it was someone you love who was suffering?  Wouldn't you want someone to help you or your family if disaster struck?  I ask those who feel that way this question: What else have you done to help someone else who you don't know that is suffering?

I work in a major city and I watch people work and live in this community who are fearful of those who don't have as muchs as they do.  My girlfriend at work always complained about this kid who she didn't want her son to hang around.  "That kid this!" and "This kid that!" So I asked her about the child's family.  She told me the kid's parents are gone.  Mom's a drug addict and father's never been in the picture.  The kid lives with his grandparents.  So I said to her, "Why don't you help hom to be a better person?  If that child grows up and victimizes someone she knows, remember it's not her problem."

As a society we do not collectively care about our society.  A few people who do care and understand the need to take cae of the community.

I witnessed the people of Haiti come together.  A place of extreme poverty.  The people came together to help and pray.  No victimizing their already grief stricken land.  These beautiful people came together and our world came together to help them.  If we could do this everyday imagine how beautiful our world would be.  Imagine how beautiful life would be for everyone if we all just helped and showed compassion.  Yes, there are evil people in this world, but those people were once children.  Think about that.  Think about how many less people would have been hurt or victimied if thse evil adults would have been helped by their community when they were children.  Maybe not all the evil people of the world can be prevented, but think about what just one less evil act would mean for those who were victimized.  Don't we owe that to our communities?  No judgment, no prejudice, only help & love.  It could save a life.

I miss you so much Cuddlebug.  I'm going down to the local Salvation Army to take thse clothes and canned goods for donation.  I volunteer at the local shelter at least once a month.  It's not much, but it's something and I'm always willing to help.  Free and Justice love helping too.  They're so good.  I miss you Sarah.  Hope to hear from you soon.

Blackout

I found myself staring in the mirror this morning.  It wasn't like I walked into the bathroom and got stuck looking at myself in the mirror.  I didn't begin brushing my teeth and then find myself stuck in the mirror.  I really don't know how I got there.  I... I woke up looking at myself in the mirror.  Maybe if this hadn't happened before I would've been scared, but it's been like this all my life.  I don't know if my body is in tune with my subconscious to the point wher I'm possessed by my unknown, uncontrolled thoughts, but I find myself coming out of this trance-like state a lot.  I tell my friends it's nothing when I come to.  They think I'm spacey for that.  I just tune out and come back to reality some place else.  It's weird.  I'm embarrassed for telling people about this, but since I'm not really using my last name I feel like I have some room to be free. 

Sarah, you know already.  I don't have to explain this to you.  It's getting worse.  I thought I was getting it under control, but I keep doing it.  Do you remember the first night it happened?  I'm sure you do.  You noticed it right away... I thought it was because of how perceptive you always are.  You have this natural ability to read people.  I thought that was it.  I didn't know you were like me.  I didn't.  I really felt closer to you knowing we share this unique bond.  Now, as I experience it in my older years, I think about how we delt with this together and now we are apart.  Tiffany is really supportive of me.  I wonder and hope you have someone supportive of you too.  I miss you Sarah.  There's something to remind me of you every day.

For everybody else going through this, you are not alone.  I know it's crazy to wake up and not know what happened before.  I hate it.  Me and Sarah had each other.  We were never afraid together.  I feel for those who endure this alone.

I love you Sarah.  I hope you're safe.

Work

Hey Sarah… I’m on the leash. I know, I know. You can’t believe it. Maybe you do? The last time we talked is still vivid in my mind. All night. We had fun. I still reflect on things we said that night. Deep communication. Maybe we pulled the energy of that conversation from the stars. I don’t know how one night can touch so many years of one’s life. It’s the last time I saw you. Maybe we knew we were saying goodbye. That has to be the case. We said goodbye to each other all night long. We didn’t know. It was the last time. Yeah… I work. I’m on the leash.


I told you getting a job meant the end of freedom. I’d always tell you to fight the enslavement. Don’t wear a leash. Don’t put on a necktie or they own you…LOL…Well, I did try to not do it. I sold flowers on the street corners in San Francisco. I did all sorts of things. I even made furniture. Then I got married and had my first child. Everything changed. Her name is Free. When I looked into her eyes I grew up. In that moment, I changed. All I wanted was for her to be happy, strong, and Free. It’s amazing how children impact our lives. By the time my second child was born (his name is Justice) I’d finished my program at college and became a Registered Nurse  Yes, I found a way to wear a tax code and still help the world. I do still find myself wishing the world was the way we dreamed it that night. All of the ideals we made real. I do feel my choice was for the best. I guess that’s the way it happens. One day you’re searching for yourself and then you’re here. I sometimes wonder what my life would be like, but I can say I’m happy. I wish you were here. I wonder what life would be like if you were here. I hope it’s not too late. I have to work a double shift tonight, 4pm-8am. I have to put my leash on. Love you Sarah. I’ll talk to you later.

Love and Marriage...

My ideas about life and love have changed a lot since I was a teenager. In my teens I felt I knew enough about life to make adult decisions. Don’t we all? Sarah and I would day dream about life, the future. Two teenage girls with a limited understanding of the world. I use d to say I’d never marry because marriage was a fraud. Marriage was only an acknowledgment to the system of my love for another person. I didn’t need a piece of paper to represent my love for the person I’m with. I didn’t need a tax code to established that I had someone who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I didn’t need that… It’s funny. I moved to San Francisco and married the first guy I fell in love with. I just loved him so much and I didn’t want to lose him. I forced him into marriage. We were young. I was 19 and he was 21. Five years and two children later, we divorced. He found someone who did the things needed and I wasn’t mad at him. I didn’t really want to be in the relationship. I couldn’t please him in bed. I tried to do it just for him, but I had no desire to. After our second child the relationship was over. We divorced and I didn’t think I’d ever remarry. I didn’t want another man to please and that was the problem.

I met Tiffany at a divorce group meeting. I tell her the day I met her I knew I was a lesbian. We instantly hit it off. I was so attracted to her. She’d been married before too. That’s how we met. It’s been seven wonderful years and I’m so happy.

Sarah, I know you were the one who always wanted to get married and I wonder if you ever did. I know you’d make someone very happy. You were always the best at everything. I really miss you a lot. I trust all is well with you and that wherever you are, you’re safe. I miss you. Talk to you later.

Dear Sarah...

Hi my name is Heather. I know I’m just another person with a blog trying to gain the attention of a mass audience…my fifteen minutes of fame? No. Well... if I can gain some attention I know that it will help my cause. I’m trying to find someone. I’m trying to find someone I lost long ago. Her name is Sarah Brown and she’s a missing person.

Two years ago me and a few remaining family members published her diary through a friend of mine named Tshombe. We published her diary with the hope of finding Sarah or finding out what happened to her immediate family. For so long we have been trying to do it all by ourselves for over 14 years. For almost fifteen years my best friend has been missing. I don’t think too many people can imagine what that’s like. I was in high school when it happened. Now I’m in my thirties. I’ve divorced and remarried. I have two beautiful children and my best friend hasn’t been able to share it with me.

I’m starting this blog for Sarah Brown. Her family nor I want to release her picture for fear she may go deeper into hiding. Over the years, Sarah has made contact a few times. Her most recent contact was a video posted on Youtube.

I will post something here at least once a week for Sarah. Sarah, if you’re out there and you read this, know that we love you and we’re trying to do everything we can to make it so you can come home. To everyone else: Please read Sarah’s Diary available here or here. She needs our help. Thank you.