Day 467: What these eyes have seen

12 05 2014

I wish some days I was blogging more but I do enjoy it. Sometimes I have too much to blog about and sometimes not enough at all. Another fabulous mothers day celebrated along with my daughter’s birthday today. I’m trying so hard to appreciate my mom with her being older and her Parkinson. My daughter is almost a teenager and I’m appreciating at times how sweet she is before the transition starts to A TEENAGER.  I miss my kids so much the weeks I don’t have them that were so tired on Sunday night because we stay so busy.

I think Im going to make this a two-part blog: Some of this you have heard before at the beginning and some is new. This is why I blog. I have seen ALOT Good and bad and each story of what I have seen with my eyes allows me to have a different idea or words to blog about my life. Im never really empty of  ideas but sometimes just can’t get them typed out. This blog started because my mom asked me this weekend what I had been envolved with and seen in my life! I swallowed hard and told her some of it.

What these eyes have seen: I will start in 6th grade: A girl I called my girlfriend whatever it is at that age got decapitated in a car accident. I saw here before the funeral and how the head was stitched back on to this day the picture stays in my head. I broke my leg and it changed my life forever. I didn’t know it then but my life struggles started then. My first kiss I remember was in the hallway of this old dinge jr high we went to. I think my feet left the ground on the kiss and I thought I was in love. Little did I know how in Jr. high that love last about 2 days. Felt my first supposed heart-break. My first sense of violence I got in a fight where the kid landed the first 3 punches and it hurt but I got one and it was over. I liked the feeling of hurting someone. If I would have been smart enough I would have known that my anger of my life changing was at that moment.  I got my first hug from an 8th grade teacher that wasn’t from family and they told me that they were proud of me. It was the first time that I realized people didn’t care for just themselves. I got my first real job cleaning manure at a dairy and was the first time I realized I had to go to college. Especially the day it rained and I fell face first into it.  When my dad came home and was laid off and he never worked again. He was disabled and everything in my life went from good to horrible. When I worked to pay for my family, when the innocence of being a boy left and the anger of a man took over. When everything you had gotten at Christmas or birthdays was pawned or sold. It’s tough to know your stuff that made you happy was making someone else happy. When you go to someone elses house that you can’t stand just so you can eat a meal and not feel like a burden on your family. When you can’t stay healthy so you can play a sport that will “get you out” of the mess you hate. When you see the strongest woman you know cry for the first time and hate your dad because he couldn’t fix it so you would never have to see your mom cry again. When you have your first sexual experience and you have a girl tell you she loves you but you ignore her because you’re hurting to bad inside to let anything love you.  A happy time when you find 30 on the sidewalk and that provides your family bread and milk. A happy time for me always was that no matter how bad things got nobody knew we were poor. My mom could clean anything out of our cloths and she sold everything she had to make sure people know we were taken care of. How every birthday or Christmas I felt like it I won the lottery because I got one or two gifts. When my parents knew the responsibility that I was under but stopped me and made me look them in the eye and they always said they were proud of me.

I’ll start again in the next blog. Thanks for always reading.

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