Each day I wake up the sun beams a little brighter. My heart is starting to heal, its been two months since I lost Charlie. Two long months. I haven’t been myself, casting fake smiles and half-hearted hellos in the direction of friends. I have been living in memory land, a land where Charlie is still alive. Hurt has taught me to hold on to the past, my heart says “Let go.” Let go of what was and what will never be. Free yourself and set your heart on fire.
I loved Charlie more than life its self and I know deep down that he would want me to find my way. That he would not want me to hold onto a broken dream. I can hear his voice say “AJ put your big girl pants on and walk my friend, walk right into the sun. You are stronger than you realize and you my love deserve the world.” Charlie uttered those words to me on nights I doubted myself or days in which I thought the world was ending. He’d just rub my curly hair and say “You worry more than you hope. Try a little hope babe. It will do you good.”
Faith in God is allowing me to heal and knowing that I have an angel cheering me on keeps me humble. I can feel Charlie with me plain as day, I know that he is urging me to find my way. Letting go is easier said than done. But with each breath and each step I take I am moving on. The pain is starting to fade and I am starting to believe again. Each day is a chance for me to build a new life, a new memory, and a chance to fill my heart will love.
Lately I have spent a lot of time alone and dared to let my mind wonder why. Tears fall silently into the Muppet’s fur and then there are moments where I burst out in laughter for no reason. Life isn’t suppose to be this way. We are supposed to fall in love, have babies, and grow old together. For the first time in years I let myself feel and believed in something called love. I held out hope that it would turn out all right and trusted the fact that he would never be like my ex husband.
Charlie knew I was broken and that he was taking on more scars than one soul could handle. Yet he would shoot me a smirk and take my hand during the moments of doubt. He called me late at night to tell me “Hey beautiful, just wanted to remind you that you are amazing. Don’t forget that.” Sometimes he would tell my voicemail a story or just talk about his day. Knowing full well that the voice mail symbol would bring a smile to me in the morning. He had faith in me and allowed me to just be. Charlie didn’t try to heal my scars, or swaddle my fears, he just simply let me be. Why others tried to give me answers, he gave me hope. Hope replaced my fears and allowed me to dream again. Dream of a place where love lived.
Late nights were spent with board games and conversation. Charlie never asked me about my failed marriage, my stroke, or my son. He told me once “I don’t need to pry. I have faith that when you’re ready you will tell me everything.” Those moments came and the man was left in awe. Bit by bit I revealed myself to him and under the brightness of the sun my secrets became exposed. I stood there before him with nothing more than my soul, vulnerable, and afraid. He just threw his arms around me and said “Babe all we need is a little hope and we’ll be all right.”
Charlie was full of hope. Hope for our future and that our lives would be more than perfect. It’s funny how one persons inability to move their car from the freeway brought that hope crashing down. Charlie’s death will remain fresh as I shake my head and wonder “Why?” I can live with the fact that it was an accident. However I can’t live with the notion that it was preventable. Had they taken the extra steps no one would have had to die that day. Charlie didn’t die alone, that one accident claimed the lives of five people. Five beautiful people that mattered to someone out there. I hold out a tiny shred of hope that the Judge will make those two idiots pay for their mistake. Rest assured I will be sitting in the courtroom on the day the sentence is handed down.
Hope is what gets me through the hard moments and allows me to dream. Charlie would want me to have a little hope and to believe in a better day. A day where the pain fades and all of this will make sense. I didn’t get to grow old with him, yet I got to spend 16 of the greatest months of my life with him. In the end that’s all that matters. That for 16 incredible months our friendship grew into love, and that love allowed us to have a little hope for a beautiful future.
I got a text message this evening from a former coworker and as I read it I had no pity for the man. He was upset that my old firm had hired someone else on and passed him over. I asked “Did you apply for the position?” He said “No I didn’t even know they were hiring a case assistant.” There you go, I said. You let this opportunity pass you by. If you want to work at the firm as a real employee and not a contractor you need to apply. You are not above anyone else and you just like everyone else needs to go through the application process.
As of late there seems to be a reoccurring theme. People feel that things should just be handed to them on silver platters. Silver platters rarely come around in the real world and silver spoons if you’ve got one hang on to the damn thing. Nothing gets handed to us in this world. The haves got what they have because there worked their ass of to get it. An well the have-nots kept on hoping for that silver platter. I am not one to sit around for a silver platter and believe that in the end hard work always pays off. I am a fighter. I choose to work like I’m broke, live like I am dying, and dance like no one is watching.
Work, is something I crave. It keeps me humble and reminds me that I am no better than my fellow-man. People say I am lucky because you can barely tell I had a stroke. Truth of the matter is, I get Botox to tighten up the left side of my face and to stop the nerve pain. During therapy they told me it was going to be work. That I would have to work hard to get myself back to where I was. An that’s what I did. I pushed through the pain, cried my tears, and now I stand proudly as a survivor. Now I encourage others to veer away from my fate and teach thousands how to live heart healthy. If anything I have to fight harder to prove my worth, to prove that I am more than just a survivor. I work ten times harder and push further to prove that I am worth more than my pay check. Mostly I work my ass off to prove to myself that I am still capable. To prove to myself that I am more than a statistic.
Charlie use to giggle at me because every morning before I leave for work I say to myself “I am AmandaJean and no one else is better than me. I am the best!” Each morning I have a pep talk with myself and let my worries float away. If you are not at the top of your game you can be easily knocked down. Hell, I even give attorney’s pep talks before they head into trial. Pep talks are something I give myself on my way to work, every time I step on a stage, and head into a politicians office. I believe in myself and I believe in my ability to produce quality work.
It doesn’t matter what you do or how good you are. If you never put your fingers to the keys and fill out an application. You will never get that job. I had so many firms tell me no. I never gave up and in the end it paid off. I love my current firm and enjoy what I am doing. I had to work a few crappy jobs and fight my way to the top before I could bask in the sun. The fight was worth it and the crappy jobs taught me beggars cannot be choosy. The legal field if you are not careful will eat you alive and spit you out faster than you can spell Mississippi. You just need to be the chewer and not the chewee.
Truth: I am a chewer. If you do not do everything within your power to change the room your standing in then I do not want to hear you complain. Complaining is for people who know deep down that they did not take the right step to create change. They are the ones who wave goodbye as opportunity passes them by and they wonder why there unhappy. Reach, dream, and for God sakes make the change you need to become a better you. Stand on that soap box, toot your horn until someone takes notice and offers you what you’ve been looking for. Until you do that your room will be dark and the walls will close in. Close in until you realize that you’re six feet under and life completely passed you by.
In the weeks after Charlie’s death close friends and family started to ask: “Were you and Charlie more than friends?” The truth of the matter is yes. Yes Charlie and I were more than friends. For a short while my life fell into place and I was happy. Charlie would tell me “AJ I am going to make an honest woman out of you.” I would just look at him and giggle. Hearing him say that made me feel like we were living in some sort of sin or even doing something illegal. It was his way of saying ” I am going to marry you babes.” Weddings were something we talked about often. I told him that I was going to do it my way this time around. That I wanted a gown with a vintage feel, pie instead of cake, and a dance that lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Charlie said that sounded beautiful.
In October the beauty began to fad. I was spending more nights at the firm than with Charlie. Charlie was always out-of-town on business, so the nights he was here were special. I traded those special moments for a cube and a job that would never amount to anything. A week before Thanks Giving Charlie gave me a small pot of gold. Looking at him confused I asked “What the heck is this?” He said to me “AJ you are the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow. You mean everything to me and with out you my life has no meaning. You make me feel, believe, and you love have taught me how to live. An I, I can’t live without you.” Tears started to flow, I threw my arms around him, and whispered I love you into his ear. Those were the sweetest words I have ever heard and my heart melted into the floor. In that moment I was his and nothing else mattered in this world.
Yet, work still mattered more than Charlie. Charlie could see I was giving my job my all and watched the passion seep out of my personal life. I often felt like a hamster running in a wheel and went through the motions. One morning Charlie asked me to look at the sunrise. That morning I was too sick to look at the sunrise. I could barely move, yet I mustered the strength to throw a dress on and head into work. That night he brought me to the ER and that’s when we got the news that my kidneys were going hay wire. That I had basically worked myself into the ground and needed a break. I never took a break. I worked through the pain, the nausea, and pretend like everything was fine. On the inside I was a mess. Charlie and I got into a huge fight. He was tired of me putting the firm first and my health second. Charlie decided to walk away that night. He told me “Give me a call when you find yourself again.”
A two solid weeks went by without word from him. I figured he had walked away from me for good. That is until one night I had a knock on my door, on the other side stood a teary eyed Charlie. I threw my arms around him and whispered “I do” into his ear. He held me tight and began sobbing on my shoulder. Charlie had decided to put NYC behind him and make a life in Minneapolis. He got a job at one of the downtown firms and was ready to make an honest woman out of me. The next day when I woke up from a nap I felt something on my finger. Looking up Charlie was beaming as he sat on his coffee table. He could barely contain himself he asked me “why do you have a ring on your finger?” What are you talking about I said. I looked down and there it was a pink and yellow diamond engagement ring. Charlie got down on one knee and asked “AJ will you be my wife?” Sobbing and grinning I managed to eek out a yes. That night melted into weeks of bliss. The dominos of my life were lined up across the floor like little soldiers. I had the job I always wanted, a man who stood beside me, and I was on the way to getting better. Funny how life swaddled us into a calm and quenches our fears with love. With one small breath, my dominos fell to the floor.
On Valentine’s day Charlie was in a terrible car accident and he would never wake up. Charlie passed away a few days later. I never got to say I do instead I got to say goodbye. I sat there in the church rubbing the ring on my left hand. Part of me hoped if I rubbed hard enough a genie would pop out and I’d get to wish Charlie back. It was wishful thinking, yet I held out hope that this was a dream. My dream was a nightmare and all I wanted was Charlie to tell me it was going to be ok. I have faith that he is still with me and that he will always be with me. There are moments when I burst out in laughter for no reason or at suddle reminders of Charlie. A recipe, TV show, and so many other things bring the memories flooding in. I enjoy the flood and sometimes cry into my pillow at night. Cry because I reach out and the only thing I feel is the muppets furry little head. I long to have him laying next to me and to have him whisper his plans for our future into my ear. Sometimes when I wake up from a nap I squint my eyes in hopes that I’ll see Charlie watching me sleep. I never do, yet when I listen to my heart I hear his voice.
Honor is something he would adore. Charlie always wanted to have a little girl. I don’t blame him he grew up in a family of six boys. He told me once “if we have a boy I am going to send him back. I only want a daughter and we are going to name her Charlotte Rae.” I would tease him and let him know that I didn’t like that name. In truth I adored the name Charlotte and loved the fact that he wanted to name our daughter after himself. So that is how I am going to honor the man I cherished, one day a little girl name Charlotte Rae will walk this earth. An I know that Charlie will be smiling down on her from heaven.
It’s funny how time soothes our souls and slowly heals our wounds. I all most didn’t realize what today marked. A day that I would never forget. It was a day that women long for. I remember standing in my bathroom watching the hour-glass spin on the EPT. Part of me had hope and part of me was preparing for a “not pregnant” to pop up. It seemed like hours had passed, I didn’t want to look. To my surprise the test screen said “pregnant.” The test dropped to the floor, shaking I smiled slightly, and thought “finally my calm has come.” I showed the test to Scott, he was over joyed, his eyes filled with tears. Tears because we had just conquered the impossible. In that moment we were happy, the cheating and the lies they didn’t matter. Because now two had truly become one.
Calls were made to the doctor, since I got pregnant just months after my P.E. I was considered high risk. The doctor told us it was a long shot, and that time would tell if the warfarin sodium had done any damage to the baby. We had a 50/50 chance of bringing a baby into this world. To me those were good odds so I started the twice a day Lovenox injections and a crazy low vitamin K diet. I started showing right away, there was no hiding the fact that I was with child. My baby belly to me was a symbol of survival and my way of saying Fuck you nuva ring, I made it. Morning sickness never came, sleep was something I couldn’t get enough of, and cravings were plentiful.
The doctors said our child had a strong heart beat and that he was a fighter. The first time I saw him I fell in love, that was my child on the screen, and there was no greater gift. They talked about the odds of a blood clot forming, they told me the baby could be born Lovenox dependant, and that I could bleed to death during child-birth. Bleeding to death is not how I wanted to go, so a C-section was planned, and it was decided that our son would be born early. Being born early would be best for both baby and mommy.
While I was busy planning and dreaming of what was to come, my body was brewing up a different plan. It was the Tuesday after Mothers Day, I sat in the waiting room and looked around at all of the swollen bellies. My name was called and into the ultra sound room we went. The tech fumbled with the wand, minutes went by, and she just kept clicking on the key board. She sat their in silence adjusting the colors on the screen, soon she got up and walked out. That’s odd I thought, she came back with one of the doctors. He stared at the screen with her looking as the colors changed. He coldly said “there is no heart beat.” At first I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. He explained to me that my son had died, that my baby was dead. He told me, “I’m so sorry for your loss. it’s probably for the best.” He asked if I wanted to talk about the options. I said no and stormed out of there.
Stormed off to the Prius as I put the key into the ignition the tears began to fall. I placed my hand on my belly and dared to ask why. I could barely dial the phone, when my Mom answered all I could muster was "Aloucious died." My Mom, she was trying to hold back her tears, she said "I'll call your Dad. I went home to an empty house, Scott was in Vegas, I tried calling him but he didn't answer. I barried myself in bed, I didn't want to face the world. I wasn't ready to lose my child. The door bell rang and standing at the door was my Father.
All I could do was cry as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. He said to me "I don't know why this happened. We just have to have faith." I stood there in his arms crying, my whole world shattered around me. He told me to get dressed and took me out for breakfast. I could barely eat and didn't want to face the world. The rain fell softly as we walked to the car I asked "Dad can we bury Aloucious under a birch tree?" Of course he said, yes we can, why don't we go look for one now. We strolled through the nursery lot for a few hours looking for the perfect tree to place my son under, a tree that would have deep roots and strong branches. We didn't find the perfect tree and now cold from the rain I just wanted to go home.
Home is where I was when Scott finally called. I had asked him to come home, to be with me. He told me "no." I was crushed the man I needed most had failed me and left me standing alone. Alone to make decisions about our son. After talking to a nurse about my options it was evident that I would not go into labor on my own. I needed surgery. Sherri she had left work early and sat by me in the waiting room. As I went back to surgery I gave her my wedding rings to hold on to, she had tears in her eyes as she said "see you in a bit." The nurses told her the procedure would take about 40 minutes. 40 minutes melted into an hour and that hour melted into two. Soon she was told that I was out and in recovery. My ordeal, my son was no longer a part of me. I was now a mother to a baby in heaven.
I was angry, sad, and frustrated. I went through the phase where I thought my son's death was my fault and often thought maybe I wasn't good enough to be a mom. That maybe this was God's way of showing me that he didn't have faith in me. I was angry and scared. No one I knew had gone through this before. Babies just don't up and die. There had to be a reason and we would have to wait two long months for the results.
As I waited the anger started to fade, grief slipped into every day life, and I slowly started to feel a live. One thing was certain something had to change. I needed to re-evaluate my marriage and the man I called my husband. It was hard for me to fathom that Scott didn't care enough about me to get on a plane. Vegas and Ultimate Electronics were more important than his grieving wife. This was my moment to reclaim myself and to fight for what I wanted in this world.
An that I did, in June I walked away. I was done and I had nothing left to give. Two months slowly passed and the answers I had been waiting for were ready. Just like before I walked into the doctor's office alone. The nurse asked if Scott would be coming. I told her no, I left him about two weeks ago. We are getting a divorce. Oh, she said. "Well some marriages can't survive the death of a child hun." I just looked at her and said "my son gave me the strength to walk away from a man who cheated on and lied to me. He had nothing to do with my leaving or our demise." She just looked at me. The doctor came in and told me "AJ, I wish I had more to tell you. Your son was chromosomally perfect and well, we have no idea why he died. His little heart just stopped. It happens hun." That's all I needed to hear. My son was perfect. My beautiful boy was perfect and I was proud of that.
Time heals the heart. At first I didn't want anything to do with babies. Swollen tummies made me retreat and I cried behind closed doors. Friends walked on egg shells as they announced their pregnancies and shot me half smiles. Half smiles turned into hugs. Babies are a beautiful part of this world and I have faith that one day I will get to say hello instead of goodbye to my child. Goodbyes are hard, yet it gave me more strength than I could ever imagine. Maybe I am lucky because now I have a little me in heaven. A son that is always with me. I can feel him in the breeze. Sometimes I let my mind wander and wonder what he would be like today. Would he have my curly hair, his dad's eyes, and I just hope he'd have my intelligence.
Shortly after Aloucious death I got a tattoo on my right foot. Because of the blog we nicknamed him little bear. So it was only fitting that I get a tattoo of four small bear paws. Two paws are red and black those were Scott's favorite colors. The other two are pink and orange which are my favorite colors. The tattoo artist thought it was a lovely tribute and as I told him my story his eyes filled with tears. He told me that he was glad to be in the presence of one hell of a fighter. I smiled and winced a little as the needles pushed into my skin. Now when I look down I am reminded that Aloucious is always with me and that I made it though hell. Hell because in 10 short months I survived a stroke/P.E. child loss, and had the strength to walk away from a man who would never love me. Strength that I gained when I carried my child and walked through his death alone.
May 12th will be the second anniversary of my son's death. Someone told me once: "You never get over the death of a child. You, you just learn how to live with it." That person was right. I will never be ok with Aloucious being gone. However I have learned to live with it. Maybe it's because I am getting older and a tad bit wiser that I can be at peace with his death. Indian people believe in cherishing the life and honoring the spirit that lived within. A birch tree was planted in Aloucious honor and one day Sophia will be old enough to play under its branches. She will feel the warmth of her cousin surround her and his story will seep into her heart. I just hope that this birch tree will be the only one I plant in the memory of a child. My heart can only handle one birch tree. Maybe one day I will get to sit under that birch with Aloucious' brother or sister in my arms.
Last Friday night I looked down at my floor and thought “My God this carpet looks gross and needs to be vacuumed sooner than later.” My vacuum has been failing me for a while and I knew something had to be done to fix the thing. I am incredibly smart but extremely unhandy. AmandaJean and Stanley tools do not go together. Well that was the case until Charlie showed up on my door step with a set of pink tools.
The pink tools sat unopened in my hall closet, just waiting for me to have a moment of I can do this. At first I couldn’t find my tools and ripped the closet apart looking for them. Then I looked up there they were far above my head pushed to the back of the top shelf. Reaching on my tippy toes I managed to pull them down along with a few other things that fell on my head. I was determined to fix my damn vacuum. The muppet had a “What the fuck is mom doing” look on his face and quietly sat under the coffee table.
Armed with my screw driver and a swift bout of determination I took on operation fix the damn vacuum. I did the obvious first and emptied the bin thingy. That didn’t help so then my next step was to check the hepa filter and still no suction. Any normal person would have checked the brush head. I am not normal after a few minutes of swearing I did just that. Holy crap there was my problem. The brush head was covered with string fur, and what ever else I managed to pick up with it. Wrestling with the brush head and cutting it loose from its prison still did not help with the suction. Tears began to fall and I was starting to give up.
Give up to the point where I wanted to throw the thing out and run to Target to get a shiny new vacuum. Giving up is never an option for me so I took a few deep breaths and felt the hose. The hose was hard and I had a feeling that this isn’t normal. Through my tears I began to take the hose off the vacuum as I was doing this clumps of dust fell to the floor. Soon I had it completely detached from the vacuum and it took me about 40 more minutes to remove the rest of the crap from the hose. I put the hose up to my eye much like a telescope I could see clear to the muppet. To me this was good and I set into the task of putting my vacuum back together.
The sound I heard was the sweet noise of suction as I ran the vacuum across the living room floor. My floor looked less dingy and my God I was finally able to vacuum up the fake needles from my christmas tree. Who knew fake trees could shed so much. I cracked a smile and that smile led to absurd laughter. I thought to my self ” I AmandaJean, just fixed my fucking vacuum all by myself.” I actually did something handy and almost feel brave enough to tackle a hammer. Well maybe not so much, baby steps. I need to pace myself on this fix it adventure.
Fixing a vacuum may not seem that big to you. However to me it is huge. I am normally a girl who runs to someone for fix it help. Or I throw the item out and head to Target for a shiny new one. Here I was covered in dust from head to toe vacuuming my floor. To me my vacuum is no longer just a vacuum, it is a symbol that I am capable of doing things on my own. That as long as I take a deep breath, pause and believe in myself I can do anything.
Babies are God’s way of letting us know he still has faith in the human race. Faith that each child is a fresh start and a chance to change the world.
I have no doubt that Sophs will change this world one day.
Not every little girl gets to have an Auntie who steps up to the plate and helps her parents out. Indian people believe that raising a child is a community effort. Thats probably why I have 14 God children. Sophia will be my 15th and I couldn’t be more honored. Honored because I get to watch this beautiful little girl grow, guide her, and help her find her place in this world.
I fear that she will associate Target with her Auntie. An she’ll greet me like this: “Hey Auntie. Hi. Can we go to Target.” I know its gonna happen. Her little face lit up when we strolled down the isles. She will be a Target girl and sadly probably a little purse obsessed too.
Sophs is all ready spoiled. However on the same coin I want my niece to be humble. To revel in the sun and to never get lost in this world. She will know how to play in a mans world and how to stand on her own. Sophs will dream big and know that anything is possible as long as she believes in herself. She and she alone is the key to her success. An as a family it is our duty to help her pick that lock, rip the door down, and shoot through the glass ceiling. Nothing, nothing on this earth will knock Super Sophs down.
Divorce taught me that I have the right to be picky and not to jump at the first man that walks through the door. It taught me that I matter and that some day I will find a man who realizes that I am worth it. I learned to hold out and not to give in just because someone calls me beautiful. Words speak softly, actions shout I love you to the world. I want a man who speaks with his actions and whispers to my heart.
My mind speaks softly on nights that are a little to lonely. I still hear the ex-husbands voice in my head when my pants feel a little to tight and when my hair doesn’t look just right. He’d say “those don’t look good on you. God you’re getting fat. Or I like your hair straight.” Tears softly fall to the floor when those thoughts roll in. They are a constant reminder of my past. Strength I portray it well, however inside every strong woman is a broken little girl. He never did like my curly hair nor did he like the fact that I chose to wear glasses over contacts. Its simple straightening my hair takes forever and well contacts make my eyes itch. In truth I love the curly mess that sits a top of my head and glasses set me apart from the rest.
I’ve taken one hundred steps forward since I left my ex. He loved to tell me that I would never make it on my own. I realize now that he was the only thing holding me back and keeping me from leading an incredible life. A life that I deserve to live. Chucking him out of the picture was the right choice and now everything is falling into place. My career I love it, the dog he’s the best, we call the UpTown Projects home, and hey all of my bills are paid. So I think I am doing all right. The only thing that’s missing is a man.
I’d like to believe that we need to walk this earth alone in order to find our best selves. For the longest time I was standing in a fog muddling my way through and now I am standing in the sun. Blinded by a future so bright that my heart is beaming. Finding myself was an incredible journey and its funny Mr right was standing there all along. Holding my hand, listening to me complain, and shouting Go Ninja Go. Things are so looking up for this girl and I couldn’t be happier. Finally I matter to someone and know that I am worth every breath I take.
We spend our whole lives trying to step outside of the box. Yet when our life is over we end up in the very thing we’ve been avoiding. Our bodies and our things end up inside that very box.
I spent the better part of my week down at the Ivy packing up and cataloging Charlie’s things. Tears fell when each box was carefully packed, tapped, and loaded onto the truck. This meant my friend was truly gone. To me Charlie’s life is more than a truck full of boxes. If you ask me it was to big to fit inside a box. An that is the kind of life I want to live.
The photos he left behind tell a story, his nick nacks are reminders of the trips he took, and the board games. Well those are a reminder of nights filled with whiskey, deep conversation, and never-ending laughter. Charlie’s condo was always filled with friends needing advice, a place to crash, and those who needed a quiet place to work on a brief. He never turned any of us away. For many of us Charlie was a safe harbor, he always listened first, never judged, and asked if you wanted his advice. Thats what I loved about him, he never forced his opinions on you. He’d tell me: “AJ life has a funny way of working things out. You just have to believe and once you do that, things will fall into place.” Charlie was right. I just wish he was here to see how happy I am and to see that things are finally falling into place.
Charlie always made sure I was ok. After all I was and will always be his brothers Amazing. He did everything in his power to make me smile and get me through the loss of his brother. Charlie stood by my side when I had a Staph infection, held my hand and almost puked when I had an angiogram. He was always there. Whenever I was sick it was a given that he’d be on the next flight. There will never be another man like Charlie nor will I ever have a friend who loved me as much as he did. He was and will always be one hell of man. An I am thankful that for a brief moment I got to call him my friend.
Charlie taught me to live a life outside of the box, to travel light, and love like I was dying. An that is exactly what I am going to do. I want a life that will never be able to fit inside of a box. One so beautiful that it will leave such a legacy in my wake that people will feel compelled to give back to society. To be an example of good will, unwavering determination, and one of survival. I am a statistic, a stroke survivor, and mostly I am one hell of a fighter. Giving up and I can’t are words I seldom say. I am capable of big things and one day I just might change the world. Charlie would want that for me.
I am not one to jump into drama. I tend to tread around the fray and only jump in when it directly impacts me and the lives of others. I believe in standing up, stepping out, and speaking loudly to better those around me. Yesterday evening I glanced at your blog. It had been a while since I looked at your site, three words caught my eye and I became very angry. MckMama wrote: God Hates Divorce as her reason to why she isn’t going to leave her abusive husband. This alone is not true and is twisting the beauty of religion into a horrible being. In truth the Bible never states that God hates divorce nor does it mention that he hates anything.
MckMama goes on to state that God wants her to honor, forgive, and be with her husband. A man who has laid his hands upon her in violence, cut off all communication, and left her fending alone with five young children. The man I described does not deserve honor. He deserves a kick in the ass, yet she believes that God wants her to stay and to honor the man who fathered her children. MckMama tells other women to try to make their marriages work. To honor God by obeying your husband, no matter how bad he is you must obey. You must honor the man who lays his hands upon you. Why because you deserved it. Deserved it because you must not have lived up to God’s standard of honoring and obeying your husband. In truth no woman deserves to be hit.
MckMama stop hiding behind your God. Come into the light admit your wrongs and speak the truth. The truth in the end will set you free. Public records prove to us that you and your husband filed bankruptcy, went through foreclosure, and have thousands of dollars in tax liens. Admit that you exploit your children for clicks and the all mighty dollar. Admit that you are wrong for miss using religion. Isn’t it time you righted the course and set yourself free.
MckMama do you not realize that your words can cause harm. Your reader base is huge and some of those women are trapped. Trapped in bad marriages and are looking at you for advice. Every word you write seeps into their soul and most will stay because you said “God wants me to obey my husband.” A God-fearing woman won’t leave her abusive husband, she will stay. She will continue to cover the dark bruises with thick make-up and put on a smile even though she’s dying inside. Some stay until their last breath is violently taken from their body. Emotional/mental abuse has broken their spirits and they can no longer face the sun. They turn to a woman like you who says “God wants us to obey and honor our husbands.” So they walk back into those violent hands. They no longer feel worth it and now they have a fresh bruise upon them. Those women need a push in the right direction. She needs to know that its ok to walk away and to save herself. That when the ink dries on her divorce decree God will still love her. You have the power to give her that push and stand by her side as she passes through the worst moment of her life. To stand by her side, dry her tears, and help her find her self again. Because in this world every woman deserves a chance in the sun. A chance to fight for herself. There is nothing more beautiful than watching someone find themselves again.
MckMama I know your kind. Your kind is abrasive and cowardly hides behind the Bible. Someone just like you once told me: “AmandaJean your stroke was a punishment from God. God doesn’t want us to use contraception. You got what you deserved. Now you must pay for your sin.” I promptly told that woman the following: My stroke was not a punishment. If it was meant to be a punishment for using contraception than God would have let me die that day. The ultimate punishment is death and my dear I’m still standing above ground. So that is a sign that My God loves me, he loves me because he let me live. Think about that the next time you use the name of God in an untruthful light.
People use God in funny ways and try to use the power of religion to benefit their own well-being. God is not a tool, he is a man. A very loving man who accepts all of his children. Gay, straight, lesbian and so on, he knows no hate only love. I am a firm believer that we are all made in God’s image, yup you read that right MckMama. We are all created in the image of God, so therefore a small piece of God is Gay. Otherwise our gay brothers and sisters wouldn’t be walking on this earth. God does not use homosexuality as a punishment. Gay people are beautiful and I am proud to stand by their side and fight for what is right. They are and will always be human just like you and me.
MckMama you have five beautiful children. Children are God’s way of letting us know that he still has faith in man kind. Each child is a new beginning a beautiful gift, and something that should never be exploited. I would give anything to have my son standing above ground. A man once told me: “AmandaJean your baby died because you did something wrong in Gods eyes. Its his way of letting you know he doesn’t have faith in you and doesn’t think your worthy enough to be a Mom. He is punishing you for your sins.” I looked down at my shoes and said: My God loves me. He has faith in me. My x husband wasn’t there the day I found out Alucious died. He didn’t even really care. Yet I know I wasn’t alone, because that is when God carried me. My son is with me in spirit and one day I will hold my baby in my arms. I pray you never have to know what its like to lose a child. You never get over the death of a child you just learn to live with it.
Stop and tell your children you love them. Admit to the world that you exploit them for clicks. I bet you get giddy when the number of clicks sky-rocket on your site. When they sky-rocket you get a nice paycheck in the mail. I’ve seen the blogs about how you used your son Stellan’s medical trauma to get more clicks to your site. You sat there and blogged while your child was fighting for his life. I fight for children like your son. Children who are born with heart defects and are fighting for their lives. I tell my congressmen that we need more funding for pediatric heart defects and that we need to find a cure. You are lucky Jennifer. Lucky because you can hold Stellan. My Father’s niece died so your son could thrive. She was the first neonatal heart transplant in Minnesota. She lived to be three years old and they gain an insight into the working of a child’s heart. That research was put into books, journals and shared across this land. That research saved your child. So be thankful, be greatful, and let the world know how incredibly lucky you are. Because at any moment you could be standing in my shoes. I walk this earth without my son.
MckMama I am standing up for your so-called sinners and I am calling you out. You are a liar. A liar Jennifer who uses religion to benefit her own personal gains. Someone who prays upon the hearts of the weak and someone who does not stand up for herself or mankind. You call yourself a sinner. It’s true you are. No one not even Jesus left this world without sin. Because if you haven’t sinned then my friend you never lived at all. I urge you to stand up for yourself and to better the lives of your children. Free yourself from the arms of abuse. Stop twisting the Bible and spewing words of hate. Hate is a sickness. Face the facts, let justice seep in, and truly know what its like to stand in the light. Stop hiding in the corners and stand proudly in the center of your life.
Jennifer, please realize that this isn’t an attack. Its awake up call. My God smiles upon all of us and accepts that we will sin. I am urging you to click the contacts tab up above and tell me exactly which page in the Bible says “God Hates Divorce.” Tell me the exact page that reads “God Hates homosexuals.” Jennifer I want to know what book tells women “You must obey and honor your abusive husband.” Send me the page numbers Jennifer, send me your proof that God is capable of hate. I’ll be waiting for your email. To your followers I say this: BRING IT! I am not afraid of you. Your words, your cowardly beliefs mean nothing to me. Because I know the meaning of God.
Mostly Jennifer email me when you decide to fight for yourself. I will stand by your side and whisper “Go Jennifer Go in your ear.” I will not judge you nor will I tell you its wrong. A wise attorney once told me: “It all comes down to a judgment call. There are no winners or losers. It doesn’t matter who walks away first.” MckMama I heard those words on Friday June 25th, 2010. It gave me the push I needed to walk out that door On June 27th, 2010. That attorney made me realize it was ok to walk away from my marriage. All of my other friends told me to stay. To stay with a man who mentally and emotionally abused me. I was so broken and hurt that when I looked in the mirror I didn’t see me. I had lost myself and I was tired of trying to love a man who was repulsed by me. That Attorney told me it was ok and that I would be ok. He was right it hurt, it sucked, and now I am ok.
I have faith that if you chose to divorce your husband, you’d be ok too. An if your God turns his back on you because you signed a divorce decree. Then Jennifer I will show you my God who will welcome you with open arms. My God welcomes all of his children and would never turn his back on them. He stands by us during our darkest hour and cheers us on when we stand in the sun. My God loves you.
All I ask is this: Please be careful with how you use religion. You have no idea what your reader is going through. For all you know she is reading your blog while holding an ice pack to her face and wondering when the next punch will come. Your words regarding homosexuals could push someone over the edge. Your words of hate could be the last thing someone reads before taking their own life. Know that sick people look at your site and you are subjecting your beautiful children to their perverted minds. Hug your children and protect them with every fiber of your being. Mostly Jennifer tell people that you “think” God wants us to do this or that. Don’t say “God said that he wants us or God says we should do xyz.” In this time of trial people are clinging to any last shred of hope they can find. Thats all I ask is that you put money aside and think about how your words impact people.
Have Bear Will Travel 