Drunk

He is so drunk he peed and shit himself. I cannot deal with this anymore.

I thought this sentence twice, once while I hoped he slept it off in my apartment and then again before I took the plane home.

Being in that relationship was a dark and hallow place of what I thought was love. It turned out that he loved himself more. I was always afraid the alcohol was going to kill him. Maybe that’s what he wanted.

How do I help him? How do I convince someone they need help?

I don’t like watching him hurt himself. I don’t want him to die. This is hard. Probably the hardest thing I want to do at my age.

How do I stop enabling this drinking that he calls a solution?

I need my mother. I know that sounds cliché but she will know what to do. It’s crazy how that happens. At one point in my life (teenage years) I thought I knew everything, turns out I don’t know shit. Thank god for mothers and fathers.

Today was supposed to be a fun day of drinking that turned into a nightmare.

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Don’t Ask Questions

“I know a place we can go!” I grabbed her hand. “Just run!”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked grabbing my shoulder making me face her. Her face was up close and personal to mine. She might still be intoxicated.

“I bet he keeps the hide-a-key in the same spot…. yepp. Does no one change here?” I asked while opening the door.

Florals of every kind mixed into this nausea inducing smell.

Oh right, I forgot I was hungover. MUST. HAVE. WATER. NOW!

I took the steps two at a time, up the stairs into the kitchen like I still lived there and the years hadn’t gone by. He upgraded the coffee machine, must have done a lot of upgrades considering there was a lace bra draped over the back of the couch. Same drinking glasses and new, wine glasses?, how fancy!

thump…. “shit!”

“Who the hell is there? I have a gun and am not afraid to shoot an intruder.” The booming male voice yelled.

“Calm down. It’s just us,” my friend yelled back, “could you please lower your voice, I am extremeeely hungover. I vow to never drink again.” She had found the couch that I swore I would have in the divorce if we ever got married. I’ll laugh at that joke later when I have more time. She found a blanket (didn’t picture him as a throw blanket/ decorative pillow type) but now that I look at it, I think it may have been someone’s dress.

“You do realize you’re breaking and entering? Is it just you?” He sounded like he was putting jeans on. Not that I was thinking about him not wearing pants or remembering that he slept in only boxers.

Get your mind focused on the current situation.

“I’m here too.” I yelled only to realize I was in need of Advil and a good mouthwash.

I heard some mumbles.

“Welcome! You guys need some bacon?” He said swooping down the stairs like a night in shining no armor. He was shirtless. Did he get a new tattoo?

Focus!

“I’m good. But we have to invoke the don’t ask questions…” I said and then was interrupted by an accent pillow.

“I. MUST. BACON! FEED ME!” She said muffled under the dress she had over her eyes.

“Anything princess wants, princess gets!” He said walking into the kitchen.

“Bite me.”

I followed him.

“So we need to invoke the don’t ask questions rule we came up with year ago.” I said as he opened the refrigerator.

“You mean the one where I don’t ask you anything and you don’t tell me you’re moving away?” He grabbed the bacon and eggs.

I grimaced.

“You know I can keep a secret.” He said looking for the frying pan.

I went over to the cupboard and returned with it.

“Just because you used to live here doesn’t mean everything is the same.” He snapped.

Now that is the old boy I used to know. All this being extremely nice to me is weird.

“Don’t be bitter that nothing in this small town changes or you are still in the rut.” I said slamming the frying pan on the the counter and rushed away.

Again. I forgot I was hungover.

Try

Be thankful for the hard times, they will show you how strong you truly are. Be grateful for all things in your life and understand that there are some things out of your control. Believe and anything is possible. Positivity for the evening. Trying to remember to be thankful even though I feel stressed and panicky about life.

I’m BACK!

Being an adult sucks! First things first… I’m the realist. Sorry habit.

The newspaper I was working at filed for bankruptcy. The owner wrote me a bad check, my apartment threatened me with eviction, and the man of my dreams is battling alcoholism. How were your last 6 months? Positive. Adventurous. Motivating.

I learned a lot about myself. I am stronger than I think I am. I know that I can be strong even in moments where I cry and think I can’t do it. Because I know it will get better. I wasn’t motivated when I stopped writing. Personally, I needed to get my shit together. You know that “real job thing.”

I got the job and my life seems very content at the minute. So back to my stories. I hope you are ready for a new adventure or the continuation of an old one.

Thanks for sticking around.

Xoxo,

Summer Jade

Wrong kind of Attraction

I tried to envision what I wanted. I envisioned a job. I applied and applied and applied. Then finally after I thought all was lost I got the job. But I think something was lost in translation. Because the job didn’t have money to pay its employees. The checks were no good. People either quit or walked away. When I started everyone said it was because everything was influx. Now I understand when the man in my position previously left… they didn’t pay him! Why did this happen to me? Is this life lesson supposed to make me stronger? Because right now I am drowning.

I’ve never had an employer not pay me for my work. Do you have any advice for me?

You can call me Lemon Bree…

I’ve been taking care of Gigi for a month now. After yesterday I can honestly say I think she’s getting better. It’ll take more time to learn how to cope but I think she’s on her way. 

I did something pretty wreckless, yeah I know that’s something Gigi would normally do, but she’s missing in action, my mom had to go back to her life. I am all alone in this old house. Sometimes it feels like Gigi’s mom is haunting it or at least living here too. Almost like her spirit is trapped her. Most of the time it creeps me out. So I’ve been working on my final project for school. A collection of writing (basically a diary with entries from my memories). I thought it would be creative and something different. I mean most of my fellow classmates will be doing business proposals. I’m more of a creative soul. Shocking I know considering this diary blog thing. 

Off topic back to my pretty wreckless thing… I met a guy. Normally I go for a traditional way like a coffee shop or a book store. Nope I made myself a dating profile and kept swiping until someone swiped back. It was actually fun and slightly addictive. It felt more like a game than chatting up guys. I haven’t told Gigi any of this yet. But since she reads the blog, it’ll be only moments until that changes. I was being a cyber-slut. I was talking to 15 guys at a time. It was my own social experiment. I wanted to see why so many people used this type of thing. I’ve decided it lazy people’s way of dating. And very entertaining. Half the time the guys asked which one I was in the pictures with Gigi. 

“Damn girl! Yo da blonde bitch?”

Classy. All of them the classiest gentleman. 

Then, I met this one guy. He sparked my interest because he wasn’t like any of the other guys that mutually swiped. I decided what do I have to lose… let’s meet him in person. We decided to meet at this restaurant for brunch. He’s a little bit older than me. So he ordered drinks with his food. I was good, didn’t need to end up marrying him. But it was nice and he kissed me. Made my lips tingle. I haven’t talked to him in a while. But I thought the blog might need a new beginning. 

I’ll keep you posted. 

Xoxo.

(Gigi I’ll give you more details. Don’t worry!) 

The dream.

“Get your head out of your ass.”

“Yes, I know you are sad that I am no longer with you. But you need to live.”

The dream was so vivid I thought this time if I held my mom’s hand she wouldn’t leave me this time. She was dressed in a white flow gown that did nothing for her figure. It looked soft almost like it was made out of whatever clouds are made of. Marc was there that time. He gave me a hug and told me that I did the right thing. He reassured me that he was at peace.

Well, I’m sure you have a lot of questions. Honestly, I’m still processing everything and everyone needs to back the f* off. It feels like I’m not getting a break and that I never will. Part of me thinks that I’m not strong enough for this shit. But that was the 7th time I’ve had that dream. I think someone might have other plans for me. I’m not sure what those plans are but it might start with getting out of bed and not just to pee (thanks Ashton… I did read your update blogs.) I wonder if the garden is still there. The one my mom told me stories about. She would tell me that she found fairies there when she was younger and I always wanted to come here and find them.

I needed a sign that wasn’t in my dream that I was stronger than the things life was throwing at me. The garden was movie-like, completely covered in ivy. There was a big tree at the end opposite the gate. If I was younger it would have seemed like a giant secluded place to play and imagine. I sat on the ground next to the tree just imagining my mom running around looking for fairies. I must have fallen asleep again because Ashton woke me up. She looked like she was going to punch me in the face. She had been looking all over for me. No one knew that there was a garden back here. She sat down next to me and pointed to the tree. She asked if I had a knife on me… No?… she was worried I was going to harm myself. I swore that I didn’t. Then she pointed to the tree and asked if I had carved that in the tree.

Believe – E.

No, but I found my sign. The start of living!

Wifey!

“Hey wifey!” The phrase that haunted Gigi. Now she wishes she would relive that moment more than anything. She wouldn’t tell me that it haunted her in that moment but I could see it in her eyes that it did. The day we found Marc. It was a real group effort. I have only witnessed Gigi become so innocent once. It was the day I flash back to more often than now than ever. The day with the man in the station wagon. The moment that would fast forward to the day she wore her yellow dress and put a rose on her mothers casket. That seems like it happened in another life.

The doctors didn’t think that Marc was strong enough to handle the treatments anymore. Gigi has never been one to step-down silently. She’s the one to make international news for what she believed in and serve some jail time. Maybe start a riot. In other words, be the daughter my mother would be proud of. But, there really wasn’t anything she could do besides make sure he was comfortable, calm and hold his hand. The moment he was taken off life support everything stopped. For a brief moment, he was breathing on his own. It was a shock to everyone including the doctors. Then, that moment slipped away and the machines started going crazy. Everything seems to have stayed in that moment, including Gigi. She didn’t even cry. She stood there stoically. I watched her and tried to hold her hand but she wouldn’t let me. She found her purse and got her sunglasses. Then, she vanished, walked through the swinging hospital doors into the blinding sun. 

After that she had a small funeral. She had a black veil that blocked everyone from seeing her face. Even I didn’t know if she hired a body double that day. After that she stopped traveling and went home. Bought the house her mother grew up in. There was a family living there but she paid for them to move and bought them a new house. She wanted to feel closer to the person she thought would give her the most advice. She made everything look like the pictures of her mom growing up. She wanted the stability that the pictures gave her.

She hasn’t left her bed. She has been hooked up to an IV because she won’t eat or drink anything. She only moves when she has to use the restroom. There was a point where they wanted to hook her up to a catheter. But when the nurse described how she inserted it, for a brief moment the old Gigi flashed in her eyes.

 I’m worried about her. Mom and I spoke about it this morning. Even she doesn’t know what to do and she “has the wisdom of making bad life decisions when she was younger.” Some things I just do not need to know. But she also asked me if I saw that boy’s eyes when Gigi was there. No, I didn’t I was just watching Gigi. Mom said that they lighted up when she entered the room and then a black cloud seemed to hang there when he seemed to process that she didn’t seem to feel the same way. But as we saw their relationship develop in that short time, their eyes matched. They looked really genuinely happy. 

“How am I supposed to go on without him?” She asked me a few days after the funeral. The hell if I knew. I had never had so much loss in my life. 

Instead, I told her she would know how she would go on. I wish I had happier news but it’s been a really dark time. I’m sure when Gigi feels up to it she’ll start to write again. It’s cathartic. 

XOXO.