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Are letters appropriate or overkills of burdens?

I loved the sound of my two daughters laughter more than any other sound in the world. Here is the only video I have which recorded their laughter:  Dancin with Lexi Lou joyfully recorded by Savannah Grace.  They’re not little children in this video, but I can still hear their little child laughter echoing in my mind <3.

I hung windchimes over their cradles to protect them from nightmares as babies.

Regardless of the depth of their hatred, persecution, and insults, I doubt my worth and value more than any one around me possibly could, but I grasp and accept their verdict of my worth 100%.

Oranges taste like sunshine to my tastebuds.

I eat a lot of oranges lately.

Loving my daughters brought me my greatest joy in life and is now the prickliest, sharpest, most relentless of thorns wrapped tightly around my heart… it’s like my insides are swaddled in tiny razor blades.  No one can see them, so when I do allow myself to scream out, I just look hysterical, angry, pathetic, and probably insane, like someone running from and swatting a swarm of angry invisible wasps.

Yes, I made up a goofy wake-up song for my children when they were toddlers to try to make the yukky of rising from slumber more bearable and fun. I loved the smiles it brought to their faces the minute they opened their beautiful, sleepy eyes.

As they got older (and more grumpy) upon waking up, I used to play old 70’s disco songs and do silly dances around their rooms, singing into a hairbrush to wake them up.

Sometimes they looked so beautifully blissful and content, I let my children sleep when I was supposed to wake them…

One of my all time favorite memories: I used to play this CD Fairy Heart Magic in the house and the car.  In the house, we three would put on fairy wings and dance around the house pretending to be fairies.

I have fully forgiven my rapists, my molesters, and my non-narcissistic abusers, but I’ll never be able to forgive myself for being too weak, disoriented, and devastated to stop my mother from making my daddy’s funeral into a complete mockery and a joke. Regardless of his accomplishments (or his mistakes!) in his life, he deserved so very much better than that.

I used to pretend plants talked to me and told me silly secrets just to hear my daughters’ belly laugh.

Once when I was only 19, a very violent and abusive man gave me the most beautiful pink wool winter coat.  I never felt prettier in my life than when I wore that coat.

I got great joy when Savannah munched on the raw herbs I grew to cook with and seemed so proud to eat what I grew, even if it was just parsley and basil!

My dad was truly my very best (and only true) friend I had in my life, aside from the friendship I (thought I) shared with my daughters.

My house is a disaster and I can’t bring myself to care. Doesn’t seem to matter how I leave it now. Yet, that frustrates me still!

My wild horses arrived in proximity of my address yesterday at 5:30 pm.

I bought that car a week before my dad died solely because of the huge smile it brought to Lexi’s face while we test drove it.  I’ve kept it for the same reason…trying to hold onto the memory of her smile and that chilly spring evening we drove and bought it together.  I believed with all my heart she deserved that smile, especially after  the hell her father had put her through by stealing our home from under our feet.  In a way, it was my feeble attempt to make up for what he’d done to hurt her so badly.  Seems so very silly now, really…  Only he could make it up to her and he did so by lying and denying the truth of what he’d done and apparently by saying he “felt it was best” (to steal our home!)

Knowing the horses are almost here, suddenly I feel compelled to share anything and everything…just let it tumble out nonsensically just to be sure it gets out somewhere…maybe to someone…

Once I suspended sparkling butterflies and flowers from the ceiling in my daughters’ bedroom to transform it into a “magical garden for two fairy princesses”.  They were just the cheapest dollar store goods I could afford, but the huge smiles of delight and “oooohhh’s and ahhhhh’s” as they walked into their bedroom that day made me feel like I’d spent a gazillion dollars.

In my life, very little of what I’ve said or felt mattered.

I believed with all my heart and soul, that I created some of the most amazing and happy memories for my children that any momma could, thinking memories were the one thing no one could ever take from us.  

As a child, my greatest wish was that my mother would play and laugh with me just once. So I played and laughed with my children every day.

It’s unbearable that even our happiest memories are either all gone or have been stolen.

This is now my garbage dump of urgency and nonsense.

 

 

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