Let the tears flow

I can’t stop the tears these days after gun violence has rocked America yet again. Nineteen fourth graders dead. 19 families having their whole world rocked. 19 tiny caskets will be buried, most likely before their parents, maybe even before their Grandparents. 19 final outfits picked, final pictures blasted all over the news, and final memories to gut those closest to them for many years to come.

The two teachers that were gunned down did everything they could to save those children but were never given a fair chance. They died hero’s even if they will never know that. One of them had been married to her high school sweetheart, having had four children with her in that time. Two days later, her husband has a heart attack, likely from a broken heart, and leaves those children parentless.

The amount of children with horror stories that will rival anyone they will ever meet is mind-blowing. Children talking about laying on top of their dead school mates to keep them off the floor, or the fact that a flimsy curtain that hung around the area that they were hiding was enough to keep them alive.

As a country we already fail at handing PTSD in out Veterans.

As a country we are also already failing at understanding and handling mental health any better.

This isn’t political and shame on you and anyone else for hiding behind that sentence to make them feel better about doing nothing. There are some things that needs laws to change, however there are many things that can be done on a personal level, through volunteer services and creative thinking.

These minds will be now dealing with the traumatic repercussions that we see our wartime soldiers deal with, except they are 9 and 10 years old. I am not sure where the other grade levels were in the building but that doesn’t discredit their trauma either.

I am so angry. Heartbroken. Gutted even.

I know we all feel it. I know we all struggled to absorb the details and hear the ways it was mishandled so far. We all flash back to any other school/mass shooting that we last felt this way about. My flashback went straight to Sandy Hook since it was also young children, but quickly followed by so many others. Every one of us know what it’s like to be a young innocent child. We know what it’s like to be emotionally attached to other humans, knowing that we would never wish upon them the trauma of having anything to do with these shootings.

I am not political. I am unsure where I land on gun control. My world has been rocked at a insanely stupid age by gun violence, just like so many other have as well. However it is also correct that banning guns will not keep them out of criminals hands. This post has NOTHING to do with conversations about guns whatsoever. I will leave that conversation to people who have more at stake with this, and maybe not so negatively affected by gun violence.

Please spend time looking around to find ways to volunteer to help your local areas. America or not, we all need people. We all need mental health help, we all need to help our Veteran, our homeless, our sick and lonely neighbors.

You never know what’s going on behind someones eyes or what they are planning. Evil will always be evil, but perhaps reaching out in any way you can think may make them realize that kindness will always win. Even if evil will steal all the attention on the news.

Little Sara

Little Sara, you’re a diamond in the rough
And I know that you don’t hear this all enough
And I’m sure that’s why your wrists have tons of cuts
And I’m sure that’s why you think you’re not enough
On your nineteenth birthday you thought that you were done
Tons of people in your home, but it only felt like one
‘Cause your brain can only think about the waiting loaded gun
But your friends are all still here, so pretend you’re having fun
All your friends they wanna drink ’cause it’s your birthday
But you’ve been drinking straight probably since last Thursday
Drinking is the only thing that makes you feel just okay
It keeps the trigger finger off the trigger and at bay
Your mind can only think about the things it shouldn’t
Your brain is filled with thoughts of wishing that ya didn’t
Little Sarah, perk your ears up try to listen
But she can’t hear a sound because she’s locked in a prison

She can barely see the pavement, she can barely read the signs
People think she’s complicated but never wanna look inside
‘Cause she’s a little too R-rated and they’re a little too damn blind
She’s just looking for her angels, but they’re a little hard to find

Mm, mm, mm

Little Sara, you’ve been skipping out in class
And any minute now your friends are gonna ask
Why the hell you’re always acting sorta sad
Why the hell your weed just never seems to last
But the truth is you don’t wanna let your secret out
‘Cause they think it’s wrong for you to take a different route
All except your mom too bad that she’s just not around
And don’t get me wrong those words you’ve tried to get them out
But their views been skewed by their plastic news from their plasma tubes
So they won’t fit in your shoes
Except for Sunday blues, but you got Monday blues
You got Tuesday blues, damn every day ya might lose
All your friends they wanna smoke ’cause it’s a Friday
But you’ve been smoking straight probably since last Sunday
I know you know you shouldn’t say that you are okay
But you still look ’em in the eye and lie then go to use your ashtray

She can barely see the pavement, she can barely read the signs
People think she’s complicated but never wanna look inside
‘Cause she’s a little too R-rated and they’re a little too damn blind
She’s just looking for her angels, but they’re a little hard to find

Mm, mm, mm

Little Sarah, last night you got it bad
In that moment you could barely even add up two or three reasons why you’re glad
And I guess that’s why you grabbed your pen and pad
It was 6:14 and you could barely even read
All the words you’d written down of why it was time for you to leave
Your phone was on the ground and you could barely hear it ring
Couldn’t even hear a sound, couldn’t feel a single thing
Now, it’s 6:15 and you’re on your knees, blood is on your sleeves
And your lungs won’t breathe, eyes are watering, body’s shivering
And you’re wondering what is happening
Now, it’s 6:23, and they’re on their knees, begging Jesus please
Can you make her breathe
‘Cause they finally see what was happening underneath their nose
And underneath your sleeves


She can barely see the pavement, she can barely read the signs
People think she’s complicated but never wanna look inside
‘Cause she’s a little too R-rated and they’re a little too damn blind
She’s just looking for her angels, but they’re a little hard to find

Source: LyricFind

This song took my breath away when i first heard it. I will repost it on all of my platforms a good amount so I apologize.

This song is called Sara, by We Three

It’s time

Today I met a woman who was an emotional wreck and trying too hard to keep it under wraps. Her family seemed to have no idea how much she was struggling so I walked up to her when she had stepped off to the side and introduced myself. She was trying so hard to not cry that the second I spoke to her the thin wall broke and she started sobbing. I grabbed this stranger in a gigantic hug because I knew she needed it and somehow she knew that she could trust me.

I held her as she sobbed, letting her tears soak my shoulder. I let her break in the way that she needed but was scared to show her family. I let her deplete the tank that she had overstuffed with emotions without asking any question. When she was finished I didn’t demand strength, I instead offered the tissues out of my pocket. Slowly she started to explain to me that her oldest child was moving away and she didn’t know how to process it. She had gone through massive trauma directly before having this child and likely had an unhealthy bond to him, but knew that she couldn’t hold him back to keep her whole. I told her that unhealthy bond or not, the first child leaving is never easy for anyone.

There is a helplessness that happens when you know they are facing daunting tasks and you can’t be with them. You hear parents talk about this all the time when their child is sick and they can’t fix it, no matter how old they are.

Parents come to me and talk about the depression and heartbreak with children moving out and I offer them all the same sentence.

No one teaches us what to do when they spread their wings and fly. It’s a blank manuscript. You get to fill in the pages. Just like they get to fill theirs.

No one has the answers.

So I gave her my number and told her I was always willing to talk to her. Hell, I was always going to have a shoulder to offer without judgement or demands. I led her to the bathroom for her to put herself together again before she walked back over to her beautiful family. As I watched her go I had a moment where I just knew that this happened to open my eyes to what comes next. Every stage that you are aggravated with your children for will pass. It will shift into something else, sometimes more aggravating if we’re honest. However, it will be over before we know it. They will get big enough to not need to live with us anymore, and we won’t see them daily. They may move next door or they may move hours away.

The end result is always the same.

Emotional parents watching their child’s back as the walk away from us.

Postmarked Letters

Dear Past Me,

Please know that everything will work itself out in the long run. The emotional toll you tax on yourself only makes it harder.

Love more.

Cherish those around you more.

Forgive more, just don’t forget everything it taught you.

Let toxic people leave, don’t be afraid to help them if they act like they lost the way to the door.

Love yourself. Don’t let silly thoughts affect your day to day activities.

Love, Future Me


Is it possible to honestly love multiple people?

Statistacally speaking most people date 5 to 6 people in life, for longer then a few months. Is it possible to honestly love each and every one of them?

Each one of them gets a different version of you, seeing as it comes at a different stage, or season, of your life.

Does that mean that version of yourself will always love that person you were with? When that situation dissolved, did it birth newer version and leaves the old behind like a snake when he sheds his skin?

Hindsight shows the reasons you broke up, the fight to put yourself back together and how you move on. The memories that surface at times however make you miss the moments.

I spend too much time telling people its the version of themself that they are missing and it is not the person themself.

My main question remains though. Is that honestly love that you feel with each one of them? Or some fancy version of lust?

Looking for advice

What culture or period of history interests you the most?

What is the thing about it that we are failing at teaching our children?

I am in love with history but I feel like we are failing at teaching our youth what they need to know for the future.

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