February 15, 2014 (pictures)

My goal for myself for the 2-15-14 suspension were achieved. I flew. I'm free!! For the time I'm in the air, I'm not the girl in the chair. I'm not the broken abused girl at all. In that moment I know I'm in control.

Note to myself...

Dear Tanya,

In 3 days it will be 3 years since you almost died. You know that you bury all of your emotions deep down and try so hard to be untouchable.

You need to let it out so it stops eating at you like a cancer. You didn't die for a reason. You don't believe the god has a plan bullshit, but there is something more for you.

You need to believe in yourself. You are something special. You will never be normal, and that is more than okay. You rock being unique. You know this!  You give yourself such a hard time. You let all the abuse be the truth.  "You are fat, stupid,ugly. You are a piece of shit mother, and will always be a worthless crippled junkie."  ITS ALL FUCKING BULLSHIT LIES!!!!

Stop letting negativity break you and hold you down.

You are a free spirit, a Phoenix in a sense. You came back from the unimaginable. Abuse, rape, addiction, fear, and death can't stop you.  WHY THE FUCK DO YOU BELIEVE YOU DESERVE SHIT? You fucking don't!

God damn it! If your story was someone else's, you'd cry for them. Fucking cry for yourself! It's not selfish.

You've made mistakes. That's human. You are not a calculated robot. Quit fucking punishing yourself! Forgive yourself already. Stop feeling guilty. You know what I'm talking about. Those things are NOT your fault. You were a child when it happened. Two fucking years old! His death was not your fault, same with hers. You really unselfishly made an impossible decision. Yes she died sooner than later but it was inevitable. You couldn't watch her with no dignity, suffering. You made the best decision you could in front of you. You couldn't save her, no one could.

I know it hurts, but stop beating yourself up seriously. You've suffered more than enough.

In 3 days you are suspending to celebrate life, closing this chapter for good. So love the defeated, broken little girl that has driven you this far. She's so exhausted. She needs put to rest. She can't handle life anymore.

Be the strong confident you struggle to be. KNOW AND BELIEVE you deserve to love and be loved. Keep striving to be amazing. You are pretty damn awesome, so for once believe it.

Yes the unknown is fucking scary, but really fuck fear. Where has it gotten you? Absolutely nowhere! You got this, go kill it.

Love,
Tanya

No more please!!

So many unknowns, so many questions.  I wish I knew the truth. So many stories, from many people... I know what kris and Joey told me, fuck I know what the doctors told me...

For three years, I've been left wondering what if.  If only I knew the truth, about the fateful event.
If I only knew, and got help.  I try to not think about it....

After Saturday, I'm done. It's fucking done. If I want to truly live. I just need to close it off.  It secretly hurts me, every motherfucking time I fall. Every time I want to chase the kids, or I'm stuck and have to wait for help.

The last thing I remember was dropping acid. I don't even remember tripping. I was told we shot Molly and Heroin. My very last thought, "everyone would be better off, if I was dead."
That was on February 13, 2011.

Next thing I know, it's February 22, 2011. I woke up in Harrisburg Hospital, feeling like absolute shit.  I was oblivious. I thought I was in Hell.  That's when I realized my speech was fucked. I couldn't do anything for myself, I was SO thirsty.  Dignity and freedom gone. I hurt, felt like I was run over by a bus. Kris was there when I woke up....immediately feeding me bullshit lies. But I wanted to believe him, after all I loved him.  I was told I'd never walk again.

I accepted my fate. After all, I was lucky to be alive. I should have been dead.  I was a piece of shit junkie, horrible mother, all round horrible person. I hated myself, I was a monster. I deserved the hell I created.  I was in a really dark place.

Then I got clean. I quit mourning the life I lost, quit feeling sorry for myself.

On February 15, 2012 the 1 year anniversary came. I laid in my bed, I was in my head.  I remember looking at the clock...9:30 am... Kris asked, "what are you thinking?"

My response, "at this time last year I was in the hospital. It's been a year."

He replies, "actually, you were in the bathtub until around noon."

I didn't say a word. It didn't add up. He told me he found me at 5:30 am. I know he didn't call 911.  He told me over and over, he panicked.... I didn't question it, the way I should have, I didn't know if I was ready for the answers.

He held me, told me it was ok to cry. The ENTIRE year, I didn't. I held it together. That day I bawled for an hour. Sobbing, gut wrenching sobs, tears poured off my face. I didn't feel better. I wished it helped.  It didn't make sense, over 6 hours I was in the bathtub.

My monsters seen me. Every once in a while Shannon still asks, "Mommy why were you sleeping in the bathtub?" I was dying in that bathtub. My vitals were unbelievable when Joey made him help me.  But any time I question why, kris claimed anxiety.

 Over time, things slipped out of kris' mouth, "I need you in my life, I can't live with myself knowing what I did to you." What the fuck you did to me, what did you do?  I though you freaked, that's an honest mistake, I've forgiven him for that..

He started emotionally abusing me. Telling me how pathetic I was, saying how he regrets staying, and he should have just left me, he should put me back in the nursing home...
I got the feeling, he wanted me dead. He was a monster. I spent the next year trying to make sense... It's impossible.

Then on February 22, 2013, I almost died again from an asthma attack. As everything went grey, I was suffocating slowly. He refused to call 911. Joey did, and in the meantime he rubbed my back, "don't worry babe it will all be over soon." He didn't visit me until the day I was coming home, and he came to the hospital to fight and went to his moms the weekend after I came home....

He broke me.

November 9, 2013 I did my first suspension. It changed my life, giving me power to believe in myself, ultimately helping me to decide to get him out of my life.

You can't change the past. I'll never get the full answer, so on February 15, 2014 I'm suspending again. I'm celebrating the life I have left, and letting go of the nightmare I lived. I'm so fucking ready to truly live.

2 years! And I have something to say to my fellow cripples!

Two years heroin free!

A shit ton has changed over the years. I'm not the person I was. That is a great thing.

I read an article about 10 things not to say to someone in a wheelchair.  I understand their point of view. But seriously QUIT BEING SO FUCKING SENSITIVE!!! There are people that don't know what to say, or do. Why be an asshole that makes the people trying to be nice feel like an asshole. Understand that being in a chair, DOES NOT DEFINE YOU!

Yes, life in a wheelchair is frustrating and difficult, but why give able bodied people a bad taste in their mouths? Doesn't it feel better when you come away from a conversation knowing that you changed the perception of the disabled?

I'm told quite often that I'm an inspiration. That is a great thing no matter which way you  slice it.  Why be told something positive, turn around and be a douche to someone that means well?  So what if it means if they were you, they'd never leave the house?  Are you kidding me? Just think if it would happen to them, they could remember you living your life trying to be normal.  Be the example!

Now, I hate the tiptoeing around the fact that I'm in a wheelchair. I surround myself around people that don't really acknowledge that I'm in the chair.  Yes they know if I need help, I'll ask. When a stranger goes out of their way, even if it's something I can do, if I don't ask, and they help anyway, I'll just politely thank them. Let them feel good about it, simple.

Yes I do call myself a cripple. It's just a word if you don't give it meaning. I say I'm a cripple or I'm fucked up, I fucking hate handicapped or handi-capable. Seriously, call me that, and I do tend to get mean.  The "politically correct" terms are insulting.  If you quit being so damn sensitive it WILL make interacting with able bodied people less awkward.

And if you do encounter that rare asshole that is rude and really genuinely just a dick, by all means, treat them the way they treat you.  I'm infamous for if I catch you staring, and don't have the balls or decency to approach me, I'll make faces, occasionally drool on myself. I'll sometimes say out loud, "It's okay to stare, because I'm the coolest cripple you'll ever meet." Staring makes me insecure, so it is MY responsibility to handle it.  I can't carry a flashing neon sign that says, "don't stare at the cripple ."

Seriously it is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY to let society affect you or not.  YOU can choose to be a sensitive cry baby or own the fact that you are in the chair.  I've chose to rock at life, not feel sorry for myself, and not punish others for my misfortunes.

Sometimes I Just Don't Know...

I thought I had the love of my life.  We went through hell and high water.  We have had a devistatingly ugly break up.  And I am sitting here picking about the illusion of our love.  My love was very real, but after many talks, he told me what I wanted to hear.  Strung me along. 

How the hell can I love someone, that never loved me the way I needed?  It's unreasonable to be resentful over some of his actions in his opinion.  He has told me to never bring up the fact that he was going to let me die.  Not once, not twice, but THREE times.

The first time I went into a severe alllegic reaction to doggie flea medicine. I begged him to call 911 and he didn't.  The second time, he left me for most of the morning unresponsive, by the time my ex husband forced him to take me to the hospital, i should have been dead, permanently fucked up, and this third time, my ex husband called 911, on the two year anniversary of waking from my coma, because i turned blue during an asthma attack.  I begged him to call and he refused.  I took 4 Albuterol nebulizer treatments, and he sat there, telling me don't panic.  As I was loaded into the ambulance, things were fading, i was scared, pretty sure i was dying.  The only thing i remember was him mouthing I love you.  But he didn't show until the day I was being sent home.  Four days, and when he showed he fought with me.

I don't like being alone, but it has to be better than that, right?

I've decided to put myself out there, if I find someone worth it.  I actually kind of am interested in getting to know someone, but I'm scared.  I haven't dated...crippled.  I don't know how to express myself, but not embarrass myself.  I just hope over time, i can muster up the balls, to put myself out there. 

Maybe after doing my first suspension in 17 days I will have the confidence, to say it.

But sometimes I just don't know.

Let's try this again.

My laptop is back up and running.  So I'm back. So much has changed, but I am 20 months clean. 

My monsters are in a new school year.  Shannon has a TSS and she has been a god send.  He's having a much better year. Layne has really taken to drawing, and his favorite class is creative writing.

Kris is not even an option. As much as it hurts,  I know i will be fine, eventually. I've survived worse right?

I am finally FINALLY getting a new chair!  This manual one is a purely crawl joke.  It's an eyesore, for real.  Like having a speech issue, and in a wheelchair isnt embarrassing as it is, I get to sport this piece of shit.

I dont know why it uploaded sideways, but broken arm rests, torn seat and back, wobbly wheels, loose handle grips make me not to want to go into public.

I'm not ashamed of who I have become, but i feel like a frumpy retarded cripple.  People talk down to you or get weird looks.....And they are not the same looks you get when you are loaded up on piercings or tattoos.

I have been living by the motto of fuck fear.  In one month, I am participating in a suspension hanging for me 31st birthday.

So many changes,  at the moment life has had some crappy moments, my friend Merle Hare, and my ex husbands grandma, Anna Gross, passed away in a week, so I feel like I am in limbo, waiting for the next death.  

That is all I am going to write about for now. 

Time to start dating......I guess...

Well, Kris is by far the love of my life.  But after trying and trying, it's not going to work out the way I hoped it would. I just want him to be happy and that's not with me.

I have been with him since before I got fucked up.  I was insecure when I was healthy, now, I love who I am, but how do I learn to believe someone will see past the wheelchair and not be one of those guys that just wants to put fucking a cripple on their list.

I am past the do anyone because I simply can. I don't want to be that shallow person anymore.  I want to make someone as happy as they make me.

I feel like I failed Kris, now I just have to dust myself off, lick my wounds, and learn to live again. Hopefully someone will really love me, for me.