I have attachment disorder. I was given away the day I was born and I never attached/bonded with my adoptive mother who had her own child three years later. I did attach somewhat to my adoptive father but he died when I was six years old. My trouble started before then with the DID, I regarded my alters as imaginary friends, I didn't know better.

The first person I really attached to, physically, emotionally, sexually was the man I married. He was killed six years later during a robbery.

Many people in my life died before him, but because there was no emotional connection I didn't actually care whether they lived or died. He was the first person I ever bonded with as an adult. I have never bonded with anyone like I did with him after his death. I had a tough time going through the grief process, it took me years before I could function again and I have never been the same since. It was number 7 who was out most of that time with him. Because he was there numbers 3, 4 and 5 took a backseat.

I'm eternally grateful that I had the chance to spend time with him and love him and the love I felt in return.

Juan, my friend, the time was too short and the task too long. I'll be home one day and I know you'll be there.

April 25, 2015

I thought the hard part of Juan dying, was Juan dying, but that's not true. The hard part of Juan dying was packing him up in a box. All his clothes, everything personal, items I would not be taking with me to the house, like his toothbrush. Everything that I packed into boxes was a part of him. And when it was all packed and the boxes were gone, everything tangible was gone.

It felt as if I had helped to somehow delete his existence or part thereof. Now all that was left was the Juan in my memories. Back then they were as tangible, as piercing, as hurtful as an item in a box.

Now, time separates my memories of Juan from the knife wielding emotions that were so close to the surface. And love. I remember not only the pain of losing him, but the the joy of loving him.

The new tribute song for Paul Walker is very apt.

Redneck

They say the greatest stories remain untold. The greatest stories leave nothing but love behind. The greatest stories are not about triumphs or defeats, they are not loud roller coaster rides, neither does one learn important life lessons in the greatest stories because if one has known love, you already understand everything else.
The greatest stories are intimate moments in our lives. Moments that the heart remembers even when the mind forgets.

- Redneck 2015

I love this poem, the poet is a wordsmith. It has just the right mix of beauty and melancholy. He also wrote the words for Waltzing Mathilda.

PROLOGUE - AUSTRALIAN SCENERY by A.B. "Banjo" Paterson

The Mountains


A land of sombre, silent hills, where mountain cattle go
By twisted tracks, on sidelings steep, where giant gumtrees grow
And the wind replies, in the river oaks, to the song of the stream below.


A land where the hills keep watch and ward, silent and wide awake
As those who sit by a dead campfire, and wait for the dawn to break,
Or those who watched by the Holy Cross for the dead Redeemer's sake.


A land where silence lies so deep that sound itself is dead
And a gaunt grey bird, like a homeless soul, drifts, noiseless, overhead
And the world's great story is left untold, and the message is left unsaid.


The Plains


A land, as far as the eye can see, where the waving grasses grow
Or the plains are blackened and burnt and bare, where the false mirages go
Like shifting symbols of hope deferred - land where you never know.


Land of plenty or land of want, where the grey Companions dance,
Feast or famine, or hope or fear, and in all things land of chance,
Where Nature pampers or Nature slays, in her ruthless red, romance.


And we catch a sound of a fairy's song, as the wind goes whipping by,
Or a scent like incense drifts along from the herbage ripe and dry
- Or the dust storms dance on their ballroom floor, where the bones of the cattle lie.

"Civilization”says my friend Ozzie Boone”exists only because the world has barely enough of two kinds of people: those who are able to build with a trowel in one hand, a sword in the other; and those who believe that in the beginning was the Word, and will risk death to preserve all books for the truths they might contain.“

- Dean Koontz Brother Odd

March 31, 2015
Some days I feel like I've never been a part of a family - which is true. I was never part of the adoptive family, never welcome. I didn't know why. So I did what people always do, in the absence of any logical explanation of rejection, they turn the blame on themselves. They must be at fault, that is why they are being treated this way. Immediately you put your victim hat on. Or the pity me hat.

So some days when I'm full of self pity, I wonder what it would have been like to grow up in a family where I was related to everyone else. In a family where I was loved. - Redneck 2015

Living is harder than dying, when you figure that out and still choose to live then you have succeeded. - Redneck 2015

I am a strange melange of good and evil, it would be difficult to describe me. - George, Lord Byron

When social forces press for the rejection of age-old Truth, then those who reject it will seek meaning in their own truth. These truths will rarely be Truth at all; they will be only collections of personal preferences and prejudices.

- Dean Koontz - Forever Odd

Loneliness comes in two basic varieties. When it results from a desire for solitude, loneliness is a door we close against the world. When the world instead rejects us, loneliness is an open door, unused.

- Dean Koontz, Forever Odd