Excerpts From My First Week Back In Texas

funny-road-signs-cemetery-dump-attribution-licenceThese are some excerpts of conversations going on in my little family this week.

Rebekkah to me: ” I feel restless. I need to hurry up and get a job and get a place of my own. I’m 25 years old and sleeping on a mat in my grandmother’s dining room. No one is going to take me seriously.”


After four years, Dj waits until the last two months and a whole move to Texas before he decides to finish his community service in Oklahoma:

Me: Are you crazy? No. I’m not going to lend you my brand new car for the next month.

DJ: Mom. Why can’t you just take me seriously?

Me: Because your 23 years old and just asked me to lend you my brand new car for a whole month. 



Me, pointing at a large cemetery through my car window: Is that where Granny is buried?

Aunt Debbie: No. Our family plots are at the other cemetery..You know, where the ground is “un-blessed”.

Me: Un-blessed? Why?

Aunt Debbie: I guess so we don’t corrupt the good dead people.  


Upon first arriving at the hospital the night before Dad’s surgery, I left DJ and Rebekkah to park the car while I went ahead up to his room. Soon, the two of them came upstairs and we made plans for them to catch a cab to Aunt Debbie’s, and I was going to stay the night at the hospital with dad. I escorted them down, thinking I’d grab a quick smoke before settling in for the night.

Rebekkah: Good luck with that. A cop came up to me and told me we can’t smoke anywhere on hospital property including in our car.  

DJ: Yeah. The same cop asked me if I was drunk because I was walking funny. I told him I had low blood sugars and then I threw up in a trash can.

Me: Don’t walk me. I don’t want to be seen with either of you. 

Good night, my friends!

– Bird

5 responses to “Excerpts From My First Week Back In Texas”

  1. I can’t read the last paragraph. I wanted to read the last paragraph, but I can’t because of the light color of the font. Funny? Sad? Inspiring? I don’t know! LOL! 🙂 Keep up the writing!


  2. Bird my name id Heather. I read your story about Chef and I can truly relate. My husband is married to meth and I am married to whatever is left. Everything u said in your story is my story except the girlfriend or if there is one I don’t know about her yet. My husband has been on and off addict for probably ten to fifteen years. He will stop for a few months and then he always goes back. He has now pretty much turned into a person that hates me every word I say irritates him. I try to be ad nice as possible and walk on egg shells but it doesn’t matter he gets mad at everything. I think I love him more than myself because he makes me do things I hate just to have another day with him. I just want him so bad in my life. We have a one year old that I don’t want to raise alone. When we met I used to use a little too but I did enjoy somewhat too but things were different. I was younger didn’t have responsibilities. We were just friends with benefits and things were so different. I never loved it and honestly could have cared less if i ever did it again but now I don’t enjoy it I know the hell that I have been through because of this terrible drug. He has beaten me so many times physically emotionally and every way possible. He has tried to kill me woke me up in the middle of the night 6 months pregnant talking crazy and trying to choke me to death. He ended up cutting me and causing me to get stitches in my hand that night. Now I do not find it fun but I am scared to say no because I don’t want him to be upset when he is like that because he may hurt me. He h had put it in my drink and drugged me so can get what he wants. He says everytime its the last time and he is never doing it with me again because I make it horrible but then he will say he is never doing it again period. I hate the porn and all the terrible things he says to me. Its like he doesn’t even love me anymore. He tells me I am just like him but I am putting on act that I am really just like him. That is not true all I want is for him to stop and never bring that in our home again but he doesn’t believe it. I song know if the drugs have messed his brain up so bad that he doesn’t want to believe me or if he knows that I am truly not that way and just trying to manipulate me. Ii am hurting so bad I have left home which I do all the time. I am having to stay with my parents which I hate but he told I cant come back anymore because I left again. He blames me for everything and never apologizes. Today is our anniversary but I don’t write letters because he will just delete or not read. He doesn’t listen ti me anymore I am just wasting my time. He is the best at hiding this. He looks great no one can tell I don’t know what to do other than pray.


    • Oh, Heather. I completely understand the hell you find yourself in right now. Chef did and said all the same things with me.

      I wrote him volumes of letters trying to reach what I called “The Real Chef”, and he refused to read them, often throwing them in the trash right in front of me.

      This drug is dangerous, both because he is on it, and because you are dabbling with it too. I know. I did too. The problem you find yourself in now is magnified through that drug haze.

      I know what it is like to believe that life isn’t worth living without the love of your partner. I struggled with the pain for every single minute of an entire year. However, I urge you to walk away. I’m not saying that he is out of your life forever. I’m saying it is time to save yourself.

      Imagine you and your partner are in a large boat. He is punching holes through the floor, and water is starting to seep in. You, wanting him to be pleased with you, are also punching holes in it. Soon, the two of you are going to sink. It is time to jump out of this boat, and swim to shore. You can’t save him. Not to sound arrogant, but if I couldn’t save Chef, it simply can’t be done.

      You are helping him stay sick, just like was helping Chef stay sick. He didn’t get well until I left him, and even now, I have to maintain boundaries so I don’t get sucked back into the wasteland Chef made of his life.

      If you need help, or just want to talk, you can email me at cathiemartin68@hotmail.com. I’m happy to be a shoulder to cry on. I do know how horrible this feels. I will say a prayer for you. You’re in a battle for your own life right now.

      Your Sister,



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