Ouija Believe?

I talked to Natalie? Sorry, very bad pun. Not punny AT ALL. Got it. Weak intro to tonight’s post. Just wanted to give readers a heads up, as I know religion/spirituality/magic (light and dark) are controversial topics to some people and a big joke to others. I am not going to judge you for your beliefs, please do the same in return.

With THAT out of the way, we made contact with Natalie on the other side yesterday!

My mom and I are believers in the many different ways there are to communicate with loved ones on the other side. Electronics are HUGE. Music is a popular one. Signs, which I’ve gotten on a regular basis since Natalie’s passing.

We’ve done the Ouija board many times over the years and have never had a bad experience. There is a ritual to do beforehand. Light a candle. Say a prayer. Meditate. Ask God and the angels to bring forth only those with the highest and best intentions. We bless the board. We surround ourselves in a protective white light. This was the case yesterday.

After more than an hour of preparation, we sat facing each other, fingers on the planchette (aka the mouse).

Mom: Is anyone there?

Nothing. For a couple of minutes, the was nothing.

Then the planchette started to move. Haphazardly.

Mom: Nat? Is that you?

The planchette struggled to manuever towards the corner “Yes”.

I’m not sure I blogged about it, I don’t think I did but when we saw a medium to seek out answers and make contact, she (the medium) told us since Natalie had passes so recently, she wasn’t sure how to move her energy just yet. There are certain time periods when they are more accessible to us. Right after they pass, for about two weeks because they hang around for the funeral and after that, it’s about six months until they can connect again. So, we were surprised that we were still able to “hear” from her.

Me: Is it still hard for you to move your energy?

Nat: Yes

Nat: Sorry

Mom: For what?

Nat: My death. Total acci-

Me: (Trying to save her some of her energy) Are you spelling accident?

Nat: Yes

Mom: We were wondering about triggers….

Nat: VW.

Mom and I look at each other, confused.

Nat: A3, A3, A3, A3, A3

It was a very rhythmic, soothing motion and I started to wonder if she was tired.

Me: Are you tired?


Mom: Can Jeff (her brother) help?

Nat: Yes

Mom: Jeff?

Jeff: Yes


Jeff: LAMONT (grandpa’s name)

Mom: Oh, hi dad. She said it laughing through tears.

Grandpa: X Ray, Ray (grandma’s second husband)

Mom: Ray!

Me: There’s quite a party going on up there!

Mom: You’re surrounded by loved ones, aren’t ya Nat?

?: Yes

Me: Is Justin ok?

Justin, for those of you who don’t know, is my brother. He’s had a hell of a burden when it comes to death and being the messenger. I don’t spend enough time with him to know if/how he’s grieving… Plus, he’s a guy, so emotions are hard to come by as it is, right?

Nat: Will B

Mom: What about dad? He has to hear from you.


Me: That’s a cop-out.

At this point, I think the planchette was heading towards the NO and then it hit me.

Me: Oh! You’ll see him in his sleep? A visit in his dreams?

Nat: Yes

Mom: Soon?

Nat: Yes

Me: Who knows what that means, time is irrelevant where you are…



Either mom or I: Ok, we’ll sign off. Rest up for next time!

We love you

That was amazing. I’ve never had such a clear and concise reading before last night. We weren’t sure she’d be able to come through at all but then again, have YOU ever tried stopping Natalie from getting what she wants? Doesn’t happen.

I left shortly afterwards and as I was driving home, I saw this:

FullSizeRender (4)

Ps. The medium also told us that Natalie would send hearts as a sign that she’s around.

The Price of Healing

Right now I’m trying to decide if Satan would take my soul for $300, give or take.

This weekend, this past week more accurately, has been exceptionally difficult in dealing with the loss of Noah. I don’t know why. I’m not sure if anything triggered it or if my heart and mind are trying to focus on something other than Natalie… But it’s been tough.

Today sucked. Big time. I woke up before I was ready, at 11:30ish. My alarm had been going off for quite a while and explained the very odd music beat that had been playing in my dream… “and if you complain once more, you’ll meet an army of me” Bjork repeatedly sang. I needed an army of Advil.

I was irritated by EVERYTHING from the cats wanting to be fed to the sound of my voice as I told them to wait a minute.

I was out the door before realizing I’d forgotten my keys. I went back inside, bolted the door, ran to the bedroom and began sobbing into my giant monkey’s head. Muffled screams and howls of sorrow were released into the soft fur of my inanimate friend. I turned on the air as I’ve learned cooling down the body is a good way to self regulate high emotions. To come back to the here and now. To calm myself down.

Once I’d exhausted myself, I went into the kitchen for a glass of cold water and saw Tayla looking at me with curiosity. She didn’t ask what was wrong but I noticed her eyes were wet too.

Later, in the car (where she couldn’t escape) I asked her why she’d been crying. “I don’t know how else to say it other than to say your emotions are contagious”.

I felt guilty at first, then pride. I am raising her to be compassionate. Even if she doesn’t like to show it…

Around dinnertime, we all sat at the kitchen table and watched America’s Funniest Home Videos. Usually a feel good show, I was moved to tears when they had a collection of videos featuring pregnancy announcements. Screams and cries of joy echoed around me.

I felt like shit.

Then I got a text from my best friend. She’d talked with someone who makes dolls called “reborn” dolls. Did I want one for Noah? Knife in my heart, stab, stab, stab. Yes, of course I do. She’ll get back to her with a price quote.

The name “reborn” doll intrigued me though. So, who has everything you ever wanted with a buy it now button? eBay. I searched the online retailer and found thousands of them.

Including THE ONE.

He’s a beautiful baby boy. Made by a woman who lives in MN. I scrolled down to read more and what I saw took my breath away.

“Proudly Presenting, Noah”

I know that Noah is not an unusual name AND it felt like he was made just for me.

I’d love to post pictures but I’m not sure I can because of copyright infringement. If, I mean when, he comes home, I’ll post them here on the blog!

Until then, I’m going to focus all my “feels” on the spot this particular ray of light is hitting my heart.



What She Left Behind

(Not a complete list)

In her bag we found:

An empty planner.

A half a pack of Camel cigarettes.

A notebook full of song lyrics she’d written herself.

A bus pass.

A Starbucks gift card with a balance of $1.03.

A pair of headphones.

Two pairs of ear buds.

Gucci sunglasses.

Several notices to appear in court.

Outside of her belongings:

A funeral bill.

Another case for detectives.

A futon and mattress stained with death.


A legacy of beauty, harmony, love and music.

What She Took With Her:

The hope of a sober relationship with my sister.

The person I grew up with- and the person I was, when with her.

That laugh.

That enthusiasm.

That voice.

Happy Mother Fucker’s Day


What an emotional, cataclysmic, clusterfuck today was.

It started when I woke up and went downhill from there. I hadn’t gotten Don a father’s day card and the only place open at 4:30 am was Walmart. My grudge against them isn’t nearly as strong as it used to be, it’s just that every employee there, you can tell- doesn’t want to be there. No one EVER asks me if I need help. On the rare occasions I DO need help (the kind they can provide) I have to hire a Sherpa to guide me through every fucking isle until we find a blue vest brave enough to stop, listen and point me in the direction of pencil boxes! I digress… for now.

So I’m at Walmart, in the card isle. I see all these colors and exclamation points, Number 1 Dad cards… and my heart falls into my shoes. I swallowed hard and reminded myself I was in public (like THAT ever stopped me from doing anything) and I took a couple of deep breaths.

Then I saw THE ONE. It was of (presumably a girl) in a white dress. She was on her tummy with her knees bent and feet crossed at the ankles. The photo was of this kid was from just below the shoulders down, you couldn’t even see her head. I imagined it was stuck in a book somewhere or perhaps a color by number page… What stopped me, what paused me, the thing that made me deaf, dumb and mute were the little red cowgirl boots.

Natalie’s red boots. The ones she wore to every contest and every talent show in her very first days of singing. She LOVED those boots. They were so her. Her own personal style of ruby red slippers. They brought her “home” to the stage, to the spotlight, where she was born to be.

I felt the tears, warm from my eyes, make their way down my cheeks. My jaw started to tremble as I thought of my father who is experiencing his first Father’s Day after losing a child. I thought of my husband, who should be celebrating twice as much today, for the son he never got to meet… interesting side note, if you ever feel crowded in a Walmart isle? Start crying and watch people slowly back away…

I got the other things I needed and then stood on the front step for almost five minutes, wondering why the hell the escalator wasn’t moving…

I listened to some songs that Natalie had recorded, that I hadn’t heard before. Her voice sounded… stronger, clearer and I involuntarily started to shake my head in disbelief. “How can she be gone? LISTEN to this! All this talent, all this potential… I KNOW her. THIS is her life. She wouldn’t risk it all… for a fleeting high.”

But that’s the thing. I don’t think she saw it as taking a risk. She was cocky, (she’d be the first to tell you) she *knew her limits. But her limits reset after treatment. She even wrote a paper on relapse prevention! Tailored to her! Was she so arrogant that she wasn’t even listening to herself? I don’t know. I’ll never know.

EVERY fiber, molecule, atom, etc. KNOWS this was an accident.

Sometimes that’s a blessing, sometimes it’s torture.

It could have been worse. A lot worse. She didn’t want to leave. She wasn’t ready. I read and heard some of her journal entries… She was happy. Enjoying the “little” things in life that we come to find are the big things. I know at lease one of her former selves would’ve laughed their ass off at Natalie coming to appreciate something as simple as being able to bring a drink into the group room. Getting to wear her own clothes. A passage in a book. I was so excited for her. It renewed my own excitement of sobriety. I am happy it wasn’t an intentional thing, an accident.

Another part of me wants to shake her and scream “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” An accident? There’s no such thing! It was careless. Reckless. How could you RISK not only your life but of those around you? What a fucking waste…

I feel myself getting caught up in the emotion again…

After I got home, I did some stuff around the house. Hanging curtains, pictures, finding spaces for all the various pots and pans… Then it was time to sort the laundry. I sat on the floor, surrounded by clothes and something caught my eye. It was one of her shirts. Her smile, her smell, her voice, her warmth all came flooding back. Before I knew what hit me, I was curled up in a ball. I rocked. And cried. And sobbed. And swore. I told whoever would listen, so Don and Tayla, that everyone was lying to me. She’s NOT gone. She CAN’T be gone! What am I supposed to do without her? With this giant, gaping hole that only she could fill?

“It’s not fair!” I cried. “She gets to be up there with my baby and grandma and I want her baaaaaack!”

Tayla had come in and sat down next to me on the floor. She had one hand on my back and in her most reassuring voice said “it’s ok mom. You’ll get to see them so… You’ll get to see them some day.”

I caught that. She almost said soon. She almost gave me permission.

I asked her for some Kleenex and calmed down. She got up to leave but I grabbed her hand. “Hey. Just because I’m sad and I miss them, that doesn’t mean… I mean, I want to be here with you and dad. I love you both so much.”

I have to wonder at times how much psychological damage I’m doing to that girl… I’m sure I’ll find out one of these Mother’s Days…



That dirty little “F” word. I hate it. I hate feeling right now… and not feeling later. How is it possible to be SO FULL of empty? I don’t understand. Maybe I’m not supposed to.

A lot of my rage has died down with the results of the toxicology report. I don’t know WHY it matters so much whether or not the heroin had fentanyl in it or not, just that hearing  there was no indication of it… Took some of the energy away. The outcome would’ve been the same either way but I wanted so badly to blame someone else. She was a smart girl. So smart. She couldn’t have misjudged how much heroin was “safe”, she knew her tolerance. Right? GOD, somebody PLEASE tell me this wasn’t just the result of a careless mistake! A bad gamble, a lapse in rational thinking… but that’s exactly what it was.

The news about Christina Grimmie (season six contestant, she finished in 3rd place on The Voice) was upsetting. Initially just because it was so tragic and senseless. Then later, I felt a little jaded. No matter what happens from here on out, Christina will be perfect. So much talent, beautiful, gone too soon- taken, too soon. No one will ever know if she would’ve been a big success. She’ll never have poor choices scrutinized or get caught in controversy.

She had a lot in common with Natalie. I felt slighted, even by the news. Natalie made a bad choice and paid for it with her life. I’m so afraid that’s all people will remember about her… Again, this is something that *shouldn’t matter. The people who knew her and loved her are the ones who matter and everyone else … fuck ’em.

Today and yesterday were extra hard. I’m not sure why. I guess a lot of the immediate things have been taken care of, Tayla is done with school, we’re mostly moved into our new place and it’s so quiet. Empty. Lonely. And I start thinking.

About how she’s dead. She’s gone. She’s not coming back. About how now the only time I’ll see her is on the face of a photograph. An untouchable memory. A dream too good to be true.

I think about how I can still hear her but there will never be anything original again. Her laughter, the way she sometimes snorted when she was really belly laughing…the way her face sometimes froze because she was laughing so hard, no noise was coming out at all.

I can feel her, kinda. I have a stuffed dog that wears headphones. The headphones are actually stereo speakers and there’s a pocket where I can plug in my phone and zip it up safe. I can listen to her sing me to sleep while cuddling something.

It feels like I got the news yesterday and like an eternity has gone by already.

Sunday Update

Hello all-

I don’t have much to say tonight, nothing really thought out or prepared but I guess I usually don’t. I think it feels different because there’s sort of a lack of focus. There’s a lot going on, what with spending hours deliberating on whether or not to take a shower (not today) and getting ready for the move on Wednesday (which consists of me mentally packing).

Daily and Weekly posts are happening, for now. The word of the day prompt is me writing raw. I don’t put too much thought into it ahead of time, it’s mainly my initial reaction to whatever the word has to be. As time goes on, I’m sure there will be pieces that I can develop into longer, better pieces but for now, I just want to get into the habit of writing everyday. And twice on Sunday. And Wednesday. 🙂

I’m working on another endeavor though too. It will be a thorough look into addiction and the desperate places people have fallen into, consigned there, mostly by the doctors who were supposed to help them. I’m going to write about the heroin epidemic in general and get personal. I want to find out how and why this is happening, in addition to figuring out what I can do to help. This is a big undertaking as the use is so very widespread.

Saturday we signed our new lease. We’re moving the big stuff on Wednesday, yay! Back into an apartment. Leaving the townhouse life, which at first I was bummed about. I’m 38 years old. I think it’s time I had a house. Then again, I don’t like to be all that responsible. I guess I mean, I have enough responsibility right now to last me a long time and apartment living does have it’s benefits. I’m hoping sleeping will be one of them!

School is out on Thursday! Oh shit… well, there is a lot of stuff to do around the new place…

Work is going well. I still like my job. Working three days a week, it’s good for me.

My health is… ok. Had my blood sugars under control for a little while, then pregnancy and loss fucked them up. Got back into a good “normal” range and then Natalie passed. I’ve been afraid to check them because stress affects them so greatly. I am taking my insulin and other meds though. The psoriatic arthritis is acting up, again because of the stress but I’m managing.

People keep asking how I’m sleeping. If I’m sleeping. How can I sleep? Honestly? I was medicating for the first week to week and a half. I had to. I take prescription Xanax at bedtime but I try often not to… just because it’s one more pill and who knows how many more chemicals? I had exactly a week of dreamless sleep. On the eighth night, I had a dream, I know I blogged about it. Since then it’s been like I’m just trying to dial in the right bedtime. The later I stay up, the fewer times I wake up during the night. It looked like 1:30am was a good time. I’d sleep all the way through until 7:00. Last night sucked. I woke up at 2:30 am and haven’t slept since. It’ll be an early one tonight.

I don’t want to bore you with anymore mundane details of my life… what’s going on in yours? Anything exciting? Want to share? Let me know in the comments below!