Maybe?

So the bitch put one in the grave and one in jail. Maybe she's done trying to destroy our family. Maybe, but I doubt it. There really isn't much else she can do, I guess. But worthless pieces of white trash drama queens can always find ways to destroy those around them.

Four years, two years suspended, including time under house arrest the total is 11 months and a few days.

Death by suicide, shot to the chest. Missed his heart, bled to death. Found three days later by my parents.

Bad Mamaw also has congenial heart failure, along with the renal failure. Don't know how much longer she will be around.

All of these are creating some really intense, mixed feelings within me. I don't quite know how to handle any of them. They aren't in the front of my mind all day long, but I would be lying if I said I didn't think about one of the three at least once a day.

I know karma is a bitch. I know that as a fact. I've seen it happen, and had it happen to me, far too many times to discount it. What you put out, you get back threefold.

But it just seems to me that in some cases, karma never finds the ones it needs to find. Or maybe I am selfish in wanting to be there when it does happen. Not being able to see it doesn't make up for anything. I want to see her karma come back. But I don't think I ever will. I don't live near her. I don't see her or speak to her. I only know of things about her that involve my family, and that, hopefully, is over. She has no reason to be a part of our lives anymore, and that is a good thing. But, it makes not seeing her get what she has coming to her, karmically, really difficult. I guess I just have to have faith that it will all come around. There are too many good people that have really bad things happen to them to have her running around, guilty as hell of murder, and not having anything happen in return.

Maybe having her completely out of our lives is the best we can do. Having us not give a shit about her whatsoever, when all she wants and craves is drama and attention, is the best revenge. But damnit, I just want her to have one moment, one eye opening moment, where she can see all the damage, pain and destruction she has caused. All of her lies to be exposed to the right people. I just want something I can never have. And it's not my place to dish it out.

So many conflicting emotions right now. I thought I had dealt with so much of it. But there are moments where things pop up and when they do, it's like getting hit by a truck. That's the worst. When I was neck deep in grief for Mike, I knew and expected those feelings to be there, and they were there constantly. They never went away. And gradually, they did. I actually became physically healthy and improved my mental health directly after his death. Biking and doing yoga, cleaning out the clutter that was consuming both my apartment and life, all of those were ways I worked through the grief.

And now, I'm not in it as deeply. I have moved on to much bigger and better things. But every once in awhile, when my eyes are closed for a brief moment, it all comes rushing back. The manic phone call that Monday morning. Getting run off the road by a semi on my way to my dead uncle and the false thought that he blamed us in his note. Seeing him in the coffin, looking plastic and seeing where they stuffed his chest to make it appear to not be sunken in. They did a great job with what they had to work with, and a body lying in 78 degree heat for three days doesn't leave much to work with. The disbelief. The note, re-read hundreds of times trying to figure out what was going on in his head moments before he pulled the trigger. Memories of the last Christmas where I was mean to him and that part of me thinking, "if I had only been nicer, told him I loved him, maybe he wouldn't have done it", knowing full well he still would have. Amy's dream a month before, where she told me at Christmas that she saw him shoot himself in the head. The dream I had that morning I got the call where I was shot. All of those things come crashing in at any given moment. And I can't control them, nor am I ready for them.

Then, the whole James situation. In every situation, it is easier to place blame on someone, and it's needed sometimes to get through things. But who do I lay the blame on for this royal fuckup? Mike? Grandad? James? The ancestors generations before who were abusive? There is a chain of command that goes back much futher than I've been alive and in times like this, I need to pinpoint it to something and I can't. There is nothing to pinpoint, no one to point that finger to and make it seem okay. Even blaming her completely isn't right, and a rational part of me knows that. But I do know she was the catalyst. She was the fucking timer on the bomb. As sure as I know I am sitting here in my bathrobe, drinking milk and typing, she pulled that trigger. And she launched the lawsuit. She needs to be held accountable for what happened, and she's just not. She is walking away without a single thought. And we have to deal with the destruction she left in her path. Her white trash, disgusting, whorish path.

But all I can do, all I can ever do, is sit on it and deal. Deal with it. Get over it as much as I can. But what family I had has changed forever. And my idea of family has changed as well. And sometimes it's just not so easy to deal with.