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"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing" – Benjamin Franklin

Posts tagged real life

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What is unrelenting life crisis you may be asking yourself? Well it is what it sounds like and it effects those with borderline personality disorder. If you’ve ever watched “Girl Interrupted” you may be familiar with the disease I’m referring to. Well I’ve been plagued with this since I was 14. Unrelenting life crisis is as described by Dr. Shari Manning:

  • Crisis builds
  • One “bad” situation (many times not of their own making)
  • Inability to tolerate the distress of the situation
  • Leads them to make ineffective decisions OR
  • Engage in impulsive behavior to relieve stress
  • Makes situation worse
    I am working really really hard to use coping skills to manage the crisis that are coming up in my life but getting sober in and of its own is hard enough much less doing it with borderline. My hope is to do this, do it well and thoroughly so that I may be able to help other addicts and alcoholics that may have “grave mental illness” because you CAN recover!!! IT IS POSSIBLE!!! If I’m going to be a statistic I’m going to be the GOOD kind. I have many problems beset before me. First I stupidly backed into a wall and busted my OTHER tail light so don’t have any working tail light, My phone is about to get cut off and I have no idea what to do about that, I’m feeling every single emotion in one day, I’m longing to have a guy friend in my life and can’t find a sober one to save my life, being a tom boy theres only things a guy can relate to and I feel as though I’m being PUNISHED for something, my health insurance has run out and clearly I am sick, I have no clue how I’m going to pay for medications, I don’t qualify for Medicaid because I don’t have kids, I sat in fiber glass last night, my real family barely talks to me even though I couldn’t do this without them and I would love to share this with them, lonely is an understatement. I could go on but I won’t bore you. I think you get the point. What is my plan for recovery? WELL I’m glad you asked. First I’m going through the 12 STEP Program! Such an amazing way of life and if we all lived this way the world would be such a beautiful place. We are not perfect and no one person can adhere to the steps perfectly but I do my best and I will try my best everyday. Second I plan on becoming my own best friend again. I once was. Six years ago, before the great darkness. Before I lost Mariah and experienced the first great loss in my life. Before I started to get emotionally abused. I was truly in love with myself. I stayed up late reading “Brave New World” and the “Dune” series. I ran everyday. I did yoga. I meditated multiple times a day. I didn’t smoke NEARLY as much. I listened to music more, and probably most importantly I JOURNALED. Why I don’t do that anymore I have no idea. I will never be the SAME Katie again but what I want to do is read the Tao, I want to learn Thai Chi, I want to go camping ALONE, I want to run again and feel the freedom and release of my feet hitting pavement, I want to get back to my mat and do yoga again and eventually teach in rehabs, I want to quit smoking, I want to get a job and not just any job but something I’m passionate about and something that HELPS my community and those around me. I want to spread joy and happiness. I want to serve others. I want to travel the world and hike trails all over! And most importantly, I want and NEED to write and JOURNAL. I can’t tell you how healthy that is. I want to start making better healthier discussions. DPL stopping using me back in February and thats still relatively fresh, I’m not really looking to hop right into a relationship, I’m more focused on my well being and my self care. I had something happen to me and well it threw me for quite a loop. I don’t know how to put it words. I miss my friend from the hospital. My friend that got me to where I am now. The friend that got me on the road I’m on today. The friend that got me to where I can now look in the mirror and say “I love you, you are worth it.” He, he is the only guy friend I have and I’m not allowed to talk to him because I’m a girl. I remember staying up from the time we got meds at 8 until 11:30 or later just me and him talking. I softly cried to him. I will never forget just looking at him and telling him how desperate I felt. The desperation of a drowning man. I told him how I felt like no one understood me, and that I thought I was destined to be alone the rest of my life and that no one would ever love me the way I appreciated myself. You see, I KNOW my worth, I don’t look to others for validation, I know my worth. No one else does. But HE DID. He told me how he found love and told me that God had a plan and to just listen to my heart. He told me his story. I knew then I needed to get sober. He saved my life. I owe him my life.
    Growing is hard no matter if its in your bones or in your soul! Its going to be uncomfortable but oh so worth it! I am going to be such a stronger me and be able to handle all these unrelenting life crisis soooo much better and I’m going to be able to help people with my story. I’m going to have tough skin from being lonely. Sobriety isn’t always easy but it is ALWAYS worth it.

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The tightness in my chest seems to get worst as the day drags on. I wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweats. My bed soaking wet. Its absolutely disgusting. I’ll randomly start shaking like a leaf and then I’ll suddenly have to excuse myself to quietly vomit. I try and be discrete. I try to go unnoticed. I try not to make a big deal   everyone needs to know what this little blue pill called valium can do to you. After years of use. And prescription use might I add, will do to you. And its not just physical either. Its my mind too. I made coffee the other day without the coffee or the coffee pot under it, I’ve lost my keys in my house twice….and I’m SOBER. This isn’t supposed to happen or so I thought. I thought my mind would just go back to the way it used to be and I would magically be able to balance equations again and write a novel tomorrow. NOPE. Thats not how sobriety works. First you must feel all the pain you have numbed for so long and that must be felt in order for you to feel joy again. All the joy you have missed out on. Not only was I numbing the pain but I was also numbing all the joy in my life. The joy I could have shared with people like Professor Lupin. My favorite dark arts teacher EVER. No one will ever ever compare to him. Those will be some large shoes to fill.

Right now I’m sitting at a bar using WiFi to write this. Its SATURDAY night and PACKED. I got approached about this blog actually and its super exciting. Its funny how you can make connections and actually remember things when you’re sober. You don’t forget PEOPLE. You may forget where you sat your freakin keys but you don’t forget a face you once saw in a bar 6 years ago and then properly introduce yourself to them. Its a beautiful thing. A very beautiful thing. I often wonder how it looks to be sober and at a bar. What do people think. I’m feeling better writing though. I’m feeling better getting out of my head and putting it on a nice shiny computer screen. Me and a buddy at the bar. A non sober buddy both have our shoes off and are grounding. We are no shoe buddies. Its super cool. I have drunk friends. Actually its not funny, I wish I could save them all. I wish I could shout from this table “NO, do you not realize what you are doing?! Do you really NEED that shot? Do you REALLY want to be THAT drunk girl?! Do you REALLY want to be that ass hole? Do you want to wake up in a strangers bed smelling of alcohol and bad decisions? Do you want to risk that DUI? Do you want to vomit all over yourself before you even get home? Do you want to hit a mail box and mess your car up. Do you want to risk your LIFE. Over getting shitfaced?!” I have been all of these.  These are all grown ass adults. With jobs and duties and responsibilities who either find a way to manage life or they don’t. Some do and some don’t. Its the sad reality of it and I can’t save them even if I wanted to. I just can’t. Nor is my place to do so. All I can do is pray. Pray pray pray pray pray and pray. I want my friends to succeed but not all of them will. I want all of these people here to succeed but not all of them will. NOT all of them have the capacity to. And hell I may not either, sober. Who knows. I just undercut a guy who hurt me, and for what reason. To make myself feel better. The disease is still very much a part of who I am and I have to ask for forgiveness and resolution all the time. I have to take personal inventory every day and its not fun guys. At all. Sometimes I look at myself and am like why the hell did you do that. What greater purpose did it serve. Like a wise drunk person just said I don’t get to wake up and remember it and feel guilty about it, I feel guilty about it now. I said something I shouldn’t have said and hurt a guys feelings. Was I being honest in what I said. Yes. Yes I was but it wasn’t nice. At all. I have to ask myself all the time if the the words that came out of my mouth were nice. If not you need to ask them and God for forgiveness. You need to do better. Add the stress of that on top of withdraws and I’m a mess. I can’t be perfect. I never will be. And right now I think I expect too much of myself. Let me tell you what I’m currently withdrawing from. So four years ago I tried every non narcotic medication for anxiety out there. Nothing touched my anxiety. I said “I give up, give me benzos.” (side note just talking about the “blue” pills makes me nauseas and want to vomit. Its awful) I got prescribe 10mg 3x a day of valium and Xanax 5mg PRN. For THREE years. I went inpatient to La Amistad in Orlando FL for 3 weeks and they took my dose down and so when I got out I went down to 20mg twice a day and no Xanax. That, that was my first taste of withdraws. It was awful. And I still had the medication. That little blue pill that I have grown to loathe so very much. The pill that makes me want to vomit. Thank makes me shake like a 90 year old woman. That randomly makes me spew insults to others. I shouldn’t be allowed in public sometimes. I really hate this but its my penitence for the crime of giving up on myself and the coping skills I should have been using the whole time. I’m about to sing some Karaoke with my wise friend and go home soberly and NOT wake up with a hangover and go to church in the morning. Stay sober friends. Don’t be THAT girl, or THAT guy. Don’t be me.

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For the first time in my life I understand the word sober. These past fourteen days have taught me more than the last twenty eight years. Believe it or not. I am probably the friendliest person you could ever meet and always will be. That will never change but I have way tougher skin now and I know how to put up appropriate boundaries. And for the first time in probably a year I’m looking in the mirror and any reflective surface I can and smiling at MYSELF instead of just others. I’m appreciating my own beauty that I have just been offering the world instead of myself too. It took someone rejecting a FRIENDSHIP with me to even look inside and see that for myself. It hurt and it hurt badly, especially sober but because of it I am now able to look at myself in the mirror and see a glimpse of what everyone around me sees. I don’t claim to understand everything but what I do know is if you don’t accept me thats your problem not mine. And if you can’t be my friend well, poo on you.

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I may not be guilty of everything on that list but on thing is for sure I can’t have just one drink and I know that. I had my first therapy appointment for the first time in months and the first one in Columbus MS on Wednesday. During my inpatient stay I apparently had to fill out a questionnaire that I don’t remember but on that questionnaire it asked me if I thought I had problems with drugs and alcohol. Apparently I said no to one or more of those. Well obviously in my therapy appointment I told her yea I have a problem and thats why I’m in IOP and why I go to meetings. So I can recover. So I can begin to heal. She smiled and said “your answers changed.”. I immediately started to cry. I don’t know why. I guess because for the first time I was starting to be honest with myself and others. Honesty is a beautiful thing. If you can’t be honest with yourself who can you be honest with.

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This little lady (me) was born at 11:59 on August 13th 1989 and there is nothing wrong with me aside from the fact that I look like a smurf and I almost didn’t survive my own birth. I was 3 weeks early. I had a double hernia when I was born and was in the NICU for 3 weeks. If you think there is something fundamentally wrong with alcoholics and addicts well you are right and wrong. We are not BAD people, we are sick. It is a sickness. An allergy that creates a craving that cannot be quenched. We cannot have just one of ANYTHING. Moderation is foreign territory for us. Do not judge and do not be dismayed by our recovery and our success. We know what pain feels like.

I have lost my best friend, my high school sweet heart, I was made fun of in school, I was in a verbally abusive relationship, and I felt all that pain while on drugs and alcohol. I have now felt all of that SOBER. S O B E R!! I had to relive all of that pain. And I thought it was bad then. No. No. I screamed so much that 3 days later I still can’t talk. I fell down in the shower just screaming out in pain. Later that night I went to the ER thinking I was dying of a broken heart. I thought for sure I was having a heart attack. I knew I was dying of a heart attack. I just knew it. The only good thing about that visit was it tested my sobriety and I got to see some good looking nurses lololol I will not stand by and let this disease ruin me and I also will not stand by and be quiet about it. I am a writer. My job and my duty is to help people and thats exactly what I’m going to do. “NOBODY puts baby in a corner!”

The world needs to hear our story and they will hear mine!

You never know how many people really care until you hit rock bottom. People start to come out of no where. People you thought had forgotten all about you still remember your smile and the impact you had. No life is too small or insignificant. Everyone has a place. Even me. In my own weird way. I don’t know where I fit in this world but I know I was put here to help. I helped a girl out with clothes and a bible while in the hospital. One of the first things I did was get her a bag ready to go up to the hospital. It meant way more to her than it ever could to me. I didn’t do it for me I did it because I saw a need that I could fill. Something I could do to make the world a better place. So I did. I will call this girl until she leaves. I also met a man who lead me to get sober from my valium. Not that its bad for everyone but I have been on it for too long and everyone notices a difference of me on it. And thats what I hate. I want to be the best Katie for everyone. I hate being anxious but at the same time I don’t want to be a robot.

Part of being inpatient is giving up your freedom. Your sanity basically. You stare at walls for long periods of time just to think about the decisions you made that got you there. Which I can tell you sucks balls. I cried like a baby my second day. My first full day really. My second day I started to see the light and I started to do things that made me feel good, like run when we went outside and not sleep all day. I played cards with group members. I made people laugh. I’ll never forget those people. The people that impacted me far more than they may ever realize. You may think your life is insignificant and I know I sure did but no life is too small. NO LIFE is not important. NO ONE should be left behind in this cruel world I don’t care who you are. This world is scary and lonely and I don’t care what you’ve done you don’t deserve to be alone.

My friends and my family have carried me as far as they can and its time for me to carry myself. I pray for the strength and the courage to do so.

 

 

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As most of you know I suffer from mental illness. I speak openly about it in my blog and I am not ashamed to speak out about it. It is a prevalent illness across the world and needs to be addressed and not suppressed. These past few days I have been inpatient at a hospital here in Columbus MS. I was having terrible suicidal thoughts and my moods were so off. I was betraying my friends without intention and things were just getting out of control. I was pushing anyone and everyone that cared away. So that way leaving would be easier. I saw what I was doing so I knew I needed to check myself in somewhere so thats just what I did. I didn’t hesitate on my decision. Once I decided I was going I was going. I knew it would be scary and I knew I wouldn’t like it but I knew it was what I NEEDED. You are the only one that can take care of yourself and you are the only one that knows yourself well enough to know if you need help or not. I sought help because I knew my life was in danger. From my own hands. Which is pretty dad gum scary. I love life and I want to be here to help people but I have a disease which tells me I’m not worth it. And that no one loves me when in reality thats not true. Neither statement. IF you or someone you know needs help I urge you to get them to seek it. Its not fun but it does help. I feel a million times better. I came home to a car that won’t crank, a locked phone, but I am fine. I am okay. Everything will be okay. I have a roof over my head, I have friends that love me, and food for my belly. I can’t ask for more. I will get my phone to work and I will get my car to work at some point. Freaking out about it isn’t going to help. Being upset about it isn’t going to help. I’ll tell y’all all about being inpatient just as soon as I can. But I’ll tell you something there were times when I thought it was the worst decision of my life but now that I’m out in the free world I see that it was the best decision I could have ever made. I am back and I am ready to write!

 

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I unpacked all these in one day. I can’t stand a mess and disorganization. It literally drives me batty. Moving in a complete process. Its finding a job, its settling in. Its finding yourself again. In a whole new place. I am sitting at a bar my best friend works at to get wifi just to write this and to apply to jobs. I am at a loss at what to do. I have tried so much and done so much today I am exhausted. Being up at 5am everyday wears on a person. I try though and I’m still going to keep trying. I’m not going to let this depression and my BPD win. I won’t and I can’t. Too many people have put too much time and money into my well being and to help me get a fresh start just to sit and rot away. Like I’d really like to do but I know thats not Gods plan for me. Its the depression telling me that.

A wise friend once said “The greatest thing about life is everyone has their own book. Some are sweet and everlasting, some are horrifying and weird, some are sad and short, but it is YOUR book. And no one in the whole universe can copy or steal your book” – Henderson Cunningham.

This statement is so true. I hope my book is long and filled with lots of highs and few but very informative lows. No one knows what its like to be me and I don’t know what its like to be anyone else. I don’t want to know. I pray for everyone. I hope everyone succeeds in their own way. I never wish ill on anyone. I have made mistakes and I can’t take them back but I can live my life now and and want to repent and ask for forgiveness. My book is bitter sweet right now. And I’m okay with that. My sister has blessed me with a roof and I can’t be anymore grateful. My brother came and helped me move and I can’t ever repay him and my mom, don’t get me started. She is my rock. Well God is my rock but my mom comes second. I would love to write more and update more but its hot and I can’t stay long. I will have internet this weekend I hope and plan to write more. Please look forward to hearing me soon.

Take it one roe at a time!

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As I look around my house and see boxes and crap everywhere I wonder how it is that I got here. I JUST moved here. I’m not supposed to moving yet. This was supposed to be my new start, instead it became the end of my time here in Florida. Never in a million, trillion, thoughts did it ever occur to me that I would be moving back to Mississippi. Ever much less this soon. I feel like not making it here is letting so many people down, most importantly myself. I couldn’t make it. Its as simple as that.

I went for a walk early this morning trying to use one of my DBT skills and I noticed there was a park right by my house. I had never known for nearly 6 months there was a park right by my house with a walking track and everything. HOW much of a recluse I had become. I used to go out and explore. I used to be adventurous. I used to explore. What the hell happened? I have no idea. I’m trying to find that girl buried under all the hurt and pain. She’s in there somewhere.

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When I wake up Monday morning my whole life will be completely different. I’ll be somewhere completely different. If you had asked me three months ago if this is where I would be I would have said “uh you have got to be kidding me”. This was never my plan. This wasn’t even plan “B”. This wan’t even a plan until it HAD to be one.

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That is a picture of the front of the house I’m going to be living in on Monday?

Am I ready? Hell no

Am I excited? Yes

Am I scared? Hell yes

Is it time to go? I think so

Will it be good? Yes it will be

Lets see what chapter Columbus holds. I will be off till I can get to a coffee shop or somewhere with Wi-fi to work on the blog. I will think of you all. All over the world who follow me. I thank you. You push me to fight another day! Chapter Four will be revealed in Columbus as well for “A beggar, A prostitute, and A writer” So watch out of that coming soon!!

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This song is my legit anthem right now. Its my song. Bebe Rexha gets me. I have been STUCK these past couple of days. I didn’t help the homeless. I didn’t do anything good but go to confession. Which I don’t think the penance fits the crime but that isn’t for me to decide. I will do my penance times three. I have done so much to hurt people that obviously people hate me enough to not even want to say good bye to me. My going away party was last night and not one soul from work showed up. Not one single soul cared enough to show up. Does it hurt, hell yes it hurts worse than a fire ant sting, but did I expect it, yes. Why, because I feel like I deserve it. I deserve pain somehow and for some reason. I am very depressed right now and I have been since Friday morning. I think because I knew that no one was going to show up. I legit had a break down in front of the friends that did come. It wasn’t many but I let it ruin part of my night and obviously my Saturday. I loaded nothing for LuLaRoe which I could have made money on because I was depressed. I was sleepy so I slept. I wanted to pack so I packed. Then I slept. I cried because I wanted to. Then I slept some more then cleaned my house for a party that never happened and then it didn’t and today has been sort of the same. I did post in my VIP group and go to church so that has to count for something. And I’m still packing and cleaning. I’m just doing nothing for myself thats going to help get myself out of the hole I’m in because for some reason I feel like I deserve to be in this hole and that someone should just bury me. I can only say I’m sorry so much.

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I have so many things my heart wants to say to so many people right now its overwhelming to have the damn thing in my chest right now. There is nothing I can do and I have to live with that. I have to use “coping” skills because apparently this is just life. And I need to “suck it up”. Even Professor Lupin has been acting Warewolfish. Which is to be expected of course. WE ALL KNOW HARRY COULD NEVER KEEP A DARK ARTS TEACHER LOLOLOL  and I guess that stands true for me as well. Nor do I know if I want one to be honest.

I pray daily, moment to moment now actually that I make it to Columbus. Right now I don’t have the funds and I have no idea where to get the funds but something has to happen for me good right. I have put SOME GOOD out there. And with a box of jewelry just gone and all that I’ve been through you would imagine a miracle could happen just this once. I picture myself in my sisters rental. Walking in with the keys and unpacking all my stuff. I imagine hanging things on the wall and my cats getting settled in. I can picture it all and it makes me so happy I could cry because I just don’t know how I’m going to get there. I tremble with fear knowing I have to get my stuff out of this house by next weekend come hell or high water and I have no idea where I’m going to be. The streets? Columbus? A friends? Where will I end up? A great writer must live a great adventure but dang I wasn’t expecting this…..

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I don’t know how anyone can see a homeless person and not look down. If only for a second. We all know major cities and towns are going to be full of them that is just life. IT is what being below the poverty line has done, its what not being able to qualify for disability when someone really needs it gets turned down, its what being mentally ill and not being able to get help does to a person. Its HELL. I have lived it now. BRIEFLY but I have been behind the sign and will go behind the sign again today. Not for me but for THEM. The ones who have no one to look them in the eyes. The ones who remember my face because I had given them money and talked to them before. THEY REMEMBERED ME!!! And now when I have nothing to give they are helping me out telling me times to come back and when to come and trying to take care of me. There is such a strong calling in me to help these people. More so then to make money for my moving truck. If I make money for my moving truck thats fabulous but if not then God will provide some other way. I just know it. So do you want to know what it was like behind the sign? What it felt like to beg for money with a guitar and a case for 3 hours in the hot FL heat? Do you want to know what that feels like? What it taste like? What it sounds like? Listen close and I’ll tell you.

I started my journey later than I had intended to. Headed out, parked a good 8 blocks away from where I wanted to be sitting. First of all a guitar is heavy, so is a catholic Bible, (ya know, all those extra books lol) and then my water bottle. ITs FL so its HOT as all get out. Like I could have friend an egg on the cement had I had an egg. Anyway I’m walking down Palofax and I come upon a dang riot. Well riot is not a good word. “Gathering” “Supporters” with picket signs and the likes about SOMETHING. I don’t keep up with the news y’all. Its sad. I have enough sadness in my life. Something about supporting a congress man and I know they didn’t like Trump too much. I went LIVE with it on Facebook. I thought it was neat to walk up on that on my way to do this. So I watched that for a bit and then kept walking. I came upon a regular lady. A homeless lady who plays the guitar. She complemented mine and I said I would love to start a band. Haha apparently they prefer to work alone but I took no offense she told me where I could go. So I went down there. Along the way I passed another couple. They remembered me from when I had money and I used to always give them a dollar or a smoke. This time it was me on the other side. They were shocked. I’m sure a lot of them were. I assured them it was not a joke. WHO WOULD SIT IN THAT HEAT FOR A JOKE. Plus I would never want to take advantage of someone like that. So I sat below the Sanger theater sign. I played, and played and played, and played. People would walk by and not even look down. I would tear up. I was shocked someone didn’t call the cops on me for having an emotional break down on the street of Palofax. I’m a quiet crier though. I was crying not only for myself but the whole world of homeless people. They don’t even get treated like they are human. I had so many people cross the street just to avoid me. Do you know how that made me feel. The worst was when someone would reach in their pocket like they were going to give me something and I got excited and then they didn’t and I realized they put their hand in their pocket for protection. I would never take from someone else. And besides unless I use “the force” how am I supposed to get into your pocket?!? People are sooo weird. And its the little things that hurt and hell I’m sure I’ve been guilty of it. Do we realize how the small actions we do impact people on such a large scale. This is temporary for me I hope for them it is not. They have to live this everyday. The sounds were muted. I just heard my own thoughts and my guitar. I really don’t recall hearing anything else. The taste was dry and bitter. The feeling was awful. The concert was hot and my feet kept going to sleep and because I hadn’t eaten I couldn’t stand up. It was terrible. I was getting dehydrated NO ONE offered me water. Can we not show some compassion. I sang last night Palms 49 and I got $1 and finally had this creepy dude leave me alone. It was from a young boy. Teach your kids right. This little boy will never know what he did. That $1 didn’t go towards my moving truck. It went towards body wash for the homeless people of Palofax street. Supplies I’m bringing them tonight. I hope to make enough for a truck but this is for them not me. I’m bringing everything I can and hope it works. My bible and their stuff and my guitar is all I need. Wish me luck you guys!!!

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