Entry Two

Present

Monday, while driving to the gym, my husband confessed his intention to commit suicide right after moving back to Colorado 3 years ago. He wanted to wait until after the move so that I was near my best friend when it happened. That way I would have had someone there to help me go through the grieving process. Thankfully he changed his mind but his confession still struck me in an extremely painful way. The thought of losing him was very traumatic for me. Needless to say, I had a panic attack the next day at work.

Past

“Uncle” Rick was an ex-Vietnam Vet heroin addict my mother was good friends with during the 70’s. She would let him come over to our Harrisburg apartment to shoot up heroin in the bathroom. She figured it would be safer for him to do it in our apartment instead of on the streets, not thinking of the three children all under the age of 8 who lived in the apartment. However, she would proudly boast to her friends that she would never allow him to shoot up in front of us. What a responsible mother…

Uncle Rick would go through these bizarre manic phases in which he would chase us around the apartment with his eyelids turned inside out. Afterwards he would give us pony rides until he tired out and had to have a fix. One day he tried to strangle my mother to death. There were no more pony rides after that.