10 ways to tell a story

1 is the number of lives I have, at least as far as I know. Hence my efforts to stay on earth.

There are 2 choices, live or not. I get through the days of not wanting to live by thinking of the days where I’m glad I’m alive. I know they are around the corner, but I tend to forget that, and need to be reminded.

I have 3 kinds of pain: spiritual pain, physical pain and psychological pain.They each take turns in the front seat. On bad days all three take hold of me.

I am trying to avoid a 4th lifetime trip to the hospital. They are not healing places, just a rest stop for a hiatus of sorts. I do like the friends I make in those places though.

There are 5 children in my family of origin. I’m only close to one sibling, a sister. All of us are scattered across the country like debris leftover from a disaster.

I was 6 when my father chose his addictions over his family. I knew this when he broke my piggy bank for money.

We were a family of 7. Inevitably we were often seated at a large table in the middle of restaurants. This was a great place to showcase the shit show that would play out every time. My stepfather would invariably yell at my mother, “God damn it, Momma! Why did you make me spill that? Get me some napkins!” Red Lobster loved seeing us come in the door on Sundays.

It’s been 8 years since I’ve had a drink. Funny how a drinking problem found me, despite my childhood vow to not become my father.

This year will make 9 years of choosing a different road from that of my father. The person that gets me the most in this life is not a role model. My brain can get fuzzy from pondering this too long.

Don’t let any of the pain get to a 10, if it can be helped. Call a friend, get some acupuncture, and get yourself a dog this year. It’s been too long of a wait.

Today’s post is written in response to Today’s Daily Post.