So, I just got back from spending three days with some of my relatives on my mother's side of the family. Before that, I spent a week with my aunt and uncle on my dad's side of the family. They were both really great trips, but the second trip, the one to Georgia to see my kin, was very special. It took me a while to figure out why, and I'm still working on it, but one of the things I've concluded is that sometimes love is genetic.
Let's begin awhile back. My mother was the oldest of five kids. My grandfather worked very hard, and his jobs took him away from his ancestral home of Tallapoosa, Georgia. My grandfather was a complex man; he was very intelligent, very educated, very focused, and very dedicated to certain things in his life. He took care of his family the best he knew how, and always provided for them. He was a World War II veteran who was a medic in both the European and Pacific theaters, something that was very unusual. He was the first person in his family to graduate from college. He took care of his mother until she passed away, shortly after he graduated from high school.
My grandfather was also a good ol' boy in the worst sense of the word. He was racist. He often saw women as second-class citizens. And he was one of the most stubborn people I ever met. He always lived in another state due to his job as a chemical engineer, so I never got to know him well, but I enjoyed his company and his stories. He was a very interesting man. After my grandmother passed away in 1984, though, we didn't see him so much. My ma didn't seem to get along with him very well.
One of the reasons my mother and her father butted heads so often is because they were so much alike. They were both smart, and they both knew what they wanted. However, my grandfather didn't give my mother many choices in life. He said she would go to college, and he told her where to go to college, and she didn't take too kindly to being told to do that. She would have chosen those things for herself anyway, but it was the fact that my grandfather told her she was going to do it that put her off. My ma also didn't like the way my grandfather treated my grandmother. My grandparents were raised in a generation and in places where wives were meant to serve their husbands. I think they both accepted those roles, but my mother did not. Already long story short, my mother tried to distance herself from her father. And in doing so, I lost contact with that whole side of the family.
Through the magic of Facebook, oddly enough, I reconnected with my aunt and my uncle, my ma's younger siblings. Through them, I connected with my second cousin Elizabeth, who then connected me to her daughter Michelle. I had fun talking to my aunt and uncle and cousins, and it made feel like I was part of something again. I have a large extended family, but they always lived far away, and consequently I am only close to three of my cousins and my aunt and uncle on my dad's side. I felt disconnected. Growing up, all my friends talked about weekends and holidays spent with grandmothers and grandfathers and aunts and uncles and cousins, and it was loud and crazy and fun. And I was jealous. I wanted that too. But it was not to be.
I posted some old family photos on Facebook, and Elizabeth showed them to her parents, George and Jane. George is my ma's first cousin, and I remembered her speaking of him, very favorably. Even though they seemed to get along, I think my mother subconsciously separated herself from anything that had to do with my grandfather's side of the family, and in doing so, separated me from that too. She didn't mean to deny me anything, and I don't hold a grudge. It's just what happened. But one thing led to another, and I found myself on the phone with George, talking and talking and talking. And a miraculous thing happened: I had a big family.
This family welcomed me and my daughter and my husband with open arms. George and I talk on the phone, and he told me all about our family's history, how we originally came from Scotland and Germany, and how we have Cherokee blood in our family, how my great-grandfather was a poor sharecropper who did whatever was necessary to put food on the table for his family, how they all stuck together through good times and bad. He told me things I yearned to know: names, relationships, places. And for the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere.
George was in the hospital a few weeks back, and I decided I was going to visit. My daughter and I went down to Georgia, and I walked into a home that was as warm and loving as the one I grew up in. George and Jane opened their homes and hearts to us, even though we had never met in person. George and I stayed up way too late each night, watching baseball and talking about family. The whole family came over for dinner, and I got to meet my cousins and their children that I had only heard about, and they welcomed me too, as one of their own. And I felt whole.
The day we left, I cried every time I looked at George. I didn't want to leave. He didn't want me to leave either. Even though it was the first time we met, and we only were together for 3 days, I felt I had known him all my life, the grandfather I never had. And he understood me and where I was coming from. And that's what was so special - that instantaneous understanding and love. It has to be genetic, that love that was passed down somehow from our common ancestors. I don't understand, but I'm so glad I found it.
That three day trip changed my life. I feel more complete now. George said something while I was there that struck me: "Sally, I've found that there are three important things in life: God, family, and friends." And he's right. I've got all three, and I am a lucky, lucky woman.
7.26.2011
2.28.2011
Why I don't feel bad for Charlie Sheen.
It's been plastered all over the media - Charlie Sheen is on a bender of monumental proportions, and it doesn't look like he's going to stop any time soon. His megalomanical ravings have been broadcast endlessly over the past few days, and people either feel sorry or him or mock him.
I do not fall into the former category. I feel guilty for being in the latter category. But here's what I have to say, just in case you are interested.
People across this country suffer from both drug addiction and mental illness. I haven't watched enough of his insane diatribes to figure out what he suffers from, but based on the little info I have, I'm thinking he started out with drugs which in turn has led to mental illness. That being said, help is available to him. And not just any help. He's rich enough to afford any kind of help he wants.
I know that money doesn't buy happiness. I know that money cannot make a sick person better. But I work with people whose children suffer from drug addiction and mental illness. One woman, Sue, is a single mother to two children, a son and a daughter. Sue is a special ed assistant - I'm sure her wage is next to nothing. Her daughter got pregnant and had a baby at fifteen (which she gave up for adoption, probably the most selfless and loving thing she could have done), and then proceeded to become addicted to Oxycontin and some other things. She got out of rehab a short time ago, but she just had a relapse. Sue is encouraging her to go back to rehab and not feel bad for falling off the wagon. Sue knows; she is a recovering addict herself and will celebrate 26 years clean in a week.
Sue is not only dealing with her daughter's addiction, but also her son's. Her son has severe learning disabilities, and he is not getting the help that he needs to overcome them. He has been diagnosed with ADD, but he is not really getting help for that either. School is terribly difficult and tiring for him, so he makes one of two decisions every day: either he skips school, or he gets stoned. He is 14 years old. He is in middle school. And he is already self-medicating.
Sue wants to help her children so, so badly. She loves them so much, and she would spend every damn penny of her measly pay to help her children be happy and healthy. She has no support system - her ex-husband/kids' father is in and out of jail and is an addict himself. She has little family to lean on. She is fighting this battle by herself. And yet she still comes to work every single day, and she supports autistic children. And she does it with a smile on her face.
I know another woman, Nancy, who is a middle school science teacher. She and her husband have one son; he is adopted. Nancy is a passionate, kind, loving, caring woman, and her son is hopelessly addicted to drugs. He has almost died several times. She and her husband have spent money and, more important, tears and strength and love trying to help him get better. I remember talking to Nancy about it - "He's not a bad boy. He has so much love in his heart. He is just trapped in the claws of this addiction."
My husband lost his best friend to mental illness over 30 years ago. They tried everything to help Paul get better, but nothing worked. My husband reflects and says, "Suicide was his only option. The pain was too great for him to handle." My husband has another friend whose daughter is addicted to drugs. She has wrecked too many cars to count. She has come close to dying at least three times. And my husband's friend looks the other way. I think he feels powerless to do anything. She is 19 years old.
I work with 10th graders. I know at least one of them has been in rehab at least twice. I was in the bathroom the other day - two girls came in, one sobbing. They went in a stall, and the girl who was upset said, "Why does my mom leave me alone? She is always out with guys. Why doesn't she want to be with me?" My heart broke into a thousand pieces for this child. No one should have to deal with that heartbreak at such a young age.
I'm ranting. My point is, Charlie Sheen has the means to get better. I don't know what his relationship with his family is, but if there is anyone in the world that cares about him, they should have an intervention with him. I know that guarantees nothing, and the person who is ill has to want to get better, but Charlie Sheen can afford the best doctors, the best psychiatrists, and the best treatement facilities in the world. I know that doesn't guarantee recovery, but it's a start.
There are many, many people in this world who would love to trade places with Charlie, if only so they could afford to help themselves or help the ones they love. I hope Charlie gets the help he needs: for his sake, for his family's sake, and especially for the sake of his children. It would be a pity for them to grow up heartbroken and fatherless because their father chose drugs over them.
I do not fall into the former category. I feel guilty for being in the latter category. But here's what I have to say, just in case you are interested.
People across this country suffer from both drug addiction and mental illness. I haven't watched enough of his insane diatribes to figure out what he suffers from, but based on the little info I have, I'm thinking he started out with drugs which in turn has led to mental illness. That being said, help is available to him. And not just any help. He's rich enough to afford any kind of help he wants.
I know that money doesn't buy happiness. I know that money cannot make a sick person better. But I work with people whose children suffer from drug addiction and mental illness. One woman, Sue, is a single mother to two children, a son and a daughter. Sue is a special ed assistant - I'm sure her wage is next to nothing. Her daughter got pregnant and had a baby at fifteen (which she gave up for adoption, probably the most selfless and loving thing she could have done), and then proceeded to become addicted to Oxycontin and some other things. She got out of rehab a short time ago, but she just had a relapse. Sue is encouraging her to go back to rehab and not feel bad for falling off the wagon. Sue knows; she is a recovering addict herself and will celebrate 26 years clean in a week.
Sue is not only dealing with her daughter's addiction, but also her son's. Her son has severe learning disabilities, and he is not getting the help that he needs to overcome them. He has been diagnosed with ADD, but he is not really getting help for that either. School is terribly difficult and tiring for him, so he makes one of two decisions every day: either he skips school, or he gets stoned. He is 14 years old. He is in middle school. And he is already self-medicating.
Sue wants to help her children so, so badly. She loves them so much, and she would spend every damn penny of her measly pay to help her children be happy and healthy. She has no support system - her ex-husband/kids' father is in and out of jail and is an addict himself. She has little family to lean on. She is fighting this battle by herself. And yet she still comes to work every single day, and she supports autistic children. And she does it with a smile on her face.
I know another woman, Nancy, who is a middle school science teacher. She and her husband have one son; he is adopted. Nancy is a passionate, kind, loving, caring woman, and her son is hopelessly addicted to drugs. He has almost died several times. She and her husband have spent money and, more important, tears and strength and love trying to help him get better. I remember talking to Nancy about it - "He's not a bad boy. He has so much love in his heart. He is just trapped in the claws of this addiction."
My husband lost his best friend to mental illness over 30 years ago. They tried everything to help Paul get better, but nothing worked. My husband reflects and says, "Suicide was his only option. The pain was too great for him to handle." My husband has another friend whose daughter is addicted to drugs. She has wrecked too many cars to count. She has come close to dying at least three times. And my husband's friend looks the other way. I think he feels powerless to do anything. She is 19 years old.
I work with 10th graders. I know at least one of them has been in rehab at least twice. I was in the bathroom the other day - two girls came in, one sobbing. They went in a stall, and the girl who was upset said, "Why does my mom leave me alone? She is always out with guys. Why doesn't she want to be with me?" My heart broke into a thousand pieces for this child. No one should have to deal with that heartbreak at such a young age.
I'm ranting. My point is, Charlie Sheen has the means to get better. I don't know what his relationship with his family is, but if there is anyone in the world that cares about him, they should have an intervention with him. I know that guarantees nothing, and the person who is ill has to want to get better, but Charlie Sheen can afford the best doctors, the best psychiatrists, and the best treatement facilities in the world. I know that doesn't guarantee recovery, but it's a start.
There are many, many people in this world who would love to trade places with Charlie, if only so they could afford to help themselves or help the ones they love. I hope Charlie gets the help he needs: for his sake, for his family's sake, and especially for the sake of his children. It would be a pity for them to grow up heartbroken and fatherless because their father chose drugs over them.
12.04.2010
Mr. Montgomery
We learned today that one of the teachers at my daughter's tae kwon do school is leaving. His name is Mr. Montgomery, and he is moving to North Carolina to live with one of his daughters. This daughter is a single parent, and she has a twelve-year-old son. Mr. Montgomery feels that his grandson should have a reliable male role model in his life, so Mr. M is moving in with them to help out.
I don't know Mr. M very well, but he's the kind of person who exudes warmth and sincerity before you've even spoken to him. I had the opportunity to speak with him at some length this past summer, at a picnic, and he is a fascinating individual.
Mr. M is African-American, and is probably around my father's age, which is 69. He was born and raised in Mississippi - I think it's safe to assume that he witnessed and experienced some rather unsavory things, given that he was probably a teenager when the Civil Rights Movement was really gaining steam. But he didn't mention that; he spoke rather positively of all the things he's done in his life. When he graduated high school, I believe he went to college in California and became an engineer. Then he joined the Air Force with the intention of becoming a pilot. After going through boot camp, training, education, and being stationed in Minot, North Dakota (he explained "Why not Minot?"), it was found that his eyesight was too poor for him to be a pilot. All that time and energy gone to waste. But Mr. M just laughed it off and shook his head.
So he lived in California for a long time, and then about twenty some-odd years ago, he came to this area, SE Pennsylvania. He began taking classes at Kwak's Tae Kwon Do 22 years ago, and now his is a black belt and one of the regular teachers there.
Mr. M is one of the kindest, gentlest people I have ever met. He smiles and laughs and greets you with his deep voice, and he treats everyone with the utmost respect. He is such a good teacher: patient, consistent, and he requires his students to meet high standards without being a taskmaster. Simply put, Mr. Montgomery is a good person.
We are very sad to see him go, but I am not at all surprised by his reason for leaving. Although I barely know him, I do know that he loves his children and grandchildren very, very much, and he wants to make sure that his grandson will have every opportunity to be successful in life. I'm getting a little choked up just writing this.
If we could all take care of each other half as well as Mr. Montgomery takes care of his family, the world would be a really beautiful place. Mr. Montgomery is a true, kind, warm, nurturing spirit. I know I'll see him again - he'll visit. And the other teachers at the dojang are very good at what they do. But they are not Mr. Montgomery.
Mr. Montgomery is a selfless, kind man, and I hope that he is loved as much as he loves.
I don't know Mr. M very well, but he's the kind of person who exudes warmth and sincerity before you've even spoken to him. I had the opportunity to speak with him at some length this past summer, at a picnic, and he is a fascinating individual.
Mr. M is African-American, and is probably around my father's age, which is 69. He was born and raised in Mississippi - I think it's safe to assume that he witnessed and experienced some rather unsavory things, given that he was probably a teenager when the Civil Rights Movement was really gaining steam. But he didn't mention that; he spoke rather positively of all the things he's done in his life. When he graduated high school, I believe he went to college in California and became an engineer. Then he joined the Air Force with the intention of becoming a pilot. After going through boot camp, training, education, and being stationed in Minot, North Dakota (he explained "Why not Minot?"), it was found that his eyesight was too poor for him to be a pilot. All that time and energy gone to waste. But Mr. M just laughed it off and shook his head.
So he lived in California for a long time, and then about twenty some-odd years ago, he came to this area, SE Pennsylvania. He began taking classes at Kwak's Tae Kwon Do 22 years ago, and now his is a black belt and one of the regular teachers there.
Mr. M is one of the kindest, gentlest people I have ever met. He smiles and laughs and greets you with his deep voice, and he treats everyone with the utmost respect. He is such a good teacher: patient, consistent, and he requires his students to meet high standards without being a taskmaster. Simply put, Mr. Montgomery is a good person.
We are very sad to see him go, but I am not at all surprised by his reason for leaving. Although I barely know him, I do know that he loves his children and grandchildren very, very much, and he wants to make sure that his grandson will have every opportunity to be successful in life. I'm getting a little choked up just writing this.
If we could all take care of each other half as well as Mr. Montgomery takes care of his family, the world would be a really beautiful place. Mr. Montgomery is a true, kind, warm, nurturing spirit. I know I'll see him again - he'll visit. And the other teachers at the dojang are very good at what they do. But they are not Mr. Montgomery.
Mr. Montgomery is a selfless, kind man, and I hope that he is loved as much as he loves.
7.01.2010
My thank you's
It's time for my daily thank you's. Usually I do them in bed as I drift off to sleep, but I figured since I'm still at the computer, I might as well share.
Thank you for my daughter.
Thank you for my husband.
Thank you for my dad.
Thank you for my brother.
Thank you for all the rest of my family.
Thank you for my friends.
Thank you for the time I had with Ma and Jeb and Chandler and my grandparents and all the others that are no longer with us.
Thank you for my job.
Thank you for Terry's job.
Thank you for a beautiful day.
Thank you for a car that runs.
Thank you for my house.
Thank you for my bed.
Thank you for my pillows.
Thank you for the ability to walk.
Thank you for the ability to talk.
Thank you for the use of my hands.
Thank you for knitting.
Thank you for crocheting.
Thank you for yarn.
Thank you for my cats.
Thank you for yoga.
Thank you for meditation.
Thank you for The Onion.
Thank you for flowers.
Thank you for butterflies and lightning bugs and cicadas and katydids and ladybugs.
Thank you for birds.
Thank you for bats.
Thank you for chubby ground hogs.
Thank you for friendly neighbors.
Thank you for music.
Thank you for art.
Thank you for this moment.
Thank you for this day.
Thank you for the sun.
Thank you for the moon.
Thank you for fresh air.
Thank you for vacations.
Thank you for memories.
Thank you for photographs.
Thank you for my little garden.
Thank you for books.
Thank you for the ocean.
Thank you for cool summer nights.
Thank you for crickets.
Thank you for Dr. Grossman.
Thank you for people who care about things.
Thank you for baseball.
Thank you for healthy food.
Thank you for wine.
Thank you for ice cream.
Thank you for Dr. Litman.
Thank you for boats and kayaks.
Thank you for trees.
Thank you for this day with my husband and daughter.
Thank you for houseplants whose clippings are passed from generation to generation.
Thank you for goals.
Thank you for dreams.
Thank you for my daughter.
Thank you for my husband.
Thank you for my dad.
Thank you for my brother.
Thank you for all the rest of my family.
Thank you for my friends.
Thank you for the time I had with Ma and Jeb and Chandler and my grandparents and all the others that are no longer with us.
Thank you for my job.
Thank you for Terry's job.
Thank you for a beautiful day.
Thank you for a car that runs.
Thank you for my house.
Thank you for my bed.
Thank you for my pillows.
Thank you for the ability to walk.
Thank you for the ability to talk.
Thank you for the use of my hands.
Thank you for knitting.
Thank you for crocheting.
Thank you for yarn.
Thank you for my cats.
Thank you for yoga.
Thank you for meditation.
Thank you for The Onion.
Thank you for flowers.
Thank you for butterflies and lightning bugs and cicadas and katydids and ladybugs.
Thank you for birds.
Thank you for bats.
Thank you for chubby ground hogs.
Thank you for friendly neighbors.
Thank you for music.
Thank you for art.
Thank you for this moment.
Thank you for this day.
Thank you for the sun.
Thank you for the moon.
Thank you for fresh air.
Thank you for vacations.
Thank you for memories.
Thank you for photographs.
Thank you for my little garden.
Thank you for books.
Thank you for the ocean.
Thank you for cool summer nights.
Thank you for crickets.
Thank you for Dr. Grossman.
Thank you for people who care about things.
Thank you for baseball.
Thank you for healthy food.
Thank you for wine.
Thank you for ice cream.
Thank you for Dr. Litman.
Thank you for boats and kayaks.
Thank you for trees.
Thank you for this day with my husband and daughter.
Thank you for houseplants whose clippings are passed from generation to generation.
Thank you for goals.
Thank you for dreams.
6.30.2010
Article in the Philadelphia Inquirer
Hey, everybody! When you have a minute, why don't you mosy on over to this article and read it. It deals primarily with Lou Gehrig's disease (ALS), but also has implications for FTD. Thanks!!
6.11.2010
Trailer for FTD (fronto-temporal dementia) documentary
Please watch this video. This is the disease that stole my mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother.
5.16.2010
A Complaint (surprise!)
Apparently, two people in my life, two friends, are upset with me at the moment. I don't know why the one person is upset with me, but I do know why the other is upset with me. Both situations have me on edge, and I feel torn between feeling angry and feeling bad that I have not lived up to my friend-ly obligations.
In one situation, I have a friend who has come to me for help with several things, and I have done my best to help this friend. He lives sort of far away, and he can't drive, so if he needs something, I have to go to him, which is fine, because that is what friends do for each other. But the other night I got an email from him, and he was upset because I guess he feels that I have not done things that I 'promised' to do.
The biggest problem here is the word 'promise'. My daughter uses it too much, and inappropriately, as in, "But you PROMISED I could have dessert!" No, I didn't promise, I said maybe. Big difference. Same thing with this friend. He is lonesome, and he asked me to help him find someone to date. I thought about it, but I don't have any friends that I feel would be an appropriate match for him. But he is upset because I 'promised' to find someone for him. No, no I didn't. I promised to help, and I was unable to do so, and I'm sorry. He is also upset that he has offered to help me with something, and I have yet to take him up on that help. I didn't know there was a statute of limitations on help. So now I need to email him or call him and get this straightened out. Yay.
The other situation is far more annoying because I am sensing that the second friend is upset with me, and I don't know why. There are a few things I really hate: 1) If you are upset with me, tell me. Don't fucking make me guess. 2) If you are upset with me, don't hint at it or make snide remarks. Last time I checked, we were both adults. I don't have time to play games. 3) If you are upset with me, don't tell me we'll talk about it in one hour/day/week. Get it out in the open. Now. The power play pisses me off.
No one is perfect. It has taken years for my husband and I to learn to communicate effectively, and our relationship is much better for it. I know sometimes I am gossipy. I know that a lot of the time it takes me a while to do things you may have asked me to do. I know I am a procrastinator. I know I can be short-tempered. I'm not perfect, and I apologize if my imperfections have pissed anyone off. But you know what? I can't fix them if you don't tell me how they are affecting you. I'm not going to guess. I'm not going to give you puppy-dog eyes and beg for forgiveness. I will apologize if I have offended you or hurt you in some way, but unless you tell me what that some way is, then forget it. I've got other things to do.
Am I being cold? Perhaps. But these situations have made me realize that I need to take care of myself, and I need to take care of my husband and daughter, and I need to take care of my dad and brother, and I need to take care of my friends. In that order. So if you value my friendship, and you want it to continue, just tell me what's wrong. I can handle it, and more than likely I can make it better.
And sometimes, I might ask for something too. Sometimes I need stuff. Sometimes I need a shoulder to cry on. I might ask you to listen. I might ask you to shut up. I might ask for your advice. I might ask you to trust me to make the right decision. And I might ask for your forgiveness, because I'm human, and I make mistakes. I need my friends; I value my friends. I can vent to my friends. But I think sometimes people forget that friendships need just as much work as other relationships, sometimes more.
So tell me what's wrong, and I'll try to make it better. 'Kay?
In one situation, I have a friend who has come to me for help with several things, and I have done my best to help this friend. He lives sort of far away, and he can't drive, so if he needs something, I have to go to him, which is fine, because that is what friends do for each other. But the other night I got an email from him, and he was upset because I guess he feels that I have not done things that I 'promised' to do.
The biggest problem here is the word 'promise'. My daughter uses it too much, and inappropriately, as in, "But you PROMISED I could have dessert!" No, I didn't promise, I said maybe. Big difference. Same thing with this friend. He is lonesome, and he asked me to help him find someone to date. I thought about it, but I don't have any friends that I feel would be an appropriate match for him. But he is upset because I 'promised' to find someone for him. No, no I didn't. I promised to help, and I was unable to do so, and I'm sorry. He is also upset that he has offered to help me with something, and I have yet to take him up on that help. I didn't know there was a statute of limitations on help. So now I need to email him or call him and get this straightened out. Yay.
The other situation is far more annoying because I am sensing that the second friend is upset with me, and I don't know why. There are a few things I really hate: 1) If you are upset with me, tell me. Don't fucking make me guess. 2) If you are upset with me, don't hint at it or make snide remarks. Last time I checked, we were both adults. I don't have time to play games. 3) If you are upset with me, don't tell me we'll talk about it in one hour/day/week. Get it out in the open. Now. The power play pisses me off.
No one is perfect. It has taken years for my husband and I to learn to communicate effectively, and our relationship is much better for it. I know sometimes I am gossipy. I know that a lot of the time it takes me a while to do things you may have asked me to do. I know I am a procrastinator. I know I can be short-tempered. I'm not perfect, and I apologize if my imperfections have pissed anyone off. But you know what? I can't fix them if you don't tell me how they are affecting you. I'm not going to guess. I'm not going to give you puppy-dog eyes and beg for forgiveness. I will apologize if I have offended you or hurt you in some way, but unless you tell me what that some way is, then forget it. I've got other things to do.
Am I being cold? Perhaps. But these situations have made me realize that I need to take care of myself, and I need to take care of my husband and daughter, and I need to take care of my dad and brother, and I need to take care of my friends. In that order. So if you value my friendship, and you want it to continue, just tell me what's wrong. I can handle it, and more than likely I can make it better.
And sometimes, I might ask for something too. Sometimes I need stuff. Sometimes I need a shoulder to cry on. I might ask you to listen. I might ask you to shut up. I might ask for your advice. I might ask you to trust me to make the right decision. And I might ask for your forgiveness, because I'm human, and I make mistakes. I need my friends; I value my friends. I can vent to my friends. But I think sometimes people forget that friendships need just as much work as other relationships, sometimes more.
So tell me what's wrong, and I'll try to make it better. 'Kay?
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