I didn't ask for a psychotic break for Christmas...

...but that just may be what I get. Holy hell. I'm stressed to the max, can't turn my own head off, and sleep only comes when induced by medicine (which of course, calls for at least 8 - I get about 4). Mom says I need to take advantage of this break from school and rest. The past few months haven't been the best in the world, medically speaking, and I was so hellbent on not letting it get me down then, it's like I am trying to make up for about 3-4 months of time that I should have been letting my body fight, then heal. I don't nap, I crash. And while I adore the sound on the monitor in the mornings, I would really love one day to sleep (medically induced or not) until I wake up. But I'm sure every parent of a young child has that same dream.

Jaxon's dad is back in the picture - for the moment at least. Who know's if I would have heard anything out of him, had I not contacted him first. That's the only way I ever hear from him. I was filled full of "promises" again and refuse to hold my breath at this point. Actions are the only acceptable form of behavior now. You don't bail on a kid. Period. You don't go for months without contact. I don't care what you are going through, how life is kicking you around, or all the other excuses I got. I don't care. You have a kid who calls someone else "Daddy." You have a kid that recognizes his family...but doesn't know you as part of it. How do you live with that? He says he wants to see him more. He says he wants to step up and be his dad. He says he knows what he did was wrong. I say...only time will tell. But, regardless, the mere presence of him in our life again places fear inside of me. Since he had been gone for so long, the "contact" I made was to ask if he just wanted to sign away his rights. He wasn't around anyways. He doesn't support him. What's the point, right? I'm scared of that day happening all over again. I'm scared of cops. I'm scared of arrests. I'm scared of seeing my baby cry in the middle of all of it. It was so long ago, but plays in my mind just as if it happened yesterday.

I miss Kyle. A lot. This time of year was always a fun and unexpected time of random gifts, jokes, and predictions of what the next year would bring. For him, the predictions always included a never ending supply of "hot babes" and things that make you love life. For me, it was just to always have friends like him, to have him as my friend. We never dated. We never attempted it. He just swooped in and became a big brother. Much like Adam did. I'd send packages to different places in Iraq and Afghanistan because the idiot wouldn't stay out of the desert. He loved his job. He loves being a Marine. He loved that he was carrying on a tradition long standing in his family, minus his useless parents. He wasn't one of those jerk Marines either. (No offense to all, but even you know there are some stupid ones out there.) He cared about people. He did things for people. He went out of his way to make sure his family - the one that he created - were happy and in need of nothing. It's rare to find that truly giving nature in people anymore. Not giving in a sense of buying and material things, but giving time, giving a hand, giving a shoulder. Things money can't buy. I miss my friend and I still can't believe he's gone.

All I know is that I am pulling my hair out. Not too bright considering I'm still not done thinning/shedding, but hopefully that conveys the stress factor. I need my life back on track. I need to be able to talk. I need to be able to find my words when I need help. I don't have that right now. And because of that, it seems as though everything else is crumbling. So God, if you're listening, it's me, Ali. I really need you right now...