Keeping it Ghetto:

Before I write anymore, I need to put a disclaimer here. I live in a great neighborhood, I really do. I feel safe, and relatively there is low crime. But for whatever reason, if there is going to be a murder or stabbing, it seems to happen around my house.

In November 2005 the police shot a wanted criminal literally right in front of my house.

On February 1, 2007: My friendly, neighborhood crack whore that was the punch-line of so many of my stories, stabbed her son over cigarettes. Side note: This was the night of E's and I's first date, making for an interesting evening no doubt.

This morning while I was getting ready for work, I heard that last night there was a stabbing in the central area of Colorado Springs, sure enough, It was at the Co-housing complex across the street from my house. This was not a random stabbing, it was a family dispute that got out of control. Sad.

Things that make you go hmmm:
Three for Three
Three murders in three years, all within 300 feet of my front door.

Read the news story here

Calling It Out and Keeping It Real

Note: The following blog is not the happy-go-lucky typical blog I may normally post, it is raw and for me, something I needed to write about. It is life, it is a window into a dark sub-part of my extended family. You have been officially warned...

I have a drug addict in my family.

Many family members of mine would be upset to know I just typed that last line, they still may if they read this blog. Oh well, one thing I have always been is outspoken and I will call it as I see it.

When I see a person get sent to rehad more than three times, follow the same patterns as they did before, steal, cheat and lie, and expect the rest of the family to support them, my patience runs a tad thin one may say.

This morning, I was drinking my tea, reading the Denver news like I usually do and I saw an article that sparked my interest. A headline about a meth bust. I opened it and in the list of people arrested, I see my niece’s name.

Lovely

Just a couple of weeks ago she sat near me at my sisters wedding, this is the same girl who I as there when she was born and at one point I would do anything for this child. As I sat next to this shell of a person, I realized the vibrant young, beautiful girl was gone, I was sitting next to an empty shell of a drug addict wearing a pretty dress.

My sister lived at home until my niece was 3 years old, being I was a young teenager it was my responsibility to be her in-home babysitter. As she got older and started experimenting with drugs, I was still able to talk to her. I felt like we had a good connection and she told me things she didn’t trust to anyone else. We had good conversations and she promised me she would never do anything but experiment. I guess I held onto false hope. Like I had always known, never trust a junkie. Little did I know at the time she was just that. I have known many addicts in my life and I have a low tolerance for them. The first time she went to rehab I held onto some hope she would come home cured, or at least able to be a contributing member of society. What I learned was she came home to fall into her same habits, manipulate the same people and thrive off the enabling that surrounds her.

One of the hardest things I have ever done was to practice ‘tough love’ on someone I love so dearly. I was there the moment she came into this world, in fact she is the only birth I have ever experienced. It is hard to look at someone you care so deeply, at one time thought you would carry the world on your shoulders for them, and in your mind say “I can not and will not help this person”.

I don’t really know why I felt the need to blog about this, I guess to feel some catharsis about the whole ugly situation, to hope through my frustration and writing something will change. These are changes I have no control over. All I can do is be thankful this person is in jail and safe from themselves for the time being and hope that someday they will find the strength in themselves to change their life. Until them I will continue with my own, be thankful I am removed from the situation by proximity and keep my family in my thoughts that they also have the strength to realize they too can not make this person change.

Wrongly Convicted?

Today Tim Masters has been released from prison on his life sentence for the murder of Peggy Hettrick almost 21 years ago.
You can read the story here

This murder happened in my hometown, on the eve of my 15th birthday. The body was discovered in a field blocks from my fathers house on the morning of my birthday. It was the first murder I remember really paying attention too. It hit close to home, the main suspect in the case was a boy I went to school with. I did not know him, I only knew of him. I guess like everyone else I had always thought him to be guilty. By our justice system we are supposed to believe people are innocent until proven guilty. I was 15, I was believing all the rumors I heard. Today I am questioning myself because I guess I still remember those rumors, all the talk, the friend of my sister, whose uncle was on the police force, that knew someone that saw… you get the idea. I am questioning also the media. What more of this story does the public not know? I can’t help but wonder…