::pack:: of fixations



life after tragedy. living while grieving. love and triplets.

1.12.2018

Invalid

The only way I could sum up my childhood to people was that I wasn’t allowed to have feelings.  That my Mom was the only one who got to have feelings.  I guess the easier way to put it is invalidating.

I wrote about my wedding story on here somewhere but what I didn’t tell you was that when I got home from our honeymoon, I ran back over to my parents to grab something really quick.  I typed in the code to open the garage door, then hung up my car keys on the hook in the kitchen upstairs (habbit) & ran downstairs to pick up a few last items.  I don’t recall a single word being said, but I could feel something was up.  I unhooked my keys in the kitchen, only moments later not thinking anything of it, but immediately noticed that my keys felt lighter.  


And without a word their obligation to me was done.

I no longer had a key to their precious home.  The code to open the garage was changed so I couldn’t get in that way either.  This moment & the way this made me feel is something I will never forget.  I’d never stolen anything from them.  Their house is the very last place I’d want to go to.  Yet, it almost felt as though they saw me as a criminal.  Didn’t they know all I’ve ever wanted was to be free from them?  

I’m realizing that my invalid childhood has lead to poor communication skills into adulthood.  I’m working on it.  I can explain things much better when I write them out here.  I also forgot what it felt like to trust my gut, to really trust it, because everything I felt was invalid.  I thought my gut must be wrong, it must be defective.  I understand that my parents are the way they are because of abuse & possibly permissive parents.  I know they will never be loving parents to me.  And that is all I ever wanted was to feel loved by them. And to understand it all, is freeing.

I once had a teacher that said most people see all of the details but not the big picture or, they see the big picture but not all the details.  I think I definitely don’t see the big picture a lot of the times because I get lost in all the details.  I have felt so lost in all the invalidation.  It’s so nice to see the big picture & to know, really know that I’m not defective; it’s them.

I wax the eyebrows of some pretty big bloggers/influencers.  I saw one in particular last week.  This girl is such an inspiration to me.  She shows so many different sides of herself to thousands of people; sides I’d never let anyone see. She is beautiful & a remarkable human being! She dealt with abuse in her childhood & they are still in her life via family parties etc.  I asked her how she is able to go around them & not get triggered & her response was equally both beautiful & amazing!  She said she puts all her shields up.  She meditates & then combines her inner power, & the light of Christ to make a shield of light that blocks all their negativity. (Or something like that).

Is there a shield store?  Or a shield repair shop?  Mine are broken.  Mine broke when I almost died...or is that my new perspective showing?  My new perspective of YOLO & nope if I need shields to be around you then I’m not coming ‘round, (because my baby DIED on Christmas).  No but really it’s like a gift I have now.  If people are mean to me & I did nothing to them, &
they cannot discuss what the problem is, it’s bye Felicia!  Oh, & this goes for everyone, people that know if my baby died on Christmas or not, (I will write more about this soon!).  But my shields that I have to use against toxic family are broken!  Or maybe they just don’t make shields like they used to?  Or maybe I’m.too.weak.  Or maybe my feet have walked on more eggshells than they’re supposed to & they’ve developed an extreme intolerance.

But would it be okay if I just focused on the good things happening in my life & forget about having to use shields & just not let the toxic people come around us?  (Unless they are willing to pay us of course).  And the ones that aren’t my parents, is it okay that I only want to be around them under my own terms?  Because my baby died on Christmas.  Is it okay to spare myself from additional pain from people, & no longer subject myself to being bullied by women, even if they are family?    



My body has a lot of quirks from all it’s been through. Most of the left side of my body is completely numb.  My entire abdomen is numb.  My left glute, & thigh area is completely numb. When you are numb it’s easy to not use the correct muscles in order to move properly.  This can lead to more problems.  And sometimes the pain radiates throughout.  I scar really bad internally & there’s a whole plethora of different issues there & it can be terrifying.  If I think about it, I can feel that my body hurts constantly.  But I don’t.  I keep a positive attitude.  My last physical therapist told me she thinks that my brain rewired the way I feel pain because I can handle more than most.  It rewired itself after experiencing so much.  I have been doing reformer Pilates and it has changed my life!  It’s expensive but a lot cheaper than physical therapy.  I am relearning to use the muscles slowly & it’s wonderful to feel more balanced.  When you are numb you can’t feel what muscles you’re working.  Pilates is teaching me how to use my muscles again properly.  I highly recommend it to anyone who is struggling with chronic pain.  

I can tell you this with full confidence that if you saw me today, you’d never guess my body had been through what it has.  It’s been years since I’ve taken any opiates/pain pills, (Ryan too)!!!  I don’t even take NSAIDS.  We’ve come so far that it almost feels like a different lifetime.  People ask me all the time how I did it; they say I have every excuse to not get out of bed in the morning.  I tell them that it really isn’t that hard to get out of bed if you have 2 legs that can walk.  After getting used to Colum being gone, the hardest part about Christmas & living everyday without him has been dealing with all the horrible things that our families have done to us, & not seeing the big picture.  It’s been really confusing to say the least.  

I wrote this post a week or so ago, that’s why there are 2 posts in one morning.

Thank you so much for your comments!  They mean the world to me.  Thank you for supporting me so I can speak my truth.


Black out

I used to think it was strangely fascinating when people would tell me that they’d “block things out”.  This person in front of me had experienced something so traumatic that their own brain hid it away from itself, in order to protect itself from reliving the horrific experience.  

In April or May following the crash, I can’t recall exact events now but it was when my mom was wanting me to console her for Colum dying & I wouldn’t, (it should’ve been the other way around, right?).  It upset her, &/or I stood up for myself & the usual thing happened in result.  The usual thing my Mother Dearest usually did was get all of my siblings, or as many as she could to rally against the enemy, which was me...I was STILL USING A WALKER so her desire to be the bigger victim was a hard fight & she could only round up my one older sister, the one who abused me my whole childhood, yup, that one.  They are really there for each other, two peas in a pod really.  

My sister sent me a text message stating: “Bad things happen to everybody, & you need to get over it.”  (She’s talking about the car accident I was in less that 5 months prior).

I responded: “Fuck you”, & no I don’t speak to my family that way.

My entire childhood my mantra with my evil sister was: “I can’t wait to be a grown-up so I don’t ever have to see you again”.  I’d tell myself these words over & over again.  I realized on that day that I was now a grownup & this person, although she’s biologically related to me, has no place in my life.  I’m done.

But strangely she mentioned an incident to me at my Mother Dearests Birthday party a couple years ago.  She told me she wanted to apologize for that time when I was sleeping innocently one night when we were in high school & she just came in my bedroom & punched me as hard as she could in my stomach.  She asked if there was any damage.  I listened to her in disbelief as she described details of my parents even calling the police on her.   ...how do I not remember any of this!?!  She kept mentioning that this one is one she still feels bad about.  None of it sounded even the tiniest bit familiar to me.  And this person has borderline, never apologizes for anything cause, duh, she’s never wrong.  She mentioned that she’s pretty sure that this is when she was on the drug Phen-Fen & how it was the medications fault ‘cause it made her crazy, (aw, this is her motive).  

I actually remember her on Phen-Phen & I don’t recall a change in her behaviors except that was really happy.  The happiest I’d ever seen her actually.  She’d lost some weight & her confidence immediately skyrocketed.  I think she wanted me to know that all her bad behaviors were all to blame on the Phenomenal side effects of a dangerous diet pill.  But what about all the other times I wonder what her excuse was🤔🧐?

 I’m just like those people I’ve always been strangely fascinated by.  But it’s daunting not knowing what else my own mind is hiding from itself.  Or is it? Is it ok to have a plethora of tiny vaults holding twisted memories of abuse, stashed away in your brain & soul?  Truthfully, I am just happy to not be stuck in a basement with her anymore, with a conjoined bathroom between us. When I text my parents horrible things (after thanksgiving), I told them that “when they get to hell, to tell them you want my old room in the basement.”  

The hardest part for me is that my parents hardly ever protected me from her.  They were too busy thinking they were the only ones with feelings. No one will ever understand what it was like in that basement except for maybe her ex-husbands.  



12.31.2017

High pain tolerance



I remember sitting in my friends kitchen with my 2 best friends in 8th or 9th grade.  They’d seen my parents wrath of confusing furry the most, especially my Fathers.  He would show up at my friends house & scream at me.  Most of the time I had followed all the rules, but unbeknownst to me the rules had suddenly changed, again!  I was always in trouble, & I was a good kid you guys.  Sometimes he’d just let loose & yell at my friends & their parents too...it was awful.

Sitting in the kitchen my friends broke down & asked what was up with my parents; because it turned out, it didn’t make sense to them either.  They told me if their parents did that to them, they’d rebel. I remember feeling so relieved having somebody who recognized how strange & unjustified their behavior actually was.  This was the very first & only 1 of a few times I’ve ever felt validated.   I’m just now finding answers 20 years later.  I was being emotionally abused you guys.  & not just a couple times, it was everyday, unless mowing or shopping.

I had another therapist/dr client in my studio last night.  She reminded me that she’s told me that my mom has borderline too.  She described the life of living with a BPD with one simple word; “invalidating”.  Because you’re never validated, your thoughts & feelings are never validated.  Your natural feelings & emotions, you are told/taught aren’t valid.

I remember breaking up with my high school boyfriend & my mom asking me why shortly after.  I bravely replied, “because he’s really mean to me, & every one says that he’s actually emotionally abusive towards me”, I was 17 btw, (& if you can’t tell that was a cry for help or at least comfort).  She rolled her eyes & acted disgusted with me for breaking up with him.  “Ugh, well I really liked him”, was her response.  He also raped me once but it was over with so quick that I never knew if it still counted if he only lasted 2 seconds.  He then went on to our high school & told all of his/our friends that I just laid there like a “dead fish”.   ...but my mom really liked him.  So emotional abuse & even being raped & mistreated felt NORMAL to me.  I was so repulsive & disgusting so that’s what I deserved anyway.  Yet I knew her reaction wasn’t healthy, it was confusing because this was my Mom.  The abusive asshole rapist’s initials are C.C.  I actually heard he’s a Dr now.  I wonder if he’s still raping people & if he’s been able to fix all of his premature ejaculation issues by now.  After he finished raping me, he had the audacity to blame the entire thing on me.  I let him too, because I believed at the time that it probably was entirely my fault.

He later went on to serve an LDS mission in Australia.  He told a friend to tell me that he was sorry after he got back.  I’m wondering now as I type if he was apologizing for the verbal abuse, rape, or the dead fish part.  Hmmm, I guess we’ll never know.  I hope that somewhere, someday he gets the opportunity to read this & I hope it makes him feel like shit.

Also, please note that in my parents eyes, none of this happened.  They are probably claiming that I am making all of this up, even that I am the crazy one.  They are never wrong.  But if it’s all a lie then why does it hang over me like...like a cart.  Every so often my “cart” gets too heavy to pull.  Since I have such a high pain tolerance, sometimes it takes me a lot longer to realize the extreme weight, than it would most people.  It turns out that protecting the bad guys can be more taxing than losing your baby on Christmas to a meth-head, re-learning to walk, & almost dying.  Who knew?

With every word I type my cart gets lighter & lighter.  I’ve been pulling this thing around my whole life.  But you know what, I think we should go through what’s inside of it together.  So maybe we can empty out some of your cart too, if you want.

Sorry for all the dark real ness guys.  But it’s real.  But I’m actually happy & fine.  I’m finding it so much easier to fly since I’ve come out of the closet.  Stay tuned, there’s more to come.  Happy New Year everybody!!!

P.S. I’ve really been debating if I should share these posts on Facebook lol, wait I’m serious.  Thoughts?



12.21.2017

Saving myself part 4

Ok, so the book’s amazing (walking on eggshells)!  It’s crazy to me that there’s an actual name & medically documented descriptions of her very same behaviors.

I am learning that responding to them in anger won’t ever change things.  I have a life time of pain bottled up inside me that never got to tell my side of the story.  I was so confused all growing up.  I always felt like their & (one of my siblings) free to punch anytime, punching bag.  My entire childhood I was in survival mode.  I grew up as the enemy in a war zone, of a war that made no sense.  I’m realizing that I’ve actually known, even been friends with several people with BPD over the years.  Some are easy to spot for me now.  Some take a few years.

People, when they’ve known me for awhile & find out about the crash they can’t believe it, & they tell me I’m amazing.   People find out I have triplets & they tell me I’m amazing.  People come to my business & fall in love with their browz & tell me I’m amazing.  

People tell me I’m amazing all the time you guys.  It’s just my very own parents that don’t.  Because I’m learning from the book that they probably don’t think I am.  And it hurts a lot when you don’t understand why your parents don’t see you.  

But having the knowledge that there’s a medical reason for their behavior helps me out a great deal.  Feeling validated; Helps me a great deal.  It even says that in the book that “kids of BPD really just need to feel validated by SOMEONE”.  Because they wonder if they are the crazy ones.  And finding validation is hard because most people can’t believe how bad it is.  

Right now, I’m attracting really good things & really good people.  I’ve honestly never been better.  My kids are great but getting so big!  It’s crazy to see their personalities mature but stay the same.  I could never scream at them all the time.  Sometimes it gets really overwhelming having triplets & sometimes I think Finn competes for our attention a little bit (he’s such a great person you guys❤️, they all are).  

Anyways, I practice not taking things personally like it’s my religion, but for some reason my parents behavior takes me back to a sad place.  And honestly it doesn’t take much from them at all to do that.  A lifetime of manipulation, confusion, verbal, & emotional abuse will do that to ya, I guess lol.  I just need to detach myself from people that trigger my pain.  Because I’ve had way too much sadness.  I just want to be happy.  And I will never be able to control my temper, because that little girl who could t defend herself wants to come out swinging.  Because that little girl is now strong & brave because of them.

I feel cheesy right now but I’m gonna keep going.

I watch my kids & all they WANT is for Ryan & I to see them.  I need to remember that as a parent always.  We need to actually SEE & HEAR them.  Even when they are (almost) 37, they need to be seen even just once a year, but hopefully a whole lot more than that.

I tell my girls that we are all fairies, and that every fairy has special gifts.  Holland is the snuggle, helpful around the house fairy (she really tries to do what she’s told, & she’s the most sensitive). Wren is the outfit fairy (cause girlfriend loves fashion).  And Dale is the hair & makeup fairy (girl after my own heart).  And Mommy is the kind of fairy that helps other grownup fairies feel pretty fairy.  Oh & I tell them they are amazing all the time.  Oh, and I try to pay close attention to their gifts so we can nurture them.  

Also, thank God I have Ryan!  

P.S. I have been typing this on my phone & so I apologize half of this is in italics 😆.


12.17.2017

Saving myself part 3

“The people that mind don’t matter, and the people that matter don’t mind.”
-Dr Seuss

My mantra!

I consider myself incredibly lucky because of all the people I get to meet & be around when I’m at work.  I get to repeatedly see people that inspire me & I learn so much every single day!  

I have one client who I saw yesterday & she just so happens to be a therapist or actually maybe a psychiatrist, she is very wise whatever she is.  About a year or so ago she was describing someone to the friend that referred her to me.  I listened quietly but I wasn’t paying close attention to the whole story.  But there were so many similarities to my Mom.  “That sounds exactly like my Mom!”, I quickly added.  “Your Mom has Borderline Personality Disorder”, she said back to me.  

I was surprised several appointments later when she mentioned my Mom having BPD casually, mostly because I was shocked that she even remembered.  Although I usually try not to talk about myself during people’s appointments unless they asked, I’m not exaggerating when I say I was excited to see her yesterday.  I immediately asked her advice on how to deal with my parents, (I think that one is a narcissist w/borderline tendencies & one is borderline with narcissistic tendencies btw).  She had mentioned before how it’s off common for a BPD to marry a NPD & how together they make an abusive dream team, (interesting right?).  Her answer was to deal with them as LITTLE as possible, IF AT ALL.  She said I would need to have concrete boundaries set into place & she said that no matter how much work I do on myself that merely associating with them will trigger my pain, “it’s basically cellular”.  She said that there is no abuse like that of a BPD parent.  I asked, “what about my kids?”...for it’s the guilt of my kids not seeing & knowing their grandparents that always gets me.  She said I need to protect them as well because, “They are who they are Kelly”.  

I tried to order the book that somebody recommended on my last post “Stop walking on eggshells”, on my kindle but couldn’t figure out how to order, pay for, & download it immediately onto my kindle.  I was only able to download the free sample & the paperback copy arrives tomorrow.  But the sample alone gave me some clarity.  I’M NOT THE CRAZY ONE!!!  I cannot wait to get it into my hands & read it!  I probably won’t be able to shut up about it afterwards either.  From what I gathered from reading the introduction is the face of BPD is hard to spot sometimes & that families w/BPD can appear normal to outsiders.  

All their behaviors make so much more sense to me now.  I wish I would’ve written my truth a long time ago!  I’m okay you guys, I’m not crying or even sad.  I’ve began this process many a times.  It’s probably easier for me to drop them from my life than it would be for my siblings (not that I mean my siblings should drop them etc), because I know that when they die I will be fine.  I’ve already lost a child.  There’s nothing worse & I know that nothing will ever Bee as hard as losing Colum.  Which to me feels like a CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!

Something else I didn’t tell you is I threw a family xmas party last night.  I invited my entire side of the family.  I wasn’t sure if anyone would show up I’ll get to why in a moment but first I just want to say that my parents just couldn’t afford to make it this year!  They are TOO POOR & own 2 houses & a Lexus, & so many diamonds.  I told them Walmart was hiring but they just couldn’t come because WE ARE TOO EXPENSIVE.  It’s a shame because our value is only going up & our prices will only follow.

On Thanksgiving I FaceTimed my parents whom are in Arizona at their friends house.  I was talking to my mother dearest & she’d act extra disinterested in me as usual so I just LET her for what unknowingly could be the very last time speak to my kids.  And I got on to say hi & the emotions of how much I missed my family surfaced.  I said, “Mom.  I miss my family so much”, as I began to cry.  Her immediate response was “uh, ok, bye” as I intermittently watched my moms hand float up & her finger click END.  She hung up on me.

My baby died on Christmas.  We were hit on Christmas Eve leaving my family party & ive barely seen much of my family since.  I MISS them.  Not my parents, it’s a SHAME but I just never have.  I miss most of my siblings!  I miss being around the good guys!  But you see my mom is the victim & I think she was enjoying herself on that day.  If “I” got sad then that would mean that she’d have to act sadder.  Or maybe, my Mother Dearest just doesn’t really care about me.  Either way, it set me off onto what I did next & why I didn’t know if anybody in my family would come.

I just started texting her/them.  I started out by asking them to come help me move Studios, fully knowing that it’d never happen.  But then Colum showed up & took over my thumbs.  It was actually HIS idea to charge my parents TOP DOLLAR not mine.  He’s brilliant you see.  He wants me to tell them exactly how I feel.  For weeks We texted them any horrible memory We could think of!  It felt amazing!  I’m going to write it all out publicly here on my blog though from now on!  Just because I can!  My baby died on Christmas & I have this platform that last I checked, over 2 million people have read my blog.  I want millions of people to know what the face of BPD & NPD looks like. I want to talk about abuse, not have a pity party.  I’m also seeing the big picture that my abusive childhood happened, & it happened to all of my siblings.  My parents “Are who they are”.

I’m going to get really real from now on because:

The people that mind don’t matter, & the people that matter they just wont mind if I do.

Thanks for reading, this is my therapy!


12.15.2017

Saving myself part II

While I was trapped in my hospital bed my parents told me that my MIL didn’t care if I lived or died.

You see, after I left the ICU the first time, the hospital staff thought it would be a good idea to put Ryan & I in the same room.  I remember being wheeled in to a room filled with people & immediately I wanted to ask them to take me back to where I was.  I just wanted to be alone.  I just wanted to be alone & cry.  I didn’t want visitors, the dr’s said that I shouldn’t have any either.  I didn’t want to have to smile at anybody.  I wanted to be alone with Ryan & I needed to see him be sad.  I needed him to be sad with me for a moment.  & when I was stimulated too much my heart monitor would go off.  My parents were trying to limit the amount of visitors, even stop them altogether.  But my MIL insisted that her son get all the visitors his heart desires.  Ryan looked very happy with his life & I could feel the tension although I was so in & out consciousness.  I didn’t understand at the time how he could be smiling.  & I was also surprised when several months later my SIL on his side came at me about how my parents & I were acting at that time towards visitors.  I could feel the resentment she still held against me for it, like I knew what was going on & not trying to survive the shear amount of utter pain I was in physically & emotionally.  I’ve had several very close friends that showed up to visit me tell me that they were screamed at by my father.  He even made some of them cry.

So yes, visitors were not good for my health.  It wasn’t just because I wanted to be alone, I needed to be physically.  So I assume my parents told me that my MIL didn’t care if I lived or died because that’s how she was acting, by dragging visitors in to see her son despite what the Dr’s were telling her. But that was SICK of them to tell me that.  And it was selfish of her to not care about my health. How would that make you feel?

It was so selfish of them to be fighting with each other instead behaving like Good Guys.  It’s inappropriate to turn someone’s tragedy into your own, when they are still in critical condition.

Ryan was talking to his mom in a different hospital room one day next to me.  After hanging up with her he started spilling his guts about how his mom would call him crying every single morning.  She told him that just following the viewing at the hospital that she walked up to my dad & said that she didn’t think we should have to pay for our son’s funeral & that they should both pay half.  She said that my dad agreed but then proceeded to get in his car & drive to the funeral home & paid in full with our money (that my uncle gave us to survive on, thank you Uncle!!!).

At first I believed her.  For years I believed her.  The woman who gave birth to my husband who didn’t care if I lived or died.  But now, I don’t know who I believe!  To be honest I think she shouldn’t have been confiding in Ryan at all at that time in our recovery.  And to repeatedly call him & cry to him about it was SELFISH of her.  I stopped trying to be anything but cordial with her long before the crash.  And to be honest that was ok with me.  But putting your son in the middle of something so SICK after going through such unthinkable things is SELF-SERVING.  That’s when you should phone a friend or even my Dad, not us, not Ryan!  Use your head!

I wish I had the insight back then that I do now with this.  I’ve been holding all of these other terrible things inside me for too long.  I’m tired.  My MIL did stay with us for 6 weeks after we had the triplets.  She did not miss 1 single feeding in those 6 weeks!  She cooked, she cleaned, & she acted like a mom should.  I’ve never had anyone especially my own mom do anything like that for me.  I AM SORRY  if I didn’t “thank” her enough for that!  I was kind of busy though & I had NO idea at the time that people would do things to “help” me only to be “thanked” enough.

I used to internalize everything & wonder “what’s wrong with me” & “I must be so repulsive that I don’t deserve their love”.  I would put their toxicity onto my own shoulders.  But Colum has helped me see that I’m a good guy & it’s THEIR own issues ...not because I’m disgusting.

I just moved The BrowHive to the most beautiful studio in all the land!  They let me sign the lease & deep down I’m terrified to pay the rent.  But Colum guides me to do things now so I know it’s where I’m supposed to bee.  It’s in a brand new building full of many Studios.  A couple of days ago I watched as the building’s manager sat on a chair while her mom & dad were hanging wallpaper in one of several of her businesses/studios.  Her Mom brought in a beautiful Christmas wreath & hung it up.  Her Dad is always there just fixing things for her!  I swear to you I have never seen anything like it in all my life.  Do people’s parents really do things for their kids like that?!?  I almost asked her once if they’re getting paid to help out so much!  It’s been remarkable to watch & she she has so much gratitude for them.  I want to bee that kind of human!  I want to bee helpful when my kids are embarking on the bravest business venture they’ve ever done!

After the sentencing was over with we made most of our local channels 10 o’clock news.  I wish I had it saved somewhere but on one of them the news journalist was talking about what happened.  When she talked about Ainsworth instead of his face on the screen there was a picture of MY DAD in his stead. My dad’s face was where the bad guys face was supposed to bee.  It was from a picture of him in the audience & we were all scratching our heads on how it got there.  I didn’t SEE what was right in front of me at the time.  I couldn’t hear what Colum & the universe we’re trying to tell me.  But this Thanksgiving was a magical one!!!

Also, if when my kids grow older & have issues about something I did; I will listen to them.  I will tell them that I’m sorry & I will hold them while we discuss how I can make it better.  My parents can’t do that.  Or maybe they just won’t.  Kids still want to feel loved by their parents even at age 37, maybe even have them act interested in their lives too.  So I’m writing this all down for myself because it feels empowering!  I feel so much lighter.  I even feel Colum a little bit stronger which tells me that I have the right to tell my story exactly as it happened.  There’s bad guys in every good story anyways.  Thank you to everyone who has prayed for us, donated to us, & been there for us when our families could not.  We really truly couldn’t have done it without you.  Happy Holidays!!!

12.14.2017

Saving myself

Airing dirty laundry only to let it go

Growing up my oldest sister told me she would get hives every time my mom had another baby.  The reason for this is because she was expected to take care of them.  She has told me that my mom never got up with me as a baby, she'd just let me cry & cry (I believe I was the most neglected by my parents overall in my family).  So it was her that got up with me, even though she was only a freshman or sophomore in high school.

The sister just older than I, I now have been told started seeing psychiatricists at the age of 5.  She was so loud & interruptive & self-serving.  She lived to make me look bad, & would beat me, one time she used a bat to my head.  Oh & she also had 100+ lbs on me.  Often as I would get dressed for school, the shirt I would plan on wearing would be ruined because it was stretched out because my sister would try on my clothes when I wasn't there.  I think she was a very difficult child for my parents & she was always out for me, never getting punished or punishment enough.  I was quite small when she was standing on the top edge of the couch with the bat just waiting for me.  I don’t recall being in a fight with her but I was innocently trotting down the stairs as she swinged & hit the wooden bat to my skull.  My Father was the first one to the scene & what I witnessed was barely a reprimand; he didn’t even put her in time out.  Maybe they didn’t know?  

As a child, I remember having so many mixed emotions.  Why was my mom always talking to my dad like that?  At age 10 is when I started mowing lawns.  It was such hard work & made me feel exhausted.  I didn't get paid.  While mowing lawns, at this young of an age I remember a sweet old man whose lawn I was currently mowing came outside & approached me slowly.  As I shyly looked up at his eyes I saw that he was crying.  His arthritic hand was shaking heavily probably from tremors as a piece of candy fell onto the grass below.  He emptied the rest of the candy in my hand, as I was catching them & putting them in my boxer short pockets.  While struggling to catch the free candy, I barely heard his gentle voice say, "a small girl should not be doing the work of a man".  I will always wonder if he knew if my Dad wasn't paying me.  

The night of Christmas Eve 2011, I showed up to my brothers house, I actually hadn't seen my parents in months.  I didn't have the vocabulary to know that I was actually setting up boundaries to protect myself from them at that time.  (I actually still need more vocabulary & therapy).  As the youngest of 7 children I was never nurtured, I never felt special, or even loved by them... truthfully.

My first memories of my mom after the crash was her hovering over me repeating, "I won't hold this against you, I won't hold this against you".  I knew what she meant.  She meant because she hadn't seen Colum in months, & I was to blame for that since I was trying to protect myself from my parents ways.  They don’t even try, they never have & it still hurts to feel unloved by your parents.

After our car accident I went to therapy.  But not because of my fear of driving in cars or PTSD, but because I needed tools to deal with my Mom; whom turned our tragedy into being all about her.  She turned my losing Colum into some sort of sick competition & I wasn't competing.  My mom would call me and just cry psychotically.  I would put her on speaker so Ryan could hear her.  She was wanting ME to console her for Colum's death.  She wanted to be the victim, because she always is.  Up until recently I would justify her behavior, maybe she never properly grieved my brothers death approximately 45-50 years ago?  But I’m 6 years out & am nowhere near to behaving that way.

One time in a court hearing, I think it's when he plead guilty, I began to cry.  The room was filled with news journalists, & bailiffs.  Within seconds of me starting to cry, I heard my Dear Mother start sobbing harder & louder than me.  I couldn't help but feel that my mom brought her victim competition with her.  

When I was younger my mom & sister just older than I would clench their fists & purse their lips (an impression of something I had no idea I would do) & call me lazy & helpless.  I still to this day overwork myself to compensate for them doing that to me over the years.  Is this normal?  Did your mom & sister do this to you?

My parents & the bishop we used to live next door to (that wouldn’t wave to me) actually drove to the hospital & "blessed" our kids into the Mormon church without asking us, their parents who were still fighting for our lives.  This wasn’t cool.

I remember her coming to my hospital room, I was trapped in & naming off the gifts that caring friends, strangers, & neighbors were giving her; a little Jesus figurine holding a boy that resembled Colum was one I specifically remember.  Tears fell from my eyes as I expressed my desire for even one of those things to have in my room with me.  The satisfaction in her evil smirk she gave me, is something I can never forget.  Why would a mother compete with her daughter after going through something so horrible?

My childhood was a lot of the time a hostile situation between my sister & both my parents.  Ask ANY friend who came home with me from school & they will tell you that all my parents ever did was scream at me, my mom usually never even left her bedroom, she’d scream like a senile person at me over leaving a light on.  My Dads yelling would escalate over nothing & many friends witnessed him chasing me through the hallway & around the kitchen with his hand in the air screaming at me over what didn’t make sense.  If they weren't screaming at me, I was invisible to them.

I clearly struggled with eating disorders & a (very) severe case of body dysmorphia (still a struggle for me).  I continued to mow lawns through the age of 18 for free, but my dad always drilled it into all his daughters heads that it was to pay for our weddings.  I mowed up to 180 lawns per week with boys around my age whom my dad would pay, but all they’d talk about was how cheap he was & basically call him an asshole as I’d listen quietly in the truck wanting to shout at them that at least they were getting paid something!  I payed for my own wedding (mostly it came out of Ryan’s paycheck at age 23, I was 20) which I'm still confused about, along with a lot of other things.  But I’d rather pay for it myself than ask them for anything.  And in case your wondering they didn't pay for college or offer.  I grew up saving my lunch money so I could buy a things like deodorant, & a dress for prom & other dances.  It was easy because I was so disgusted with myself that I felt I didn't deserve to eat.  I was neglected, & abused emotionally.  I had no self worth.  I still struggle with feeling worthy of most peoples affection.

I graduated high school early & moved to Denver with a friend.  I did this to escape my life at home.  There we worked jobs & got our own apartment & I lived 100% independently on my own.  It was a huge struggle & it was scary & now that I’m a mom I can’t believe they didn’t care more about me.  I remember all my friends that worked the same job as I would receive tax returns & we would claim the same thing.  I never got one.  I now know that my father was claiming me & keeping the money.  Probably to help pay for my moms purse/whatever else shopping addiction.  "We all pull our own cart in this family".  But honestly it felt like my cart was full of my moms purses, diamonds, & material things.  It sent such a mixed messaged to me with all the waiting for my mom while she was shopping throughout my childhood.  I still can’t bring myself to shop at any outlets because if I wasn’t mowing lawns I was waiting for my mom for countless hours to pick out her millionth purse & sometimes a diamond.  If we are so poor how come you can shop so much?

My sister told me 6-9 months or so after the crash that concerned people around town would come up to her & ask, "how's your mom doin?", & she'd respond, "uh, ya mean my sister right?, you know my mom wasn't in the car".

When I was about 12 I remember working the guts up to ask my mom if She thought I was pretty, (cause she never once told me).  Her response was, " well, do you think I'm pretty?,  because you look like me".  I probably shrugged & I remember running downstairs in my room& crying.  I just wanted to be seen, just for a moment.  I don't have any pleasant childhood memories associated with either of my parents.  I’m not lying when I say I can’t think of one.

A couple years ago my oldest Niece on my husbands side told me that, her, her sister, her mom, & her Grandma (my MIL) sit around and talk about how I didn't thank them enough for helping us, (I assume for watching Finn when we couldn’t wipe our own asses etc). This came shortly after the 2 page letter my MIL wrote me exclaiming that I let my tragedy effect me too much & so many other horrible things.  This confused me since I NEVER spoke with her about  our tragedy.  It also broke me because I really needed a mom figure in my life.  My in laws won’t even say Colums name even though THEY were the ones that actually KNEW him the best.  It still stings so much, but I just can’t work with a group of Women that won’t talk to me to my face or can’t say the word Colum just cause a Meth head took him away from all us.  It feels so cold when I’m around them.

Ryan, used to think I was being dramatic actually about the way I felt about my parents & upbringing.  He’d roll his eyes at me.  This was only until we shared a room or 2 or 3 at the U of U hospital after our tragedy.  I can’t figure out what the exact moment it was that he recognized the absolute horrible behavior of both my parents & continues to apologize & understand me better to this very day!

He’d see them act like heros in front of all the important people only to benefit themselves.  They’d volunteer to pick up things we needed such as combs, bed sheets, & the equivalent of male stripper pants with buttons down the side (these are what handicap peoples dreams are made of), only to nickel & dime us for every cent.  They kept track of every single penny!  But they would never except in front of other people, not even in front of the Costco cashiers.  My parents didn’t/wouldn’t fork out $2 for us, we had to pay them back & hey, they even got to go shopping how satisfying for them.

I am still very confused by their money hungry, childhood stealing, hard labor they put us through, & all their weird hang ups & manipulations.  But I’ve recently realized with the help of Colum that I can no longer have them in my life... well that is unless they are willing to pay TOP DOLLAR to see us, for this is what I believe my/our worth is.  I’m requesting $1000 each to see any of us.  This is to go towards therapy that I need & to pay my sitter while I’m there.  I would also like to put some of the $ towards my triplets preschool because truthfully we can’t afford it right now.  It’s pretty rough when people ask if they are in preschool & most the time I make up an excuse.  There are the government funded preschools that we have been looking into for next year FYI. 

I think my upbringing made me strong & im really grateful for that.  But, sometimes it’d be nice to have just one parent, just one even once a year that told me they were proud of me & showed some sort of affection.  Somebody that wouldn’t twist & turn things I said into something that I didn’t.  In my profession I witness this kind of mother/daughter relationship & it gives me hope for my daughters & I.  

Ryan & I were put in the middle of way too many situations while we were in the hospital that we shouldn’t have.  I think BOTH sides are at fault for that.  I also think it was the most SELFISH behavior I’ve ever witnessed in my adult life.  And it’s unfair that we both have so many toxic people around us.

I’ve slowly been detoxing from ALL toxic people in my life over the last few years.  I don’t think I’m perfect by ANY means but I do know that I am overly humble, a hard worker, & have a very creative mind.  I care about other humans & consider myself to be brave & strong.  I will put almost anyone before I put myself & I’m actually a really decent person.

Colum has showed me to look at the world & the people in it like a child.  You see, there are good people & there are bad people.  I’m a good guy.  I really am a good person that cares about others.  I’ve recently realized with the help of an unknowingly helpful friend that I was starting to not SEE my own kids.  I wasn’t nurturing them!  I was starting to resemble my own parents.  I want them to be seen & heard.  And most importantly that I want them to feel nurtured.


I never wrote the truth about what was happening behind the scenes because I used to want to protect the bad guys.  But, over thanksgiving I had the most spiritual experience of my life.  Colum’s here with me now & he’s strong, brilliant, & funny.  Even though they are my parents, I don’t need to have all of their negativity around me, for misery loves company.  I just want to bee happy, bee myself, & bee good.

6.28.2016

Roller Coasters

Colum turns 6 years old tomorrow.  I should be getting ready for his party.  I should be scrambling to get all the ingredients ready to make his Birthday cake.  He should have just finished kindergarten and would be going into first grade. June this year has been hard for me.

I am opening up my own tiny brow studio (it's called the BrowHive).  It's a little tricky getting everything ready when you have three 2 year olds.  In preparation today I took all 4 kids to the Health Department with me, but before that I spontaneously took the 4 kids and I to Macaroni Grill.  I used to not take them out alone because my anxiety levels get so high, my clothes are sopping wet from the sweat from the panic attacks I'm keeping at bay, and it's just too much.  Why am I like that?  Is it because if anything happened to anyone I'd go crazy?  Yup.

I've gotten better.  An older lady walked up to our table of 5 brunettes & pasta and said, "you have such well behaved children".  I thanked her and Wren immediately starts babbling about her cane.  The kind woman jokes that the reason she has a cane is because she's an old woman.  I hesitate but say it anyways because I know Finn will if I don't, "Mommy used to have a cane too, Bird".  I smile to myself because my kids ARE really well behaved & it's not uncommon for us to be told that.  And thank God that they are for we are out numbered!  Rooting myself on is something that I do to myself quietly in my head.  We have triplets and we are doing it!, and we are doing it all on our own.

Finn asks me every year what we are going to do for Colum's Birthday.   I don't know, is my answer these days.  But all I really want to say is survive.  Last year I cried so much my eyes were swollen shut & purple and I was scheduled to work (in cosmetics mind you).  I contemplated not going.  I've noticed that I talk about him less and less.  I am so busy all the time and I am so tired that I just put everything aside.  Nobody really knows what this is really like.  The dates such as Birthdays, Holidays, and for our case Christmas and all those days in between. 

A lot of the people that I thought I could trust have turned out to be well...untrustworthy.  Sometimes the drama that people cause, well it literally blows my mind.  I know that sometimes people hurt other people because it makes them feel safe.  Why do people lie so much?  Why do grown people make up scenarios that didn't ever happen?  And when people don't have you or your family's best interests and lie/make up scenarios why would we want to be around you? 

 I hope that hurting us made you feel safe.  I hope you got everything you wanted.

Please leave us alone. 
 we have been hurt enough and are just wanting to survive.

 
we are not into roller coasters, especially those that we can control.

I feel like every time I get off one roller coaster I'm forced on to the next.  I just don't really want to be on ANY roller coasters anymore.  In fact I just want to skip the amusement parks all together.   For example, sometimes I stay on a roller coaster (the job I just quit) in hopes of being done with roller coasters all together (another job).  But it turns out it was just a different type of roller coaster.  I stood there and watched that roller coaster just coast on by without me.  Put me down for long walks on the beach.  Ferris wheels, nah I'm good I'd rather scrub toilets.  Smooth sailin' is all I want.  If there's rough waters aka drama/shitty people/man getting out of prison after they kill my son; we will just stay right here on the dock and eat a Popsicle. 

P.S. I haven't heard anything about the Thomas Ainsworth appeal.  I'm sorry I didn't update you all.  I just can't handle it you guys.  I can't take it on.  I haven't even called the Prosecutor.  I'm on my own little cloud of denial and it feels fine for now.  I just want smooth sailin' and for him to stay in there.  I can't break down right now I have small children.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SWEET BABY COLUM!  I MISS YOU EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY!  I LIVE MY LIFE FOR YOU!!!

2.24.2016

Piano article

STEVEN KALAS:
When you lose a child, grieving is a lifelong experience
When our first child is born, a loud voice says, “Runners, take your marks!” We hear the starting gun and the race begins. It’s a race we must win at all cost. We have to win. The competition is called “I’ll race you to the grave.” I’m currently racing three sons. I really want to win. 
Not everyone wins. 
I’m here at the national meeting of Compassionate Friends, an organization offering support and resources for parents who lose the race. I’m wandering the halls during the “break-out” sessions. In this room are parents whose children died in car accidents. Over there is a room full of parents of murdered children. Parents of cancer victims are at the end of the hall. Miscarriages and stillbirths are grouped together, as are parents who have survived a child’s suicide. And so it goes. 
In a few minutes, I’m going to address Compassionate Friends. This is the toughest audience of my life. I mix with the gathering crowd, and a woman from Delaware glances at my name tag. Her name tag has a photo of her deceased son. My name tag is absent photos. 
“So … you haven’t … lost anyone,” she says cautiously. 
“My three sons are yet alive, if that’s what you’re asking me,” I say gently.
She tries to nod politely, but I can see that I’ve lost credibility in her eyes. She’s wondering who invited this speaker, and what on earth he could ever have to say to her. 
My address is titled “The Myth of Getting Over It.” It’s my attempt to answer the driving questions of grieving parents: When will I get over this? How do I get over this? 
You don’t get over it. Getting over it is an inappropriate goal. An unreasonable hope. The loss of a child changes you. It changes your marriage. It changes the way birds sing. It changes the way the sun rises and sets. You are forever different. 
You don’t want to get over it. Don’t act surprised. As awful a burden as grief is, you know intuitively that it matters, that it is profoundly important to be grieving. Your grief plays a crucial part in staying connected to your child’s life. To give up your grief would mean losing your child yet again. If I had the power to take your grief away, you’d fight me to keep it. Your grief is awful, but it is also holy. And somewhere inside you, you know that. 
The goal is not to get over it. The goal is to get on with it. 
Profound grief is like being in a stage play wherein suddenly the stagehands push a huge grand piano into the middle of the set. The piano paralyzes the play. It dominates the stage. No matter where you move, it impedes your sight lines, your blocking, your ability to interact with the other players. You keep banging into it, surprised each time that it’s still there. It takes all your concentration to work around it, this at a time when you have little ability or desire to concentrate on anything. 
The piano changes everything. The entire play must be rewritten around it. 
But over time the piano is pushed to stage left. Then to upper stage left. You are the playwright, and slowly, surely, you begin to find the impetus and wherewithal to stop reacting to the intrusive piano. Instead, you engage it. Instead of writing every scene around the piano, you begin to write the piano into each scene, into the story of your life. 
You learn to play that piano. You’re surprised to find that you want to play, that it’s meaningful, even peaceful to play it. At first your songs are filled with pain, bitterness, even despair. But later you find your songs contain beauty, peace, a greater capacity for love and compassion. You and grief — together — begin to compose hope. Who’da thought?
ur grief becomes an intimate treasure, though the spaces between the grief lengthen. You no longer need to play the piano every day, or even every month. But later, when you’re 84, staring out your kitchen window on a random Tuesday morning, you welcome the sigh, the tears, the wistful pain that moves through your heart and reminds you that your child’s life mattered. 
You wipe the dust off the piano and sit down to play.

2.12.2016

Pissed cause I'm happy

So I've been meaning to get on here and express that I've calmed down.

Most hours I'm calm...surprisingly calm and then suddenly I.AM.PISSED.

But I mean, for the most part we are doing really great.  Ryan is of course doing much better than me because I think he's the best at most things.  

I just don't understand.  

I don't understand that his Mom got up during sentencing while I FINALLY got to read my pain.  I MEAN WE ALL HEARD THE ONE LADY WITH HER NOISES OF DISGUST, STOMPING FEET, AND THE SLAMMING OF THE DOORS. I MEAN I GUESS SHE WANTS HER DAD TO BE OUT OF PRISON BUT LIKE, I DIDN'T REALLY WANT TO DESIGN MY CHILD'S HEADSTONE WITH CHRISTMAS DAY AS HIS DAY OF DEATH...IDK.  EVEN 11 DAYS POST GIVING BIRTH TO TRIPLETS, READING MY PAIN, YUP, I HEARD YA. BUT I DIDN'T HEAR THE QUIET STEPS OF HIS MOTHER. QUIET STEPS HIDE FROM THE TRUTH AND THE LOUD ONES DENY IT.

I am trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to have the time to become an activist.  I'm scared about juggling another ball right now.  But I'm slowly learning more as I go.  I promise I will try.

We are really happy!  I'm like pissed cause WE ARE REALLY HAPPY.  And like I enjoy being happy.  I'm pissed that despite what we've been through we are doing GREAT, and now this bullshit is yet again raining on my damn parade.  

I LOVE my job guys!  I LOVE what I do.  Hi, my name is Kelly and I love what I do.  Ryan loves his job!  Kids are great!
 
We have super great babysitters right now and I don't know what we'd do without them.  #BLESSED #SOGRATEFUL

I know that I will learn from this.  I hope that others can too. But I think that laws need to change.  

So when I was younger I had this boy that broke my heart.  It sucked so bad and felt like forever for me to get over him. I went to Garth Brooks and he sang unanswered prayers and it gave me the chills.  I am so grateful that my heart has been broken.  I can emphasize with a lot of women.  I remember the pain.  When I couldn't get pregnant I learned what that pain felt like...when I lost Colum... And now I am learning a new pain.  I will learn things from this horrible experience.  I can emphasize with other women.  I feel strong.


This was not in our life plan.  


This can happen to any ordinary person.

 
   

1.12.2016

clarification part 2



*The first thing I'd like to address is the alleged cell phone drop.  At the scene Thomas Randall Ainsworth told officers that he had dropped his cell phone on the floor and was reaching for it and this was the reason he lost control of his vehicle.

Well during his sentencing it was revealed that:


 his cell phone was actually found in the center console of his vehicle.  

KSL is still reporting that he claims to drop his cell phone.  Why aren't they reporting the real facts of the case?  I'm gonna repeat it again just so you can hear me:


his cell phone was actually found in the center console of his vehicle  

was he just so high that the 'drop' was a hallucination...???

I know that if you are awake for a few days straight hallucinations can happen!  

So he either LIED OR HE HALLUCINATED from being HIGH ON AN ILLEGAL FREAKING SUBSTANCE!!!

He was driving 78 mph & his foot never came off the gas pedal people!

**Let it be known that when these accidents happen they do a toxicology report.  Blood is drawn and sent into labs where toxicologists test it.  These tests actually take 6-8 weeks to be sent back.  The toxicologists can actually pinpoint if he was actually "high" on Meth or not at the time of the accident.  There are active substances found in the blood and they can pinpoint his usage within hours.  It does stay in your system for 1-3 days after your last usage in a urine test but a blood test is more accurate.  

So HE WAS ACTUALLY HIGH ON METH WHEN HE HIT US.

Why is this not made clear to people?  If you read the comments from yesterday's article here, you will read that a lot of people truly believe he wasn't even high.  This infuriates me to the core!  People are commenting that the appeal was approved because he wasn't high.  I can no longer comment on said article apparently there is a limit that I reached.  

He hit us on 12/24/2011.  His warrant for his arrest wasn't until 3/20/2012.  Why did it take so long to arrest him you ask?  Because the toxicology report takes a freaking long time and then they had to build a case against him.  We assumed he was drunk for nearly 3 months.  We didn't get ANY answers for 3 long horrible months!!!  Just imagine.

And remember this little gem: *His Mom called the prosecutor a few days before the sentencing saying that he reminded her she'd given him some Sudafed (Christmas Eve) and that this was all her fault.  So basically he put all of this horrible tragedy on her shoulders.  He thought he'd tell his Mom it was the Sudafed...cause he knows that there is an ingredient in Sudafed that Meth cooks use to make Meth out of.  His Mom believed him too.  


***The state of Utah had tried to rehabilitate him at least 6 times.  It was documented that one of the times he didn't show up for detox he told his probation officer that he wouldn't go because, "he didn't want to be in there with all the drunks and heroine addicts".  Many many failed urine tests where before taking them he said he was clean and upon failing them he would admit his use.

Here's my problem 6 times!  Yes, people make mistakes.  People deserve 2nd chances... but do they deserve 7 chances?  How about 27 chances?  After all the chances he's been given he still continues to get out and act like a criminal.  

****He had no insurance!  He had no insurance and it was never held against him.  To the courts and the law this wasn't a big enough deal to prosecute him for.  But it was a big deal to us.  Did you know that I used to have really great credit?  Now, I can't even look at it because I get so upset.  This effects us significantly.  I still owe people money.  I've lost count to how many times I've been sent to collections.  I need a knee replacement.  We need therapy, a lot of therapy.  But we can't afford it and we'd have to take time off of work to get it.  Ryan still needs physical therapy but we can't afford it, and he can't take time off of work to get it even if we could.  It's a hopeless feeling that we fight daily.

*****And lastly why is it that he be punished equally for being impaired on an illegal substance vs a legal substance?  Why is it that killing somebody while impaired is only a 3rd degree felony?   It may be too late for us.  But I'm passionate about making a change.

In about 60-90 days there will be a hearing.  I'm asking all of you for support.  I'm asking for bodies to be present.  I'm asking for signage, social media, and vocal support.  Please let's share ideas on how we can make an impact and just maybe get this law changed for all of us.  Please share!

clarification part 1


Thomas Randall Ainsworth appealed his conviction and it was approved.  He pled guilty but reserved his right to appeal.

If you want to read the opinion of the appeal click here.

I spoke with our prosecutor this morning and she explained to me what I am going to attempt to explain to all of you now.  Please forgive me if I use incorrect terms etc, I promise to do my best.

Thomas Randall Ainsworth was found guilty of 3 2nd degree felonies for impaired driving causing serious bodily injury &/or death.  His sentence was 3-45 years spent consecutively.  (Consecutive sentences are served one after the other.  Concurrently is the other option which means he could serve all three at the same time.)

His attorneys argued it unconstitutional because if somebody driving under the influence of let's say alcohol causes serious bodily injury or death would only get 3rd degree felony(ies).  Automobile homicide is actually a 3rd degree felony.  I think a lot of people were confused as to why he wasn't charged with automobile homicide in the first place and it's actually a lesser charge.

The Appeals Court approved his appeal.  

So now what?

So now the appeal is being appealed.  Now we wait to see if the Utah Supreme Court will accept the appeal or not.  From what I understand we will know in 60 days and if they accept it then we wait an additional 30 days and more hearings will take place.

If they don't accept it then there will be another sentencing since all 3 of his 2nd degree felonies will be reduced to 3rd degree felonies.  His sentence will be reduced from 3-45 years per felony to 0-15 years per felony and the good news is that the will stay consecutive (they tried to get it changed to concurrent during the appeal process and didn't win that battle).  

It's important to take note that his sentence was consecutive and not concurrent.  This is determined during sentencing, which is the only time the judge can take his criminal past into consideration.  

If/when there is another sentencing then Ryan and I will be allowed to speak.  We would love all the support, people there, signs, etc to be present that day.