Cherry sent me these two pics of her current billet.
http://tapatalk.imageshack.com/v2/14...217975f321.jpg
http://tapatalk.imageshack.com/v2/14...79ab44b01a.jpg
and says she hopes to drop in here soon.

I was just worrying about her yesterday and seeing these pics is kind of relieving.

Comfy looking digs. Hope she's doing well!

That looks very nice.

Looks nice considering where she actually is.

Thanks for posting those, limey. I'm glad she's doing well.

Looks pretty nice. Hope she is well.

Hang in there, Cherry. The digs look good. Thanks, Limey, for sharing this.

Thanks to everyone.
Communication here is difficult and limited, and I'll admit after a day of sessions and soul-searching I am often not in the mood, even if I do have the opportunity.

Money is still an issue, as ever as always, even though I anticipated it not being, what with almost everything provided. Unfortunately going home every weekend for post and bits and bats I forgot takes 1/4 automatically from the pot. I've also had to replace things I thought were okay but weren't, like trainers for the gym and a new swimsuit. And to supplement my food (see below - that stops this week) and then my bank has just taken £28 of my £17 per week allowance.

BUT I am working with a trainee social worker so that when I walk out of here I no longer have to fear bailiffs or unexpected bills or anything being cut off (like fingers). Which is worth a lot.
Anyway as soon as I can get some stamps I'll send some more postcards out.

Morning is breakfast, chores, sessions until lunchtime.
Lunch
Afternoon sessions then dinner, homework and once a week a "social evening" which is 50p but that pays for prizes.
The food is very stodgy, and comes in enormous quantities. No point in saving some for the next day, as there will be just as much, and no result to request for smaller portions. There is also no attempt at nutrition; lunch today was a white floury bap with bacon. No fibre, fruit, vegetables etc. None of my favourite grains, all rice and pasta are white, few spices etc.

We often get highly discounted food on its sell-by date from a local cash & carry, but this is mostly sweet items or things like trays of sandwiches which arrive after dinner. Occasional fruit bowls which cannot be relied on. So I've been trying to buy my own fruit, but I can only do this from the market once a week (it closes before I can leave late afternoon) and the closest supermarket open late Mon-Fri only sells large packs of what I like - not a bargain.

Anyway. Enough with the moaning.
Free hot water, laundry (inc detergent), drying, good showers, toilet paper (I was half-inching it from pubs before I came in here), two hours gym a week and at least three weekends out of four off, except for homework. The other weekend will include a Saturday or Sunday in the kitchen, which eats up the best part of four hours in the middle of the day and an hour from 16.30.

As you can see from the photos (thanks Limey) I have a decent room. I got the smallest one when I first came off detox, so was offered this one as soon as it was free. Yay!

The work is hard. Sometimes it cuts to the bone and makes me cry all evening. Sometimes it's dull. Sometimes the carb dip after lunch makes even an interesting session hard to keep my eyes open. I'm catatonic.

Sleeping well generally, although still extremely anxious. But I can sleep from 21.30 until 06.50 every night.
Getting fat as a pig by gomming down the sweet food I now crave to replace the alcohol (see above for "trying to replace with fruit") Am making another concerted effort this week. Still, I've lost weight before. I haven't been sober this long for a while.

Miss you all.
Please come as private patients and give me some normal people to interact with. Ones who don't chain-smoke or crunch sweets constantly at least.

Great to hear from you again, Cherry!

Best wishes.:):):)

Excellent to hear from you, Sundae! Maybe Dana could smuggle some fruit into the premises?


Sent by thought transference

Sundae!!!

Nice to hear form you m'dear. I am unable to text unfortunately (account not active :p). Have tried ringing your mobile - is that working?

I have been trying to make myself send back a card/letter - I will do so tomorrow! I will be there on the 22nd :)

Was hoping to get over there sooner, but between the thesis (dangerously close to the extended deadline now) the telesales job and Nelle sitting when Mum's at SAMs, it just isn't happening :(

Most work worth doing is hard.

This work is worth doing! You ARE doing it! I say, go go go!

You seem like you're doing well, Sundae. I'm happy for you!

Sounds like you're on a good path. Congrats.

Keep up the good work...you're worth it.

Keep after it hammer and tongs.

Good job Sundae. What a nice surprise to hear from you. It sounds like you've got a good understanding of what's expected, what's needed from you. It sounds like you're doing what needs to be done. That is an inspiration. Thanks.

Catch up when you can, we'll be thinking of you. :)

It's good to hear from you. I'm glad you're doing what needs doing.

It is good to here from you Cherry, we love you and, are praying for you.

Don't want to rush you, Sundae, or cast nasturtiums...but there's been no activity in the celeb death pool since you took a break..... those geriatric brits seem to have stopped dying off so much.... ;)

Up and down here.
I've wanted to leave, I've wanted to stay forever.

Today is a good day :)

I'm sure that the 'down' days will dwindle to the point of insignificance, Cherry.

Keep plugging away. You can do it! :thumb:

All the best.

Up and down, up and down, then at the end a euphoric orgasm. Good plan. :thumb:

Painted my nails this afternoon, always a good sign.
I've been making friends with the local wildlife.

When I get a chance to upload some more photos, I'll share my one of a jay.
Never seen one before I moved here. Supposed to be shy woodland birds, hard to spot in flight. Apart from when they swoop in to get nuts from city centre rehab windowsills, or sit preening in nearby cherry trees waiting for some more to be served. At least the squirrel dines in rather than take-away.

Poor squirrels have three members of the crow family after their nuts in Leeds; crows, magpies and jays. Or maybe I attract them personally, being the biggest nut of all.

Is there an Oak in the vicinity? Jays are particularly fond of acorns so that might explain their presence. They'll build up a store of the things to keep them going through the winter.

We do see them from time to time here and several years ago we had three visit the garden frequently to feed on the crushed peanuts we left out.

Do you have the Eurasian jays?

That's the one, Bruce.

(I hope I'm not treading on Sundae's toes.:blush:)

Shouldn't think so, she'll post her Jay in due time. I was curious which Jay you get, as we get mostly Blue Jays. They're smart as hell, like the rest of the family(crows & Ravens), but bullies of the bird feeder.

The shriek of the blue jay is one of my least favorite sounds. I hate it. Grates on my nerves.

Went over to see Sundae today :) Gave her all your well wishes. Had a nice visit and she seemed in good spirits overall.

Thanks for representing us, Dana, I'm sure you did us proud.:D

Ditto.

Good oh!


Sent by thought transference

I went to rehab.
Everyone was very kind, decent, determined to save us all.
This does not seek to mock them or belittle their efforts in any way.

But cheez-Louise, if you don't laugh you're going to cry, right?

We had Music Therapy every week.
The "child" of my key-worker - a great person and a good session. I learned more in that session about the other two people in my intake than any other.

To some people it was a joke, a blag. To us it was quite important and special, because none of us really REALLY liked music.
So knowing the others didn't either, I just chose what suited me and what matched the theme, I'd have been far more choosy if it had been a musical set of people.
I was stymied - actually we all were - by having no CDs and no portable music playing devices with us. Not music people, see?
Turns out my mini DVD player (from Mum, love it) plays CDs just fine.
So I'm off spending a whole week trawling the markets and second hand shops of Leeds just looking for the song I've decided on.
And five minutes before the session, two-tooth Mark is checking out the CD rack in the communal pool room.

Tcha.

I win though.
Of course.
I don't tell you the stories when I don't.

Because I made them listen to a song in French.
And Monty Python's Galaxy Song (for "Uplifting")
And when it was "Our Song" I chose one about the group, because I didn't have anyone else. Which made them a little sad. Given all the time and resources in the world I'd have played them The Doctor and I of course, to take in Limes, Dana, Bri, Arran, pantomimes and the Cellar in general. But you know, world enough and time and all that and everything.

Talking of Dana, she is excused this class because I told her all about it in enormous length and girth. And of course then we danced like totes amazeballs.

More exciting instalments if I get the chance.
Some of which may encompass the ridiculous food we were served.
Ridiculous in portion size I mean - I've been poor and hungry and I'll never scoff at a free meal. But no wonder I'm so huge now. I ate half of Yorkshire while I stayed there.

Awesome! I haven't danced in ages. Not officially anyway.

Dana's house is the best venue.
Me, You, Her, Carrot. Tomorrow.

Okay, this is not a Christmas story.
It is not uplifting and does not as yet have a happy ending.
Please do not read today if that is what you are hoping for.

So anyone who took an interest knows I got myself kicked out of rehab for a single drink.
It's policy, and a policy I signed so I am apportioning no blame, just making it clear I didn't go on a two day bender or something.
Gutted at the time, because despite minor grumbles (I will always have those and to be fair I think many people do, I just record mine for posterity) it is the happiest and most stable I have been in YEARS, except on Arran).
Hung drawn and quartered afterwards because I simply couldn't cope coming out, finding out Diz was dead, losing my meds, my routine, etc etc.

So yes, that's when the bender really started.
No apologies. I am not an unrepentant alcoholic, but an alcoholic I am.
I can actually control it when my life is stable. But you know me and stable. The Baby Jebus is better acquainted.
Put myself in hospital again.

Woke up in the early hours of the morning - I've never really written about rehab but while there I had night after night of uninterrupted, peaceful and beneficial sleep. So this was a shock to the system.
Anyway I had the shakes SO bad, despite only having had a drink hours beforehand. My heart was doing a tarantella, my breathing was shallow and my skin was so sensitive that even during my intermittent freezy periods I could not bear anything touching it. By the time it was light I could see I was once again bright yellow with the old goldeneye, and I don't mean the song by Tina Turner.

So this time I avoided the GP as they had been so very difficult while I was in rehab.
No, really.
If I had the energy and inclination (criminal) I'd have torched the place.
Luckily I have neither.
Or the bus fare.

So off to St James's Hospital A&E.
This time I knew it would be a longer stay, so I packed more useful stuff.
Like a bag to vomit in. That's about it.
Alcoholics + planning = shit, unless it's planning more alcohol.
I was expecting the usual interminable wait in A&E despite it being pretty much the first bus into Leeds and a weekday besides (do NOT go in at night or at the weekend, or during any amateur sporting event. Or at all) So I asked for one of the pretty cardboard hats to be sick into. Finally a good decision.
I was.
In my usual fashion - noisily and ridiculously dramatically. Have done since I was a tiny mini-me (Mum says, "Why can't you just be sick normally like your sister?) Nope. Always a drama. Nothing like the rest of my life at all.

Anyway, this bumped me up the list because I was polite, articulate, considerate, Southern (sorry, it's true, we get different treatment), yellow as a banana and could probably have Ebola or something. I spoke to a lovely treatment Doctor (himself a Southern emigree - Eltham, don't blame him) who was kind enough to compliment me on being the first drunk he'd ever treated who behaved in a civil fashion. Must have been my fashion sense, as puking in A&E, even in a cardboard hat, is hardly civil. Maybe he liked my purple coat.

Off again to SAU, where I went last time before they got me into rehab.
Where all the Nurses spend their time doing admin jobs, trying to get beds for everyone - which means pretty much everyone not bleeding or dying. Oh and fitting canulas and checking no-one has shrunk since they were last admitted. This hospital obsession with height, I swear...

I got a bed pretty quickly this time, only about 12? hours.
Shame it was on such a lacklustre ward. Still...

Long post already.
Will continue.

I arrived on the Gastro ward via orter at about 01.30.
No-one on the desk, but the porter (nice chap) had my bed number and delivered me.
This meant I had no introduction and in fact had to ask other patients for minor help like where the loo was etc.
Found out days later there was a Day Room including a free TV (you have to pay something RIDICULOUS for TV and phones on wards now. I think it's £5 an hour) And it had BOOKS IN.

Slept most of the day thanks to Chlordiazepoxide - necessary for detox, not their fault - then stayed awake all night because I was on a ward of 4 old biddies who couldn't work their call buttons and kept shouting "Nurse! Nurse!" So nice to hear and smell someone sharting into a cardboard hat.

Aside from food, I had no treatment, no questions, no assistance.
Well. fair enough, I put myself there. There are real people with real problems after all.

Oh except a lovely lady on the SAU. 50's I'd say.
Limey's attitude.
Yes there are rules but if you've broken them it doesn't mean you're broken yourself.
She told me I was less trouble than what I termed people with "real" problems because some of them drove too fast, or ate too much sugar or put themselves in as much danger as I had. And for goodness sake I was polite about it. Never saw her name badge, wish I had. I'd send her a thank you card without details.

So off home.

Guess what?
Nothing had changed!
Diz was still dead. My flat was still a health hazard. I was still in financial trouble, and the pubs were still open.
Well, well, well.
Let's see if we can work out what happened next boys and girls?

Now don't get me wrong.
I did make some sensible phone calls, did some things I was scared of and faced up to. I also went to Leeds for an appointment, rode a big cock (Cellar link safe for work) and the Dickensian festival in Otley made me smile an awful lot. And cry, because the carol singers were marvellous (proper choir I say, mixture of ages and genders, not all pre-pubescent boys). The choir master asked for requests and after 5 seconds silence I couldn't stop myself any longer. " Adeste Fideles please!" His face lit up. Then dropped. "It'll be in English I'm afraid" he said. Oh bless him. "But will you still have the descant?" I asked. Again he was a picture - he was speaking to a lady who knew her stuff. "Of course!"

It was beautiful and I leaked a bit at the eyes.

And there were proper Mummers.
I gave them some money I couldn't really afford because they'd obviously worked really hard at what they did. Anyway, I'd only have spent it on a "real pork" hot dog ;)

Photo is me being all non-yellow after treatment. Which will give you an idea.

So.

I had a few mugs of mulled cider at the festival (barely alcoholic actually, because it's heated) and came home in the dark.
To find a note wedged into the door from my Landlord.
I'm paraphrasing here, but not by much.
It told me that unless I responded by return he would consider my occupancy terminated and my belongings would be disposed of. I didn't know this was illegal - a formal eviction notice has to be served.

After a little bit of vomiting, I braved a text response explaining I had been absent and was trying to work through some mental health issues. I was seeking advice regarding my situation. Because even I know you don't make financial promises in writing.

I then received FIVE text messages in quick succession, each more threatening than the last - sadly I started deleting them after the second. And then a couple of voicemail messages, ditto.
But it proves that the time I called Dana and Limey in a panic when I thought he'd entered my flat was actually true, because of details he included in the second text.

Anyway, no sleep for Cherry that night.
Some of what I owned was still stored in rehab with no way to get it back on a single bus trip - although they have been very good about the whole thing.
I was about to be made homeless with everything else I owned destroyed.
I had a box of ashes instead of the furry love of my life.
I was in debt.
I couldn't go home - and although I love Otley more than Aylesbury, home is still where my family live.

Radio 5 told me it would freeze that night. And it was obvious from midday it would.
I saw a way out.

I planned reasonably well.
Escaped the flat for the day, making sure I was good and cold.
Used the last of my paper money to buy a bottle of vodka - alcohol raises skin temperature without body core temperature.
I even took sandwich bags and toilet paper so if I had to do the necessary I wouldn't defile the forest.
Oh, by the way I decided on death by exposure because even though I thought my landlord was A PIG he was actually a businessman and did not deserve to find a body in his flat. More of that later, he is actually A PIG.

So, after spending my last pennies on half a pint in an old giffers' pub to give me courage, and to have a wee, I set off on the two mile climb up to the Chevin.

I made some big mistakes though.
Firstly, do not wear flip-flops. Yes, you will stop feeling your feet very quickly but you will also not be able to leave the main path, which is actually very unfair to early morning dog walkers. Wear stout shoes and take them off.
Secondly take Lola's lovely little torch (which I still use and is usually in my bag) or you will not be able to leave the main path and be very easy to find.
Thirdly, do not call a Dwellar. Even though having no word at all from Brianna broke your heart and you know this Dwellar will be awake at that time. Step forward if you'd like to BTW, I am only preserving your anonymity out of respect to you.

Good thing though, I heard my first ever real owl. How cool is that?

Anyway I removed my clothes down to my underwear - my dead mottled minge is not something I think anyone by a Coroner should be subjected to.
Then had a good ol pull on the voddy, forgetting about the whole I-don't-drink-neat-spirits thing and so promptly threw a fair amount back up again. What? I'm writing about a suicide attempt here, I might as well give all the details.

Anyway. I thought I was all canny and clever when I talked to the Dwellar.
As if.
Said person worked out enough to call my Mum.
One or other of them got in contact with the Police.
I'd only been there a couple of hours when a Police helicopter turned up, searchlights on. Then the blues and twos, lights flashing. At this point I knew I couldn't compete. They had proper boots and lights and everything. I'd already lost a flip-flop in the dark, I could hardly outrun them.

It was at this point I was struggling back into my clothes (one final indignity I wanted to spare my family) that I fell face forward onto the forest floor.
I've broken two "insignificant sinus" bones and am blind in one eye. Although they expect sight to return partially or even totally.

And that, folks, is why you don't take your dead cat's ashes out to a dark forest with you.
I'll tell you the unedifying story of the second hospital ward they put me on, and the nuthouse I am now in (well - I'm on leave at my parents' for Christmas) later.

But two interesting addendums:
After all the threats and unpleasantness from the the PIG, the Chief MALE member of Nursing Staff from the nuthouse called him and he said said, nice as pie "Oh no, she still has the tenancy, nothing has been removed blah blah blah" So my glasses, which I have trouble seeing through my good eye without, my phone charger which meant I was friendless for ?six? weeks, and my underwear which meant I had my arse sticking out of a backless hospital gown for the same amount of time are all waiting at "home" for me. Which is nice.

And the same with my post, meaning the letter from the DSS saying I needed to contact them with further information is just sitting in the hall. So guess what they did? Like any agency anywhere they assumed I didn't need the money and stopped my claim. I borrowed money from a very kind person just to pay the (exorbitant!) bus fare from Oxford to Aylesbury and finally buy some deodorant.

I know, half blind and still moaning about money.
A least I have Diz. Even if he's a bit crunchier than he was.

So it was an actual suicide attempt?

Ach damn, I didn't know that. I knew you'd taken Diz's ashes and gone up the Chevin - didn't realise you had no intention of coming back down alive.

*hugs*

Ahh honey. It's a rum old life.

I'm glad you're still with us, Cherry. And extremely grateful to the Dwellar who managed to get in touch with your mom.

As the Dwellar mentioned in Post # 280 above, Sundae has invited me to make a contribution to the thread and this is posted with her approval.
I’m not breaching any confidences but it will allow me to place things in context and express thanks to those who deserve it.

It’s probably best to start with my mobile phone. The main reason for having my phone is so that aged Dad can get in touch with me in the event of some domestic calamity occurring on the few occasions I’m out of the house and he’s on his own.
It is usually switched off when I am home but on this occasion I had left it on and noticed that there was a missed call from Sundae made at about midday.
I tried calling back but it switched to voice mail so I sent a text. This was at bedtime on the Monday evening so I decided to leave the phone on for a few minutes in case she called back.
As it happened I went to sleep so the phone remained on which, as things turned out, was fortunate.

At about 0015 a call came through from Sundae and it was immediately evident that she was in a distressed state. Over the next several minutes I managed to work out where she was, the weather and how she was dressed.
Please bear in mind I live about 200 miles from Otley so it was a bit of a shot in the dark working out her location. Although conversation was difficult we spoke for ten or fifteen minutes before the phone cut out.
I thought that the Police would be unlikely to place much credence in a call from somebody not related and a considerable distance away, so I rang her Mum who lives in Aylesbury just a few miles away from me.
I had no idea if the phone would be answered at 0030 but fortunately it was and I effected an introduction and gave an account of events and suggested that she phoned the Police.

At 0149 I received a text message from West Yorkshire Police asking me to call and quote a Log Number which I did. This allowed me to pass on details of Sundae’s call and prompted another call from an Inspector in the control room at about 0200. He was remarkably switched on and I don’t know how he did it at that hour. I think I spoke to him twice (memory a bit hazy) and on the second(?) call he said that he could see the output from the helicopter TV camera and somebody had been spotted in the woods. Fortunately, it was Sundae. At about 0230 the Police phoned me back once more to say that Sundae had been found and that she was OK but cold and in the care of the Ambulance Service. The rest you know.

The Police put a remarkable amount of effort into finding Sundae and they deserve our thanks as does the Ambulance Service.

Sundae, I'm sorry you were/are hurting so much. I'm really glad that you reached out to Carruthers and that he orchestrated your rescue. I would really miss you if you succeeded. When the holidays are over and you head back into the program, I hope that you give it your best shot. I'd like you to be healthy and I want to see you posting here for years to come.

Sundae, please don't ever try that again. Please.

I hope the funny farm, treats you well,
And I hope you have many great, dreams theeeerrreeeee...
And Iiiiieeeiiiiiiieeeeeiiiiii will always,
Love youuuuuueeeeuuuuueuuuuuu..... Xxx

Fuck.

Thank you Carruthers.

Thank you very much.

Cherry, we all love you. I love you. I am sorry you're feeling lost right now, and that you're hurting. I'm also angry that you tried to give up. It's alright to fail. It's alright to be weak. It's fine if you're scared and tired and lonely. No one will fault you for it. We've all felt lost.

You deserve those bruises, though.

You will get stronger from them. You're a deep and beautiful person. You mean a lot to very many. If you give up and leave us, we'd all be worse off. Love yourself, honey.... Love yourself first. Be a little better tomorrow. Be a little better than that the next day. Keep your focus on the present moment, and gather your strength. Nothing else is relevant. Just be.

What LJ said. We're all here temporarily, Cherry, with a few things to do before we move on. The next person you meet may be the most important interaction you'll ever have, for you or for him/her. When it's time to go there'll be no stopping it (decades of medicine has taught me this at least). So, make the most of your time here, and keep on with your wonderful writing. You have such a talent. Don't take any more trips up the Chevin just yet.

Yes I do deserve these bruises. I didn't post them for sympathy (although I have in the past posted bruises I felt I haven't deserved for sympathy)
What I didn't deserve was all the effort people went to, to keep me alive. And yes I thanked each and every one of them.

I posted because if I go to a theme park, I post photos of a theme park. If I have a great day out with Dana, I post a great day out with Dana. So if I smash my face up, I take photos and show you. Just pray I never get a prolapsed rectum.

Now I'm not going to say "Walk a day in my shoes". Because I hate that cliché, and they wouldn't fit (another over-used joke) and it would cut no ice with you anyway.

And anyone can survive a day like the days I have. Some people for quite a while.
I can't write for suicides everywhere but for me I could not and still can't see a future. There are people FAR worse off. There are people with FAR harder lives. There are people who will never give up, not never not ever.
I'm not one of them. I am weak, yes. And tired, and lonely. And broken.

I do try.
I've managed 42 years and yes I am still pretty much trying. No, please don't pat my back too hard, I'm delicate, remember.

I don't ask for sympathy or understanding, even if sometimes it looks like that's what I want.
There are at least two people in my life who think I was treated extremely badly in order to end up in this situation. I disagree. I think I'm just me. And I'm just sharing.

Wait til I write the posts I start moaning about being in the madhouse - I probably will deserve the "Poor me" sobriquet then.
Honestly, it's terrifying, the lunatics could run it better and I'd still rather be there on many days. Just not the ones where they throw chairs at eachother during dinner. But hey, I've lost 26lbs because of it.
Even if with this (well earned) puffy face you'd never believe it. I must have slept (SIX HOURS!!! a recent record) on the bad side last night because today it looks like it might actually give birth.

But Carruthers is probably seeing it later and he can report back.
Trouble is he's such a gentleman he'll no doubt pretend I could still win Miss World.

Thanks to everyone for your kind comments.
And thank you for not pretending it was not a "cry for help".

I'm glad you are sharing everything. That's what you have always done. You are probably the most honest person I know, and I love that about you.

I'm over here, half a world away, pecking on my phone screen, hoping to say just the right thing that will motivate you to fight this thing and beat it. But the truth we both know is that it's something you have to face yourself. I think you can do it. Really. I do.

I feel a little guilty that I'm not facing the things that you are facing. It's not fair. Life is easier for me. I don't know why.

I'm kind of rambling here. Not sure what my point is. I hated losing Brianna, and losing you too would be so much worse. Not that I'm comparing you to her, but to lose two magnificent women in our community would be unbearable.

So I'm being selfish. I don't want to go through that again.

I love your raw honesty when you share here. And I don't want it to end.

I think you have had different chapters in your life, and this one sucks right now, but there are more chapters to come. Surely the ones that come will be better. If you burn the book now, the ending will suck. Give it a chance to move on to the next act. It can't get much worse.

I was too stunned to think of anything but Sundae, Carruthers got dumped by the wayside.

Carruthers thank you very much for what you did for Sundae, and us.

Outstanding, sir.

:notworthy

Carruthers, thank you.

Cookie'd.

Sundae, has there ever been anything bad come from your sharing? It has only led to good for us, I believe.

Carruthers definitely gets the Master Dwellar Award today. Thank you Sir.

Sundae, one of my favorite shares from you was that beautiful carol a few years back. Your voice and personality are so "real" that you force others to try to measure up in building this community. You are a keystone here.

Holy fucking Shit! What the fuckity fuck?
I'm at a total loss here. Others have said what I too think. I look at my life and hos shitty some of it was and then I see some of what you go through and I get STRONGER from you. If you can handle "X", well I sure as hell can handle my little shit.

Bloody hell, woman. You are raw and smart and honest and open and caring and sweet and and and and and .... What the fuck? I personally forbid you from trying that shit again. You may not remember, but you welcomed me when I first came here. You had joined a few months before me. We spoke on the phone once when I was in a very tough place. You talked me through some serious emotional shit. I was at my ropes end ... or so I thought. I was the one ready to quit. I still remember that and think of where Dan would be if I was gone. Holy Fuck.
I'm so glad you are still here and so pissed that you think/thought so little of yourself or whatever.
Damn girl! No more of this, I will not have it. You hear me?

Cherry, Why you do these things. We love you, and want you to be well. If you want to talk call me you have my number.

Gravdigr, Undertoad, lumberjim and Griff.

Thank you, Gentlemen. I'm sure that you'd have done the same for a friend.

Shit yeah, you're pretty smart for a guy that walks into beams. :p: You probably made the cops night when he was moaning about being stuck on a dead shift, and you gave him a chance to show his boss he really has skills. And of course sending the cavalry to rescue Miss Anti-Good Decisions. Tell you what, I'll give you $200 to give her a good kick in the cunt, just for scaring us thinking how close she came to really fucking up. :nadkick:

:eek: :smack: :mecry: :comfort:

It's been said already, but thank you, Carruthers, and please don't leave us, Sundae. :sniff:

WH,S&HS