My words

My words seem to mean nothing to those I care about. If I something hurts me they act like so what. It's ok for them to treat me anyway they want. I know that comes from the way I was raised but seems to happen all the time. I try to treat others with the respect I want and most relationships start with me feeling it and then they change.

I tired of feelings like I have to be like a trash can and when I ask to share how I feel or what I want, even if I know they won't do it, I have done something wrong.

I want to blog but don't know what. Feeling pretty good about myself and my relationships. Been doing some volunteering this week and have had pretty good time, stay home yesterday guess I'm used to having to be somewhere regularly but tomorrow the last day.

My counselor wants me to write about my memories and I'm feeling rebellious about even though I want to.

I remember standing on the front porch of the house in Jenks, when my mom and dad were  married. It was dad, grand dad and me. I remember smoking a cigarette, a pipe and some chewing tobacco, seems like I had some beer too. Seems like I was part of the guys then but that is all I remember.