3.01.2008
MISSING
Hello ALL ..I hope there will be an ALL...
Especially now!!!
As I was looking through craigslist classified ads...I came across this ad..And well...My heart sunk..I am hoping to make this mother gain possible help from others..If you have a web page ..maybe you could post this for this Mother...???..and her Family...??
The more people spreading these pics...The better chances..that somebody...somewhere...can priovide the needed information so far unknown????
We will never know if we can be of help...Unless we make an effort at it right?
If your unable to post this on your page..and/ or chose NOT to...
Please AT LEAST LOOK REAL GOOD AT PICS...AND..send this family some good vibes/prayers...?
THE AD:
My 22 year old daughter (Now 24) disappeared 1 1/2 years ago with a wanted pedophile from Colorado (she lived in Las Vegas, and had a good job at the Monte Carlo). (She did not know who he is/was, he was using a fake name-Craig Raether). Anyone with ANY info, please contact. Yes, I have tried everything, now looking for people who may know something. I KNOW someone out there knows something! His name: WILLIAM MATTHEW SMOLICH (can be googled) also uses: Craig Raether, Craig Williams, or variations of the names. Her Name: ANGELA MARIE FINGER aka..Angel Raether, Angelthemodel, Jordan
2.28.2008
Lets Talk about it ..and then move on, already!
Lets Talk About the Pain
I am living in a weekly, I have no job, and I have lost the respect as well as the custody of my one and only child. I have a list of details that would make clear my hurdles to you. They would also take too much time for me to write as well as surely push me into a deep depression. I do not seem to focus on the many negatives and instead I do focus on the fact that my husband is working his sweet little butt off as a pipefitter. I focus on the pride I have and I focus on what I do have instead of what I do not have. I focus on the fact that my Son is so determined and focused on his goal to be the best wrestler he can so that he will, hopefully, be granted with a college scholarship. I focus on the fact that I do pick my head up off the pillow and I do get out of bed in order to try. Try what? Well anything is good for me. However I would absolutely Love it if I could use my time of healing to polish up my writing enough to make a good living from it. I try to find a really good home based business opportunity that costs nothing to start pays enough to live and can bring me pride. I try to just be. That is it. It is all I can handle. I used to be one who had so much more of myself to give. Now, it seems I barely have what it takes to just be. Yet, because of my knowledge that is all too aware of existing without even being, well, I have to honestly confess that I am grateful to have this little bit that I do have, I cannot help but be grateful enough to God to thank him in my prayers at least twice a day. I’m also going to confess, that, yes, I fear this is it, I fear that I may have to one day face the reality that I may never have the abilities that I once did. I fear what truly may be a possibility. My brain is damaged and I remain a limited Woman who will be remaining mentally handicapped for the rest of my existence. I struggle every day just to achieve keeping this small studio apartment like weekly we live in. I try to keep it up too. I often forget to even feed the two Cats I have. I have even a frequent realization that my own stomach has been empty since…. I do not remember. I only know from the weakness I feel and the noises my stomach makes. Oh yes, Now that I have replayed my day today I do recall no food yet today. Yesterday? Yes, I believe I did have a Danish in the A.M. Oh Yes I also ate a whole bowl of mashed potatoes as well. Its not because we don’t have food, Its not because I’m high, Its simply because I was so busy at struggling and trying to clean and do laundry and I have been attempting to learn how come my son did not receive the Christmas present I know I ordered to be delivered. I also was busy getting minutes put on his phone, buying myself the same type of phone so that I would be able to give him a free way to get a hold of me when he was wrestling out of town or in town too. I have not yet found my reason for no package reaching him. I do not know how these damn phones work. I try to re and reread the directions, yet, the info does not seem to become absorbed, therefore I have no clue. I feel mentally handicapped; yet, I know this would be objected and not accepted; therefore, I keep my fears to myself. It will be an embarrassing truth, if my mind most definitely will remain handicapped. I know that because I am a thirty six year old woman, with no history of autisms I will be told by my family that it is all in my head. That I choose to believe therefore they will not accept it. Even worst, they will simply be convinced I have fallen back into the drug usage that is responsible for this damage in the first place. I thought getting clean, would, after some time, allow my state of mind to bounce back. I thought time would allow the fogginess to eventually disappear. I think family and friends think the same. However, I am running out of time. I see the way they quietly suspect me. I think they are just waiting to catch me. I almost would like to oblige them; this would be less of a humiliation. If they were to believe I was high, it would give a reason to my limits anyway. As it is now, they have no proof, because I am not using. But, rather than being allowed to believe in me enough to give me back full entrance and allowance in they’re lives, they stand back cautiously and insist I still have a long way to go to earn back my rightful motherly basics, sisterly basics, daughterly basics, etc…It has been over two years now, and I have to confess that I am losing momentum. I am not so easily understanding of why I am not a priority. Not a burdening one either. I would think it is not too much to ask that I be informed daily of my son’s happenings. As it is now I never even know what h eats, drinks, does for fun, etc. I ache every moment. I struggle to pretend that this is temporary and will be well worth with it. However, that’s what I said at the beginning of my deniable drug usage too. I understand. It was I who chose to use drugs in the first place. It was I who let my son go and live with my mother after being his security and caretaker for ten years. It was I who chose my addiction to take control. I never once doubted that I needed to earn them all back. I take my responsibility. I face my mistakes. Acknowledge them daily and am told will have to acknowledge them for the rest of my life. I get it really I do. Most may think the craving is what I need to fight forever. Yet, this isn’t so. The craving to use again comes only after I try but fail to not let the pain of my actions overwhelm me. Even so, I don’t give in. I’m already sentenced for life with the truth and pains, and barely able to cope with that much, I’m motivated to not make more consequence. I also know that these consequences, no matter how difficult, are tough, but reality says they are the best of consequences that I could get. I am one of the luckiest ones. The possibility of prison for life was reality. What I took away without knowing, I cannot give back, this is horrible, I have to face this sober, and trust me, no matter what it looks like, I promise you that I am suffering like you can’t (and I pray never will) know. I won’t ever be capable of fixing what I broke. I even tried to be more selfish than I already am, thinking, I could push aside the painful consequence. Not worry about truths of the soul and heart. But, if I continued to do that, I might as well as remain a drug addict who doesn’t live life. But instead Exists in order to be available for that next bowl smoked.
I am losing my patience with Family, mostly my mom, but mainly with the entire attitude of my Brothers and sisters too
I would think telling me exactly “Why” they have such difficulty to forgive me, would be something they wouldn’t have struggles with. I mean who doesn’t jump at the opportunity to confront the ones who caused damage and hurt when given the chance?
I have been giving that opportunity for two years. I am beginning to suspect that maybe; just maybe there is something much more than my past mistakes at fault. I try not think this way, yet, I still am waiting to hear them give me the reason for they’re hesitations. I never ever included them. I am guilty of disappearing from they’re lives. The best I could, seeing as how we live in the same town anyway. I kept in contact, barely, only knowing information about my son. I lied, yes, about being on drugs, (kind of, I never was asked the question, more than twice) When I was first confronted. Ironically, my denial was true at first. When at first, they confronted me and acted out of “Tough Love”, I honestly was not a clustered mess due to a mind induced drug state. I was simply struggling with, for the first time, with a deniable depressed state of mind. Why that is, I strongly insist, is another book altogether, and it really only diverts the attentions away from right now. Today. What first began my family issues I’ve accepted as possibly never becoming acknowledged? Its okay with me, now. Back when this started, it was very far from acceptable, but, now? I understand my issues are my own and I don’t need to dwell on what I m incapable of fixing. The issues I need to be addressed and get addressed are the ones they feel are the cause. They still to this day have no belief other than my drug use being the cause. I still have not been given the go ahead with sharing with them. They have claimed to accept my apologies. They however have not yet apologized. I know I am far greater at fault, yet it is not fault that entirely falls on me. I did not steal form them. I did not force them to lose anything more than myself. It seems they feel so hurt that they haven’t caught on to the fact that losing me too has hurt me. I am the one with the life sentence. They gained my son. They gained period. I have gained nothing. I have lost everything, including my very self. I may never again get back the parts of me that made me prior to drugs. I may never become a better person from these mistakes. I will not achieve any positive outcome due to my own choices. I suffer daily and constantly. I hurt and betrayed myself more than I did them. “
So why do they give off the feeling as if they are paying my consequence? Why do they allow the feeling to exist? As if they carry the burden and I don’t?”
I don’t understand why they continue to distance me.
Yet, they of course claim I, still, distancing them. They claim it is I who should be making more effort. “Are they right?’ I am trying to give the benefit of doubt; yet, I am also trying to shake off what isn’t my blame. I tend to accept complete blame, even if I only hold minor blame. It’s easier for me. If I am entirely to blame, then I have total control of changing what I wrong and/or break and/or don’t like. Maybe they are right. I just don’t know.
I sure as hell do know however, that I am giving as much as I am capable. Its quite possible this is not good enough. But, if they were to just trust that I speak the truth and accept my limits (temporary or permanent) than maybe they could give more. I am not asking for money. I am not even asking to be put out, t in they’re daily routines. I just want to be included. I want to know if and when my son travels to another state to wrestle, before he goes. So that I have the chance to maybe go too. I want to be given the full blame. I hate that I am limited to my recovery with my life’s purpose. My son is my reason to fight for a life I may or may not deserve. I would like to receive a phone call from them. Instead of being the one to call them. I can’t get around to eating every day, let alone keep in contact constantly with them. I am tired of having more conversation with a recorded answering machine. I keep my computer on almost constantly, because they are on my messenger list and I am told every time they sign on. It is what I look forward to. I wait to see them online. I wait. I wait. And then when I see them online, I feel that desperate hope that I’m not interrupting them in a game, or something else. I think my mom and I have two times of chatting, lasting more than five minutes. That was before Christmas, and after Jason’s package didn’t arrive. Even if I were not mentally clustered due to retraining my brain after damaging drug use, I would be forced to screw up just so that I hear something on that end. I’m accused of failing at the efforts. Yet, what efforts do I get? What pain did I cause bad enough to deserve to be treated as if I am a stranger? I am pushed down at every effort. If it were up to me, sure, I’d be at every meet; I’d be there every Sunday to make breakfast. I’d be running him around on the weekends. Hell, if it where a possibility, (I tried for to be) I would be living right next door and present always. If it were up tome my gradual and sensitive wean back in my sons life would be going in a way that definitely benefited my son more. I still cannot give him any resolving that I only guess he might need. I would, if it were in my power, commit him to me regularly and give him much more opportunity to confront any issues, or not. I don’t exactly know at this stage and two years later any clues even as to what he feel of me. He might just hate me. I just don’t know. So, as you can imagine, YES, this does not aid me in easily handling every day things. I am doing well though. I may appear that I do nothing; yet, there is a whole lot of something going on that I am doing. Invisible to others or not. I can’t help but wonder. “Why is so hard for my mom, the woman who knows me truly, to believe I struggle? How come she isn’t seeing what I can give my son, rather than believe what I took and possibly will take? Shouldn’t she, of all people be the one to bring us together again? She is the backbone of this family. I know, it isn’t what I expect; it’s just, that, I know who my Mother is. I am not just witness to how she (and only she could) backs this family but I am a piece of that. I know her better than I get credit for. Yet, it seems the closer I become, the farther they go. I get so close I believe I finally am back. Then, they move, or, details are changed as life is like that, only, I am not a priority therefore if I am not at the right place at the right time…. well, I yet again fail to be there for my son.
“
“Tell me about the pain I caused. Tell me what I did, or still do, to deserve this”
I have proven I am willing to accept whatever, so why still, are you treating me as if I am in denial and still making room in my life only for anything related to drugs?”
“Tell me what is it exactly, that I need to do, I will do it, Just tell me please?
I am living in a weekly, I have no job, and I have lost the respect as well as the custody of my one and only child. I have a list of details that would make clear my hurdles to you. They would also take too much time for me to write as well as surely push me into a deep depression. I do not seem to focus on the many negatives and instead I do focus on the fact that my husband is working his sweet little butt off as a pipefitter. I focus on the pride I have and I focus on what I do have instead of what I do not have. I focus on the fact that my Son is so determined and focused on his goal to be the best wrestler he can so that he will, hopefully, be granted with a college scholarship. I focus on the fact that I do pick my head up off the pillow and I do get out of bed in order to try. Try what? Well anything is good for me. However I would absolutely Love it if I could use my time of healing to polish up my writing enough to make a good living from it. I try to find a really good home based business opportunity that costs nothing to start pays enough to live and can bring me pride. I try to just be. That is it. It is all I can handle. I used to be one who had so much more of myself to give. Now, it seems I barely have what it takes to just be. Yet, because of my knowledge that is all too aware of existing without even being, well, I have to honestly confess that I am grateful to have this little bit that I do have, I cannot help but be grateful enough to God to thank him in my prayers at least twice a day. I’m also going to confess, that, yes, I fear this is it, I fear that I may have to one day face the reality that I may never have the abilities that I once did. I fear what truly may be a possibility. My brain is damaged and I remain a limited Woman who will be remaining mentally handicapped for the rest of my existence. I struggle every day just to achieve keeping this small studio apartment like weekly we live in. I try to keep it up too. I often forget to even feed the two Cats I have. I have even a frequent realization that my own stomach has been empty since…. I do not remember. I only know from the weakness I feel and the noises my stomach makes. Oh yes, Now that I have replayed my day today I do recall no food yet today. Yesterday? Yes, I believe I did have a Danish in the A.M. Oh Yes I also ate a whole bowl of mashed potatoes as well. Its not because we don’t have food, Its not because I’m high, Its simply because I was so busy at struggling and trying to clean and do laundry and I have been attempting to learn how come my son did not receive the Christmas present I know I ordered to be delivered. I also was busy getting minutes put on his phone, buying myself the same type of phone so that I would be able to give him a free way to get a hold of me when he was wrestling out of town or in town too. I have not yet found my reason for no package reaching him. I do not know how these damn phones work. I try to re and reread the directions, yet, the info does not seem to become absorbed, therefore I have no clue. I feel mentally handicapped; yet, I know this would be objected and not accepted; therefore, I keep my fears to myself. It will be an embarrassing truth, if my mind most definitely will remain handicapped. I know that because I am a thirty six year old woman, with no history of autisms I will be told by my family that it is all in my head. That I choose to believe therefore they will not accept it. Even worst, they will simply be convinced I have fallen back into the drug usage that is responsible for this damage in the first place. I thought getting clean, would, after some time, allow my state of mind to bounce back. I thought time would allow the fogginess to eventually disappear. I think family and friends think the same. However, I am running out of time. I see the way they quietly suspect me. I think they are just waiting to catch me. I almost would like to oblige them; this would be less of a humiliation. If they were to believe I was high, it would give a reason to my limits anyway. As it is now, they have no proof, because I am not using. But, rather than being allowed to believe in me enough to give me back full entrance and allowance in they’re lives, they stand back cautiously and insist I still have a long way to go to earn back my rightful motherly basics, sisterly basics, daughterly basics, etc…It has been over two years now, and I have to confess that I am losing momentum. I am not so easily understanding of why I am not a priority. Not a burdening one either. I would think it is not too much to ask that I be informed daily of my son’s happenings. As it is now I never even know what h eats, drinks, does for fun, etc. I ache every moment. I struggle to pretend that this is temporary and will be well worth with it. However, that’s what I said at the beginning of my deniable drug usage too. I understand. It was I who chose to use drugs in the first place. It was I who let my son go and live with my mother after being his security and caretaker for ten years. It was I who chose my addiction to take control. I never once doubted that I needed to earn them all back. I take my responsibility. I face my mistakes. Acknowledge them daily and am told will have to acknowledge them for the rest of my life. I get it really I do. Most may think the craving is what I need to fight forever. Yet, this isn’t so. The craving to use again comes only after I try but fail to not let the pain of my actions overwhelm me. Even so, I don’t give in. I’m already sentenced for life with the truth and pains, and barely able to cope with that much, I’m motivated to not make more consequence. I also know that these consequences, no matter how difficult, are tough, but reality says they are the best of consequences that I could get. I am one of the luckiest ones. The possibility of prison for life was reality. What I took away without knowing, I cannot give back, this is horrible, I have to face this sober, and trust me, no matter what it looks like, I promise you that I am suffering like you can’t (and I pray never will) know. I won’t ever be capable of fixing what I broke. I even tried to be more selfish than I already am, thinking, I could push aside the painful consequence. Not worry about truths of the soul and heart. But, if I continued to do that, I might as well as remain a drug addict who doesn’t live life. But instead Exists in order to be available for that next bowl smoked.
I am losing my patience with Family, mostly my mom, but mainly with the entire attitude of my Brothers and sisters too
I would think telling me exactly “Why” they have such difficulty to forgive me, would be something they wouldn’t have struggles with. I mean who doesn’t jump at the opportunity to confront the ones who caused damage and hurt when given the chance?
I have been giving that opportunity for two years. I am beginning to suspect that maybe; just maybe there is something much more than my past mistakes at fault. I try not think this way, yet, I still am waiting to hear them give me the reason for they’re hesitations. I never ever included them. I am guilty of disappearing from they’re lives. The best I could, seeing as how we live in the same town anyway. I kept in contact, barely, only knowing information about my son. I lied, yes, about being on drugs, (kind of, I never was asked the question, more than twice) When I was first confronted. Ironically, my denial was true at first. When at first, they confronted me and acted out of “Tough Love”, I honestly was not a clustered mess due to a mind induced drug state. I was simply struggling with, for the first time, with a deniable depressed state of mind. Why that is, I strongly insist, is another book altogether, and it really only diverts the attentions away from right now. Today. What first began my family issues I’ve accepted as possibly never becoming acknowledged? Its okay with me, now. Back when this started, it was very far from acceptable, but, now? I understand my issues are my own and I don’t need to dwell on what I m incapable of fixing. The issues I need to be addressed and get addressed are the ones they feel are the cause. They still to this day have no belief other than my drug use being the cause. I still have not been given the go ahead with sharing with them. They have claimed to accept my apologies. They however have not yet apologized. I know I am far greater at fault, yet it is not fault that entirely falls on me. I did not steal form them. I did not force them to lose anything more than myself. It seems they feel so hurt that they haven’t caught on to the fact that losing me too has hurt me. I am the one with the life sentence. They gained my son. They gained period. I have gained nothing. I have lost everything, including my very self. I may never again get back the parts of me that made me prior to drugs. I may never become a better person from these mistakes. I will not achieve any positive outcome due to my own choices. I suffer daily and constantly. I hurt and betrayed myself more than I did them. “
So why do they give off the feeling as if they are paying my consequence? Why do they allow the feeling to exist? As if they carry the burden and I don’t?”
I don’t understand why they continue to distance me.
Yet, they of course claim I, still, distancing them. They claim it is I who should be making more effort. “Are they right?’ I am trying to give the benefit of doubt; yet, I am also trying to shake off what isn’t my blame. I tend to accept complete blame, even if I only hold minor blame. It’s easier for me. If I am entirely to blame, then I have total control of changing what I wrong and/or break and/or don’t like. Maybe they are right. I just don’t know.
I sure as hell do know however, that I am giving as much as I am capable. Its quite possible this is not good enough. But, if they were to just trust that I speak the truth and accept my limits (temporary or permanent) than maybe they could give more. I am not asking for money. I am not even asking to be put out, t in they’re daily routines. I just want to be included. I want to know if and when my son travels to another state to wrestle, before he goes. So that I have the chance to maybe go too. I want to be given the full blame. I hate that I am limited to my recovery with my life’s purpose. My son is my reason to fight for a life I may or may not deserve. I would like to receive a phone call from them. Instead of being the one to call them. I can’t get around to eating every day, let alone keep in contact constantly with them. I am tired of having more conversation with a recorded answering machine. I keep my computer on almost constantly, because they are on my messenger list and I am told every time they sign on. It is what I look forward to. I wait to see them online. I wait. I wait. And then when I see them online, I feel that desperate hope that I’m not interrupting them in a game, or something else. I think my mom and I have two times of chatting, lasting more than five minutes. That was before Christmas, and after Jason’s package didn’t arrive. Even if I were not mentally clustered due to retraining my brain after damaging drug use, I would be forced to screw up just so that I hear something on that end. I’m accused of failing at the efforts. Yet, what efforts do I get? What pain did I cause bad enough to deserve to be treated as if I am a stranger? I am pushed down at every effort. If it were up to me, sure, I’d be at every meet; I’d be there every Sunday to make breakfast. I’d be running him around on the weekends. Hell, if it where a possibility, (I tried for to be) I would be living right next door and present always. If it were up tome my gradual and sensitive wean back in my sons life would be going in a way that definitely benefited my son more. I still cannot give him any resolving that I only guess he might need. I would, if it were in my power, commit him to me regularly and give him much more opportunity to confront any issues, or not. I don’t exactly know at this stage and two years later any clues even as to what he feel of me. He might just hate me. I just don’t know. So, as you can imagine, YES, this does not aid me in easily handling every day things. I am doing well though. I may appear that I do nothing; yet, there is a whole lot of something going on that I am doing. Invisible to others or not. I can’t help but wonder. “Why is so hard for my mom, the woman who knows me truly, to believe I struggle? How come she isn’t seeing what I can give my son, rather than believe what I took and possibly will take? Shouldn’t she, of all people be the one to bring us together again? She is the backbone of this family. I know, it isn’t what I expect; it’s just, that, I know who my Mother is. I am not just witness to how she (and only she could) backs this family but I am a piece of that. I know her better than I get credit for. Yet, it seems the closer I become, the farther they go. I get so close I believe I finally am back. Then, they move, or, details are changed as life is like that, only, I am not a priority therefore if I am not at the right place at the right time…. well, I yet again fail to be there for my son.
“
“Tell me about the pain I caused. Tell me what I did, or still do, to deserve this”
I have proven I am willing to accept whatever, so why still, are you treating me as if I am in denial and still making room in my life only for anything related to drugs?”
“Tell me what is it exactly, that I need to do, I will do it, Just tell me please?
Are we free...or ...not?!?
America is the land that gives you opportunity. You are free to have choice. Most likely, those that are not feeling Free are this way due to those who have freely chosen, only mistakenly. This forces the need for exception. The vast amount of difference in America prevents true freedom. Of course, we all can criticize the truth that we are not free from political mumble jumble rules. However, we are most definitely free regarding our opportunity to make change. We mostly, assume the change cannot be made by just one. Technically, this is true. However, we have the right as well as the freedom to gain support. This can be very effective. A domino effect. Most of us do not take this as opportunity, but, rather, too much. We tend to fall into the belief that claims we should not even have to pursue change. Therefore, we do not take our free opportunity given to us. We all are guilty to stop at the thought of what should be most of the time. This is how we succeed in leaving the decisions to fall onto the shoulders of another. No, we cannot say that our every try to make change succeeds. However, we can say, that our failed try is not the last try. We are not cases with a try once law. Sure, the likelihood is not large. Sure, The support will not be so easy a second, third or fourth try. However, There is always another option. If America is not the land of the free. Then there is no freedom that exists. Now, some hope just as easily, as the belief of not truly being free is, that the understanding of why this belief is easily misunderstood. A catch twenty-two to some. To others, an understanding that consistently needs a reminding. We must abide by rules set. Not due to any person trying to take our freedom away. But, instead, to keep peace with the varied differences of opinions regarding freedom. For me Freedom means I have the freedom to try. That to me is most important, and the very type of freedom that holds no boundaries. For another it may mean Free to be selfish. Free to not have to think of the various differences of our country. Free to do as they please with no consequence or responsibility towards the consideration of others and they are path of life. There are definitions that can definitely prove that this is not a free country. There are definitions that can definitely prove this is a free country. The greatest thing to me is that I am free to state my belief without having to be prosecuted. Without fearing, my freedom sacrificed. Your belief may or may not differ. That is what is great about the Land of the free. I can choose whether or not to respect your opinion. Can you say the same? Of course, you can. It is your choice. You are free to say what you want. You are free to be what you want. You are free to choose your way in life. Its up to you. That is America. That is the way of this land that gives so freely.
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