Times, they are a changin’!

Well, I know it’s been a while but I’ve been so freakin’ busy!! So I’m gonna go back to Christmas. I didn’t decorate in any way this past year. The only thing Christmas-y in our house were the cards we received. I worked on Christmas day. I was also lucky enough to get a few hours off because we were dead. At 4:30pm, I was allowed to leave work for the remainder of my shift. I can’t tell you how happy I was because even though we didn’t have anything up to signify the holiday, I was making one helluva holiday meal.

Around 4:35 my house phone rang. It was my dad and he started off by apologizing for calling me while I was working. I explained I was finished and could tell by the tone of his voice that he had been crying. I asked what was wrong and he told me his stomach was killing him. It wasn’t the same kind of pain he had experienced a year previous while living in Florida. He had been hospitalized that time for about a week. I asked where my brother Dan was and he said he was asleep. He didn’t want to wake him. Really Dad? I’m 1200 miles away! What the hell am I gonna do from here??!!

After listening to dad, I told him I’d call him back in a few minutes. I then called my youngest daughter, who was living within 5 minutes of dads house and demanded she go there immediately. She called me after she got there & was waiting on the ambulance. Long story short, pop’s bowels exploded on Christmas day. They did emergency surgery and removed 10 inches of his intestines. I flew home to NJ the day after Christmas and was in the ICU unit, next to my dad, seeing how he wrote my name in 1 inch block letters even though they were sedating him into a coma like state, by 1 o’clock the following afternoon! It was the first time in almost 20 years my husband and I were not together for New Years!

I was in NJ for 19 days. 19 very difficult days with nothing but hours upon hours to think. Think about the fact that this is my only living “parent”. He’s been my “father” since I was 9. He’s only 9 years older than me (ironic that my mom was 8 years older than my dad!). He met my mother with 2 kids at the age of 18 and he built a life with all of us. He was not my “biological” father but he was my “dad” in every other sense of the word. Think about the fact that on New Years Day, my younger brother, my fathers only “biological, living son”, had “our” father moved to a hospital that was/is not as nationally accredited as where he was now, AND 30 minutes further away!! Our father has just been diagnosed with pneumonia and we had NO SAY over this!!! I almost flew home to Florida that day!! And to top it all off, I STILL have the texts that bitch at me for not being at the new hospital that was further away. If he was still at the 1st hospital, I could have been there in 10 minutes and there would have been more people to help stay with him because he would have been closer.

I’ve told my dad that if he doesn’t implement a living will and a regular will, I refuse to fly home in the event something happens again. I will never again feel that helpless when it comes to making a decision in the best interests of a loved one. Especially when all he repeated was, “Don’t let me die!”. My husband and I have already discussed what we should do in the event of the demise of the other. I know it sounds morbid but it’s one of life’s nasty necessities.

That’s one of the reasons you haven’t heard from me. The other is that I was fired during this time of duress with my family. I even contacted my supervisor and offered to configure my dads computer so I could work from HIS home and I’d go to the hospital at night, after my shift but nooooo…they fired me. And Florida is an “at will state”. I was also hired for seasonal, temporary help. Not much I could do. I did get them to change my rehire status because I’d kept in touch with my supervisor.

The other reason is because after 10 years of working from home, in a call center environment, I had a very close friend of the family recommend me for a job where she works, outside my home office!! I started on a Monday at 9am and was supposed to be “shadowing” someone. That someone called out of work. I was answering the phones by 11am. They had staff calling me to test me on a variety of things and the owner loved how I handled everything!!! Within 2 weeks, I was promoted to call center supervisor. I’m on a “probationary period for 90 days” and after that, I’m “hoping” to be offered a salaried position. Roughly 60 days to go! I almost have a full staff. Being in charge and making these kind of business decisions is a new experience for me, but I’m bustin my rump and lovin it!!

The only thing I don’t like is the stairs. There’s one of those “automated stair climber” chairs but it takes 12 minutes —-ONE FRIGGIN WAY!!! By the time I got to the bottom, I’d have to head back up and go without lunch!!!! LMAO! No thanks! However, at this rate…..my thighs better start looking like Jillian Michaels’ within a few months after 102,462 trips a day up & down the stairs!! LOL

Saturday is my Friday and Sunday is my Saturday. Did you get that?? LOL Hell, I confused myself!! That’s what happens when you have polish blood running through your veins! Especially when you have Irish too and it was recently St. Patty’s Day!! Bottoms up!!

So….there you have it. That’s why I haven’t been around. I have a few half written blogs but I need to find time to get around to them. I just wanted to say ~  Heyyyyyy!!! How YOU doin?? I also want to take just a minute to say “Thank You Sooooo Much!!!!!” if you’re a https://www.facebook.com/TwistedFcukery/ follower!! And for the record, this one took me 2 hours to write. It’s bedtime. Hope to be around more often!! Sweet Dreams!!  XXOO

 

 

 

 

 

 

10 days and counting…

Here it is, ten days til Christmas and yanno what? I could give a rats ass. Seriously. I’ve had the shittiest of shitty Christmases since 2012 that I’ve ever had! My mother passed away on 10/8/2012 and it took me nearly a year to accept and move on. For Christmas 2013, I decorated the hell outta the place. Last year was even better and do you know why? Because there was family here to celebrate with. Don’t get me wrong, I love spending the holiday with my husband and it being just the two of us. But to be able to cook for family and spend time with family and friends, along with the love of your life, that’s what it’s all about.

We didn’t have a shit-ton of money but we were able to have a decent holiday. More important than anything was the fact that we were together. Not many gifts were exchanged but it was the quality time. My brother was clean, dinner was at my house, we had a nice variety of food and a few drinks and it was a blast.

This year is nothing like the year we lost my mom. This year for me is much more different. I’m half a century old. FFS, thats like, ancient, right?? My baby brother took his own life just 5 months ago. I saw more than I wanted to see and I’m mentally screwed because of this. When my mom passed, it wasn’t such a good year anyway because we had just moved from New Jersey to Fort Myers, Florida. We didn’t put up a tree or decorate, much like this year. But in 2013, I felt my Mom bitchin at me and I decorated the shit outta everything and shipped a ton of gifts home for everyone. Last year, the same thing. Well, almost.

This year it’s me and the hubs. Our recent roommate has been asked to leave. It’s just not a good situation and it’s going to ruin a 30 year friendship. Somethings just not right with the story and what took place and I’m not going to put myself in a position where we’d be in any type of danger. We love our privacy and our dogs. We’ve lost much of our privacy and it’s not fair to the dogs that they have to be separated. This is NOT my problem. I need to worry about me and mine first right now. I’m sorry. I love you like a brother but you gotsta go.

I still haven’t decorated. Not one ribbon, not one bulb, not one elf or Santa or ball or anything. I could care less. I just want my brother back. And I know that’s impossible. I just want to understand why he did what he did. I just want to know that his spirit is at peace. I pray that he’s found our mom on the other side and is watching over all of us. Can I tell you a secret? I spoke with a customer this morning who needed to return all of her purchases in the past month. Do you want to know why?

Her husband passed away unexpectedly. He was only 54. Not much older than me. And I cried with her. And after we spoke and consoled each other I had to walk away from my job, from my desk in my home office. And I took a few minutes of personal time to pray for her and for my brother. Lord, please help us all who have lost, come to grips with the circumstances that only you know why these people, who we love so much, have been called to be by your side. And please help us make it through this holiday season the best way we know how. Amen.

I’m still hopeful the Christmas spirit will foot me in the ass but I’m very doubtful at this time. However, I do hope that each and every one of you are finishing up your holiday shopping and wrapping and planning. My wish is that each and every one of you have the best holiday that you possibly can.

Much love, luck & happiness this year and always.

This Thanksgiving was so different from last year.

Thanksgiving last year was celebrated twice for us. Once while my other two brothers from NJ were in FL the week before Thanksgiving and once again on the actual day. Who knew that a year later life would be so different? Last year we had a great meal and went on an airboat tour together in the Everglades. Bob and Dan were here visiting and Pooh was clean and sober. No heroin in sight. We laughed, we drank and made fun of each other, picking on each other the way we had done for so long.

This year was so different. My dad moved back to New Jersey just days after my brother Charles, aka Pooh, took his own life. This year there was no family camaraderie. No poking fun. No toasting or clinking of glasses. This year it was mundane.

I volunteered for a week of overnight shift. I finished my shift on Thanksgiving morning at 9:30 am. I cooked the turkey overnight while I was working. Thank jeebus I work from home. Mike carved it up and put it in casserole dishes to be heated up later when company came over. I stayed awake long enough to make my sweet potato casserole with marshmallows. It felt so good to plop down on the bed and situate the pillows so I could sleep. And sleep I did from 11am-ish til around 3pm.

When I woke up I got a cup of coffee going and started getting the rest of the meal ready. Rich and Ruth showed up around 4 with green bean casserole, wine, vodka and cranberry juice, ice cream, pies and whipped cream. Dinner was delish but dessert was not to be had. Half of the pies were sent home with Rich and Ruth got many of the soft foods because she had just had mouth work done and still had stitches. I went back to bed.

Laying in bed, remembering last Thanksgiving and so many Thanksgivings before. The Thanksgivings where the entire family gathered around my Mom’s table. So many years of grandbabies and great grandbabies, little nieces and nephews, laughter, smells, homemade wine and just enjoying the family being together. Since Mom passed away in October of 2012, things have changed in ways I never thought imaginable. This year will end pretty much the same way it did the year my mom passed. I’m still heartbroken and processing losing my brother. I’m not in the mood for Christmas, decorating, wrapping presents or baking goodies. My heart just isn’t in it this year. And you know what? That’s ok. Time heals all wounds. Next year, I should be back to myself and getting excited for the holidays. But I hope each and every one of you have the Merriest of Holidays!

Escaping the pain with daydreams

Ahoy Mateys! Let’s sail away…

Have you ever just sat and daydreamed? Allowing your thoughts to take you to far away lands or vivid memories, anywhere but where you are right this minute? I have to admit I’ve never been much of a daydreamer. In my youth, I would take pen and paper to the middle of a field, lay a blanket on the ground and just lay there, watching the clouds shift and morph into all kinds of shapes and writing poetry. Listening to the sounds of the birds, hearing the songs only they know the words to. Aahhh, what a glorious time it was to be young!

Nowadays, with work, a household to maintain, kids, friendships to nurture and the thousand other things that take place in our lives, I find myself daydreaming more often. I especially find myself reliving wonderful memories from years gone by. Sometimes I’ll imagine a world where there are fairy tale creatures and noble white knights to save the villagers. Sometimes I’ll envision what it must have been like to live in the Victorian era or during the civil war. I’m an old soul and I’ve always known it.

I find myself daydreaming more when I’m out on the boat than anywhere else. Watching the pelicans, hawks, eagles & gulls soaring through the air and diving, head first into the salty water to grab a fish to eat. I close my eyes and try to imagine what their view of the world is, feeling the air coursing over and through my feathers as I flap my wings, looking for just the right moment to dive, head first into the water to catch a tasty morsel. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my feathers, drying them as I flap, flap, flap my wings to find a spot where I can enjoy my meal and not have to worry about others trying to snatch my kill.

Or how wondrous it must be to be a dolphin swimming through the waters, feeling the ebb and flow of the tides while jumping and diving and having fun with the rest of the dolphins. Communicating with chirps and clicks, eating herring or cod or mackerel when I became hungry. The beautiful rays of sunshine, breaking through the water and making everything look surreal. Being wary of predatory fish and nets that can entangle my fins and force me to drown because I wouldn’t be able to surface for air. But the freedom to go anywhere there is water makes it all worth it.

My most favorite daydreams are of days gone by. Remembering the sights and sounds, closing my eyes to see everything locked in a moment in time. There for me to visit whenever this world becomes too much or missing a loved one taken from us too soon. The joy of waking up on Christmas morning as a child, feeling the excitement course through my veins, wondering what delightful presents Santa has left for my and my brothers. The memories of walking into my grandmothers kitchen on a Sunday and smelling the meatballs and “gravy” cooking, listening to the clinking of kitchen utensils while she would move onto making a salad or garlic bread.

Or the beautiful memories I have of my mother, teaching me how to bake cookies and laughing at the funny shapes that would come out of the cookie cutters if it wasn’t done just right, eating raw cookie dough, singing with the holiday records she’d put on the turntable and just having fun of preparing for the holidays. Christmas was my mothers favorite of all holidays. Or hearing my grandfathers melodic whistle as I helped him pick fresh produce from the garden. Smelling the tomatoes and tasting the sweet strawberries just as nature intended. Or listening to stories of when my dad was growing up, visiting with aunts and uncles that had heavy Italian accents but that would give you the shirt off their back if someone was in need. It was a much simpler time.

I don’t know about you but I think that daydreaming is good for the soul. It allows us to relive the fondest of memories, remember the places we’ve been and the hurdles we’ve overcome. It allows us to escape the reality of today if it becomes overwhelming. I think I’ll keep daydreaming. It’s my personal escape from some of the things that overwhelm me. To quote John Lennon, “They say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been bullshitting myself and I think I like it

******Trigger Warning: Topic – Suicide******

I want to apologize for not being around and not writing. I’ve been in a mental straight jacket for the past few months and physically, well, lets just suffice it to say that aging is not fun and if possible, I’d like to skip it. On the upside, every day is a brand new day and I still bullshit my way through it.

Everything was going good for a while. I’ve made a few more friends locally and was enjoying being temporarily unemployed for a little bit during summer. That meant more beach time! And then July came along, making it look like a promising month with bbq’s and fireworks to start the month. Unfortunately, it was a short lived celebration.

On July 5th, the world was right. At least for me. I fell asleep on the new red leather sofa around one in the morning. I don’t usually sleep on the sofa but it enveloped me like a warm hug and that was all she wrote. I didn’t even hear the phone ringing at 2:49 a.m.! My husband heard it in the bedroom and came out to answer it. I vaguely remember hearing him say, “Hello. Oh shit, we’ll be right there!” before he called my name. I immediately sat up and asked what was wrong. He looked pale and scared. And then the words that reverberate still in my mind, “You’re brother hung himself. The ambulance is on the way. Let’s go!” he said as he grabbed his keys.

That day is embedded in my brain, my soul, every fiber that makes me, me. I had fallen asleep in shorts and a t-shirt. I didn’t grab my shoes or my purse. I grabbed my cell phone and my cigarettes and hauled ass out the front door. I remember seeing the trees and streetlights zooming past and hearing sirens in the distance. We live five minutes from my dads house. I felt like I was still asleep, this had to be a dream and I’m going to wake up on my sofa in a few minutes, I thought to myself. The night felt damp, even a little chilly on my skin. I struggled to get a cigarette out of the pack. My brain just kept repeating “You’re brother hung himself. The ambulance is on the way. Let’s go!”.

We took the right off of Palm Beach Boulevard and made a left at the high school. I couldn’t feel my legs. My breathing was shallow and quick. I could feel the panic attack at the very brim of my reality, waiting to pounce. We turned right and came to an abrupt stop in front of dads neighbors house. I later realized my husband parked here to allow room for the medics. I don’t remember opening the door to the truck. I don’t remember anything except running. As fast as my old, fat, damaged legs would run and it just didn’t seem fast enough. It felt like those dreams where you’re running for your life but no matter how fast you run, the monster is still right on your heels and you feel like your body is in slow motion.

I pulled the front door open and made a beeline for the lanai. My dad sat at the dining room table and he looked like he was in shock. I threw open the slider and my whole world crashed. There, on the cold concrete, was the lifeless body of my youngest brother. Next to my brother was Rich, on his knees and I knew he had been doing CPR. My brothers fiancee had stood up as I approached. I reached down and lifted my brothers head and it was in that instant I knew there was no bringing him back. He was very cold, grayish in color, his lips were blue and you could see where the cord had been wrapped around his neck. He was wearing his light blue jeans and his white t-shirt with the crosses on it. I don’t remember if he was wearing shoes or socks. I heard the sirens again. They were almost here.

As I stood up I could hear Shell asking me if he’s going to be okay and I simply shook my head, indicating a no. She wailed, really deep, from the bottom of her heart and kept repeating “Noooooo! Not my Pooh! Oh my God, Noooooo!”. All I could do was hold her and let her cry. I remember her talking but I couldn’t tell you what was said. My husband and my father did not come out back. I heard more voices inside and moved out of the way for the medics. Rich barked orders and got the medics to try to bring him back but even with the help of the paddles, it was too late. We were ushered out of the house and were told we couldn’t go back inside without a police escort until their investigation was over. They ended the investigation around 8 a.m. and left a card in case there were questions.

There was no time to think about what just happened. I had to make phone calls to family back in NJ. My dad made calls. My husband did whatever I asked him to do and took off work for the day to be with me. There was no note. No goodbyes. The last text message I got from my brother was that night, near 10 p.m. and we had planned on me going to see him the next day. But there would never be a next day, not with my brother. The police had questions and I requested to see my brother before they took his body. I am thankful I had those few minutes and could tell him, one last time, with tears streaming down my face, that I loved him and kissed his cheek for the last time. No one else was with me except Ruth. And I can never thank her enough for being there with me.

I finally had the chance to listen to what happened earlier in the evening that may have contributed to his decision. There was an argument over prescription pain pills. Shell had just been released from the hospital the day before. The cancer was back and she’d been in the hospital for a week. My brother took 20 of her percocets between Saturday afternoon & Sunday morning. She finally hid the pills. The fight was a nasty one, she later admitted. He had put his hands on her and he’d never done that before. He could be very mean when he was high. He’d been an addict for the past ten years. Heroin was his drug of choice. We had eight months after they first moved to Florida that he was clean. I’m very thankful for that time with him being clean.

He found her hiding spot for the pain pills Sunday night and ate the rest of them. Approximately 24 more and 10 sleeping pills after that. He went out to the lanai with his cell phone and had come back in and asked for an extension cord, which she assumed was to plug his phone in while he was outside so he could be online and his phone wouldn’t die. She fell asleep around 1:30 in the morning. When she woke up, he wasn’t in bed. She went to look for him and found him hanging by the support beam in the lanai. He had tied the extension cord tied to the beam. He was six inches from the back of the house. All he had to do was stand up. His feet were still on the ground. There was a hacksaw laying on the ground near his feet. She cut him down while screaming for someone to call for help. We arrived just after she’d cut him free and laid him down on the concrete.

The following days were hectic. My other 2 brothers flew in from NJ with my son and I had pretty much packed up most of dads house except for the kitchen. He was moving back to NJ to be near family. He just couldn’t stay here in Florida and I couldn’t blame him. We went to the funeral home and made arrangements for my brothers’ cremation. I put together the obituary with the help of my dad. I spent every second I could with my family. I would pick up his ashes and ship them to my father in NJ. I would fly home for the burial of his ashes and the birth of our newest grandchild in August. That Friday night, July 10th, I couldn’t bear to watch them leave. So I said “I’ll see you soon!”  earlier that afternoon and they left a few short hours later, making it home to NJ that Saturday night.

I’ve been avoiding having to come to terms with his death. It took me a year to come to terms with my mothers passing in 2012. I will deal with it but in my own time and in my own way. The therapist was of no help. The dreams aren’t as often or vivid but I still relive that night and wake up in tears, feeling my chest getting tight and barely able to breathe. So for now, I keep telling myself he’s in NJ. And technically, it’s not a lie. I’ll be okay. Or at least I keep bullshitting myself into believing it.

If you or someone you know has an addiction and needs help, I’ve included some information:

1-800-662-HELP or visit: http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net

1-800-775-8750 or visit: http://www.narconon.org/drug-abuse/parents-get-help.html

https://www.na.org/ & for meeting information: http://www.na.org/MeetingSearch/

http://www.recovery.org/

http://www.drugabuse.gov/publications/principles-drug-addiction-treatment-research-based-guide-third-edition/frequently-asked-questions/where-can-family-members-go-information or call

The Partnership at Drugfree.org (drugfree.org) is an organization that provides information and resources on teen drug use and addiction for parents, to help them prevent and intervene in their children’s drug use or find treatment for a child who needs it. They offer a toll-free helpline for parents (1-855-378-4373).

If you’re struggling with suicide, please call:

The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-TALK) offers more than just suicide prevention—it can also help with a host of issues, including drug and alcohol abuse, and can connect individuals with a nearby professional.

The National Alliance on Mental Illness – www.nami.org

Mental Health America – www.mentalhealthamerica.net

I was lucky, I had 2 fathers

One might say I’m a lucky person. I had 2 fathers. My biological father and my stepfather. I don’t remember much about my biological father except the bad things. He was an alcoholic and he tried to kill me. I was 5 when he beat my head against a wall. Why? I woke mom to ask if I could have pudding while she was napping. He abused both me and my younger brother. I got the brunt of it because I was older by 3 years. And I am thankful every day that my mother took us and left. He tracked us down a few times but eventually, he disappeared from our lives.

One of my most vivid memories is when he broke into our apartment when I was 6. I can recall seeing him wrap the phone cord around my mothers neck and literally lift her off the floor by a foot. He once gave me a loaded pistol while my mom napped and told me to “shoot mommy”. I was 3. My brother was a newborn. Mom woke up to me saying “Bang, bang mommy, you’re dead!” and I was trying to pull the trigger. He gave me a puppy when I was 4. He later hung said puppy in our basement because it wouldn’t stop crying. He told me it ran away. I didn’t remember this until mom mentioned it when I was 45 years old. And I cried.

As a matter of fact, there’s much of my childhood I don’t remember and I believe it was my brains way of protecting me. I remember bits and pieces. What I do remember, I hate. I still have nightmares, although they are few and far between. Nothing good came of the first 5 years of my life living with my biological father. It didn’t become good until mom met “Dad”. There were other men I remember mom dating, but none were like the one that became my father.
Skip forward to around 9 years old. Mom met “Dad” over the cb radio. Does anyone even remember what a cb radio is? Anyway. He was the father I’d always wanted. He was good to us and mom. He worked hard and loved harder. He was fun and taught us how to do many things I’d never dreamed of doing. He provided stability. But more important, he never, ever raised his hands to us or mom. And I learned to love him and call him “Dad”.

Dad was a truck driver. He would take us on some of the shorter deliveries. He was a volunteer firefighter for over 25 years. He was a heavy equipment operator and at one point in time, had built a very lucrative excavation business. He owned a race car and I remember helping him build the motor in grandpops garage. We spent birthdays, holidays and every Sunday as a family. Sundays were spent at grandmoms. Dads parents house. I have such fond memories of times spent with my family. It didn’t matter that we weren’t blood, we were still family. To this day it’s still that way. But I am grateful for everything dad taught us and gave us.

Because of Dad, today I have morals and values that I’ve passed on to my children. Because of Dad, I love fiercely and fight for what I love with a passion. Because of Dad, I have a strong work ethic and love giving from my heart. Because of Dad, I treasure every second I have with my family and friends because you never have another second promised to you. Because of Dad I have learned loyalty and respect. I’ve learned so many things and much of it was because of dad.

I I believe that if mom hadn’t taken us and left my biological father, we would not be the people we are today. I learned a long time ago that a father doesn’t mean you have to be blood. My father, the one I call dad today, is the one that was there when I got sick, when I made an achievement and he’s the one that gave me away when I got married. Not once but twice. He’s the one my children and grandchildren know as their grandpop.

Dad has recently moved to be closer to me. He left the state where we lived our whole lives. Mom passed away nearly 3 years ago. Dad was 8 years younger than mom. His hair has thinned, he’s gained some weight, he has COPD and I’m hoping he can find someone special to spend the rest of his life with. I’ve watched him since mom passed and I know he still loves mom more than words can ever say. I see how much he misses her in his eyes. And I hate that he’s lonely.

Technically, both of my biological parents are dead. I guess I do consider myself to be lucky when it comes to having a dad. I don’t know how many more years I’ll get to spend with him and making new memories but I can promise you this. I will cherish every minute I do have with him. I will continue to learn from him, love him and let him know that I’m one very lucky chick to have been called his “Daughter”!

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This piece was published today on http://www.originalbunkerpunks.com. Thank you so much, all you OBP folks! I am honored to be a part of this group and all of these fantastic writers! Please, take some time to go to the OBP site and read some of the pieces there. You won’t regret it! I promise.

Howdy y’all!

I haven’t written in ages. However, being friends with so many writers I have been feeling like I should start my own blog and tada…here it is! I’ve just made it through my 50th birthday unscathed but I’m fighting growing older. I’m happily married and am tickled that he’s just as twisted as I am. Between the 2 of us, we have 3 grown children each. We both have 2 girls and a boy. They range in age from 33 to 23. There’s a total of 6 grandkids with #7 coming in August! This blog will cover a variety of topics and include recipes and lots of pictures! Please feel free to like my fb page: https://www.facebook.com/TwistedFcukery and be advised, it’s for 18 years and older.