The sad clip showing the moment a police officer confronted his ex-girlfriend for dumping him before shooting her has been revealed. Yuly Solano was shot by the policeman ex-boyfriend Surveillance videos captured the horrifying moment a Florida sheriff’s deputy confronted his ex-girlfriend and shot her with a service pistol before committing suicide, Daily News has reported. The sad incident took place two weeks after they broke up. It was gathered that Deputy Michael DeMarco waited in his patrol car outside a Boynton Beach condominium complex on Oct. 12 to confront Yuly Solano, according to police documents cited by the Palm Beach Post before confronting the ex-girlfriend and shot her. In the shocking video footage released by Boynton Beach police on Friday, DeMarco can be seen climbing out of the car before the two walk side by side out of the frame. When they reappear, Solano can be seen backing away and holding her hand to her face in apparent fear while DeMarco raises the gun a...
Hi, I’m Nicole. I’m sorry that you’re here, but I’m also glad that you understand.
I would never consider death if there weren’t so many barriers to survival. I mean, many of those barriers are within myself, but there doesn’t seem to be much help to fix those things. I have tried counseling and talking with friends and praying (which I very much believe in), but I still feel wretched. I just can’t handle failure or any kind of mistake, really. It comes from years of abuse and others’ harsh reactions to childhood mistakes. Now, I react to failure in a way that resembles muscle memory. I start crying, and my body is paralyzed with panic, but the thinking comes later, after these things are already set in motion. If I could control it, I would.
For instance, I lead worship at my church (don’t even get on me about religion or God, I believe what I believe), and I messed up in a pretty obvious way the other day. Luckily, my friend was helping me lead, so when my body reacted as usual, she picked up where I could no longer keep it together. I was told later that many thought I was pouting by not singing. The truth is, I literally could not control my tears, and my hands could barely strum the guitar, and my heart was beating louder than the music. I would never choose to react so obviously in front of a room full of people, I swear. If I could have stopped it, I would have. But that’s what people don’t get. Why would I embarrass myself like that on purpose? After worship, I had to leave the sanctuary, and I probably cried for 45 minutes in the church office. I could not get it together. They think it was about me and my pride, and maybe it was, partially, but more than that, it was about fear. I have spent my entire life trying to earn love that I could never get, and my honest first thought when I mess up is that I have lost any love that I’ve managed to earn. I just want to feel loved.
My brother abused me for at least 15 years, until his death when I was a senior in high school, mostly emotionally and physically, though sexually as a child (which I, thankfully, cannot remember, but my mom does). I thought that it had something to do with my inherent lack of worth, because I didn’t see other kids being treated this way. I figured it was me, I deserved it, so I tried to be better, to be good enough to be treated with love. But the good grades and the sports and the clubs and the art never made a difference. My father was also extremely explosive and angry while my brother was alive. I can see now that it was the stress of our home and his job, but as a kid, all I saw was the explosive reaction to my little kid questions and love and mistakes. I was never good enough to earn his love either. I don’t say all this for sympathy. I say it to explain that I react now the same way I reacted to their abuse, with fear and tears and panic. But nobody sees that or understands that, and how could they? They see a crybaby, an attention-seeker, a joke. But the truth is, I would do anything to turn off those automatic responses. Sometimes, I think they resemble PTSD, but I know most are much more severe than I experience.
That’s just part of it though. Life’s hard with lupus and chronic fatigue while working a labor-intensive overnight job. I’ve developed carpal tunnel and can barely play the guitar, the instrument on which I received my college degree. I have to work to pay my $100,000+ in loan debt, but I can’t find a better job in my area, and I can’t afford to move anywhere else. And now, I can’t use my degree anyway, unless I can find something with the other part, psychology, but many require a Masters degree or experience at the very least. But the biggest struggle is with depression. I’ve had it since I was a child, but my parents largely let me figure life out alone, because they had my brother to deal with and I acted so together that they didn’t think to ask. Now, I’m 23, and I feel like I’ve ruined my life. And I keep messing everything up. I just want to dream again. I want to be free from all the garbage of my past, but nothing seems to alleviate that self-hatred. Even God. I guess, I just struggle to trust in His love too, because unconditional love and grace don’t make sense in my world. They don’t seem real. And I know that’s the point of faith, but I wish someone could help me figure out how to overcome without just saying prayer and Bible study. Been there, done that, and I still feel afraid of losing God too. There’s so much more, but I don’t see the point of a pity party. I just wanted to get some of it out. It’s pretty toxic.
I would never consider death if there weren’t so many barriers to survival. I mean, many of those barriers are within myself, but there doesn’t seem to be much help to fix those things. I have tried counseling and talking with friends and praying (which I very much believe in), but I still feel wretched. I just can’t handle failure or any kind of mistake, really. It comes from years of abuse and others’ harsh reactions to childhood mistakes. Now, I react to failure in a way that resembles muscle memory. I start crying, and my body is paralyzed with panic, but the thinking comes later, after these things are already set in motion. If I could control it, I would.
For instance, I lead worship at my church (don’t even get on me about religion or God, I believe what I believe), and I messed up in a pretty obvious way the other day. Luckily, my friend was helping me lead, so when my body reacted as usual, she picked up where I could no longer keep it together. I was told later that many thought I was pouting by not singing. The truth is, I literally could not control my tears, and my hands could barely strum the guitar, and my heart was beating louder than the music. I would never choose to react so obviously in front of a room full of people, I swear. If I could have stopped it, I would have. But that’s what people don’t get. Why would I embarrass myself like that on purpose? After worship, I had to leave the sanctuary, and I probably cried for 45 minutes in the church office. I could not get it together. They think it was about me and my pride, and maybe it was, partially, but more than that, it was about fear. I have spent my entire life trying to earn love that I could never get, and my honest first thought when I mess up is that I have lost any love that I’ve managed to earn. I just want to feel loved.
My brother abused me for at least 15 years, until his death when I was a senior in high school, mostly emotionally and physically, though sexually as a child (which I, thankfully, cannot remember, but my mom does). I thought that it had something to do with my inherent lack of worth, because I didn’t see other kids being treated this way. I figured it was me, I deserved it, so I tried to be better, to be good enough to be treated with love. But the good grades and the sports and the clubs and the art never made a difference. My father was also extremely explosive and angry while my brother was alive. I can see now that it was the stress of our home and his job, but as a kid, all I saw was the explosive reaction to my little kid questions and love and mistakes. I was never good enough to earn his love either. I don’t say all this for sympathy. I say it to explain that I react now the same way I reacted to their abuse, with fear and tears and panic. But nobody sees that or understands that, and how could they? They see a crybaby, an attention-seeker, a joke. But the truth is, I would do anything to turn off those automatic responses. Sometimes, I think they resemble PTSD, but I know most are much more severe than I experience.
That’s just part of it though. Life’s hard with lupus and chronic fatigue while working a labor-intensive overnight job. I’ve developed carpal tunnel and can barely play the guitar, the instrument on which I received my college degree. I have to work to pay my $100,000+ in loan debt, but I can’t find a better job in my area, and I can’t afford to move anywhere else. And now, I can’t use my degree anyway, unless I can find something with the other part, psychology, but many require a Masters degree or experience at the very least. But the biggest struggle is with depression. I’ve had it since I was a child, but my parents largely let me figure life out alone, because they had my brother to deal with and I acted so together that they didn’t think to ask. Now, I’m 23, and I feel like I’ve ruined my life. And I keep messing everything up. I just want to dream again. I want to be free from all the garbage of my past, but nothing seems to alleviate that self-hatred. Even God. I guess, I just struggle to trust in His love too, because unconditional love and grace don’t make sense in my world. They don’t seem real. And I know that’s the point of faith, but I wish someone could help me figure out how to overcome without just saying prayer and Bible study. Been there, done that, and I still feel afraid of losing God too. There’s so much more, but I don’t see the point of a pity party. I just wanted to get some of it out. It’s pretty toxic.
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