After a day to process what was suggested to me yesterday, I am calm enough to not be a bitch & post anything that would piss anyone off, but rather post a note that implores anyone reading this to perhaps explain what may have been meant by what was said to me...
Old friends of the family (a married couple) stopped by to say hello & see how we were all doing. The husband was sweet as always & complimented me on how great I look- green hair & all... The wife, who had just learned from my mother, that I was having a bunch of complications with my ankle asked me straight off the bat if I had green hair when I had my surgery (like somehow that would excuse my surgeon from not doing his job properly). She then told me the root of my problems was unforgiveness.
I gently reminded her that I was a nurse & know how some things work around the healthcare system, and felt that no matter what color my hair was, that should not cause my orthopedic surgeon to do a half-ass job & continue to ignore the problems I was having. I also pointed out that my hair was not green. However, I did not tell her my hair was blue at the time of my surgery. Through out the conversation, she kept looking at me disapprovingly (perhaps not- perhaps her face is just a scrunchy unhappy face. maybe I shouldn't be so judgemental of her face...). I had greeted her with a hug, and I think being hugged by such a freak scared her. (I'm really not a freak- sometimes I even forget my hair is a bright color that isn't in the "normal range"...)
She pointed out that diseases are linked to unforgiveness. I can buy this to a certain point. However, my ankle problems stem from a chunk of bone that is jammed up in the joint... The pain is valid, and not necessarily because I haven't forgiven the surgeon who failed to notice it or even listen to my complaints of pain...
Perhaps my unforgiveness is not for the surgeon- but for those who have done me wrong. Ok. I can even buy that. But I do not think God would continue punishing me. I am REALLY working on forgiving all the motherfuckers who have wronged me. If I am working on truly forgiving this people, why would God continue plaguing me with problems?
I do believe that there is a spiritual component to total wellness. But I think as long as we are working on our troubles & attempting to live a more loving & peaceful life, we will continue to see things around us improve. I really do not believe God is using me as a punching bag... Right? Although, sometimes I do question why I am being put through the trials & tribulations time & time again, when others who are BAD get to skip through life footloose & fancy-free. Hmmmmm.
As I was listening to her go on about forgiveness & disease processes (i didn't have the heart to tell her my ankle wasn't from disease- it was because I fell & broke it -oh wait, forgive me, perhaps God was pushing me down???) I noticed that she must be close to 60 yrs old. She didn't have a single gray hair on her head. Either she plucked out the gray, or God was really giving her a youthful look by keeping her hair blonde. I was tempted to ask for her hair stylist's number. I think she might be dying her hair. So what makes my green hair so devilish, when she is just as much of a poser? How is she better than me? Why is it my sin she is trying to figure out??? And how dare she try to judge me when she has NO idea what i have been through & what has happened to me? What a unloving bitch. *sigh*
What happened to the law of love?
Word up yo, here's the lowdown- Jesus was good friends w/ Mary Magdalene. She was the town prostitute. Jesus loved her for who she was, and offered a better life through love & kindness. I don't think he wants all of us to be hookers, but he isn't going to shun us away for having sin in our life. No one is perfect.
So once again, I do not think that God thinks I'm a bad person for having green hair. I think God loves me. I also think "God" isn't someone we can put in a box. But that is another rant for another day.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
July 14, 2010 Demons of Dispair.... Rated H.............
hmmmmmmmmmm
i've been thinking alot lately. about everything.
i've been really depressed. have had moments that i have seriously wanted to throw in the towel & scream out the last of the last. i've wanted to give up or run away.
i can't run away anymore. i just can't. i need to start facing this POISON that is deeply encapsulated in my soul.
i'm rated h.
i have so much hatred & hurt & heartache. i've been hoodwinked. i'm in the throws of hard knocks.
i'd love to say i'm "hunkydory" - or however it is spelled. but i honestly can not.
i wear my smile on my face. i put up a brave front so people don't have to see my sadness & despair.
i need to start doing my MPs (i have gotten myself into such a rut of despair that I have neglected my own healing process).
i keep replaying the times back in my head. i get sick. i feel sick. i am sick.
how much can i post on a social network that won't end up adding up to more demise? i feel like if i was to just get all of *this* out of me, i would feel relieved. exhausted on many levels, but relieved overall.
and perhaps someone else could be helped because they would not feel so alone.
i've felt so alone.
i think part of my problem also, is that i isolate.
i feel this heartache, hate & hurt & i turn help away. i make myself helpless. hapless. never happy. just painted happy on the outside.
moments of happy happen. for that i am grateful. but i keep returning to the playbacks of what went dreadfully wrong.
i remember specific times that i had lost control of the situations that had seemed pretty harmless & carefree. then all of a sudden they turned into these times of terror.
pushed into the floor.
stop.
dress lifted off.
stop.
shirt ripped off.
stop.
window kicked in.
stop.
face shoved down.
stop.
hands tied up.
stop.
.............................................
blackouts.
blackouts.
blackouts.
blackouts.
numb.
ugly. never good enough. can't look at my own reflection without wanting to die. ugly. clearance rack girl. never good enough for anyone other than a bargain hunter who wants a better deal for finding an extra rip or tear. marking it up a bit more before checking out. make it cheaper. better deal. ugly. discarded. back of the closet. no one wants it anyways. trash.
goodgirl bad.
misunderstood.
sick & sad. painted pretty.
i can't take a compliment gracefully. sometimes i get rageful when i hear nice things said about me. i want to tear at my flesh & scream. i have to get this poison out.
i don't want to run away to be numb anymore. i want to cut out this poison. i want to free myself from these demons of my past. i want to learn to forgive. maybe i will never forget, but i want to be able to forgive myself. i need to start loving myself. i have to heal.
hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
i've been thinking alot lately. about everything.
i've been really depressed. have had moments that i have seriously wanted to throw in the towel & scream out the last of the last. i've wanted to give up or run away.
i can't run away anymore. i just can't. i need to start facing this POISON that is deeply encapsulated in my soul.
i'm rated h.
i have so much hatred & hurt & heartache. i've been hoodwinked. i'm in the throws of hard knocks.
i'd love to say i'm "hunkydory" - or however it is spelled. but i honestly can not.
i wear my smile on my face. i put up a brave front so people don't have to see my sadness & despair.
i need to start doing my MPs (i have gotten myself into such a rut of despair that I have neglected my own healing process).
i keep replaying the times back in my head. i get sick. i feel sick. i am sick.
how much can i post on a social network that won't end up adding up to more demise? i feel like if i was to just get all of *this* out of me, i would feel relieved. exhausted on many levels, but relieved overall.
and perhaps someone else could be helped because they would not feel so alone.
i've felt so alone.
i think part of my problem also, is that i isolate.
i feel this heartache, hate & hurt & i turn help away. i make myself helpless. hapless. never happy. just painted happy on the outside.
moments of happy happen. for that i am grateful. but i keep returning to the playbacks of what went dreadfully wrong.
i remember specific times that i had lost control of the situations that had seemed pretty harmless & carefree. then all of a sudden they turned into these times of terror.
pushed into the floor.
stop.
dress lifted off.
stop.
shirt ripped off.
stop.
window kicked in.
stop.
face shoved down.
stop.
hands tied up.
stop.
.............................................
blackouts.
blackouts.
blackouts.
blackouts.
numb.
ugly. never good enough. can't look at my own reflection without wanting to die. ugly. clearance rack girl. never good enough for anyone other than a bargain hunter who wants a better deal for finding an extra rip or tear. marking it up a bit more before checking out. make it cheaper. better deal. ugly. discarded. back of the closet. no one wants it anyways. trash.
goodgirl bad.
misunderstood.
sick & sad. painted pretty.
i can't take a compliment gracefully. sometimes i get rageful when i hear nice things said about me. i want to tear at my flesh & scream. i have to get this poison out.
i don't want to run away to be numb anymore. i want to cut out this poison. i want to free myself from these demons of my past. i want to learn to forgive. maybe i will never forget, but i want to be able to forgive myself. i need to start loving myself. i have to heal.
hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Jan.13, 2011... I have moxie & spirit! HUZZAH!
It is Thursday night. I haven't worked since Monday night, and I am now just returning to the "human" feeling again. (damn the nightshift!!)
Today has been wonderful! I started out at the winter sidewalk sale where I indulged myself in a new pair of Dansko's that have sparkley bits in them... And I indulged myself in my addiction for Smartwool Socks... I also got new crosstrainers & shoes for work (cannot WAIT to pitch the ridiculous sketchers shape-ups that have very little base-support...)
Then I slept. I must have needed the sleep, so I will not be annoyed about that.
It has taken me since Monday to feel like I want any social interaction OUTSIDE of my house...
I went out for coffee, and had fun random conversations. A woman who I have never met, overheard me talking about my Smartwool sock addiction, and she then told me about a little yarn shop about an hour away that will spin the yarn of your choosing while you go to one of the little coffee shops in the area. I will have to check this place out! What an indulgence!!! :) The same woman came very close to me then, and looked into my eyes, and asked me if I have ever read "The Artist's Way" - the same book that Len gave me to work on my morning pages & such. I have let my morning pages fall by the wayside in the past year or two, much due to the situational depression I have faced- and the inner turmoils & emotional/situational fallout that had been built up in 2009. It's been a rough few years for me. But the fact that she made such a connection & seemed to truly peer into my soul, and was SO earnest about me getting "The Artst's Way" back out- has inspired me to once again reach into the recesses of my mind & poke around a bit for what had become shattered and/or tattered dreams.
Dance is part of life to me. I love Garnett's classes, and feel like I have been able to find myself again. Little by little I am shedding the insecurities that have plagued me since childhood. I feel like my soul is nourished in these dance classes, and I am FOREVER grateful to her- she is my hero! I love her dearly! <3 It was nice to chat with her after class as well. More picking up some pieces of the dreams I had started to forget about... I am hopeful, and I know my dreams can become reality with some hard work & confidence & the moxie that I KNOW runs through my veins! ;)
My dance classes are about 2 city blocks away from where I live, so I use the walk as part of my warm-up/cool-down to & from class.... After class was over, I took my time walking home- enjoying the lovely snow that looked like glittered whitefluff falling from the sky onto the ground. The streetlights illuminated the snowflakes & made everything look magical & sparkly!!
In a state of twirling & happiness, I made pasta primavera (vegan- using tofurky for the meat/protein in the sauce). Of course, I made WAY too much for just me- even if I am cooking a batch to last me for working through the whole weekend. As I twirled around, chopping up the veg & making the marinara, I recalled the events of this day with a smile on my face! I imagined I was making all of this food to share with the people I miss most. (haha- throw a babushka on my head & call me Bubbie- I like to feed people...) I imagined playing hostess to all my wonderful friends that have enriched my life throughout my 30+ years, and even though it is 11pm at night (was 9-10pm at the time of twirling in the kitchen), I am having a delightful dinnerparty with the people I hold near & dear to my heart. Distance might separate us, but know that I love you all, and you are with me in my heart always!!! <3
Today has been wonderful! I started out at the winter sidewalk sale where I indulged myself in a new pair of Dansko's that have sparkley bits in them... And I indulged myself in my addiction for Smartwool Socks... I also got new crosstrainers & shoes for work (cannot WAIT to pitch the ridiculous sketchers shape-ups that have very little base-support...)
Then I slept. I must have needed the sleep, so I will not be annoyed about that.
It has taken me since Monday to feel like I want any social interaction OUTSIDE of my house...
I went out for coffee, and had fun random conversations. A woman who I have never met, overheard me talking about my Smartwool sock addiction, and she then told me about a little yarn shop about an hour away that will spin the yarn of your choosing while you go to one of the little coffee shops in the area. I will have to check this place out! What an indulgence!!! :) The same woman came very close to me then, and looked into my eyes, and asked me if I have ever read "The Artist's Way" - the same book that Len gave me to work on my morning pages & such. I have let my morning pages fall by the wayside in the past year or two, much due to the situational depression I have faced- and the inner turmoils & emotional/situational fallout that had been built up in 2009. It's been a rough few years for me. But the fact that she made such a connection & seemed to truly peer into my soul, and was SO earnest about me getting "The Artst's Way" back out- has inspired me to once again reach into the recesses of my mind & poke around a bit for what had become shattered and/or tattered dreams.
Dance is part of life to me. I love Garnett's classes, and feel like I have been able to find myself again. Little by little I am shedding the insecurities that have plagued me since childhood. I feel like my soul is nourished in these dance classes, and I am FOREVER grateful to her- she is my hero! I love her dearly! <3 It was nice to chat with her after class as well. More picking up some pieces of the dreams I had started to forget about... I am hopeful, and I know my dreams can become reality with some hard work & confidence & the moxie that I KNOW runs through my veins! ;)
My dance classes are about 2 city blocks away from where I live, so I use the walk as part of my warm-up/cool-down to & from class.... After class was over, I took my time walking home- enjoying the lovely snow that looked like glittered whitefluff falling from the sky onto the ground. The streetlights illuminated the snowflakes & made everything look magical & sparkly!!
In a state of twirling & happiness, I made pasta primavera (vegan- using tofurky for the meat/protein in the sauce). Of course, I made WAY too much for just me- even if I am cooking a batch to last me for working through the whole weekend. As I twirled around, chopping up the veg & making the marinara, I recalled the events of this day with a smile on my face! I imagined I was making all of this food to share with the people I miss most. (haha- throw a babushka on my head & call me Bubbie- I like to feed people...) I imagined playing hostess to all my wonderful friends that have enriched my life throughout my 30+ years, and even though it is 11pm at night (was 9-10pm at the time of twirling in the kitchen), I am having a delightful dinnerparty with the people I hold near & dear to my heart. Distance might separate us, but know that I love you all, and you are with me in my heart always!!! <3
"Creative Mind" by Pearl Buck
One of my favorite quotes:
"The truly creative mind is... no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. to them... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create-so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, their very breath is cut off... They must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency they are not really alive unless they are creating" -Pearl Buck
"The truly creative mind is... no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. to them... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create-so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, their very breath is cut off... They must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency they are not really alive unless they are creating" -Pearl Buck
Oy. On Dating & Baggage......
12-June-2011
Oy. On Dating & Baggage………..
It is the summer month of June. It is 2:30am. It is so chilly outside- feels like the mid to high 50’s, but I cannot stand for the windows to be closed up tight. I’m sitting here at the computer in my pj’s (a tanktop that read GI Girl from about ten years ago, and green plaid flannel boxers that are probably older than the tank). I’m chilly. But the crisp air is refreshing to me, and I can hear the wind outside dancing through the treetops. I’m smiling. There is an element to the air that makes me feel the same feeling I had on early fall mornings when I would be getting ready for school, when the school year was still young, and there was surprise and adventure in each day.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Hah- isn’t that what I do with all this time I have? Indeed- I think… well. I do. Think. About stuff. About this, that & everything in between. I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships & even the pseudo relationships I have had throughout my entire life. This week specifically things came up from the depths of my memory bank with no warning really. “T” called me the other morning. Which is weird, because it has been awhile since I have talked to him. There really isn’t anything more to say to him. We spent every waking moment together for a few months last year, but things just never progressed. He once told me he didn’t know whether to fight with me or kiss me. Then he hung up on me, I texted him that he should kiss me. And that just ended badly for me- I put my pride on the line, and smash. Crunch. Fizzle. That wasn’t what he wanted. So we were just friends. With no benefits. Which in the longrun was healthier for me. But the fact that we were practically a couple, except for the physical ‘stuff’ – which there were hints of physical attraction, just no home run. Fuck- not even 1st base… it just made me feel really insecure about myself- I made myself believe something was dreadfully wrong with me. Then he deleted me from his facebook, and told me he was following every comment anyone would make & he would be really upset when someone would make lewd remarks on any of my posts, and he was becoming obsessed with me, spending all of his time online cockblocking other people, even though he didn’t seem to want a real relationship with me. SO FUCKED UP. But, there were no other offers really- except from some of the sleazy guys at my new job. So I just waited it out… I’ve once again been thinking about how much time I have wasted hoping & calculating & trying so hard. GOD HELP ME. I should know better… I cannot change myself to become a better fit for another person. I have to just be myself.
Leading up to this time being spent with “T” I had a fling of some sort with “D”…. D & I had been friends on facebook & myspace & we had several mutual friends around town. We finally met at an art show that he was performing at. He was ever so charming & charismatic. He was a performer. Smart. Totally full of himself, but somehow had a way of making me feel like the bee’s knees. I remember we texted back and forth a few times. Then he called me one day- I was actually out on a run on my beloved RiverTrail. He asked if I wanted to go out on a date. Wow. D the hotshot performer wanted to take me out on a date?!! I agreed to go of course. He was always so vibrant and made me feel excited about being my vibrant self. I remember what I wore on that first date- jeans that looked just perfect on my ass, and stripey stockings underneath- but I wore the tights, as an insurance of a chastity belt of sorts. I know myself. I need all the insurance I can find. Hardy har har. Jokes on me once again. We went to an eclectic restaurant & he was very attentive to me being me. He wanted to know all my ideas, he wanted to network & integrate our art for the better of the city- for the better of the world. I really thought he meant it. He didn’t. I wouldn’t find that out until after the short-lived fling when he encouraged me to sleep with his friends & told me he believes in open relationships & I could call him anytime I needed to get off- he would be more than happy to oblige me, unless of course, he was with one of his many other lovers. I felt sick. Stunned. And sick. And angry.
The only good thing that came of that whole crazy experience was the roadtrip when we went to Chicago for a Burning Man event party. D, me, & three of his friends piled into his van, and we went on our trip. Three guys, two girls. Plenty of beer, whiskey & sex talk. We got to Chicago, and it was evident things were just different. I was wearing one of my favorite burlesquey outfits. The party was packed. We had climbed to the loft & were listening to the house music just chilling. As I was descending from the loft, a young kid screamed to me- OMG! AMANDA FUCKING PALMER!!!!!!! (I was indeed wearing fishnets & stripey stocking thigh-highs & black boots of some sort & my corsety-bodice thing that I love….) D was pissed that he was not the center of attention, and at that point I knew it wasn’t what I had been hoping for... But my god- that kid ran up to me, hugged me, kissed me & dragged me to his group of friends that all agreed I looked just like AFP. I nearly peed my black lacy boyshorts. The fucking bitch that I love to hate to love. Fuck. I love her. And I somehow passed as her at that party- I did tell them I was indeed NOT Amanda Palmer, and I did not know where she or Neil Gaiman was at that time… hehehe In the midst of my heartache of once again a potential relationship completely fizzling out, making me feel really used & unloved- at least I got mistaken for the woman whose music had inspired me and had started me on the path of my emotional freedom. Ok. I’m just going to say it. I fucking love Amanda Palmer. And on some level I am still dealing with anger & hurt from D… this whole memory became fresh in my mind because I had dinner the other night with M who was the other woman on that roadtrip. She had mentioned how fun it would be to be D’s groupies, and I almost spit out my food in disgust. I will not be a groupie for anyone. Save Brian Viglione & perhaps some clowns I have met through the years. Overall, I think I have had more than my fill of performers (at least of the douchebag variety). I don’t think I am meant to be with someone who continually needs to have the universe revolve around them… There needs to be balance.
All this baggage I have that I continue to haul around- dragging it around in my daily living & more importantly from potential relationship to potential relationship. I have issues of never feeling good enough. I have issues of mistrust. I have issues of being abused. All of this shit I keep covered up in my giant suitcase. I am just so tired of always lugging it around. I feel like it is high time for me to unzip the cover off of this piece of luggage and take everything out- piece by piece- to examine everything- really weighing the pros and cons of whether I need to keep it or toss it. I need to think about all of this stuff- not just throw it out, but I need to face it. I need to remember what it meant to me, before I can let it go. Because I need to let a lot of this stuff go. It’s getting too heavy for me to carry around. When I get too tired of carrying it, I can’t help but ask others to help me carry it, and no one wants to carry this shit around for me. I guess one way I am using writing is to unpack this suitcase & look over all this shit so I know what it is I am carrying to & fro. Again, I’m not writing for pity- we all have shit that has happened to us. I am just chosing to write as a means to get it out of me. So I can be healthier. I also think it is really important to examine what happened, and what lead us (in this case me) to get hurt- especially if there seems to be a pattern, which there does for me. I want this pattern to break- so I do not continue to put myself in situations where I get used & abused or treated in a manner that makes me feel bad about myself.
I deserve more than what I have settled for & even strived for in the past. I am worthy of love, as I love others- wholeheartedly. And for the first time in my life, I am not just saying it or typing it- I really truly mean it. And I feel good about stating this as a fact. This is a new leaf to turn over- the leaf of living honestly. It might hurt a bit, but change & pruning brings about new healthy growth. I’m ready to grow. <3
Oy. On Dating & Baggage………..
It is the summer month of June. It is 2:30am. It is so chilly outside- feels like the mid to high 50’s, but I cannot stand for the windows to be closed up tight. I’m sitting here at the computer in my pj’s (a tanktop that read GI Girl from about ten years ago, and green plaid flannel boxers that are probably older than the tank). I’m chilly. But the crisp air is refreshing to me, and I can hear the wind outside dancing through the treetops. I’m smiling. There is an element to the air that makes me feel the same feeling I had on early fall mornings when I would be getting ready for school, when the school year was still young, and there was surprise and adventure in each day.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Hah- isn’t that what I do with all this time I have? Indeed- I think… well. I do. Think. About stuff. About this, that & everything in between. I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships & even the pseudo relationships I have had throughout my entire life. This week specifically things came up from the depths of my memory bank with no warning really. “T” called me the other morning. Which is weird, because it has been awhile since I have talked to him. There really isn’t anything more to say to him. We spent every waking moment together for a few months last year, but things just never progressed. He once told me he didn’t know whether to fight with me or kiss me. Then he hung up on me, I texted him that he should kiss me. And that just ended badly for me- I put my pride on the line, and smash. Crunch. Fizzle. That wasn’t what he wanted. So we were just friends. With no benefits. Which in the longrun was healthier for me. But the fact that we were practically a couple, except for the physical ‘stuff’ – which there were hints of physical attraction, just no home run. Fuck- not even 1st base… it just made me feel really insecure about myself- I made myself believe something was dreadfully wrong with me. Then he deleted me from his facebook, and told me he was following every comment anyone would make & he would be really upset when someone would make lewd remarks on any of my posts, and he was becoming obsessed with me, spending all of his time online cockblocking other people, even though he didn’t seem to want a real relationship with me. SO FUCKED UP. But, there were no other offers really- except from some of the sleazy guys at my new job. So I just waited it out… I’ve once again been thinking about how much time I have wasted hoping & calculating & trying so hard. GOD HELP ME. I should know better… I cannot change myself to become a better fit for another person. I have to just be myself.
Leading up to this time being spent with “T” I had a fling of some sort with “D”…. D & I had been friends on facebook & myspace & we had several mutual friends around town. We finally met at an art show that he was performing at. He was ever so charming & charismatic. He was a performer. Smart. Totally full of himself, but somehow had a way of making me feel like the bee’s knees. I remember we texted back and forth a few times. Then he called me one day- I was actually out on a run on my beloved RiverTrail. He asked if I wanted to go out on a date. Wow. D the hotshot performer wanted to take me out on a date?!! I agreed to go of course. He was always so vibrant and made me feel excited about being my vibrant self. I remember what I wore on that first date- jeans that looked just perfect on my ass, and stripey stockings underneath- but I wore the tights, as an insurance of a chastity belt of sorts. I know myself. I need all the insurance I can find. Hardy har har. Jokes on me once again. We went to an eclectic restaurant & he was very attentive to me being me. He wanted to know all my ideas, he wanted to network & integrate our art for the better of the city- for the better of the world. I really thought he meant it. He didn’t. I wouldn’t find that out until after the short-lived fling when he encouraged me to sleep with his friends & told me he believes in open relationships & I could call him anytime I needed to get off- he would be more than happy to oblige me, unless of course, he was with one of his many other lovers. I felt sick. Stunned. And sick. And angry.
The only good thing that came of that whole crazy experience was the roadtrip when we went to Chicago for a Burning Man event party. D, me, & three of his friends piled into his van, and we went on our trip. Three guys, two girls. Plenty of beer, whiskey & sex talk. We got to Chicago, and it was evident things were just different. I was wearing one of my favorite burlesquey outfits. The party was packed. We had climbed to the loft & were listening to the house music just chilling. As I was descending from the loft, a young kid screamed to me- OMG! AMANDA FUCKING PALMER!!!!!!! (I was indeed wearing fishnets & stripey stocking thigh-highs & black boots of some sort & my corsety-bodice thing that I love….) D was pissed that he was not the center of attention, and at that point I knew it wasn’t what I had been hoping for... But my god- that kid ran up to me, hugged me, kissed me & dragged me to his group of friends that all agreed I looked just like AFP. I nearly peed my black lacy boyshorts. The fucking bitch that I love to hate to love. Fuck. I love her. And I somehow passed as her at that party- I did tell them I was indeed NOT Amanda Palmer, and I did not know where she or Neil Gaiman was at that time… hehehe In the midst of my heartache of once again a potential relationship completely fizzling out, making me feel really used & unloved- at least I got mistaken for the woman whose music had inspired me and had started me on the path of my emotional freedom. Ok. I’m just going to say it. I fucking love Amanda Palmer. And on some level I am still dealing with anger & hurt from D… this whole memory became fresh in my mind because I had dinner the other night with M who was the other woman on that roadtrip. She had mentioned how fun it would be to be D’s groupies, and I almost spit out my food in disgust. I will not be a groupie for anyone. Save Brian Viglione & perhaps some clowns I have met through the years. Overall, I think I have had more than my fill of performers (at least of the douchebag variety). I don’t think I am meant to be with someone who continually needs to have the universe revolve around them… There needs to be balance.
All this baggage I have that I continue to haul around- dragging it around in my daily living & more importantly from potential relationship to potential relationship. I have issues of never feeling good enough. I have issues of mistrust. I have issues of being abused. All of this shit I keep covered up in my giant suitcase. I am just so tired of always lugging it around. I feel like it is high time for me to unzip the cover off of this piece of luggage and take everything out- piece by piece- to examine everything- really weighing the pros and cons of whether I need to keep it or toss it. I need to think about all of this stuff- not just throw it out, but I need to face it. I need to remember what it meant to me, before I can let it go. Because I need to let a lot of this stuff go. It’s getting too heavy for me to carry around. When I get too tired of carrying it, I can’t help but ask others to help me carry it, and no one wants to carry this shit around for me. I guess one way I am using writing is to unpack this suitcase & look over all this shit so I know what it is I am carrying to & fro. Again, I’m not writing for pity- we all have shit that has happened to us. I am just chosing to write as a means to get it out of me. So I can be healthier. I also think it is really important to examine what happened, and what lead us (in this case me) to get hurt- especially if there seems to be a pattern, which there does for me. I want this pattern to break- so I do not continue to put myself in situations where I get used & abused or treated in a manner that makes me feel bad about myself.
I deserve more than what I have settled for & even strived for in the past. I am worthy of love, as I love others- wholeheartedly. And for the first time in my life, I am not just saying it or typing it- I really truly mean it. And I feel good about stating this as a fact. This is a new leaf to turn over- the leaf of living honestly. It might hurt a bit, but change & pruning brings about new healthy growth. I’m ready to grow. <3
Thursday, June 9, 2011
~Audible Landscape~
I wrote this in a message to a dear friend awhile back. He told me this is one of the reasons he loves me. So I am posting it..............
_______________________________________________________
Right now I am in the car with my leg elevated while my mom is buying flowers in a greenhouse.
I am listening to the distant sounds of people's voices sprinkled with the songs of various birds as they fly around. The sky is hazy & clouds blend into one another. The trees are all fully-green and winds come and go to various tempos. There are intermittent cars that motor-by on the gravel road- the sound of the tires crushing and rolling over the gravel offers a texture to the audible landscape. Now a little airplane is flying overhead.
How can i or anyone else for that matter, feel that life should not be enjoyed in its simplicity from moment to moment?
~love always~
~tanya elizabeth~
_______________________________________________________
Right now I am in the car with my leg elevated while my mom is buying flowers in a greenhouse.
I am listening to the distant sounds of people's voices sprinkled with the songs of various birds as they fly around. The sky is hazy & clouds blend into one another. The trees are all fully-green and winds come and go to various tempos. There are intermittent cars that motor-by on the gravel road- the sound of the tires crushing and rolling over the gravel offers a texture to the audible landscape. Now a little airplane is flying overhead.
How can i or anyone else for that matter, feel that life should not be enjoyed in its simplicity from moment to moment?
~love always~
~tanya elizabeth~
About Family, Children & Unconditional Love
8 June 2011 ~About Family, Children & Unconditional Love~
Everytime I spend time with the kids I nannied for, I become contemplative about where I’ve been, what I’ve come from, what I have wanted, and how I have changed. When I was graduating from highschool, I always thought I would find a nice guy, settle down and have the family, be a part of a community & so on & so forth. Hmmmm. My life path wasn’t meant to be the way I had dreamed it as a naïve seventeen-year-old. Apparently.
I daydreamed about the hockey players I had crushes on, as well as the ghetto boys that would make comments that flew way over my head. So I was naïve & good-natured. I wasn’t a bad girl, a party-girl or a slut in any way. I hid behind my religious upbringing, and figured life would just simply work out the way it was meant to be. I was brought up in a semi-strict household. My dad is a very controlling man- I will give him credit that he has mellowed out throughout my lifetime, but he was always very controlling, and my mother usually just did his bidding. There is a lot of alcoholism that has literally wasted the family away – more so spiritually and emotionally than physically. I guess we all have longevity in our genes. But I digress. So there is codependency, fucked up family dynamics and the hedge of religion to contend with.
I dated some, but no one either sparked my interest enough, or I convinced myself I was never good enough. I ended up dating a lot of jerks. The first guy I REALLY thought I would settle down with to get married to – we were an item before we went on an official date. It was understood. But vague. I think I was eighteen or nineteen years old. I was head over heels in what I thought was love. Fuck. This went on for a couple of years. Then one day a group of us went to get coffee. He told me he loved me. But he loved me in a way that wasn’t the way I needed to be loved. He moved halfway across the country the next day. I hadn’t even known he was planning to move. I was devastated. I was completely heartbroken.
The years had drifted by, I was twenty-one then. I didn’t understand how I would have done anything for him, and he left me. His family even loved me. His parents had told me on many occasions that I was their little girl. In the midst of my heartbreak, I threw myself into being the most fabulous party girl I knew I could be. I hung out at the local gay bars and competed in fabulousness with the local drag queens. I could throw together an outfit for any theme party and I put my best slut face forward. Even though I was still not a slut (I may have had a few “instances” where people may have thought I was a slut, but just because I was ACTING slutty, that did not in any way mean I was a true slut. I had many opportunities to be a slut, but deep down, I just couldn’t sleep with anyone and everyone. Until I started partying so much that I didn’t care so much, and my judgment became inhibited, and indeed- I made some really bad decisions.
All this time, I was just trying to figure out who I really was. It felt good to be able to walk into the club & instantly have a flock of men around me ENCOURAGING me to act a fool & be the most ridiculous girl I could be. It made me feel a bit narcissistic when I got offered a role in a fetish film because I was rocking out a bondage belt & was letting anyone lick whipped cream off my breasts as long as they bought me a shot. (that night did end up getting rather fuzzy. Thank GOD for all my gay men that surrounded me & got me home safe- otherwise I probably would have ended up in a snuff film, dead in some dumpster in an alley in this town. **shudder**
All this time of partying, I held together my day life. I would party hard all night long, but somehow I would gather myself together when I would hear the birds singing & I would either make it to class or to work with a smile on my face, I remember even going to work on Sunday at eleven- and I started having a trip-flashback. Holy fuck that was intense. Once again- thank GOD for my gay boys coming to the rescue. Sunglasses, OJ, & food to try to buffer all the chemicals in my system... That was the only time I have ever done acid. It wasn’t great, and it just made for a really freaky experience during daylight hours. Not my bag.
I held 3 part-time jobs during this clusterfuck of a rollercoaster. And I was a 4.0 full-time student. Somewhere around this time, “A” was born. Her parents went to the same Bible study group that my parents went to, and they wanted someone to take care of her 3-4-5 days a week. I figured I had taken care of kids since I was 12 (how else do you think I afforded eyeliner as a kid- my dad certainly wasn’t going to shell any money out for that) – so I agreed to the job.
I was a primary caregiver for ”A.” We were inseparable. I would find myself taking care of her on days I wasn’t needed, just because I loved her so much, and because it made me sad how inept her parents were at loving her. I wanted babies. I hadn’t really settled down yet, or found Mr. Right, and I hadn’t even gotten knocked up like so many of my friends…. I had failed, but I could still love this precious & amazing child.
I was “A’s” nanny until she was about two years old. She was already calling me Mama sometimes, and when I would leave their house, or put her in her parents’ car, she would sob & beg for me not to go. They were expecting another baby, and her mother lost her job, so it worked out that I could pull away from that heartbreaking experience. I loved her so much. But I wasn’t her mother.
I’ve taken care of this family on and off through the years. There are three kids now, and I love them all deeply. I think their father is a creep on more than one level, and their mother is… detached. But I cannot point fingers, or think I would be any better if I was in their shoes. I haven’t walked in their shoes. But deep down, I know I would do better.
Today we celebrated “A’s” eleventh birthday. She is a precocious child. Bless her. I love her, but cannot help but get so annoyed with her – she makes ridiculous comments, just mimicking her ultra-religious & right-winged parents. She has no idea what she is talking about except that she hears all that bullshit from her parents. They talk trash about me, and they are stupid to think it won’t be parroted back to me. Oh well. I know they don’t think highly of me because I sport blue hair & have no real boyfriend, I haven’t gotten married or done the right thing of breeding- which I never had intention of merely breeding- but really truly being a mom. I think I would be really good at it. But, I digress yet again. I don’t think highly of them at all either. I wish I could just walk away. But those three kids. As annoyed as I get- they have no real structure in their life, no real discipline- only threats & belittling. It isn’t really their fault how they are. It isn’t their fault that they have not had exposure of being able to play make-believe, to play house, to play with playdough, to make finger-paint art… I could go on forever. I won’t. IT’s not the point. The point is this. I love those children. I feel really shitty when I yell at any of them when they are doing something bad or naughty or disobeying the rules. The only way they get attention on a regular basis is getting yelled at. I cannot be that to them.
All the years I took care of them, I would play the same “I love you more than…” game that I remember my mom playing with me. Finding ways to outlove each other, and giggling at the ridiculous ways we could find to love each other more and more. Giggling & being able to be spontaneous and silly. Feeling loved. Feeling free.
I also would play this game with them where I would chase them around until I could catch them in my “arms of love” – I would catch them, and then hold them close, hugging them close to me, just to give them hugs and kisses. I think it is truly a basic human need to feel this limitless love. To feel so safe in the arms of someone you can trust to love you unconditionally.
Tonight the little one, who is five years old, ran to me, and hugged me. She hugged me so tight around my neck. I could barely breathe. We were giggling, and then she told me that she was holding me in her arms of love and would never let me go.
I end tonight’s blogfest once again, feeling totally vulnerable and raw. My shredded emotions are open to the air and I can feel the sharp pain of being open and vulnerable. I love these babies. Maybe I will never have my own… But I still have enough love in my heart that I can love others who need to be loved. And when I am least expecting any love in return, I will be so pleasantly surprised. I will be knocked to my knees and humbled in the simplicity of this basic of human needs…. Unconditional love. Even I can be loved… unconditionally.
Everytime I spend time with the kids I nannied for, I become contemplative about where I’ve been, what I’ve come from, what I have wanted, and how I have changed. When I was graduating from highschool, I always thought I would find a nice guy, settle down and have the family, be a part of a community & so on & so forth. Hmmmm. My life path wasn’t meant to be the way I had dreamed it as a naïve seventeen-year-old. Apparently.
I daydreamed about the hockey players I had crushes on, as well as the ghetto boys that would make comments that flew way over my head. So I was naïve & good-natured. I wasn’t a bad girl, a party-girl or a slut in any way. I hid behind my religious upbringing, and figured life would just simply work out the way it was meant to be. I was brought up in a semi-strict household. My dad is a very controlling man- I will give him credit that he has mellowed out throughout my lifetime, but he was always very controlling, and my mother usually just did his bidding. There is a lot of alcoholism that has literally wasted the family away – more so spiritually and emotionally than physically. I guess we all have longevity in our genes. But I digress. So there is codependency, fucked up family dynamics and the hedge of religion to contend with.
I dated some, but no one either sparked my interest enough, or I convinced myself I was never good enough. I ended up dating a lot of jerks. The first guy I REALLY thought I would settle down with to get married to – we were an item before we went on an official date. It was understood. But vague. I think I was eighteen or nineteen years old. I was head over heels in what I thought was love. Fuck. This went on for a couple of years. Then one day a group of us went to get coffee. He told me he loved me. But he loved me in a way that wasn’t the way I needed to be loved. He moved halfway across the country the next day. I hadn’t even known he was planning to move. I was devastated. I was completely heartbroken.
The years had drifted by, I was twenty-one then. I didn’t understand how I would have done anything for him, and he left me. His family even loved me. His parents had told me on many occasions that I was their little girl. In the midst of my heartbreak, I threw myself into being the most fabulous party girl I knew I could be. I hung out at the local gay bars and competed in fabulousness with the local drag queens. I could throw together an outfit for any theme party and I put my best slut face forward. Even though I was still not a slut (I may have had a few “instances” where people may have thought I was a slut, but just because I was ACTING slutty, that did not in any way mean I was a true slut. I had many opportunities to be a slut, but deep down, I just couldn’t sleep with anyone and everyone. Until I started partying so much that I didn’t care so much, and my judgment became inhibited, and indeed- I made some really bad decisions.
All this time, I was just trying to figure out who I really was. It felt good to be able to walk into the club & instantly have a flock of men around me ENCOURAGING me to act a fool & be the most ridiculous girl I could be. It made me feel a bit narcissistic when I got offered a role in a fetish film because I was rocking out a bondage belt & was letting anyone lick whipped cream off my breasts as long as they bought me a shot. (that night did end up getting rather fuzzy. Thank GOD for all my gay men that surrounded me & got me home safe- otherwise I probably would have ended up in a snuff film, dead in some dumpster in an alley in this town. **shudder**
All this time of partying, I held together my day life. I would party hard all night long, but somehow I would gather myself together when I would hear the birds singing & I would either make it to class or to work with a smile on my face, I remember even going to work on Sunday at eleven- and I started having a trip-flashback. Holy fuck that was intense. Once again- thank GOD for my gay boys coming to the rescue. Sunglasses, OJ, & food to try to buffer all the chemicals in my system... That was the only time I have ever done acid. It wasn’t great, and it just made for a really freaky experience during daylight hours. Not my bag.
I held 3 part-time jobs during this clusterfuck of a rollercoaster. And I was a 4.0 full-time student. Somewhere around this time, “A” was born. Her parents went to the same Bible study group that my parents went to, and they wanted someone to take care of her 3-4-5 days a week. I figured I had taken care of kids since I was 12 (how else do you think I afforded eyeliner as a kid- my dad certainly wasn’t going to shell any money out for that) – so I agreed to the job.
I was a primary caregiver for ”A.” We were inseparable. I would find myself taking care of her on days I wasn’t needed, just because I loved her so much, and because it made me sad how inept her parents were at loving her. I wanted babies. I hadn’t really settled down yet, or found Mr. Right, and I hadn’t even gotten knocked up like so many of my friends…. I had failed, but I could still love this precious & amazing child.
I was “A’s” nanny until she was about two years old. She was already calling me Mama sometimes, and when I would leave their house, or put her in her parents’ car, she would sob & beg for me not to go. They were expecting another baby, and her mother lost her job, so it worked out that I could pull away from that heartbreaking experience. I loved her so much. But I wasn’t her mother.
I’ve taken care of this family on and off through the years. There are three kids now, and I love them all deeply. I think their father is a creep on more than one level, and their mother is… detached. But I cannot point fingers, or think I would be any better if I was in their shoes. I haven’t walked in their shoes. But deep down, I know I would do better.
Today we celebrated “A’s” eleventh birthday. She is a precocious child. Bless her. I love her, but cannot help but get so annoyed with her – she makes ridiculous comments, just mimicking her ultra-religious & right-winged parents. She has no idea what she is talking about except that she hears all that bullshit from her parents. They talk trash about me, and they are stupid to think it won’t be parroted back to me. Oh well. I know they don’t think highly of me because I sport blue hair & have no real boyfriend, I haven’t gotten married or done the right thing of breeding- which I never had intention of merely breeding- but really truly being a mom. I think I would be really good at it. But, I digress yet again. I don’t think highly of them at all either. I wish I could just walk away. But those three kids. As annoyed as I get- they have no real structure in their life, no real discipline- only threats & belittling. It isn’t really their fault how they are. It isn’t their fault that they have not had exposure of being able to play make-believe, to play house, to play with playdough, to make finger-paint art… I could go on forever. I won’t. IT’s not the point. The point is this. I love those children. I feel really shitty when I yell at any of them when they are doing something bad or naughty or disobeying the rules. The only way they get attention on a regular basis is getting yelled at. I cannot be that to them.
All the years I took care of them, I would play the same “I love you more than…” game that I remember my mom playing with me. Finding ways to outlove each other, and giggling at the ridiculous ways we could find to love each other more and more. Giggling & being able to be spontaneous and silly. Feeling loved. Feeling free.
I also would play this game with them where I would chase them around until I could catch them in my “arms of love” – I would catch them, and then hold them close, hugging them close to me, just to give them hugs and kisses. I think it is truly a basic human need to feel this limitless love. To feel so safe in the arms of someone you can trust to love you unconditionally.
Tonight the little one, who is five years old, ran to me, and hugged me. She hugged me so tight around my neck. I could barely breathe. We were giggling, and then she told me that she was holding me in her arms of love and would never let me go.
I end tonight’s blogfest once again, feeling totally vulnerable and raw. My shredded emotions are open to the air and I can feel the sharp pain of being open and vulnerable. I love these babies. Maybe I will never have my own… But I still have enough love in my heart that I can love others who need to be loved. And when I am least expecting any love in return, I will be so pleasantly surprised. I will be knocked to my knees and humbled in the simplicity of this basic of human needs…. Unconditional love. Even I can be loved… unconditionally.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
6-7 June 2011: Sensuality vs Sexuality... my muddled musings...
6-7 June 2011: my ramblings. Let them all pour out out of me. As I write, I become free from my own burdens that have weighed heavily in my soul for far too long….
So here goes nothing, or everything… I suppose it is perception. Everything always comes back to perception. Everyone’s reality is only their own. The adage of “you don’t understand unless you walk in my shoes for a mile” – it rings true. Indeed.
I finally hit the trail yesterday afternoon- right before dusk. I hadn’t ran on my beloved Rivertrail since last fall. I have had complications with my ankle & I cannot run during the winter. I also was shorted workout time due to spending a lot of time on the phone with someone I at one point thought must be my soulmate. Hmmmm. That is another chapter though. I shall try to stay on task of writing what is on my mind & not jumping from subject to subject- all in a muddled mess.
I love running on the Rivertrail. It is such a balance of being in a city & being part of nature. I feel like I am home. I recite my own spontaneous poetry in my mind as I push my body to run faster & faster- breathing hard & focusing on all the sights & sounds around me. Running the trail is a truly sensual experience for me.
As I approached the trail, I smelled campfire. I smiled. The campfire indicated the gypsy camp is back- thriving, even though they lost some in the difficult winter this past year. I have only seen traces of their camp- in the fall when the leaves are not hiding the tops of their tents so well. And I have seen paths that lead into the woods. I have never ventured on the paths, because I feel it might be an intrusion. The woods is their home.
I continue running. I run under the train trestle –another of my favorite places along the trail. When the trail floods, I crawl up the steep hill, squeeze myself through the chainlink fence & climb the steep hill of rocks to cross over the train tracks & then descend down the otherside back to the trail. I always feel more adventurous when I have to do this. I feel like I am getting in an adventure hike incorporated into my trail run. I am happy here.
The trail continues, and I enjoy the sounds of various song birds singing to each other. I listen to the breezes & winds dancing & tumbling through the trees- singing a melody all of its own. My spirit is alive here. I sometimes slow my run to a walk to feel the air & to listen. Just listen. The earth speaks volumes when I am silent and alone.
The dappled sunlight filters through the green leaves. Spring has already turned to summer. Everything is green. There are grasses & trees & swamps along the river’s path. I see the bright purple of the flox flowers & smell their sweetness & I think of being up at my Gramma’s in the Upper Peninsula. I feel wild and free. I feel beautiful. No one can see me. I am here experiencing this nature around me & I feel connected. Life is so connected.
I continued to run, and was thinking about how all of my senses were being spoiled here on this run – maybe spoiled is not a good termt o use at all. I was being spiritually fed. Running is my zen. I can meditate while I run. I think this is why I prefer to run alone. I do not want to entertain mindless chatter. I want to regain my inner peace. I want to feel all my senses to the full extent. I want to be alive.
I reached the spot of the trail where I am at the bridge right before my half-way point. It is the place that I will write about again, while talking about other things. Not now. Last night everything was calm, I kept running. I was meditating on the differences between being sensual and sexual. Ahh, what a fun subject to be mulling over when pushing my body so hard- sweating from every pore, breathing hard, working my muscles to the max. Pushing myself harder and harder. In a way, running is almost like sex, right? So is being sensual.
I was mulling all of this over because I was recently asked some questions about sex. I will call him “Arizona” J For the first time in a long time, someone seems to be truly interested in me, not just fucking around. I owe him honest answers- regardless of what the future holds. I owe myself honesty. I cannot live in such a manner anymore that I am always trying to please others & be to others what I perceive it is that they want or need. For God’s sake- look at where it has gotten me. (long story- will write more on that later. And maybe not ever in a blog but rather a book when I can write under an alias.)
Sex. Hmmmmm. Such an interesting subject. Right?
I think I am a very sexual person. I mean- I’m horny most of the time. So that means I’m sexual, right? Maybe. Maybe not. I think I am, but I think I have hangups regarding sex… Which is probably more normal that I let myself believe. I cannot be the only fucked up girl here on planet earth, right?
I am indeed a very sensual person. I cannot choose which of my senses is most important to me. I have ADD/ADHD of the senses. I get soulgasms from music, I feel connected to mother earth. I believe in living fully- and when I cannot live fully, I feel like I am dying. Irony is I have spent years numbing myself by ways of binge drinking- just to stop feeling. Because I have not known how to deal with the madness in my head. I don’t drink anymore- and I am forcing myself to confront these demons in my past.
I think part of my hangups about sex (it is true- I have faked many an orgasm – because sometimes I just don’t let myself let go. I cannot let go. Because on some primal level I do not want to give into the person I am with all the way- I cannot let myself become that vulnerable. I enjoy it, sure- but very rarely have I truly let myself go to fully enjoy the experience. I honestly believe it comes down to trust. Trusting others, and maybe even trusting myself…
Sexuality. A dear friend of mine once told me I was “trisexual” –I would try anything at least once, if not twice- to rule out if I liked it or not. Hah. I suppose she is mostly right…
So. I have come to the conclusion that I am both sensual & sexual. I can live with this. So why the hangups? The hangup is letting myself go, and being able to be truly intimate & trust another person fully. Sure I’ve fucked around a lot. I have made jokes about all the random stories I can tell about sex with people & in random places. But they make for better stories than the actual memories attached. Deep down I am still the scared little girl afraid of being left behind, again. And again. And again.
I think people misconstrue my sensuality & sexuality. I think I am very full of light and love and energy that people sometimes misunderstand that I truly only want to be friends, I do not want to be lovers. Oy.
I was about 20 or 21. I was asked over to the neighbor’s to have a tour of the house because I might be housesitting for them later in the summer. They wanted to show me the basement. I don’t know how everything happened so fast. We were going down the stairs & all of a sudden my hands were back behind my back & tied with rope. They told me how hot I was. How beautiful I was. I was scared & didn’t know what to do. These people were supposedly my friends. I wanted to scream, but my voice didn’t work. My jeans were unbuttoned. My shirt was torn off. I must have had a look of fear in my eyes, because the woman interrupted this madness & let me go. She then told me that they were all going to get a hotel room later that night and really wanted me to come & join in on the fun. I left the house. I never went back.
Needless to say- I do not like getting tied up during sex. Never.
Another summer- there was a neighborhood party. We were all drinking. Several of the guys told me that they had been watching me for years. Apparently I was the sight to see when I would do yardwork in my spandex bikeshorts & little tanktops. I always thought there was something so wrong with me, because the two guys across the street never flirted with me. I must have been hideously ugly. Then they admitted to watching me, fantacizing about me. I was like the neighborhood Lolita or something. There was a lot of joking going on, and then the older man across the street said he often fantacized about me giving him blowjobs. I wanted to vomit. The younger guy who had admitted to watching me from his house all those years walked me home that night. In a drunken state of misunderstood feelings, I let him have me.
Hmmmm. Love & lust….
Flashing to just a time in recent years. December of 2008, to be exact, I agreed to meet an internet friend for a date of sorts. It was awkward at best. And I hate dating. I hate the awkwardness & would much rather be someone’s friend than go through the weirdness of meeting someone on a date. Yuck. Anyways. We went out for some drinks and local music. He drank jack daniels. A lot of it. I think I had a few vodka tonics. There was no way he could drive home, so I said he could stay on my couch. We’d watch movies. This is the really difficult part to write about. It still seems so vivid. So fresh in my mind. And then blackness. Nothing. I forced myself out of my brain to shut down. People maybe assume I’m a slut or something because I am a bit of a wild child. I am not. At least I do not mean to be. I was raped that night. I don’t even know if the guy really even knew what he did to me, because he was so wasted. I started drinking a lot after that. Just to be numb. I can still feel the burn of my face being shoved into the chair & then down into the floor. And then nothing. I force myself to forget.
Hmmmm. I think I cannot write any more today. I need to process some of this. Now that I have written it out. There is so much more, but I think I’m feeling small & vulnerable & frightened. I am going to sleep for a bit. Maybe have a good cry. I have needed a good cry for so long. I need to cry this all out of me so it doesn’t leave me sick and infected in my spirit anymore…….. ~t~
getting started
oh my. after years of this writing block......... i am back to blogging. i have been putting off writing for some time now, but i feel like i need to get back to writing- for my very sanity. I haven't blogged since the days of myspace. so, this will take some getting used to.
If you are reading this, thank you- & please feel free to comment on anything that I post here. <3
If you are reading this, thank you- & please feel free to comment on anything that I post here. <3
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