Saturday, January 23, 2016

Words Are Dead

I'm not sure how to start anymore. Today I read back through some past post and I almost can't believe I have been so eloquent. I can't say that I am anymore unless I put in some effort. Has time and experience robbed me of my creativity and lust for beauty in this life, or have I simply become average.... I fear it may be the ladder. There is no one to blame for this lack luster existence I now occupy save maybe myself. I have said often that I plan to use my time and not waste it, but here I am. For the countless day in a row, I occupy only my bedroom, watching movie after movie of useless names, backstories and faces that clutter my mind and distract my soul from any real connection by creating millions of fake ones as I put myself in as one character or another. 
I am finding it difficult to let go of those words as well. Am I truly so hard to love, so "melancholy" that I am not worth the effort to pull me back to joy? If when I open myself up to be who I am and act without contemplation I am rejected, how could it be worth it to ever do so again? The need to connect and the need to be loved are ravenous within me. I fear much in this world. I have also said before that I may never truly be okay with being alone,  but perhaps that is not a weakness, but an inevitability. And even if it is the former, is that so terrible? Of all of the horrific needs some possess and are possessed by, is the insatiable need for human, body, and soul connection so awful? Maybe I am weak... scratch that. I am weak, in some respects. In other ways I am strong and I am capable of many wonderful and worthwhile things. Perhaps someone, someday may truly love me as you did, and I can only hope that I do not waste it. 

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Unexpected Friend

Today I met Marilyn at a car dealership waiting for my tires to be changed out. She told me about how in 1958 or 54 I can't remember she met her husband Leo while walking to a hospital for work when she was a nurse. He honked at her and she told him she didn't get into cars with strangers, but he said he promised to take her right to work so she got in. A year later they were married, and she never told her mother how they met. She didn't know what he did for a living or even how old he actually was! But she liked him. A year after that she had her oldest boy, After that she had a girl and another boy, all while being a stay at home mom. Leo drove a Coke Cola truck and they didn't have a lot but they got by. Leo died 17 years ago of heart disease. 9 years ago she bought a new car that only has 22,200 miles on it because she doesn't drive a lot. Her daughter, Mary Ellen lives in Albany, she has a son who has bi-polar disorder but who just got a job he is very excited about. Mary Ellen also has a daughter who wants to be an English teacher in Korea. Marilyn said that the daughter went to a private school and she "loved the Asians" with their "little yellow faces". I wouldn't have said it like that but she is from a different time. She also took care of a daughter in law who had Alzheimer's. She died in 2000. She told me that once when her oldest son was 17, a girl came to their door looking for him. Marilyn said that when she opened the door the girl was in a bikini, so she just closed the door. "She wasn't getting her claws into my son" she said. Marilyn ran into her years later when the girl was married and had children and told her "You gave his mom quite the scare" and at that she laughed and laughed, and so did I. Marilyn was one of the sweetest women I have ever met. She shared so much of her life with me, a stranger for a whole hour we just talked. She honestly made my day.

Friday, April 10, 2015

All The Drugs and The Shows... One Out of Two Ain't Bad

I know it's been a while since I last posted, things have been very very busy in my life. But it's time to get back to the whole reason I started this blog. I started it to give me an outlet and help me distract myself from my anxiety. I've been able to live my life, boyfriend, school, work, working out, without much intrusion from that anxious monster that's on my back, at least not in the day to day aspects. 
Now i'm noticing some issues. Justin and I met at Life in Color last year. For those of you (if anyone even reads this anymore) who don't know, LiC is an electric dance music show where everyone jumps a lot and moves around and the music is really loud and they spray paint at everyone and everyone is wet and sweaty. It might not sound fun, but for acid heads, MDMA/ecstasy freaks and psycho-naughts (all of which I used to be) those shows are Mecas of spiritual growth and joy. 
Now, all I get from even the thought is anxiety. I'm not worried about all the people and the loud music and the sweat, It's the drugs i'm afraid of. What if I accidentally get exposed? In reality, nothing. But in my mind, that's something that I can't end, I can't control. And that is terrifying. I forget that I went through two tramas, the first was the bad trip from the 2CE, the second was the panic attacks from the SSRI. Both were horrible, I thought I was going to die, but the panic attacks were worse. And they are still controlling me. 
In the fall my boyfriend and I went to a Bassnectar concert (same type of EDM music) and I got so anxious that I had to make us leave early. I felt terrible since he enjoys them as much as I used to. I'm so sad I had to take him away from that. So now I don't go to shows with him anymore. And that sucks... I want to share that feeling with him, the love and the excitement, and the atmosphere... it's indescribable. So I have to pull myself back together. I'm going to go back to my therapist, she is wonderful and kind and picked up my calls at 2am when I was panicking. Anyone who says that psychologists don't care about their patients can fuck off. Of course there are bad ones but there are good ones too.
I also am going to make an appointment with my old acupuncturist. She helped me more than meds ever did and I know she can help me rearrange my energy and get myself back. 

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Thoughts of the New Year

I'm worried I don't do enough as a woman. I have done nothing to empower anyone other than myself as long as I can remember. I know very little about politics. I know very little about Feminism or female empowerment. Personally, I also thought that Feminism SHOULD be unnecessary. Unfortunately it is necessary. Women are objectified,  people kill other people, some beings in the world are just malicious. What can I do? When I let my thoughts get too big I lose hope. There are too many bad people doing horrific things and it seems that the loving and pure among us are dying away. I know this seems to have covered more than a few topics but my head is lost too. How can I help people and who should I be helping? Everyone just wants to be remembered. Don't forget me, don't forget me, don't forget me... We never meant anything anyway though. The best I can hope for is that the humans die out and the earth can restart and perhaps the next set of evolution will bring about a better, more loving and singular outcome. Maybe not us, but another race can live and evolve and advance as we have but without the competition... which i know realize is impossible. Unfortunately, any race that does not fight will die. There is always something waiting just beyond the bend, whether it is life and death, for food, for money or power or sex or commodities there will always be a greed built in to help us survive. It all brings me back to a standstill. If this is all true than the best I can do is the best I can do. To try to be the change I hope to see. Maybe I'll read a book. Do you know how long it's been since I've read a book? Of course you do. I would have written about it. That's what I'll do. I miss my father, and I miss Alec but I must keep moving forward. I'd also like to travel. Find out what is out there what people are like in places I have never been. This cannot be all there is. 

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Mi Amore, My Bed

I will confess something I have never before thought to be a problem. I live out of my bed. I get up for food and come back. I go to school and come back. I go to work and come back. And I go to the gym and when I get home I am right back in my bed. I do my homework, surf the web, eat most of my meals, and type this very post straight from my cozy nest. It's where I feel most comfortable, and safe, and it is my favorite place to be. Is it a problem? Not in the sense that it interferes with much in my daily life, minus a few back problems if I stay in it too long because I have consecutive days off of work, but it puts a strain on my relationship with my moms. Yes. My two moms, biological and non-biological. My relationship with my mom, if you have been reading my blog long enough, you're sure to have heard is fractured at best. I wish it wasn't that way, in fact it would be much easier if it wasn't, but I can not shake the feelings of resentment. It's deeply ingrained in everything she does, her voice, he inflections, her mannerisms, and so on all hold some annoyance for me and trying to ignore them is exhausting until I can no longer hold them in and I snap at her. It's not her fault though, it must be something with me, it's my problem. I just can't stand to be around her which in turn keeps me in my room and, in the aforementioned bed. I'd like to never deal with these problems. I would rather move out and be on my own but that is a hope at the moment not a financial reality. Another reason might be that I miss my dad, and when I see her I see the horrible way she made him feel and she wears her emotions so far on her sleeve about it that I can't console her. I don't have that in me. I want to cry every time I see her. I'd rather just be on my own. I don't want to assimilate I don't want to conform to the household I want to be left alone. 

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Train Whistles and Wishes

It's funny how the clock runs out... runs fast, runs slow, runs in nonlinear patterns in such inconvenient ways. Do you still dream, I would guess not. Neurons have died. Rotted. Decayed and yet still you haunt me. I was wrong I was selfish, I was insecure and I'm sorry. You know I only ever wanted to be the girl you wrote about.... 
And now i'll never know. Just trains whistles in the distance to remind me the world turns evermore, ever quickly to a faster beat than my own heart keeps. To remind me that we are not singular in our fate, not singled out to such poetic tragedy as this. To remind me others are going, going home, going away, going somewhere perhaps they have never been and yet here I lay... a secretly grieving soul devoit of consolation. I wish only that we may speak once more, that I may once more climb the stairs, feel my heart quicken before I knock, wait the painstaking wait for an answer,... and just tell you that. That all I ever wanted was to be the girl you wrote about. 

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Mark Sandler...

If I could say only one thing about my father,
it would be that he loved me.
I was his pride and joy and I could never think any less.
If one was looking for an exemplary dad, mine would have been that.
He loved me with all his heart and I miss him every day...
But i'm more than grateful for the gift of love and acceptance he gave me.