Monthly Archive for April, 2008

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Five Things

Published on April 24, 2008 in For the Record. 5 Comments

The author of Roses on The Moon tagged me for this. Here are five things:

5 Things Found In Your Bag (backpack)

Drawing pad
Black gel pens
Small toiletry bag
A little stuffed duck that use to be a PEZ dispenser
Peppermint candies.

5 Favorite Things In Your Room

These are just 5 things found in there, not favorites

Book shelves
A sunflower display on a wooden shelf above a framed print of Lady In The Trees. The display is high and the sunflowers spread out on the ceiling.
Cat fur lined drapes
A cabinet full of lotions of every scent, hair gel and small bottles of Purel.

5 Things You Have Always Wanted To Do

I’ve always wanted someone to come up with a mind reading machine so I didn’t have to type out stories I write in the middle of the night when I’m trying to go to sleep. Basically, I’ve always wanted to use a mind recording machine.
I still really want to dance with the guy that dances on the corner everyday. For some reason I just feel the need to get out there and dance with him.
I use to want a pet teranchilla but now I’ll just take a fish and be happy about it.
I want to learn to play golf.

5 Things You Are Currently Into

Painting
My iPod
Learning how to properly grow flowers- learning not to kill them is what I mean.
I’m into organizing the room I’m in now and filing things better.
I’m into golf. Since I know Tiger Woods rushes to my blog everyday to see how I’m doing I’d like to go ahead and send him a shout out. Hey Tiger!!!! Roarrrrrr, purrrrr <—– I love that man. I watch the golfers across the street every day and long to go over there. I WANT TO GOLF DANG IT! I do the girly scream every time I see his new commercial where he’s painting by hitting a golf ball full of paint against a canvas. When he signs it I nearly pass out. I love that man, almost more then Denzel Washington. Oh, since we’re talking about sports let me send a shout out to my girl Sarina Williams. Haayy! I’m sure I’m on her blogroll. hey Sarina, call me. You know the number. 555-Purr. Sarina, that’s power right there. My gracious that girl is good.

5 People You Want To Tag
I believe everyone and their brother has been tagged but I’ll go ahead and tag Tiger Woods, Sarina Williams, Denzel Washington, Forest Whitaker, Rob Thomas from Matchbox Twenty and last but not least Spiderman.

Hurt, Choices, Survivor’s Decree

Published on April 23, 2008 in Abuse, Female Sadist, Mental Health, Poetry, PTSD and Therapy. 8 Comments

Hurt

A cocky slouch in the doorway is mother peering in at the little girl on the unmade bed.
There are no ruffles, no white sheets or painted pictures on the walls.
There is no closet full of brand new dresses or chest of teddy bears and dolls.
Just your youngest daughter bound, motionless, emotionless, waiting.

Your slick black raincoat dusts the floor as
You take your time crossing the room.
Body quaking with intensity
Eyes focused on mine searching for any sign that I understand
You intend to make this hurt.

——
 Here it is nearly 4am and I’m up as if I’ve had a full night of sleep or something….like I’m going to be refreshed tomorrow and able to think. This whole therapy subject makes me want to vomit. Enola wrote a post talking about if she knew what she knows now about her healing path would she still choose to heal. I’m paraphrasing that. Even though this is incredibly hard and EVERYTHING is triggering and NOTHING pleases me right now I still have the choice to heal or not heal. I have the choice to get better or stay stuck. You know, that’s the difference between when I was a child and now. As a child I had few choices. I was hurt. Period. I did what I was told to do. Period. But as an adult I relish the thought that I have choices. They’re hard ones but they’re mine. And you know what? That’s freedom at it’s best. Choices. I like them.

My Survivor’s Decree

It is a daunting task to balance the past with the present and not curl up and cease to exist. My strength becomes less and less with each battle with depression, flashbacks and body memories. Every part of my life is touched by what happened to me. Sometimes I feel strong but most of the time I do not. I journal regularly so that I have a place to relieve some of the stress. When I write in my journal I’m given and outlet for these extreme emotions. There are times when I am tired of fighting for peace of mind but I understand I do not have to fight. I do not have to heal. I have the choice to heal or stay divided, confused, fearful and maimed. I have chosen to heal and God willing, I will.

………You intend to make this hurt.
You’ve planned this out but never did you consider my determination to make life good.
As you crossed the floor, eyes fixed on mine did you see hope that never dies?
Did you see a spark, the one that burns beyond black soars and ligaments
Fear and desperation
To ignite into peace
Peace of mind that dances with daisies then rests beside strong oak trees.

Joan of Arc for Morton’s Pride

Off the Mark

Published on April 22, 2008 in Art, Medical, Mental Health and Pets. 2 Comments Tags: , .

I usually handle the physical pain pretty well but right now I’m an irritable, angry mess. Add in therapy issues and poor sleep and you’ve got yourself one galactic bitch.

I’ve described chronic pain as a pair of glasses made for someone else that I’m forced to wear. I put them on and I’m to adjust my life to someone else’s eyes, a totally different depth of field and understanding of sight in general. I can’t see anything without it filtering first through those glasses. I can’t think straight in this kind of pain. Usually I do okay wearing someone else’s glasses, with my sight off the usual mark. But sometimes my vision is too distorted. My ability to function fails. My responsibilities fall to the way side and all I can do is wait for it to ease up. Usually I handle it pretty well. I go about my day, get stuff done and don’t complain outwardly. But add lack of sleep and therapy issues and I’m just pissed!!! I’m pissed, depressed and physically exhausted. That’s all I have to say about that.

My neighbor is having brain surgery. I’ll be taking care of his dogs while he’s gone. Three dogs, my dog and two cats and a bunch of me….this should be fun. Truthfully, I feel honored that he’d trust me in his home while he’s not there. He loves those dogs (he gives them beer but he loves them) and wouldn’t leave them with just anyone. They’re sweet. I enjoy my time over there. All I have to do is go over and let them out for a bit, fill their water bowl and feed them, that’s all. With my energy level the way it is it feels like a lot but really, I’m happy to do it. I know I just complained about pain and energy and everything but when someone trusts me with something precious I can’t help but accept the joy that comes with it. My twisted glasses do at least let me see that much.

Austin

Faded Moon

This is a shot from the recent full moon taken from the backyard.

Off the Mark
Tuesday, April 22, 2008 – 12:16AM EST

Al-Quida School of Dentistry

Published on April 21, 2008 in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Medical, PTSD and Soapbox. 3 Comments

In all the years I’ve done dental studies at the university never have I had a negative experience until Friday. Friday I went in for a repeat of the study I did about 3 months back. They used the same machine in the same office. Everything was supposed to be the same but this time I got a student dentist surely once an apprentice to Osama Bin Ladin. The chair she had me in was tilted so far back that my feet were above my head. She had my jaw pulled so far that I tapped her hand and said, “Um…my skin only stretches so far.” She said nothing. The person observing said, “Sometimes she forgets there’s a human being in the chair.” I said, “She had my jaw half across the room.” The student continued.

She had to be told to use the mirror to look at my teeth. She had to be told to use the lamp. When she used the little dental mirror to look inside my mouth she pushed with it so hard against my cheek that it hurt. The dental mirror should not hurt. Okay so now I’m kinda shaky because here’s a woman inside my mouth, it’s hurting AND to top it off one of the workers who happens to have my birth name kept getting paged. Even though she never used a needle the student dentist was really testing my PTSD issues. My mother used needles in my mouth. While a dental mirror isn’t a needle it sure as hell hurts when Bin Ladin’s apprentice is pressing it hard against your jaw. That on top of the worker getting paged pretty much non-stop while the apprentice dug around in my mouth was just a bit much. I figured we might as well top the appointment off with an MRI where the friggin machine sprays dye in my face. Shit, lets just make this a PTSD party. Let us not forget this was also the day of the earthquake. Why I haven’t started drinking is beyond me cause that was some motherfuckin bullshit right there.

In all the years I’ve done studies at the university never have they gone down this path. I’ll keep doing the studies because the money is good. I just have to remember this is rare.

If you do these studies don’t worry, they’re not usually like this. It won’t happen unless of course you go to the Al-Quida Family Dentistry office near you. They’d better be happy they paid we twice as much this time as last time…. the bastards!!!!!

Destiny

Earthquake

Published on April 18, 2008 in For the Record and Pets. 2 Comments

Yup, Indiana felt the earthquake but everybody here’s okay.

Somewhere In Here Is Me

Published on April 18, 2008 in Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health and PTSD. 2 Comments

Food does not make this better. Cigarettes don’t help, music touches and I don’t want to be touched. Painting helps little but I can’t focus enough to finish anything. All I want to do is go to sleep. I’m pissed, just majorly pissed and I can’t even bring myself to cry.

There is a joyful me, one who was thrilled to death about having a fantastic sales week, 56 pieces in all. I wonder how she keeps herself separated from the rest of us who care about that but are overshadowed by anguish. It’s not that I don’t care. I like the fact that people want our art in their home. It’s just that right now I am pissed and tired and frustrated and running around like a chicken with my head cut off looking for soul food, something to cut the pain. It’s just not happening though. Nothing helps.

I feel lost right now and I need to find my way back.

Female Sadists – Therapy Discussion 1of2

Published on April 17, 2008 in Abuse, Female Sadist, Mental Health, PTSD, Segments, Soapbox and Therapy. 8 Comments

It seems hard to imagine that a woman would sexually abuse her own child. We hear about it more. People are angered when they hear a woman has beaten, neglected, starved, abandoned, murdered or sold her child to an abusive mate but they’re shocked when they hear women sexually abuse. Many people give excuses of mental illness to female offenders and that just infuriates me. When a conversation about female offenders comes up the first thing that’s said is the obligatory “This is horrible, that poor child. They should jail that woman.” Then ..then come comments of rationalization. They’re not trying to excuse the fact that she’s sexually offended a child; they’re trying to wrap their brain around the concept of a female predator. It’s not hard to do that with a man. We give them no excuses whatsoever. But women, it just doesn’t set well in our heads that she herself would violate her own child or someone else’s child. We don’t even bat an eye when it comes to violence by men but our eyes are wide with shock and sometimes even morbid fascination when it comes to violent female offenders. When I say violent female offenders I also include serial killers and pedophiles. Morbid fascination. Wow! Continue reading ‘Female Sadists – Therapy Discussion 1of2′