The Dark Side of the Mind

Balance and the lack thereof

2010-12-09T13:21:00.002-05:00

I am trying to regain balance after a bit of a downswing. Not a real bad one, just a sleeping too much, can't find joy in anything, type of downswing.

Time to reconnect with Mindfulness.

Mindfulness Meditation is basically being fully connected in a non-judgmental way to the present moment. To be fully connected to the body and fully aware of the surroundings. There are better definitions out there but that basically sums it up.

Here is a link to a study about the effect of this on depression.
http://psychcentral.com/news/2010/09/29/meditation-improves-mental-physical-well-being-in-ms-patients/18863.html

When I was practicing Mindfulness as a way of living I was balanced and stable. Somewhere along the way this past year or so I got away from it. I do not think it is coincidental that I destabilized after that.

Why is it so hard to do things that are good for us?

Updated things, and stuff, and stuff, and things.

2009-03-26T23:45:00.002-04:00

Thank you to Tina Turner for the title of this and the other blog entry. I love that song.

There are things that I still want to post
But I can't for years, if ever.

There are things I started to say to someone,
and I don't regret saying it, how I phrased it, or anything other than being so nervous that perhaps body language could have been better.

There are things I still want to ask,
but won't till other things are answered.

There are still things I want to do,
but I am ok with finding someone fun to do them with.

I did the thing I didn't want to do,
and it went better than I expected.

There are still many more things I want to post here,
but

Things, and stuff, and stuff, and things

2009-03-01T21:17:00.003-05:00

There are things I want to post here...

but I can't.

There are things I want to say to someone...

but I can't.

There are things I want to ask...

but I cannot.

There are things I want to do...

but I must not.

There are things I don't want to do...

but I must.

There are many more things I need to post here...

but

Letter to Mom of choice

2008-11-26T14:02:00.002-05:00

This past Sunday was hard. I didn’t realize how hard until later, after I had the chance to really think about it.

When I was lying in bed for the hours I couldn’t sleep I came some realizations why this was worse than other times. First was when I realized that you cared more for the feelings of someone you barely knew who was actively manipulating you than you did for mine. Second was when I acknowledged you were aware that you were in the “cutting comments” emotional state because I had called you on it earlier but you did nothing to modify your behavior, so the statement of “it just came out” has less to back it up because you knew you were in that space.

The hurt hit a peak when one of my coworkers cheered that I got the starter changed in my truck. This was what I was expecting you to do. Just a simple, good job or congratulations or something like that. I got instead that critical laughter that feels like razorblades cutting down my back. I usually ignore it (or try) and just go on. “That’s just the way she is” I usually say.

Not today.

“How can I miss you if you won’t go away” and other little or big insults depending on the day. We usually call them “cutting remarks” today I will call them what they are, insults. In previous times when the insults came I would chalk it up to you “just being you” or that I was intruding on your space, or something I may have done.

Not today.

I look back over our relationship focusing on the last 8 months or so and I am seeing a disturbing pattern. I am seeing signs of abuse where I chose to ignore it before. Perhaps abuse is a strong word to use in this situation, however, I feel it is accurate. I feel that intentional tearing of someone down (no matter what the motivation or explanation) is abuse. More so if there is consistency in the behavior with no perceived effort to change the behavior.

Basically all of the logic above is a great way to defend myself against the full onslaught of the hurt I feel right now. Hurt at being betrayed, hurt at being treated far worse than someone you barely knew and who was actively manipulating you, hurt at the realization that I have repeatedly used convenient rationalizations to justify being treated like shit. Hurt at the realization that I won’t let it continue and that I can’t trust you to stop.

Hurt that I am losing another mom.

You said on Sunday night, after the insult, that you hoped you had helped me on the path of healing. You have, more than you know. You gave me space to heal and guidance along the way. Held me when I came apart and told me that it would be ok. That is what makes this so hard and hurt so much.

This just sucks.

The reason I am not coming tomorrow is that you will do this again. Tomorrow sometime you will send another insulting dart my way and it will hurt even more than Sunday’s. I can’t handle that so I am protecting myself from it.

I do miss you.

A lot.

This just fucking sucks.

I was hoping that over time this week I would feel better, that the wound would begin to close and heal. What I am finding instead is that it is much wider and deeper than I knew. This isn’t going to heal in a day or two. It might not even heal in a month or two. I just don’t know. Even if it does heal I don’t know if I will ever trust opening up to you. I don’t know if I will ever trust talking with you in person again because I was closed to you Sunday night (because I knew the space you were in) and you were still able to get to me.

I will leave you with unsolicited advice.

1. look at your motivation for saying things.
2. breathe before you speak.
3. step into the shoes of the other before saying anything to them other than pleasantries.
4. know yourself and your limits. Back away when you feel yourself getting into that space.

FuckingFucktards

2008-10-15T20:59:00.000-04:00

I am in a spectacularly shitty mood so I am trying to limit the amount of time I am around people right now. Even in electronic form where I can edit.

I got a shitty review at work last week. It wasn’t that getting a “meets expectations” (ME) is that bad. It is the fact that I overwhelmingly exceeded expectations, they know it, and they gave me the ME simply for bullshit political reasons.

I own the fact that I like to poke people. Doesn’t matter who you are, I will ask you to prove the bullshit you are spouting and asking me to follow. This is bad when you want to succeed in a division run by people with egos larger than their brains. I know that I will never get advancement in this place because I do like to poke people. I also know that it is unlikely that I will ever get a great review here. Last year the VP of the division joined with the CTO of the company to override my boss’ recommendation for an “exceeds expectations” on that review. I was ok with that because my boss was able to put in good examples and so while the overall rating was an ME you could see where I did a good job.

However, to get slammed by the shitty examples used on this review is beyond what even I can accept.

While going over the review with my boss, I challenged him on one of the examples he sighted to bring my score down. The example he used was clearly out of my control and proven such in the records of the ticket. When I showed him this he said that he could not change it but that he would note it in my review that I objected to it. That was but one of the many times in my review where the score was brought down for bullshit.

Added to this was the lovely lecture yesterday from the VP of my division while going over my salary increase. He explained to me how I missed out on a higher raise because I "need to work harder" and "work on my goals with my supervisor to try and get a promotion". When I asked him "Promotion to where?" he sputtered for about 45 seconds then said "well, a promotion". To which I asked him again "To where?". He didn't have an answer.

After working my ass off this whole year I got a whopping 3% raise. Considering that inflation was 5.5% I actually lost money this year.

I did not tell him to eat shit and die. It took every ounce of self control not to. I did however walk away today when he was in mid-sentence about how the second highest person in the company complimented me on the excellent job I did. He was left standing in the hallway with nothing to do or say other than "ok, uh, well then."

Yesterday before the salary talk, I stared blankly at my boss when during a meeting we were having going over my tickets he complimented me on how well I handled the last two weeks with a project that would have derailed without my help. All I said to him was a very flat “Ok. Next.”

Ditto on the blank stare when another person complimented my work to the VP last week when I was in a meeting with him. I looked right at him with the blank stare and after a pause said in a voice that was cold as ice "shall we continue?" Watching the look on his face would have been funny if I had been in the mood to laugh instead of resisting the urge to tell him off.

Seems like ever since my shitty ass review I have been swimming in complements from these ass holes. Fancy that. I haven’t changed a damn thing about how I do my job but all the-fucking-sudden I am spectacular and *insert arm pump here* “doing a great job!”

The next compliment I get from the fuckwads I don't know if I will be able to continue to resist the urge to say what I think each and every time they compliment me.

To my boss: "I am quite confident you will make sure to forget all of this by the time my review comes again, just like you do every year."

To the VP: "I don't have time to listen to empty words from you."

Neither statement is good for continued employment.

For you Mother and Father

2008-09-30T07:25:00.002-04:00

Mother, This one is for you.

Dad, This one is for you.

Ouch

2008-09-30T07:23:00.000-04:00

I am sitting here in Waffle House trying to become human again. No, that isn’t really accurate. I am trying to wrap my head around my daughter not seeing me. I don’t know what has her so afraid of seeing or talking to me.

Go back in time to three weeks ago. My parents lawyer called my lawyer at 9:55 am on a Thursday in August when I was in StL, visiting with my spouse, and asked if we were on our way over to the meeting that started at 10:00. My lawyer answered with a “No, we didn’t know about this meeting”. She went over as soon as she could and met with my parents, my daughter and their lawyer. She didn’t even get the chance to call me before this meeting took place.

She did well acting on my behalf and also got the chance to talk with my daughter alone. During the alone conversation my daughter expressed a strong desire to see me. She also expressed that she would like for me to come to some plays she is in and other activities. Later the same thing was expressed when all were in the same room. During the alone interview my lawyer asked why she stopped calling me or answering my calls. My daughter told my lawyer that my parents had said that they would take the car away from her if she talked to me. They worked out that my daughter and I would have the second weekend of every month for visitation.

After this meeting I called my daughter that same day. She sounded distracted so I asked her if this was a good time. She said that she was tired and asked if she could call me back later. I didn’t hear from her for three weeks.

Last weekend was to have been the visitation weekend. My daughter said it was not a good time when my lawyer tracked her down when I couldn’t get in contact with her.

It was rescheduled to this weekend.

I was supposed to have visited with her this weekend but that isn’t happening. I stopped by to see her this morning and no one was home. I called and left a message on her cell phone and the house phone. I then went to McDonalds around the corner and ate breakfast and waited a little while. After an hour I was headed back over to her house to leave a note and she passed me going the other way. I pulled over and sat there for a minute or two deciding what to do. I then turned around and went back the way I came. I got to the light where I turn to go home and saw her sitting there. After thinking about it for a few seconds I pulled in behind her and tried to get her attention. She looked in the rear view mirror and then pulled away when the turn light changed.

I don’t know what to think.

I know how I feel though. Hurt, crushed, devastated. Gulf Coast after Katrina kind of devastated.

I tried for ten years to have a relationship with her. My parents actively interfered with that. I would call my mother and almost always hear “it’s not a good time” or some bullshit like that. Finally I started calling my daughter directly and checking with her first. She would say ok, then I would call my mother and would still hear “it’s not a good time”. Finally my mother asked me to stop checking with my daughter first because she got tired of my daughter blowing up when my mother would say no to seeing me. This was May of last year. My daughter and I couldn’t see each other much but we could talk on the phone and text message. At least we could up till this July when I got tired of not seeing her and started this part of the journey.

Only to end up here, in Waffle House, trying to become human again when frankly, I can’t feel anything but pain contrasted with waves of numb with the occasional spark of life when I can distract myself from the pain and numb.

I realize that either my daughter was lying about wanting to see me or she is lying now about not wanting to see me.

and

There is nothing I can do about any of this.

Interesting that the server here just put Whitney Houston’s “I will always love you” on the jukebox. Most of this song is about right with how I feel. Everything except the line “we both know that I’m not what you need”, that line does not fit.

Now it is Bob Marley’s I wan I love ya. Is this love that I’m feelin. This is a weird trip to Waffle House. Not the weirdest click here for that one.

The next one is Bob Marley’s “No woman no cry”.

I gotta say I like the server’s choice in music.

Visitation or the lack there of

2008-08-24T06:16:00.003-04:00

A little over a month ago I contacted a lawyer to find out what my rights are as far as filing for visitation to see my 16 year old daughter.

I lost custody of her to my parents 10 years ago when I had a severe BiPolar episode. While I was in the hospital they threatened to sue for custody. Knowing they would file in Virginia and that being gay combined with being in a mental hospital gave me no chance at all of winning I gave in and signed a temporary custody agreement so that it would not go before a judge and I would not risk having my parental rights terminated. I was not well enough at the time to retain my own attorney or to think to stipulate regular visitation in the paperwork. Since then my parents have made it very difficult to see my daughter. At one point they did not let me see her for three years. I had believed that things were improving up till these last 6 months when my parents, once again, were making it impossible to see her.

I contacted an attorney in Virginia to see what I needed to do to file for visitation rights. The lawyer asked me to go to the court house to find out exactly what paperwork had been filed. I went to the courthouse the morning of Tuesday July 29th. After I got there the lady behind the counter pulled the file. As she is rustling through the papers of the file I point to a stapled bunch and ask “Is that the temporary custody agreement?”

“It doesn’t say temporary on it”

My heart stopped at that moment.

“What?”

“It doesn’t say ‘temporary’ on it. Hmmm. This is weird though.”

She then flips through all the pages in the file. Pages that are stapled together, pages that have sticky notes attached, single pieces of paper, all representing the worst time of my life. The time that I lost custody of my beautiful, sweet daughter.

I remember back to that time. The phone call to me when I was in the hospital, where my dad tells me that because I will not come back to live with he and my mom that they are going to file for custody of her. The moments later when I hung up the phone, went to the smoking room, and started punching the steel door (nearly destroying my hand) because the pain in my hand was better than the pain in my heart, mind, and soul.

The moment a few weeks later, when I was sitting in a law office in Virginia, across the table from my mother and the attorney signing the papers giving custody to my parents. The worst part being that my mother had brought my daughter along. I had to sign these papers, then look into my daughters eyes that were filled with questions, knowing that there was nothing I could do to stop this. Nor did I want to poison her relationship with them by telling her what had happened.

The memories of the next few months of setting up visits with my daughter, coordinating it with my mother, then getting there to find that my mother had sent her to a friends house to play. For hours I waited, while my mother chit-chatted with me about how I was going to hell, how I was a horrible influence on my daughter, how I was “leading her down an evil path”. When I could no longer take it I left to go home. Once home, I would get a call from my daughter, asking why I didn’t come. I didn’t want to tell her that I was there waiting for her while my mother tormented me. I didn’t want her to hate the person she was now living with, my mother. I didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t go over to a friend’s house to play. So, I told her that I couldn’t make it. By the 5th or 6th time of this happening I gave up trying to see my daughter. I couldn’t take lying to her like that anymore and I couldn’t take my mother tormenting me like that.

I remember the next time I saw my daughter after giving up. It was December 2001 around Christmas time. Three long years of not seeing my daughter. No contact, no information, nothing, for three years. She had gotten so big during that time. By this point my mother had her start calling them “Mom” and “Dad” instead of “Nani” and “Popi”. My mother had also taught her call me by my given name, instead of Mommy.

Many other daggers like this over the years. So many hoops to jump through, ass kissing sessions, placating, making sure I don’t rock the boat, to an extent hiding who I am, all to be allowed to see my daughter. Usually only for a couple of hours every 4 to 6 months. The years of drinking to escape the pain and the hopeless worthless feeling I had about myself. This was not the only reason for drinking, but looking back I see where this added to the downslide.

So many events that I missed. So many memories that I don’t have with my daughter. So many times to share that will never be. So many things with her that I never saw or experienced. My daughter grew up without knowing me, and without me knowing her. We are just now beginning to come together and know each other again. It was time to limit the amount that my mother could interfere with this knowing process.

I come back to the present time, with the courthouse worker checking the database to verify something she found. She looks at me and says “the judge never signed this.”

“What?” I ask.

She tells me that 10 years ago, the judge reviewed the custody paperwork my parent's attorney filed and had a question about it. The judge asked the court to contact the attorney's office to get clarification. The attorney's office never got back to the court or to the judge, so, the judge never signed the paperwork.

My breath has completely stopped by this point. I don’t dare hope that this means what I think it means, so I slowly ask:

“What, exactly, does this mean?”

The woman behind the counter says “What this means is that your daughter has just been living with your mother these last 10 years.”

My head exploded at this point. I took the copy of the not valid order and left the court house. The first phone call I made was to my partner. She burst into tears of joy that I could now see my daughter whenever she and I wanted.

My next call was to my attorney.

The call after that was to my mom of choice. (I just call her mom these days but for clarity in this article I will call her mom of choice.) Her head exploded too. She just kept saying “I don’t believe it” over and over again. :-)

Other phone calls followed. More tears, more joy.

My daughter was out of town when I got the news so I had to wait till I was fairly sure she knew about this before posting.

I say fairly sure because my parents have once again cut off all contact. My lawyer is working on it though.

Distracted (but not a med thing)

2008-08-12T00:48:00.001-04:00

I can’t seem to write this entry. I am distracted (quit laughing) tonight and I understand why. I have not been able to talk to my daughter. It is driving me nuts. More so than even the three years when I was not allowed to see her. Perhaps it is because I am so close to having a semi-normal relationship with her. Closer than I have been in ten long ass motherfucking years.

And yet,

I still cannot see or speak to her.

AAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!

Godamnmotherfuckersonofabitch why the hell do they have to make this so god damn hard??? What kind of sick fucking joy do they get from this? Huh? Could someone please answer that fucking question? Jeeeebus H. Chrust on a damn cracker.

All I want to do is speak to my daughter, give her a hug, find out what she would like to do, talk with her about what is possible and what is realistic. Tell her that I am willing to do whatever she would like. If that means she wants to live with me but stay in the same school, ok. I can move out there, I can get a new job out there so that it will be closer to her and to her school. If she wants to stay with my parents, also ok. I can sign the paperwork and stipulate visitation weekends and the holiday or two. Either one is fine with me. Honestly I want her living with me but she has been with my parents for so long now…

*Big ass sigh*

You know. I need sleep now. I need a lot of sleep and then a lot more blogging.

Funny, I just figured out what I need to be doing in my spare time till Friday. Interesting… No wonder I have been running. Who the hell wants to do this kind of intense work. Yeah, I do. I want to be better and keep on movin on up.

Time for bed now.

ADHD or How I learned to get things done.

2008-07-22T07:53:00.000-04:00

For years I have had the diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Click on the link here if you don’t know what that is.

When I got the diagnosis at the ripe age of about 7 years old they started me on Ritalin. This was not a bad thing however this was just as they were trying to figure out how to dose us kids back in 1980. This was also decades before I figured out that I hyper-react to medication. In other words I was severely overdosed.

I called the pills my “downers” and later learned to describe the effects as a pharmacological lobotomy. It killed most of my emotions and responses to things that were happening around me. It made me flat and a zombie. I told a doctor years later that “sure I could focus, but it took me four times longer to get anything done.”

I was on Ritalin from the age of 7 to age 11 (the point where I flat out refused to take it anymore). I vowed at that point to never take anything like that again. For years I self medicated (coffee and smoking) and denied that I needed any meds or if I admitted I needed meds that it wasn’t bad enough to merit trying anything like that again.

Till this past Monday.

This past Monday was the culmination of weeks of a downhill slide, which in turn had followed decades of struggling with trying to make and keep appointments, balance my budget, make it to work on time, keep up with work and get my life organized.

The start of the downhill slide was quitting smoking. I quit smoking June 5, 2008. Six weeks after removing a large stimulant from my system I was in the doctors office nearly begging to be put on something, anything, so that I could function. I had hit the point of not being able to do anything, not even the things I looked forward to. I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t follow a conversation, I couldn’t figure out where to begin with something, I couldn’t stay on task. I was losing my mind.

I was also driving those around me crazy.

My partner had to put up with me not being able to talk on the phone with her for more than 10 minutes before I had to go. My Mom (of choice) would watch me sit down, stand up, move around, jump from one topic to another in a conversation, and watched me be impulsive financially. Mom knew what this was because her daughter has ADD too and so she understood because she had been down this road before. (She had been encouraging me to go back on the meds for a long time.) My coworkers watched as I got more and more behind in my work.

My state of mind was subconsciously demonstrated the night before I called the doctor when I was fixing something for mom and was holding a drill talking with her about something. She looked at me and said something about it isn’t that bad or something. I looked over and realized that I had it pointed at my head like I was going to drill a hole in it. Yeah, that was about how I felt. I didn’t have the heart to look at mom for a minute after I put the drill down. It was a bit too revealing how accurate that pose was.

So, on Tuesday morning I called my doctor and got an appointment for that day. Mom wrote up talking points for the doctor since I could no longer pull things together in my head nor could I explain things coherently. Armed with my list I went to the doctor.

First thing the doctor said after looking up my records (no official mention of the ADHD there) and reading my list was “I guess you should be taking some medication for the ADD huh?” I said “that is why I am here” with a bit of a groan.

I went on to explain that yes, I did hold out too long but with what I went through the first time on meds combined with the chance that these meds may spark a Manic episode and the fact that up till I quit smoking it was manageable, why would I take the risk? She was more understanding after that. She prescribed Adderall for me in a light starting dose to see how it goes. I am to return in 30 days for a check-in, how you doing type of thing, and another 30 day prescription. (I call it being on a short leash. It works for me.)

I took the first dose way late in the day knowing that it would screw up my sleep. Hell, I wasn’t sleeping anyway so I figured at least it may make staying awake more interesting. :-) The first dose was a miracle! It was like Holy Shit I can sit still, I can focus, I can actually do my job! Woo Hooo!

The doc had told me that I would notice the difference right away but I didn’t really believe her too much. I hoped but I didn’t really believe. Each day has gotten a bit better. Till today where I feel like I am beginning to get my life together. This really is much like when I went on meds for the first time for the BiPolar. Its like “Wow, so this is what life is like for everyone else?” Later my thoughts were, “yeah, I should have been on this a while ago.”

There have been some interesting learning experiences this past week.

Adderall, if you don’t know, is an amphetamine. Essentially it is speed. (Speed kills man! Yeah, couldn’t resist.) This drug, in ADD or ADHD folks has the opposite effect than in folks without ADD/ADHD. Basically it slows us down and helps us focus.

I wondered about drinking caffeinated coffee with this amphetamine. So, Wednesday morning last week I tried a bit. Ooooo that was not a good idea. I drove to work that day looking like Tweeek from South Park. My eyes felt like they were really biiiiig. When I turned my head it didn’t feel like my usual slow turn to the side, it was like “whaPAH” and I was suddenly looking left. I don’t think I blinked for like three hours. Yeah, I quickly decided that it would be decaf coffee for me.

Then a few days later I couldn’t stay awake. That was ok for the weekend where I can take afternoon naps but not so good for weekdays where I have to work. I put just the teensiest bit of caffeine back in and that was ok. So now, it is about ½ and ½ for the first two cups then decaf for the rest. I will be asking the doc about the can’t stay awake thing. Perhaps the dose is a bit high? Donno, will find out when I ask her. I learned long ago with the BiPolar not to fuck with my meds. Don’t go off them without approval (read supervision) of the doc and support from family. Don’t change the dose, don’t! do! anything! without the doc and family knowing and supporting. It is a short road to crazy and I have a more direct route than most.

In writing this post I did a bit of research and found a lot of stuff that is making me say “oooooh, that’s why” a lot. It is hard looking at this stuff and at the same time, it is comforting. Hard cause I have to face what a mess my life is in, literally with my room, my truck, my desk at work, financially with lots of stuff that piled up cause I couldn’t deal with it. Comforting cause what I am reading and learning are steps to combat the usual stuff that goes on with ADHD folks. I read this and its like, wow, I’m not alone or lazy or stupid or crazy (all the things I have secretly said to myself over the years). I really do, as much as I hate to admit it, have a disability that makes some things a lot harder for me than for other folks.

There is a part of me that is looking forward to the adventure of succeeding with this. After so many years of struggle and failure it is neat to begin to see what I really am capable of now that I don’t have one arm and one leg tied behind my back.

More later…

Where do I begin

2008-07-18T22:47:00.001-04:00

Where do I begin to get all of these things out of my mind? So much is in there. The trip to Ohio. The seeing my daughter after six months of waiting. Losing my grandmother. Contacting an attorney to get visitation rights spelled out. Reconnecting with lost family. Thanking my mom of choice in a deeply open hearted way for all the love and support she has given me. Starting a new medication to help with the severe ADHD that I had denied for years. That med allowing me to drop a few more of my emotional walls.

All of this was just in this past week.

Where do I begin to empty my head a bit so I can sleep better?

Stream of consciousness seems to be the key. Not thinking and just typing. Whatever comes to mind in whatever form.

This week, I thanked my mom (of choice) for all that she is to me. I put it in the form of all that she has done for me but that is not what I meant. Nice thing is, she knew that.

I have to add the descriptor after her “title” so to speak because I am interacting more with my Biomom as I am calling her. That would be my mother of origin, birth mother would be another term. She is…

ohhhh. I think I hit close to why I am not sleeping.

My biomom (short for biological mom) is in large part the reason I did not see my father’s family for 10 years. (See the July 16th entry in this blog) I am very angry with her right now. She separated me from half of my family and instead gave me her family as the only option. This family consistently treated me as less than because I asked questions, couldn’t sit still, wasn’t the pretty little girl in a cute dress and didn’t play with dolls. A family that looked good from the outside but were not what they tried to present themselves as. A family that, to me, is more interested in “winning souls for JESUS” than they are with talking to/with people and getting to know who they are trying to “save”. The family that when I came out as gay, chose to believe what they heard in church from their pastors rather than read the bible and turned me away. My Aunt even went as far as to tell me that “satan has written his lies all over your face”, after I had opened myself up to her and told her my story. My story of knowing in my deepest being I was born gay and my years of struggle to stifle and kill that part of me. Imagine being that vulnerable, just months after coming out to yourself, only to be met with being told by someone you loved that it was a lie. (I have been trying for years to forgive her that. I just can’t seem to let it go.)

My mother had good reason to limit my contact with my grandfather (Fathers father). He had problems that I don’t want to get into here. Perhaps another time. I understand her wanting to protect me.

But, I don’t understand her wanting to protect me.

This is the same woman who told me that she hates me. This was not when I was an adult that she did this. All through growing up I heard this. I got chills one time when I did the math about Roe v. Wade and my birthday. Had I been a little bit later I probably wouldn’t be here. This woman that I owe my birth to… it is a shame. I try sometimes to be compassionate toward her. Not tonight. Tonight I am pissed. Shit, not just tonight. I have been this way an entire week since I was in Ohio and realized that the stories that she told me about my father’s family were only one sided. They were told to me to accentuate the negative about them. They were told to me to control me.

ooooooooh…. another moment of understanding.

Is this what I am angry about? Am I angry that my birth mother still had this control over me 10 years after I started to remove myself from her suffocating grasp?

Or am I angry that I allowed her to manipulate me like that for so long. That for so long after I became “an adult” that I still let her run my thoughts and actions and beliefs. And that this “training” had continued even after I thought I was done letting her.

Or, is it just the fact that I am angry at missing the last 10 years of my grandmothers life. That, when I sat across the hospital bed from my Aunt, I had to ask my aunt questions about my grandmother that I should have known. I didn’t know what her birthday was till I read it on the hospital wrist band… last week… a few days before she died. Her birthday was in the same month as mine. I never knew that before last week. I didn’t know that she has two brothers living that she didn’t have any sisters. I learned last week that the Cherokee heritage comes down through her. I learned more but I don’t want to put it here yet.

I got the chance to tell her that I am doing well. That I am studying to become a Shamanic Practitioner. When she asked me what that was I told her that I was studying to become an Indian Medicine Woman. I was floored when her eyes got really big and she got a huge smile and said “that’s good”. She was proud of me. It was wonderful seeing that look, even though it was behind an oxygen mask.

I was accepted and loved for who I am. No hiding what I thought or felt or who I am. I was just loved.

I helped care for her for a bit before I had to tear myself away to return home to go back to work. I wasn’t afraid to touch this frail woman. In fact, it was hard not to keep stroking her hair, even when she was sleeping. I held her hand for as long as I could when I visited her.

Then, too soon I had to come back home. I knew I would not see her again in this life. I was right. She dropped the robe this past Monday.

My biological mother let me know of Grandma’s passing via a text message to my cellphone.

Yeah, my biomom really is that heartless.

I am sleepy again. Perhaps this was what needed to come out of my head. More tomorrow after I buy some tissues. I thought I had some around here but I don’t. So, I have to make due with fast food napkins that I scrounged up. Not too soft those…

Letter to My Family of Choice Back Home

2008-07-16T22:44:00.003-04:00

I am in Ohio. Location of my family since just before the Trail of Tears in 1836. I find myself looking around and merging with any number of times, 1980, 1974, 1995, all of them. I see things that have been here for nearly 30 years (the sign outside a Baptist Church) and things that are new (The Panera Bread place I am at now). Makes me wonder what year it is sometimes. (I will splaine more sometime but not now...)

As you all know (if ya didn't I apologize) my Grandmother (Father's Mother) was not doing so well. Tuesday evening they weren't expecting her to make it through the night. She did make it and is now doing a bit better. She ate something this morning for the first time in a week. She woke up for a bit when I was just there a little while ago and we talked a bit. She has an oxygen mask on so it is a bit hard to understand her. She lost a LOT of weight so she is not the large, loud, wonderful woman that I remember. She is thin, and frail, and looks like if you looked at her too hard she would break. Still one tough bitch though! :-) I can see it in her spirit even if I can't see it in her body.

I have spent time with my grandfather as well. He has changed so much in the last 10 years. Perhaps the throat cancer has him thinking about his mortality and what went on in the past, I don't know. I do know that he is MUCH quieter (not just verbally, but emotionally as well). Less demanding and less needing of being the center of attention. Perhaps it is just the fact that as tumultious as his marrage has been to Grandma, this is his wife of more than 60 years who may be transitioning, and he does love her. This is the first time I have ever seen it.

I have spent a good amount of time with one of my dad's sisters (Nancy) and ran into one of his brothers (Brucie) at the hospital. I am still wanting to see his other brothers (Terry and Eddie) and sisters (Connie and Cathy). Those reunions should be interesting... They are all pissed at my dad (Teddy) for not coming up and as his "unofficial representative" I am getting a lot of the "Why didn't your dad come up?" kinda thing. What do I say? I just say that he isn't doing so good these days cause he is drinking too much and try to leave it at that. What the hell, why not tell them that his drinking is out of control. Interesting thing is everyones's drinking up here is pretty much out of control too. Irony is my middle name these days....

At last count I had 26 first cousins. This is a bit of an advantage given that I cannot remember people's names. There are too fucking many of us to keep track of so it is ok for me to ask what someone's name is. I am trying to start the trend of introducing ourselves to each other by saying something like "I'm Aimee. I belong to Teddy." just to give an idea where we come from. LOL I mentioned that to my dad this morning when I was giving him an update on Grandma and my Aunt Nancy about shot her coffee all over the place cause she was laughing. Good to keep the sense of humor when ya are completely overwhelmed. She by losing her mom (dad too soon cause of the cancer), me cause I haven't seen these people in 10 years and the mental/emotional whiplash is...

On my way up, I was very nervious about coming here. I am sure that I have told stories about some of my experiences with this side of the family. Spirit and I had a good conversation while I was driving. Spirit asked me to take everything from the past and set it aside and approach my grandparents, aunts and uncles from the perspective of today. I agreed to do that with a little caviat. Just as long as it did not compromise my safety or sobriety. I did this and wow. I can't wrap my head around some of this... I can't wrap my head around the fact that I feel like I have come home. That I am welcome, that I am family. I have never had that feeling with my Mother's side. I arrived here, after not speaking to anyone here for 10 years and I am welcomed with open arms. Not one person asked me why I haven't been back in 10 years. They just keep saying come back again sooner than ten years from now. Fucking wierd not to be judged or critisized in any way.

One of my Cousins (Cathy's daughter Alicia) was at the hospital last night. I remember when her mom got married (back in 1980 I think) I kept looking at her and saying in my head "I remember your mom's wedding... Damn that was a while ago wasn't it" considering this person I was hanging out with is like in her early 20's. She and I had good, honest and frank conversations. Talking about the family, ourselves, how we are doing, where we are headed type of thing. It was neat. None of the hiding information that I am accustomed to from my Mothers side of the family.

So, I am in Canton, Ohio, visiting with relatives that I haven't spoken to in 10 years. my mind is blown and I find myself asking a lot of questions about belonging, judgement, redemption, acceptance and forgiveness.

I find myself asking another question over and over.... Where are all the Black people????? Since I got here I have seen three. What the fuck?? :-) (Yeah I do keep asking myself that but I also needed the humor too....)

More soon. Love to all of you.

Rise up my Sisters and Brothers!!!

2007-12-30T22:06:00.000-05:00

Freedom! Lakota Sioux Indians Declare Sovereign Nation Status

Threaten Land Liens, Contested Real Estate Over Five State Area in U.S.West Dakota Territory Reverts back to Lakota Control According to U.S., International Law

WASHINGTON, DC - December 20 - Lakota Sioux Indian representatives declared sovereign nation status today in Washington D.C. following Monday's withdrawal from all previously signed treaties with the United States Government. The withdrawal, hand delivered to Daniel Turner, Deputy Director of Public Liaison at the State Department, immediately and irrevocably ends all agreements between the Lakota Sioux Nation of Indians and the United States Government outlined in the 1851 and 1868 Treaties at Fort Laramie Wyoming.

The rest of the article is here

I want to say congratulations to the Lakota people. The obstacles they face out there are many and sometimes subtle. Imagine working for people that call you plains-nigger. Those are the people who would hire you if you go off the reservation to find a job. That is, if they would hire you at all. This leads to people being dependant on food subsidies. The food subsidies that the US Government (USG) sends to the Lakota are high in sugar. This would not mean much but for the fact that Native Americans have a much higher rate of Diabeties than the white population.

Diabetics shouldn't have high sugar food, it tends to end up in blindness and losing a foot or two then ultimately death. The average life expectancy for men on the reservation is 44 years old. That is the lowest life expectancy in the WORLD if you exclude HIV/AIDS. This is happening right here in America.

I can't describe very well what this means to me, someone who is of Cherokee descent. It is exciting and a little scary. I see this as another time for freedom but I also know that the US Government and especially this administration does not look kindly on uppity people. They prefer to have people quietly go into death.

I am praying that they have peace and hope and LIFE.

Here is the link to the Republic of Lakota webpage. http://www.republicoflakota.com/

Injustice anywhere

2007-12-21T00:21:00.001-05:00

So, I am reading this article, about how doctors are legally able to deny care based on their religious beliefs. The article gives the story of a woman who was raped by a man she knew. Then in the emergency room, after the rape kit, the exam and on the suggestion of the rape counselor asks the doctor for the morning after pill to prevent pregnancy. The doctor coldly refused saying "it is against my religion" and just leaves it there.

Later in the article they say this...

"Even under less dire circumstances than Boyer's, it's not always easy talking to your doctor about sex. Whether you're asking about birth control, STDs or infertility, these discussions can be tinged with self-consciousness, even embarrassment. Now imagine those same conversations, but supercharged by the anxiety that your doctor might respond with moral condemnation — and actually refuse your requests."

To which I snorted. Yes, I literally snorted, because I thought "welcome to my world."

You see, if y'all hadn't figured it out yet, I am a lesbian. I am a partnered L E S B I A N.

Wanna talk about discrimination? How about these statistics from Cancerpage.com...

76% of women do not tell their health care provider about their sexual orientation

almost 25% of lesbians avoid getting health care because of fear of a negative attitude on the part of the practitioner

and best of all...

"One study found that 45 percent of the gynecologist-members of the Gay and Lesbian Medical Association said they had observed colleagues giving their homosexual patients substandard care. Another survey found that 40 percent of doctors said they were uncomfortable with lesbian patients."

So, here we are... just proving that discrimination that started out just against we lesbians, is now spreading to all women. Where will it stop?

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had it right when he said "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere"

Dad

2007-11-20T00:27:00.000-05:00

Dad,
I want to start by telling you that I love you.

I wanted to talk to you tonight because I am concerned about you, mom and Christy. I have watched over the years how you have gotten worse with your drinking.

You are tearing yours, mine, mom’s and most importantly Christy’s lives apart with your drinking. You may not be aware of the damage you are doing when you drink. You most likely don’t remember the things you say or do when you drink, but dad, we do.

I do.

I remember nights not sleeping.
I remember angry yelling waking me up.
I remember blood on the wall and on the doorknob.
I remember screams in the night.
I remember ambulances and emergency rooms.

Do you?

I remember broken dishes
I remember broken promises.
I remember, all too well, beatings.

I know you remember yours from your own father.

You gave me a few too.

I also remember when I realized that my drinking was getting out of control.
Honesty time.
I remember realizing when my drinking had gotten out of control.
I remember my first day sober, and the second and the third.
Any many days after that.

I wish this for you.

I wanted to talk to you tonight about your drinking and how it is destroying everything that you hold dear.

Your wife

Your daughter

Your granddaughter

Yourself

I don’t know what memories you are running from when you drink.
I don’t know what feelings you are running from when you drink.
I do know that when I stopped running from them…

It was pretty miserable at first. I won’t lie. BUT, it was SO worth it. I wouldn’t trade sobriety for anything.

I will be honest. There are moments (and days sometimes) where I would really enjoy a bit of numb. I still have times where a shot of Vodka would taste really good.

But

Then, I ask myself, “but, would you want to go back to what you had before?”

Driving, singing, life and death

2007-11-02T12:26:00.000-04:00

Driving up to see a friend
a friend who is dropping the robe

Driving up with a friend
a best friend, through thick and thin, life and death

Driving along, realizing that it is time
time too soon

now waiting to hear
to hear of the passing

waiting

and praying

for

peace, comfort, strength
for all of us
who are waiting
__________________________________________

Songs of death
Songs of life

Songs sung
Songs listened to

Songs sung to sing the spirit home
Songs listened to for comfort

Wishing for the language I am just learning
To be able to put words to what my heart is singing

Standing quietly
Waiting and listening
To the song being sung to her
As she sleeps
__________________________________________

Courage and cowardice
Flip sides of the same coin

Standing at the door
Waiting to be let in
A silent prayer

Let me be worthy
Worthy of this honor

Belief, Faith and Suspension of Disbelief

2007-10-19T13:08:00.001-04:00

Any religion that demands that I ‘check my brain at the door’ is not for me. God gave me a brain and expects me to use it to the best of my ability. The brain is for more than basic needs. If it weren’t then it would not be as it is and we would not have been blessed with self-awareness.

This is not to say that I avoid faith or belief or even just the suspension of disbelief. All of these are very different than turning your brain off.

How about I explain…

Checking your brain at the door, to me, means you don’t question. You don’t question what you read or what is told to you by those in “authority”, either here on earth in the form of Pastors, Priests, Rectors, anyone in authority, or in Heaven. You don’t ask questions and you NEVER ask why. You are told to take everything that is given to you “on faith” or you are not a good Baptist, Catholic, Seventh Day Adventist, Mormon, whatever the flavor is. (I am limiting this to “Christian” beliefs because those are what I have personal experience with) You are told that if you question you are sinning and sinners go to hell.

The suspension of disbelief, to me, is where you do ask questions. Many questions. When sometimes you get the answers, you may not be able to believe them. However, you know somewhere deep down that they are true. You choose to suspend disbelief or you choose to believe (different things if you think about it) but, you are not asked to swallow information based on blind faith and no thought.

Growing up I made the mistake of asking a lot of questions. This did not please the pastors and priests that I interacted with. Some of the questions were the standard “why do bad things happen to good people” some were a bit more esoteric but all got the same or similar response. First would be a simple answer to the question, such as, “because there is evil in the world” answer to the bad things to good people question. If I pressed further I was actively discouraged, if I did not listen to the discouragement then I was told that I was a “girl and what did I know of these things.” Well, I knew what I didn’t know and that was why I was asking the questions.

Round and round I went, till I fell apart, and began the process of falling together.

I spent the better part of 3 years angry with God. Angry does not quite capture how I felt. Rage. Rage is a good capture of how I felt during that time. I was pissed off about the bullshit answers (or non answers) I got to my questions, great and small. I was pissed off at the abuse I had suffered all in the name of “god's will” and casting out evil. I was pissed off at the condemnation of who I am. Both the questioner and the orientation aspects of myself. I demanded to know why God created me this way but then condemned her creation. “Fuck you” was said to God a lot during that time. Sometimes I even embellished it with “and the horse you rode in on.” I even turned my back to her for a short time when I ran out of words but couldn’t stand not screaming something at her.

The entire time She just waited. Waited while I hurled insults, anger, pain her way. All the while being silent. The good kind of silence, the waiting kind, full of love and understanding. After about 2 years of this, She spoke and asked me “is it me you are angry at or is it my self called ‘followers’”? I had to rail for another 3 months before I would answer that question. I did finally answer it and spent the next 3 months angry that She did nothing to stop all of that from happening.

“I had a purpose in letting it happen”

“Fuck you!”

“I will tell you sometime what the purpose was, then you will understand”

“Ok but can you tell me soon”

“You will know when it is time”

“FINE”

Much later I did get the answer and now I am actually grateful for having gone through my past. If I had not, I would have no true understanding of the suffering of others.

So, to wrap up.

Belief that God would not strike me dead was what allowed me to be angry with God.

Faith is what allows me to hear her voice and understand what she is saying.

In order for me to be where I am today I needed to suspend my disbelief that God would allow me space to work through my anger.

Hope that cleared up my perception of the differences between those three.

But, I digress...

Sums it up

2007-09-24T22:05:00.000-04:00

This entry from RuachX pretty much sums up the whole thing...

http://ruachx.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-more-moment-of-stupid-thats-what-i.html

Forgotten

2007-09-24T17:27:00.001-04:00

I just had to look up an old boss of mine from 2002. No big deal. Couldn't really find her. So I called a coworker who was here at my company at the same time. She mentioned a few things that made me realize something.

Because of my drinking there is an entire year that I don't remember. An... entire... year.

Out of the whole of 2002 I remember seven events.

Someone dear to me's broken ankle
A fight someone dear and I had on the phone one night
Being in the hospital for 3 weeks.
The last time someone dear and I spoke on the phone
4th of July party
Going to the National PowWow
spending my 30th birthday in the hospital

Out of 365 days I remember 7 things.

Seven.

When I got sober the following year, I did not think my drinking had gotten that severe. After all, I still had a job (barely) and a place to live (thousands in unpaid rent).

This... this of all things makes me realize how bad the drinking had really gotten.

There are times when I wish I could be numb for a little bit. Times when things are so overwhelming I feel as if I can't take it. That is when I wish for just a bit of numb.

I was apparently numb for all of 2002.

JESUS CHRIST!

What did I miss that year? What conversations did I have with someone dear that I DON'T REMEMBER? What did I say?

Fuck, FUCK, FUCK!

Time that is gone... wasted time.

I will cry about this later. After dinner with a friend who I am certain will not understand.

What I am learning these days...

is that the hardest person to forgive...

is me.

Love your neighbor

2007-09-23T07:37:00.001-04:00

Time to take back our country.

Not just in the form of our government taking our rights away. I propose that we take our country back in the form of helping our neighbors.

Check out this link. http://www.komotv.com/news/9907767.html This is a story from Seattle, WA about a family that was targeted for hate because of being Jewish. Their cars were spray painted with swastikas. The police are investigating this as vandelism until they can prove the intent of the shits that did this. When they prove it, then it becomes a hate crime.

Meanwhile

This family is in shock and horror. They are nervous that the next time they come out of the house in the morning the will find more shit to deal with. More peace lost.

I read this and the usual anger came up. "What the FUCK is WRONG with people?!?" A question I am asking all too often these days. Then the next question comes up. "What can I do about this?"

I suggest that (with the permission of the family) the "neighbors" of these folks start taking turns camping one person near their house to keep watch and make sure they are safe. The police are not able to do this due to staffing shortages and needing to respond to more urgent crises. I get that and agree with that. So, it is up to us. Not in a "gonna get those sonsobitches" kind of way. In a "I see someone sneaking around their house gonna call the cops" kind of way.

Better that then waiting till someone tosses a moletov coctail through the front window.

Cause you know that is where hate ends up. It doesn't stop with spray paint or burning crosses.

It would be even better if before it got to the spray paint stage, we talked to our neighbors. Saw them as truly human, not just "others." Different, yes, but beautiful because of that difference.

Black, Brown, Red, White
Fag, Queer, Straight
Male, Female, Male-to-Female, Female-to-Male
Old, Young
Rich, Middle, Poor, Poverty
Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Wiccan, Agnostic, Athiest

All of us. We are all one. If one hurts we all hurt.

2007-09-17T07:56:00.000-04:00

Walking into the back room
to where all the broken memories and dreams lay

"Wow, this really piled up other the years" I say.

You say "Yes but, we can get through it"

The bookshelves were other things
Surface things
Yes, they needed to be organized

However

It is time (I guess) to go and sort through all the...

Clutter

Mess

Junk

I am getting ready to move after all

Who wants to take all the broken stuff
I would rather sort through and take the meaningful stuff.

Leave the rest

This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done.

Perhaps that is why I felt the need for a break.

Could I feel this coming?

The change in venue is appropriate. Perhaps I was getting into a rut, with the safety of similarity.

Change is good.
I am starting to believe that.

The view is better
Higher
Good analogy.

"Come on up, the view is amazing. You should see this."

I am beginning to.

and

I am looking forward to the view from farther along.

Even though the rocks I will climb look terrifying.
I know in my head that the ropes will hold.
My heart isn't quite so sure.

I just need to put in a few more anchor points.

You know, just in case.

Dude! Where's my Country?!?

2007-09-17T01:08:00.001-04:00

Finally, something to do about the insane bullshit going on.

http://shutitdown101707.blogspot.com/

What would I say...

2007-09-12T22:05:00.001-04:00

I just found out that you just got married. Congratulations.

I think.

We were together for such a short time. 3 years isn’t that long.

What can I say. You were one way with me and now another. Which one is true.

Or are they both.

I’m not understanding. I am missing a piece. A Five year piece. Time to change. I know I have.

You wouldn’t recognize me now. The hair is similar, with some added gray. The weight is similar, with the recent loss. The clothes are even similar, with additions of things more in my style and less what others expect.

You wouldn’t recognize me now. I am sober. Four years in fact. I am calm. This one is newer. I am serene. This one is newest of them all. I speak clearer, think clearer, and have opinions that are my very own. I take advice from loved ones and don’t from people I don’t respect. I have trust in my instincts. Didn’t know I had instincts huh? I didn’t either till a little while ago. I have faith in God(ess) again and still go to the Episcopal church you introduced me to so long ago.

How have you changed? Based on the notice that I found by accident, a lot. And, not that much.

You said you would go back if we broke up. I didn’t really believe it then (or didn’t want to). But you did.

Interesting.

Were you both when we were together but couldn’t admit it to yourself then? Were you one way with me and then another with others. What is the truth? The base truth.

I found mine. Did you find yours?

So, many, questions. That I won’t get the chance to ask you.

Even if we run into each other someday.

Which I hope and dread all at the same time. Today, more dread than anything else. What would I say…

Will you look the same? Do you limp from the shattered ankle all those years ago? I doubt it. You were too strong for that.

You were my first true love and I still love you. I will always. But not the same way. I will always wonder if you are happy. Or even just content.

Do you wonder about me. The last thing you said in the apartment before you left stays with me still.

The last thing I said to you in the old apartment just popped back in my mind. And brought a smile. I hope it came true. You need someone to make you laugh, and dance, and think. Things I didn’t give you enough of.

But back to today.

I am the same and so vastly different than when you knew. Or could have imagined. I bet you are wildly different too.

The shock today was from looking at you from long ago. 6 years ago. Too long ago to hold you too.

Time to say goodbye now. More later I am sure.

a small field in pennsylvania

2007-09-11T11:32:00.000-04:00

is where my brothers and sisters died.

They weren't my brothers and sisters in life. They became my brothers and sisters when they charged the cockpit of an airplane. I believe that when someone dies to protect you that makes you related. Don't you think?

That day, while firefighters in DC and NY were battling fires caused by hate, my brothers and sisters were on a plane headed west. After some of the crew were killed they called loved ones and heard that they were not alone in their fear.

What they did with their fear is amazing.

We made heroes of the firefighters in NY. I think that is true. Takes courage to run into the flames and try and get people out. Takes more courage to run into a building that is a tall ass death trap.

I think we forget about another batch of heroes.

We forget that the firefighters and police of New York signed up for this. They knew when they went to training that on the job death was a possibility. A reality.

The people of flight 93 were average. Just going on a flight. On a trip. They were all just like you and me. Average people with average lives.

No training.

No equipment.

Just them.

They heard from their loved ones that they were dead. Or gonna be. They knew that when they died that the plane they were on was going to be used as the weapon to kill others.

They waited till they were over unpopulated areas to try and take the plane back.

They didn't know that at that same time I was in a building in downtown Washington, DC. This building was 5 blocks from the White House.

My apartment was 5 blocks from the Capitol Building.

My friend was working in the Heart Senate Office building 1 block from the Capitol grounds.

Because my brothers and sisters died in Pennsylvania, Eric and I were spared.

And others too.

I think sometimes about what I would have done in their place. I like to believe that I would have been right along with them, trying to pound my way through the cockpit door.

Truth is, I don't know what I would have done. I have in the past jumped in to help when it ment danger to me, so I suspect I would have been right up front.

But

I have not been in that situation and we NEVER know how we will react. I bet those folks, when they got on the plane, wouldn't have believed what they were able to accomplish.

So

Here's to you, my brothers and sisters. Your loved ones live on.

Six Years Later

2007-09-11T11:11:00.000-04:00

Six years later I still can't get used to the skyline of New York without the landmarks.

Six years later I still remember what it was like to stand in the plaza and look up.

Six years later and they are still gone.

In response to a request for a donation

2007-08-29T18:02:00.000-04:00

I got a request from MoveOn.Org for yet another donation to end the war in Iraq. Here is the response I posted in their feedback section on their website.

I sent the following in response to the "Fighting Back" email I just received.

"I am not this optimistic. The Democrats tossed the Service Members under the bus the last time they had the opportunity to end this.

The political parties may change but nothing else does...”

I would like to add this to the above statement.

It appears that MoveOn has become quite the champion of the Democratic Party. While I at one time agreed that the Democratic Party was better than the Republican Party in protecting rights for the underprivileged, I think that recent events have proven that belief incorrect.

As a Lesbian I have long been accustomed to Democratic candidates saying what the queer community has wanted to hear in order to get elected, then once in office selling out. At that time I deluded myself into thinking that perhaps this was just an issue that was too hot to handle or it was too difficult to pass the legislation.

When the Democrats took over the House and Senate on the “out of Iraq” and “Hold Bush Accountable” types of promises I got my hopes up. I believed that change was possible. However, now I see that my beliefs about the GLBT issues were misguided. It appears that ANY issue is too difficult for them to deal with. From what I have seen come out of the House and Senate since they took over it is the same old story. Say anything to get elected, do anything else while in office.

I have lost my faith that it will ever improve. Or change for that matter. I have decided that from now on I will not be donating my money to political causes; I will instead be redirecting that money towards the people who are making a difference in America, the social service, homeless shelter, youth, and victims of domestic violence organizations.

Thank you for allowing me this space to say my piece.

What am I holding for you?

2007-08-23T00:21:00.001-04:00

was the question my therapist asked me one day.

I didn't have an answer then.

Well I do now.

What is she holding for me?

Answers in questions.
Guidance in silence.
Dances with words.
Clarity in haze.
Revelations in waiting.
Encouragement in confusion.

'You should see this! The view is amazing. Worth the hike up the mountain.'

Gonna do some more hiking soon. Just got to gather some things together first...

You ever have one of those moments where you realize how well you really are doing?

2007-07-19T13:36:00.000-04:00

I have BiPolar disorder and have for a little while now considered myself high functioning. High functioning with a caveat though.

I hold down a job. In fact I have been with the same company for 6 years now. I have a consistent routine that works really well. I get to work and other appointments usually on time with a few exceptions for circumstances not always under my control. I have a close group of friends that I would be lost without and a very supportive partner. I have not had a major episode in over 2 years.

The caveat being that I don’t usually remember to pay my bills, finish things that I start, or do some of the simple life maintenance things that “everyone else” does and that are usually humiliating to ask for help remembering.

I have been beating myself up for a long time about the caveat.

Till a few minutes ago, when I went on the About.com webpage looking for information on reasonable accommodations for BiPolar disorder to give to my new boss. I came across a checklist for Daily Maintenance that someone had put up. I read through it and decided that it would be a good idea for me to start using this.

Then it hit me…

I figured out how to do some of the things on the list on my own, that I have been doing them for a while now. I paid for a truck before taking ownership so that I worked with my limits instead of giving myself an excuse to beat myself up. I just made sure that instead of borrowing money to last till payday, I earned enough money to last till payday. I have my work back under control to the point that I can sit and write this on my lunch break, instead of working through lunch just to keep up. I am learning healthy boundaries and have become more comfortable in them.

These are all things that I have a hard time with and could not take into account that these are more difficult for me than most. Equivalent of swimming the English Channel with about 5 or 10 pounds of extra weight strapped to each foot. I had, up to this point been comparing myself to everyone else, the so called “normals” out there.

It just sunk in that I am doing fucking great!

No more input please...

2007-05-24T14:44:00.000-04:00

really, I am full.

What do you do when there is too much coming in and not enough getting organized?

Well...

I am going to retreat to my place. Hide out with the dog and kitty for the weekend. Do some fairly mindless (but creative) bead work. Perhaps a walk on the field. Ya know, even sleeping all day is ok.

Just gonna step back. Breathe... Iiiiiiinnnn Oooouuutttt

I have a few decisions to make... do I stay or do I go? Do I delay again or do I get going this time? Do I keep pushing on even though I feel like I don't have a chance to improve or do I put that energy into another instrument? Do I continue to explore or do I go out an live life for a while? Is that last question just a cop-out?

So many questions...

Letter to Kristen

2007-05-03T10:18:00.000-04:00

Boy, how do I begin this? You were my first true love. You gave me the space to become, and I, frankly, blew it. In the process of blowing it I took you down with me. For that I am deeply sorry.

You helped me get back on my feet. When it came time for me to help you I could have done a much better job. Then, when you started to get better I made sure I reminded you how hard it was for me while you were sick. One day I will be able to forgive myself for that.

I took so much of your life and did not give much in return.

I never let you have your own space. You had to disappear for 5 hours one night just to get some time alone. I am sorry I did not believe that the answering machine ate the messages. I am so sorry that I didn’t allow space for you to just be.

You always knew how to make me smile. I still tell people your description of your left-handedness. “I am so left-handed that my right arm is there just so people don’t stare.” I am sorry that I gave you more tears than laughter. Or respect.

I am sorry I drank so much. The times when I am tempted to break my recovery and sacrifice my sobriety I remember the night we fought about laundry. “And it isn’t even OURS” you said. It gives me a bitter-sweet smile when I think about that fight. Sweet, because you knew exactly how to sum up the entire stupid argument. Bitter because it was more time with you I wasted instead of spending it wisely and cherishing it.

I took from you but didn’t give back. Oh, I thought I was giving back but I look now with sober, “3 o’clock in the morning honesty” eyes and I see the truth of that time. I never gave without expectation. I never did anything out of selfless love. I cannot express how much I regret that.

You were not perfect but you were honest.

I still miss you. Even as I ride the Metro tonight, with people looking at me as I cry.

I want to call you and see if you are doing well. But that - I don’t trust that it isn’t for selfish reasons.

I want to send this to you directly, but I don’t want to cause more harm.

So, I post this here. In the hopes that you will find it. That you will read this and know how sorry I truly am. That perhaps I may get the answer back that you forgive me. That just maybe, it wasn’t a total waste of your time and energy. That you learned something good and that you have found someone new, as I have. That they share life with you and you are happy.

Perhaps one day we will finish the song Scenes from an Italian Restaurant. We did the middle part, it would be nice to do the beginning of that song. Well, I will pass on the bottle of red and the bottle of white. I spent too long in bottles…

Love,

Lou

Spoken Words

2007-05-02T16:20:00.000-04:00

Speak to me the words you need to hear

I will speak to you the words I need to say

I pray they are the same

Ever have one of those days?

2007-04-05T13:52:00.001-04:00

ever have one of those days...

one where you wake up in a slightly bad mood
and your mood goes downhill from there
because you are pissed off,
can't quite put your finger on it,
and won't allow yourself to take it out on anyone or anything?

then all day, at work, every-fucking-thing breaks
or locks up
or worked just a minute ago but now doesn't
or the deadline you are trying to make got moved up
but
the machine isn't cooperating?

2007-02-05T18:20:00.000-05:00

Like, am I suddenly in a happy place
To have not written here in over a month

Hmmm....

Maybe

No, not happy.
Content.

Content place.

Well, I am Bipolar so I guess just give me time.

*giggle*

It must be nice

2006-12-18T09:05:00.000-05:00

It must be nice to be who you are.
It must be nice to have never been beaten
It must be nice to have nice things
and never have had them destroyed
It must be nice to have never been raped
It must be nice to have been accepted
It must have been nice to be able to make a stand
without paying a price no one would be able to pay
It must be nice to have been loved your entire life
to never figure out the significance of a Supreme Court ruling
at the age of 8
It must have been nice to grow up knowing you are special
and special in a good way
It must be easy to live without the nightmares
It must be easy to wake up in the morning
It must be easy to have friends
when the worst betrayal you have had was high school bullshit
It must have been nice to have never run or hide or had to use your skills to avoid a beating
It must have made life so easy
Sometimes I wonder if you even know
Sometimes I wonder, if I told you, would you be able to handle it
or would you shrink away
in fear
in revulsion
from the crushing weight that I carry so effortlessly every moment of my life

Even in my sleep

My therapist and I have been discussing why I won't go off on her.

2006-12-15T19:00:00.000-05:00

I should probably describe what I mean by go off.

Frog's Definition of "Go Off"

1. To voice one's concerns to someone about something that they did to piss you off
2. To display anger at someone in the form of a slightly raised voice and very little display of the actual emotion
3. To release some of one’s pent up frustration in the general (sort of, possibly) direction of the source of that frustration.

Now that we have that cleared up. My therapist and I have been arguing about why I don’t go off on her. I say “because” and she says “because why?” and so on and so forth.

Riding home on the public transportation train I had a thought.

Because under every circumstance I am to do NO HARM and to ONLY use my gift of perceiving someone’s weakness’ for good.

Then the thought comes

“That doesn’t need to apply anymore ya know.”

Huh?

It. Does. Not. Need. To. Apply. Anymore.

Really?

Yes.

Oh.

So, as I am riding along and thinking about this I decided to look at the old rule, toss it out and write the new rules. Here is what I wrote as it was written.

“Do no harm” was the rule I had to live by when I was not fully awake.

Because

By not being fully awake (aware), just by asserting myself I would go to far

The rule no longer needs to apply

Because

I am becoming, day by day, MORE aware

More connected to my body, signals, perceptions, signals

This means

Much like you would not let a drunk person drive a car, it was not a good idea for me to let go

That is no longer the case

I can let go

Because

I am sober, connected, aware, awake, accepting of life, in all(most) forms

I don’t’ need to be a doormat anymore
I don’t want to be a doormat anymore

Time for the rules to change

New Rules?

If I am tired be aware that since this is all new, go slow, BUT still go

Be gentle and kind to myself. Listen to and be fully(as I can) with myself.

Get enough sleep, rest, work, play, everything in balance

Be sure to involve the body AND mind together. After all, what is one without the other

Like driving a car – it will take practice to know how to work it so

Be gentle on your/myself when I step on the gas/break too hard or I turn on the wipers when I mean to turn on the lights

Mistakes are not failures

It is ok to ask for what I need

It is even ok to ask for what I want

Even if I don’t get either.

The question you may ask after reading the rules is Have I gone off on her yet? Nope. May not either. Just like in life, some rules are meant to be sidestepped.

One day I will be free. Just like she is.

From an email from a friend

2006-11-28T17:52:00.000-05:00

Subject: a line from a new book I'm reading

Said to the character who had an abusive childhood when she decides to move back to her home town. I thought you might find this encouraging.

“You ask me, it takes more guts to go back to the beginning than just about anyplace else”

Did they know?

2006-11-16T08:51:00.000-05:00

So, did the band members of Pink Floyd know, when they accepted the record company's offer of releasing The Wall before the end of 1979 that they were making a deadline that would mean so much to a 7 year old little girl in America who had not heard of them before?

Did they know that the album would mean so much to that abused 7 year old?

Did anyone know that the song Mother would describe mine?
That Another Brick in the Wall Part 2 would describe my school life?
Did I know what it would mean to know that there were others out there like me?
Who had similar experiences as mine?

Does anyone know how I feel these days?
The desire to beat that bitch.
The bitch that turned me over,
and under,
and inside out.
All with a smile on her face.
and with bonds behind her back.
Bonds that stay with me to this day.
All that time ago.
That 7 year old little girl who just wanted to be accepted, cared for, loved
By ANYONE.
Which would be how the bitch got her hooks in.
Into the heart
and tore the place up.

How did the 7 year old little girl know the danger?
Who could the 7 year old little girl go to for help?
The parents who were abusing each other, who would come home drunk and need to be put to bed, separately, because they would fight ALL NIGHT if they weren't?
The teacher who regularly pointed out how the 7 year old little girl was different, wierd, slow, stupid, careless, clumsy, and just by breathing air was a nusence.
The school administration who knew about this teacher, who could hear her screaming at the kids all the way down the hall, and did nothing?
The social services that the 7 year old little girl didn't know existed?
The family of the little girl who felt she didn't deserve to be there, to be listened to, who felt that she just needed to go away because she was in the way, needy, because she was the daughter of the "black sheep" who married the "bad boy"?
The family who beat the little girl because she wouldn't sit still. the little girl who couldn't sit still because the world was a facinating place and she had to see everything.

Who do you trust when everyone you trust is abusing you?

You get to the point where I was/am/was/am/was/am:

Fuck them all because they will all fuck me anyway.
Don't give anything because it will all get broken.
Don't let anyone in because they will just trash the fucking place anyway and frankly, I just got the place looking nice after the last person trashed it, so...