Quite often, I heard stories about animal cruelty, cruelty to the animals that are farmed for our consumption and to provide us meat, milk and other dairy products. At this point and time in my life, I never though I would see video or read information about how horrible it is. I mean, I was aware, but never mature enough to really see the truth. Not that anyone else isn't mature enough, I mean by way of my own mental capacity.
I belong to The Humane Society of the United States group on facebook and am a strong supporter of this charity. Occasionally, their link pops up on my home page whenever some new expose' is released or a fund raiser, party, etc., and I usually make it a point to NOT watch the vids cause I know it will damage me more than I already am. I also am trying not to share the links, however, whats the point if I can't try to create more awareness to the ugly truth. What is the purpose?
I had, in the past, watched video of how deplorable the conditions and treatment of livestock for our own personal consumption were treated and housed. I have seen the face of those evil doers who find in necessary, for some Ungodly reason, to abuse and horrify them into submission. Or just mistreat them for their own fucked up satisfaction. This is so unacceptable. OUTRAGEOUSLY ATROCIOUS AND VOMIT JERKING!!
I am beyond angry, words, tears, trying to understand the motivation! I need help coping with this. I need help and answers on how we can treat this epidemic of cruelty. Do the factory farms go out and look for sociopaths to care for their cattle? How and why the fuck is it justifiable. I am so angry. So hurt! I can feel the pain of these creatures. WHY! I will ask that at least a billion times by the time I'm done. Do they not see the face of a being, mammal, they have a fucking parent for Christ's sake!
I keep telling myself and reminding myself I know this happens every single freakin day to these innocent, voiceless creatures. Outrage is the least of my adjectives for this! The least! I was always taught to respect the creatures we are to eat. Treat them well and feed them well as it would be of benefit to them and the blessing of nutrition will come from it. What the hell is going on? How is it possible? Wait, I know how its possible, which will make my question moot, however, necessary to leave my lips. How is it possible that in a day and age where we are considered logical, thinking people, a modern society of human beings, is this allowed to happen? How? How? HOW! I want answers, I want action, I was justification and vindication for these animals. Why?!?!?!
I have such a hard time processing such things. Cruelty towards children, elders, animals, and the in between. So hard. As I'm sure it is for everyone else. I would hope.
I know everything cannot be solved in one day, one week, one month or even one year. But something has to be done. More people need to be made aware of this and be made aware of its effects on our bodies. And mostly, the pain these animals must feel. My tears are rolling. How many more do we have to video tape and use as examples to prove the point? How much documentation is needed to end this bullshit practice.
Eat meat if you will, thats a personal choice and I would never judge or comment on one's choices to do so. Personal choice is what life is about.
These poor animals have no choice. No choice, no voice and no where to turn. Locked up in a tiny fucking filthy cage. Whipped and kicked. There could be good argument for said abuses. You know, its just food under its skin so it doesnt really matter. Its going to grow and be slaughtered eventually so what does it matter. God created them to be eaten, so beat the shit out of them before we sell em. No one will know and nobody will even care, they're just....food. LMFAO. Not really.
No way, no how and never again will I support this industry by purchasing another piece of meat. Yeah, for my abstaining, there's another one right behind me to eat a bloody piece of meat. I love rare steak, don't get me wrong. But the last time I took a bite, all I could see was the eyes of a calf whom was saved in the middle of the street running from the slaughterhouse. Hmm. I wonder if she knew. She is now living on a farm somewhere in a New Jersey Farm.
I will never understand it. Ever! I really don't know how all life or feeling an animal has can be gone enough to beat them. Literally. I saw a man stomping, seriously stomping on the head of a calf he had thrown to the ground. Do you think it felt it? Yes indeed. Oh man. Oh boy. I don't know how much more of this disappointment in man kind I can take.
Seems like around every corner there is something to top the last one. The last disappointment. My lack of hope for human kind is so thin and frail. My lack of compassion for mankind is a struggle. Which is why I have to practice obsessively each day of my life. I constantly have to remind myself that there are many people in this industry that actually do treat them humanely. And then, I am let down again. New expose's, new terror against animals.
Today, I am struggling with the pain and the shock of seeing another animal hurt by a human being. Human beings are supposed to be rational right? Compassionate and loving. Am I wrong? Do I hold my fellow man up too high with expectations of them having some kindness in their hearts? My husband seems to think everyone is good. Born good perhaps. What they do with themselves after they leave the teet is a totally different story. I cannot believe these are actually people behaving this way. I just ccan't. Its completely unfathomable to me.
So for today, I will allow myself to feel this pain, this disappointment and release it once its worked its way out through my breathing and thoughts of enlightenment in my prayer through Christ. I pray he has sympathy for these "people." I'm not one to talk for God, I just hope this is something that can be forgiven. Innocent creatures.
I have a difficult time accepting the will of man and God's plan when I see this. I understand and see the will of man in full action before me on television and videos. I see the will of man with his abuses towards animals, people, anything that can be abused. The earth, etc. I can completely feel the will of man when I decide to be kind and love with great struggle. I can also feel the will of this woman when it comes to making decisions on whether or not I will contribute to helping that horrible will by my purchase of said products. I also understand that it all has to happen and situations unfurl and show face as God's plan is further displayed to us. Its the way of man I just cannot seem to grasp.
I wish I had the voice enough, far more than petitions or rally's to further assist in making change in this world. I would love nothing more but to have these so called people taken into custody and shown how horrible it feels. I know, I know, I know. I am displaying the same negative energy that these animals use to abuse innocent creatures with. By this expression of the need to teach and show how horrible it feels to be treated in this manner would keep me in the hole of hell I so despise.
I am amazed from time to time about the passion I feel for these causes I support. Some days apathetic due to the fact that I just cannot tolerate it anymore. I have to shut the switch off sometimes. Bt even that doesn't help. Everything i look at is a reminder of reality. A reminder of what its like to be an adult with eyes wide open and the stretch to survive in a busy and ugly world. The need to put on my rose colored glasses to make it all better for now that is needed on occasion. At times, I'd love to hide from it all. Take a break from being amongst the real world. Id love to be 5 and oblivious to all things bad and sad. All things horrifying and mortifying. What a life at 5. I also know that realistically, this is why I am an adult with choices and the ability to work towards change and resolve to said issue. I am also incredibly fortunate to have been raised with attention paid and nurturing of feelings of kindness, compassion and love. It might hurt like a son-of-a-bitch sometimes and it may be the bane of my existence, but somehow I guess its a blessing. Who knows. Only God knows, and I pray so hard for resilience. Because at times its just about crippling to witness.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
WOW. First good day....
I like to think when i wake up every morning that life is going to be great, beter than yesterday and far better than the past life. and it is, and it will be, until i'm slammed with the reality of who my friends really are, recent losses and pain.
The beginning of this month, hell, this year has been eventful in many different ways. Splitting my head open, busting up my left leg, then busting it up again, falling down stairs, lol and last but not least, 2 people who meant a lot throughout the travels of my life. the first was carlos
carlos was sudden and shocking. i miss him so much. someone posted a picture and the pain came back. that said, along the last several years, carlos' whereabouts has been a mystery to me naturally. i was no longer working in the office and he was let go at thr and never to be heard form again. or so it seemed. i wish i never knew the reality and who knew very well he was still working within the same walls as before.
on many occasion i had requested a message be taken to him. asked how, where, and if he's ok. i would get no answer or just plain have my requests go into cyber space, telephone vortex or unnoticed. so you could only imagine the pain i had learning he was, indeed, working in the same building with the very same people i call my extended family. at least before this information was relayed to me.
i have much resentment towards said party. he and she have let me down like no other. its like a stab in the heart. i've been told that it can go either way, my fault or their fault. but nonetheless, ultimately my responsibility...how?
i had known in the past that these two people in my life were unreliable and undependable. which, as you can tell, has gotten me nowhere but hurt. the failure to follow through on promises, nurturing the friendship and responding to kindly invitations and a welcoming home. i gave and gave of my heart. i give my friends myself and my happiness. thats what friends are for in our lives. companions to share life's adventures. am i wrong? did i miss the memo prior to birth advising one to be careful with whom i make friends with? or not to let my feelings become part of your friendships, relationships, etc.
it all started so long ago. its almost as though i had been set up atop a whirlpool of perpetual disappointment with life, friends, and family. i don't get it. Kindergarte, 1st grade, 3rd grade, 6th grade and all of junior high. friends who used me like a little doll. i was the stand in, understudy if you will. tammy was the go to girl should kim or anyone else could not make it to disneyland or the park. and when we became horribly impoverished, oh boy did that end up really cute. i never asked for anything, hand outs, free stuff, borrow clothes or pretty things. of course, as young girls we would share make-up and fashion jewelry, fun stuff. i always made it a point to not make it a big issue or seem as though i was "poor." poor indeed. until the day i had to go to school with a giant white patch on the back of my beautiful eastern indian style dress. not to mention the moccasins with the holes on the bottom. not pretty and not fun. but im not here to feel sorry about myself. i'm here to spew the disappointment about the people i called friends.
everyone likes to say they were broke, poor, financial dire straits. no money to buy those expensive pants for the first day of school or those awesome cherokee wedgies i had saved every single penny i made baby sitting. everyone had covergirl make up, love's baby soft perfume and the piece de resistance, chemin de fer jeans. my oh my. i also couldnt wear those because of other reasons mom gave. anyway......you know you're poor when its a big deal to eat ground beef or even hot dogs, not forgetting one of the cheapest things on earth, beans.
my days of being open hearted to people seems to be closing quickly and readily. it seems as though i cannot trust anyone or depend on anyone to be there for me. not one single person. im not even sure about my therapist. lol, laugh you might, its just one of those things. needless to say, i am slowly becoming one of those people with trust issues, again. yep, ive been down this road. and again i wonder if i were set up this way. you know, "she's not really your friend, she's using you." kind of things.
i remember throughout my entire childhood, i was always reminded of 1. i am overweight, which at that time i was prepubescent and added the extra 11 pounds so my hips and boobies could fill in. 2. we're broke and girls don't play in a band. 3. all of my friends were using me, and 4. i needed to baby sit my sister. fun. with this in mind, i wonder if it did set up the disappointment from others? im sure it did. call it self fulfilling prophecy i guess? call it living out my parent's negativity? we pay for the sins of our fathers? who the hell knows.
sometimes i wish i were made of stone. if i were made of stone i would be resilient to this feeling of being let down. i would be able to handle the words that are shared by siblings that are completely unfair for me to hear. i would get validation from the ground, birds would sit and poop on me, and thats just fine, cause im a rock. i would live in the sun, rain and snow. exude no emissions other than your every day rock.
really, is it so wrong for me to want a friend to depend on? someone i can call and just freak out on the phone or meet for lunch for unconditional conversation? is that possible? is it possible to have friends who actually have my best interest in mind with regards to said tragedies and good times. i know and know that i know that god is the only one i can ultimately depend and trust. he is my way, the truth and the light. and through him all things are possible as well as his being in control of this path i am headed down. its an unknown realm, this path. i'm not sure i like it much anymore as of today. hmmm.
perhaps in time god will have the friend i need, other than my husband. someone outside of my family and someone who just wants to talk politics, racial issues, the condition of my vegetables. something simple like that. someone who will tell me that my dear friend carlos was working right next to them, in the same building, up until the days before he died. that would be wonderful.
i know you cant bring back what is gone, however, i can't go back to say goodbye.
The beginning of this month, hell, this year has been eventful in many different ways. Splitting my head open, busting up my left leg, then busting it up again, falling down stairs, lol and last but not least, 2 people who meant a lot throughout the travels of my life. the first was carlos
carlos was sudden and shocking. i miss him so much. someone posted a picture and the pain came back. that said, along the last several years, carlos' whereabouts has been a mystery to me naturally. i was no longer working in the office and he was let go at thr and never to be heard form again. or so it seemed. i wish i never knew the reality and who knew very well he was still working within the same walls as before.
on many occasion i had requested a message be taken to him. asked how, where, and if he's ok. i would get no answer or just plain have my requests go into cyber space, telephone vortex or unnoticed. so you could only imagine the pain i had learning he was, indeed, working in the same building with the very same people i call my extended family. at least before this information was relayed to me.
i have much resentment towards said party. he and she have let me down like no other. its like a stab in the heart. i've been told that it can go either way, my fault or their fault. but nonetheless, ultimately my responsibility...how?
i had known in the past that these two people in my life were unreliable and undependable. which, as you can tell, has gotten me nowhere but hurt. the failure to follow through on promises, nurturing the friendship and responding to kindly invitations and a welcoming home. i gave and gave of my heart. i give my friends myself and my happiness. thats what friends are for in our lives. companions to share life's adventures. am i wrong? did i miss the memo prior to birth advising one to be careful with whom i make friends with? or not to let my feelings become part of your friendships, relationships, etc.
it all started so long ago. its almost as though i had been set up atop a whirlpool of perpetual disappointment with life, friends, and family. i don't get it. Kindergarte, 1st grade, 3rd grade, 6th grade and all of junior high. friends who used me like a little doll. i was the stand in, understudy if you will. tammy was the go to girl should kim or anyone else could not make it to disneyland or the park. and when we became horribly impoverished, oh boy did that end up really cute. i never asked for anything, hand outs, free stuff, borrow clothes or pretty things. of course, as young girls we would share make-up and fashion jewelry, fun stuff. i always made it a point to not make it a big issue or seem as though i was "poor." poor indeed. until the day i had to go to school with a giant white patch on the back of my beautiful eastern indian style dress. not to mention the moccasins with the holes on the bottom. not pretty and not fun. but im not here to feel sorry about myself. i'm here to spew the disappointment about the people i called friends.
everyone likes to say they were broke, poor, financial dire straits. no money to buy those expensive pants for the first day of school or those awesome cherokee wedgies i had saved every single penny i made baby sitting. everyone had covergirl make up, love's baby soft perfume and the piece de resistance, chemin de fer jeans. my oh my. i also couldnt wear those because of other reasons mom gave. anyway......you know you're poor when its a big deal to eat ground beef or even hot dogs, not forgetting one of the cheapest things on earth, beans.
my days of being open hearted to people seems to be closing quickly and readily. it seems as though i cannot trust anyone or depend on anyone to be there for me. not one single person. im not even sure about my therapist. lol, laugh you might, its just one of those things. needless to say, i am slowly becoming one of those people with trust issues, again. yep, ive been down this road. and again i wonder if i were set up this way. you know, "she's not really your friend, she's using you." kind of things.
i remember throughout my entire childhood, i was always reminded of 1. i am overweight, which at that time i was prepubescent and added the extra 11 pounds so my hips and boobies could fill in. 2. we're broke and girls don't play in a band. 3. all of my friends were using me, and 4. i needed to baby sit my sister. fun. with this in mind, i wonder if it did set up the disappointment from others? im sure it did. call it self fulfilling prophecy i guess? call it living out my parent's negativity? we pay for the sins of our fathers? who the hell knows.
sometimes i wish i were made of stone. if i were made of stone i would be resilient to this feeling of being let down. i would be able to handle the words that are shared by siblings that are completely unfair for me to hear. i would get validation from the ground, birds would sit and poop on me, and thats just fine, cause im a rock. i would live in the sun, rain and snow. exude no emissions other than your every day rock.
really, is it so wrong for me to want a friend to depend on? someone i can call and just freak out on the phone or meet for lunch for unconditional conversation? is that possible? is it possible to have friends who actually have my best interest in mind with regards to said tragedies and good times. i know and know that i know that god is the only one i can ultimately depend and trust. he is my way, the truth and the light. and through him all things are possible as well as his being in control of this path i am headed down. its an unknown realm, this path. i'm not sure i like it much anymore as of today. hmmm.
perhaps in time god will have the friend i need, other than my husband. someone outside of my family and someone who just wants to talk politics, racial issues, the condition of my vegetables. something simple like that. someone who will tell me that my dear friend carlos was working right next to them, in the same building, up until the days before he died. that would be wonderful.
i know you cant bring back what is gone, however, i can't go back to say goodbye.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
I woke up today wondering if all of this struggle for personal enlightenment, life in general and trying to find inner peace and happiness is futile. This uphill climb with 50# weights on each foot. Or so it seems. Its a struggle I'm tired of. I know life is like this in general and perhaps I am not one for this life. Human life. Although, I do not take it for granted or wish for death, I merely wish for there to be a positive thing to happen after what seems like an emotional whirlwind of confusion, yet again.
I find many life experiences that seem normal to everyone, completely overwhelming and screaming, running, crying in hysterics will be the only cure. Problem is, I don't have a safe place to do such thing. I practice what calms me and helps me out of the odd cloud and it just doesn't work this week. Its hiding somewhere.
Last Thursday, a very dear friend passed away as a sad result of pancreatic cancer. I had been aching to talk to him as we worked together and became incredible friends. He was like a father to me. Strange, I know, however, real. He was like that for a lot of people, come to find out. Carlos was a wonderful happy and kind man. He loved to share joy whenever possible. He was wise and helped me through a lot in my life while we were working together. Unfortunately, due to the day from hell, I left work abruptly and never saw him again. Attempted to make contact, but people I request help me and let him know i left him a voice mail or email never followed through for me. This leaves me and left me resentful and sadly disrespected. Sadly. I weep. And I find myself going through the cycles of grief. I never thought I would feel this way again for a very long time.
In the meantime, I've been kept busy dating my husband and doing fun things. Chicago on Weds., Peter Gabriel on Friday and a ball game on Saturday. It has been a deal of fun. Although, the last couple of days, the grief is catching up with me and I am feeling horrible. I just want to be alone and miss him in private and sulk for a day or two. I need my space more than ever.
I realize I've complained about my Mom in the last couple of blogs and it only seems to be increasingly becoming bigger and bigger. Confusingly on Mother's Day.
It seems as though I am now under the curtain of being as pc as possible and not eat meat cause its the trendy thing to do. I am so insulted. I forgot to mention that I can no longer eat meat as I have seen and read too much information on how our food is raised and mistreated. I am devastated even moreso now that I have actually grown in the department of compassion and kindness. THIS is not understood. Nor is my need for meditation and healthy living. I am also being critisized for slowly dumping poisons from my cupboards and refrigerator. What is wrong with this picture? Really. Am I rotten for making positive change?
We ate Mother's day dinner at an amazing bbq restaurant called Lucille's, oddly. I ordered vegetarian food with the exception of dairy. Portabello mushroom burger with sweet potatoes, baked beans and little potato salad for the delicious flavor of homemade potato salad. As we order in line, mom is next. "I would to have meat. I eat meat, unlike my daughter." I'm left in awe and cannot believe what I just heard. What the FUCKK? So of course I have to say something while Tom, my brother, is ordering his food. I ask my Mom, "It really bothers you that much that I don't want to eat red meat huh. It really, really bothers you enough to make an announcement like that huh?" She denies, then I hear my brother order. "Well, let's see what is the most vegetarian on the menu. Hmm. I'll have a bowl of fresh veggies, with no meat, more rolls, with no meat and the ribs, but pull off the meat." What the hell people. I tell him the same and he tries to say the same as Mom.
It seems as though there is a trend with those two. My sister doesn't give a shit or she's just not saying anything. As a matter of fact, I do believe she is more towards the vegan than she is a carnivore these days. maybe she has some respect for my pursuit of a clean life.
As I allowed myself to think back, I'm feeling more and more disrespected for my life choices than normal. I am no longer the mold they thought they made me from. I am polar opposite of living with one's anger and hatred and work hard at forgiveness and cleaning up my spiritual being as well. I know I should nto hold onto this feeling. The feeling of resentment and being trapped. I know I'm an adult, 43, lived a hard emotionally dysfunctional life. I am recovered and there are pitfalls and triggers for a set back. But c'mon, wouldn't a parent be proud of their child being an independent thinker? Wanting a better life not just on the surface but inside as well? I would think so too.
I guess its safe to assume the idea of being respected by family is unrealistic. The only person i can count is me and my supportive husband who would like to follow suit. Why is it seen as unusual to deny red meat, enlightenment, meditation through Christ? Why am I always questioned? Why am I always doubted and not supported. Since the beginning of my cognitive years do I remember being supported for much. Needless to say, I'm over it and will have to turn the other way and love them from a distance. Now that's sad.
I find many life experiences that seem normal to everyone, completely overwhelming and screaming, running, crying in hysterics will be the only cure. Problem is, I don't have a safe place to do such thing. I practice what calms me and helps me out of the odd cloud and it just doesn't work this week. Its hiding somewhere.
Last Thursday, a very dear friend passed away as a sad result of pancreatic cancer. I had been aching to talk to him as we worked together and became incredible friends. He was like a father to me. Strange, I know, however, real. He was like that for a lot of people, come to find out. Carlos was a wonderful happy and kind man. He loved to share joy whenever possible. He was wise and helped me through a lot in my life while we were working together. Unfortunately, due to the day from hell, I left work abruptly and never saw him again. Attempted to make contact, but people I request help me and let him know i left him a voice mail or email never followed through for me. This leaves me and left me resentful and sadly disrespected. Sadly. I weep. And I find myself going through the cycles of grief. I never thought I would feel this way again for a very long time.
In the meantime, I've been kept busy dating my husband and doing fun things. Chicago on Weds., Peter Gabriel on Friday and a ball game on Saturday. It has been a deal of fun. Although, the last couple of days, the grief is catching up with me and I am feeling horrible. I just want to be alone and miss him in private and sulk for a day or two. I need my space more than ever.
I realize I've complained about my Mom in the last couple of blogs and it only seems to be increasingly becoming bigger and bigger. Confusingly on Mother's Day.
It seems as though I am now under the curtain of being as pc as possible and not eat meat cause its the trendy thing to do. I am so insulted. I forgot to mention that I can no longer eat meat as I have seen and read too much information on how our food is raised and mistreated. I am devastated even moreso now that I have actually grown in the department of compassion and kindness. THIS is not understood. Nor is my need for meditation and healthy living. I am also being critisized for slowly dumping poisons from my cupboards and refrigerator. What is wrong with this picture? Really. Am I rotten for making positive change?
We ate Mother's day dinner at an amazing bbq restaurant called Lucille's, oddly. I ordered vegetarian food with the exception of dairy. Portabello mushroom burger with sweet potatoes, baked beans and little potato salad for the delicious flavor of homemade potato salad. As we order in line, mom is next. "I would to have meat. I eat meat, unlike my daughter." I'm left in awe and cannot believe what I just heard. What the FUCKK? So of course I have to say something while Tom, my brother, is ordering his food. I ask my Mom, "It really bothers you that much that I don't want to eat red meat huh. It really, really bothers you enough to make an announcement like that huh?" She denies, then I hear my brother order. "Well, let's see what is the most vegetarian on the menu. Hmm. I'll have a bowl of fresh veggies, with no meat, more rolls, with no meat and the ribs, but pull off the meat." What the hell people. I tell him the same and he tries to say the same as Mom.
It seems as though there is a trend with those two. My sister doesn't give a shit or she's just not saying anything. As a matter of fact, I do believe she is more towards the vegan than she is a carnivore these days. maybe she has some respect for my pursuit of a clean life.
As I allowed myself to think back, I'm feeling more and more disrespected for my life choices than normal. I am no longer the mold they thought they made me from. I am polar opposite of living with one's anger and hatred and work hard at forgiveness and cleaning up my spiritual being as well. I know I should nto hold onto this feeling. The feeling of resentment and being trapped. I know I'm an adult, 43, lived a hard emotionally dysfunctional life. I am recovered and there are pitfalls and triggers for a set back. But c'mon, wouldn't a parent be proud of their child being an independent thinker? Wanting a better life not just on the surface but inside as well? I would think so too.
I guess its safe to assume the idea of being respected by family is unrealistic. The only person i can count is me and my supportive husband who would like to follow suit. Why is it seen as unusual to deny red meat, enlightenment, meditation through Christ? Why am I always questioned? Why am I always doubted and not supported. Since the beginning of my cognitive years do I remember being supported for much. Needless to say, I'm over it and will have to turn the other way and love them from a distance. Now that's sad.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
There was once this little girl. She was a cute kid. Long blackest black hair, very petite, very shy and cute little knock kneed legs, enough to make up for the kid next door. This little girl is me. Myself, little and young. I had goals of course. Goals that did change throughout my daydreaming life. Daydreaming, what a wonderful thing. Wondering what it was like to kiss Keith Partridge, kick Danny Partridge's but, and to be whatever his sister's name is. Bliss, I'm sure.
What does this have to do with what I'm about to say? Everything. Everything that has lead up to this point in my life. My life of dysfunction, function and total confusion. My life that has become more spiritual and hopefully growing slowly towards enlightenment. Meaning, I pray God I don't lose my temper with my Mom.
Seems as though a lot of angst is deeply rooted starting with my Mom. She's a great person. Everybody loves her, I love her, my nephew loves her and naturally my siblings do as well. The thing is, I love her but feel limitations coming on. I no longer feel as though I can speak honestly and generously with her. I seem to be shut down once the conversation starts to grow into some that is really worth while. Something that actually means more than what's going on with Farmville on Facebook. Seriously.
Upon seeing a news story about, let's say, healthcare reform as an example. It is very obvious that I am a pro reform kind of gal. Sooo, I like to discuss it with my family. My Mom in particular due to her being a retired person and depending on the healthcare system, as most seniors do these days. It just doesn't happen. For the life of me, it doesnt happen. Nothing of any intellectual value is spoken of. UNLESS, its about getting bonus experience on FBs FV.
A day in the life of visiting my Mom is good, happy and then the crash course comes. I sit in my happy little chair with my cozy pillow and blanket. We're just hanging out talking and giggling like little girls. Suddenly she comes out of nowhere asking about my next little trip I'm taking next week. What I thought was a friendly question became a not so nice reaction. "Well, maybe you'll stay home for at least a month before going away again. hmm?" Dontcha know, that made me feel like shit. I thanked her for that tad of negativity and the day is blown, UNTIL she brings up what I am reading for enlightenment. I feel like I'm 16 complaining on here. Again with the cranky Momma, "Why don't you pick up a Christian book for once!" OH BOY. I began to explain. "Well! I don't care to discuss it right now!" I'm shocked. She brought this shit up.
Naturally, I leave with a frown and quickly. I'm feeling all of 12 and ultimately critisized and judged by my own Mother. How and why did that happen? Really? What the hell? Is this my life with her for the rest of mine or her days? Its not like I haven't got through hell and back too. While holding her hand mind you. Is this what I have to look forward to every time I take a jaunt to one of my fav places? Perhaps. If anyone has any quick fix advice, please do share. I feel as though I am about to lose my mind. Maybe I already have.
So from here on out, I must practice my mindful breathing around her. I need to use my skills on how to maintain and not project my anger and release it in a healthy way. I MUST come to accept that she is becoming an old fart. And that I am very much my Mother's daughter.
What does this have to do with what I'm about to say? Everything. Everything that has lead up to this point in my life. My life of dysfunction, function and total confusion. My life that has become more spiritual and hopefully growing slowly towards enlightenment. Meaning, I pray God I don't lose my temper with my Mom.
Seems as though a lot of angst is deeply rooted starting with my Mom. She's a great person. Everybody loves her, I love her, my nephew loves her and naturally my siblings do as well. The thing is, I love her but feel limitations coming on. I no longer feel as though I can speak honestly and generously with her. I seem to be shut down once the conversation starts to grow into some that is really worth while. Something that actually means more than what's going on with Farmville on Facebook. Seriously.
Upon seeing a news story about, let's say, healthcare reform as an example. It is very obvious that I am a pro reform kind of gal. Sooo, I like to discuss it with my family. My Mom in particular due to her being a retired person and depending on the healthcare system, as most seniors do these days. It just doesn't happen. For the life of me, it doesnt happen. Nothing of any intellectual value is spoken of. UNLESS, its about getting bonus experience on FBs FV.
A day in the life of visiting my Mom is good, happy and then the crash course comes. I sit in my happy little chair with my cozy pillow and blanket. We're just hanging out talking and giggling like little girls. Suddenly she comes out of nowhere asking about my next little trip I'm taking next week. What I thought was a friendly question became a not so nice reaction. "Well, maybe you'll stay home for at least a month before going away again. hmm?" Dontcha know, that made me feel like shit. I thanked her for that tad of negativity and the day is blown, UNTIL she brings up what I am reading for enlightenment. I feel like I'm 16 complaining on here. Again with the cranky Momma, "Why don't you pick up a Christian book for once!" OH BOY. I began to explain. "Well! I don't care to discuss it right now!" I'm shocked. She brought this shit up.
Naturally, I leave with a frown and quickly. I'm feeling all of 12 and ultimately critisized and judged by my own Mother. How and why did that happen? Really? What the hell? Is this my life with her for the rest of mine or her days? Its not like I haven't got through hell and back too. While holding her hand mind you. Is this what I have to look forward to every time I take a jaunt to one of my fav places? Perhaps. If anyone has any quick fix advice, please do share. I feel as though I am about to lose my mind. Maybe I already have.
So from here on out, I must practice my mindful breathing around her. I need to use my skills on how to maintain and not project my anger and release it in a healthy way. I MUST come to accept that she is becoming an old fart. And that I am very much my Mother's daughter.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The last couple have weeks have been trying. Although, I don't think it can be any more trying than being an adult child to an adult who is childish of sorts. Its not that she's a bad person or mean, she's just my Mom.
Mom's are often known as Mom's. You know, supportive, excited for new adventures in your life. Happy to see you and right when you get to that happy go lucky Momma, this transformation happens. A transformation unknown to anyone but you and you only.
Mom's are often known as Mom's. You know, supportive, excited for new adventures in your life. Happy to see you and right when you get to that happy go lucky Momma, this transformation happens. A transformation unknown to anyone but you and you only.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
"Hey, hey. My. mmyyy. Rock n' roll with never daaahaaa." Don't ask me to explain, I have no idea what THAT song is stuck in my head. And the other is a wonderful song from India.Arie. Psalm23. Now that one's a keeper.
I woke up tonight, after an extended nap, thinking of that song. And thank God I did. I was dreaming about a demon right next to me in our big maroon chair. I'm positive it was symbolic of the fear I have of my test results tomorrow morning. And I'm sure "it" would be so excited to see my misery come to fruition. Should there be any. This thing was sitting in the corner mocking me, once again. These things, beings usually do. And they come in my time of need or during a time of my greatest fears. Funny thing is, it frightens me a bit, however, never takes over my soul.
This thing was sitting on the ground and would kind of slither around the edge of my bed. It wasn't a snake human figure or animal. It was just an ugly thing with a horrible voice. Something Ive never heard. Naturally, during my sleep, I was screaming and rebuking it. It would laugh at me. I was screaming so loud my voice would become distorted. Creepy. But finally, it was gone and I woke up having less fear. So I will safely assume it was the fear leaving me alone.
I woke up tonight, after an extended nap, thinking of that song. And thank God I did. I was dreaming about a demon right next to me in our big maroon chair. I'm positive it was symbolic of the fear I have of my test results tomorrow morning. And I'm sure "it" would be so excited to see my misery come to fruition. Should there be any. This thing was sitting in the corner mocking me, once again. These things, beings usually do. And they come in my time of need or during a time of my greatest fears. Funny thing is, it frightens me a bit, however, never takes over my soul.
This thing was sitting on the ground and would kind of slither around the edge of my bed. It wasn't a snake human figure or animal. It was just an ugly thing with a horrible voice. Something Ive never heard. Naturally, during my sleep, I was screaming and rebuking it. It would laugh at me. I was screaming so loud my voice would become distorted. Creepy. But finally, it was gone and I woke up having less fear. So I will safely assume it was the fear leaving me alone.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The waiting game...
Today is the day after my wonderfully invaded breast had a snippet of metal inserted whilst removing some of the tissue that is making my mind fly all over the place. This little piece of metal is about as big as a large flea. EW! Needless to say, I will forever wonder if I can feel it in there. Or will it work its way out? Considering its metal and not of my body. Oh! They insert this little dealy dally in order to find the spot in which the mass lives in the breast for future exams. Fun
The day was eventful and I was full of teary eyed, denial humor, fear and honest to goodness shit rage. Luckily, I didn't crap my pants. I took care of that happening once I woke up. I took my meds and more meds to prevent such issues. I took .75mg of Xanax, which usually doesn't do much to the average adult, however, I am a 4'9" adult. Lemme tell you, I was mellow, however, freaked out.
I had prayed and prayed for God to take the fear from me every chance I had. I worked, struggled and battled with letting the fear go and trusting in God for all that I am. It was a hard one. A really hard one. My brain is set up to freak me out. I was given the gift, as I said before to be much feeling, much emotional and pretty much afraid of everything that can invade my body. I'm sure you understand. So I shut it down until they called me in. Then, my nervous humor hit. Thank GOD for my humor. Or his humor rather.
As I am being prepped to go into my little out-patient surgical room, I had my final mammo and walked half naked to the room with the table. Or should I say bed. I'm thinking of how it was explained to me and it matched my imagination perfectly. Sterile room, cold, smells sterile, chairs and machines all over, but no evidence of a machine that will suck this stuff out like a vacuum. I'm nervous and I am shaking like a leaf. The humor left me and I was overcome with confusion and fear. a tad.
I laid my short body on this gurney with a hole in the center of it. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to climb up this damn tiny stair stool and get my boob in the hole. It was quite comical really. I commented about the punching bag thing and we laughed. The nurses were so nice! I lay on my belly and PLOP goes the boobie. Fire in the holE!!! I am comfy and cozy, xanax has me chilled out, but still fear is running through my body. Then bam! I calm.
The calmness that overcame me was so unusual for myself. So unusual, I thought something was wrong. As if they may have given me something in the numbing product. There was some pain, but the nice doctor injected more and I didn't feel a thing. I was on the most comfy bed of my life at that moment. Not because of the lack of feeling, but because the feeling of being comforted. This comfort was unbelievable in retrospect. it was only a couple of days ago. Or 1 day, thats right 1 day. The nurse rubbed my shoulder and helped me sit still. She had warm sweet hands and spoke softly to me as if a child. I was asked if i was ok a lot. I was unbelievably ok. I was really ok and felt like a warm blanket was over my body.
What felt like a warm blanket of great comfort, like when you would sleep with your Mommy and feel so toasty and warm, was God. I know it was God. I struggled with giving it all and trusting 100% with my being and soul. I know he was in control, he supplied my need for comfort. I am ultimately thankful. God answered my prayer. He wrapped his arms around me, embraced my fear and lifted it from my body. I don't know how else to explain it. I have NEVER been given that kind of comfort when I'm physically in pain. Never.
So to this moment in my life that I shall remember forever. I THANK GOD for having the answer to my prayer and granting me my sanity and helping me through my horrid fear. I am now trusting God with my result consultation on next Tuesday. This is even more difficult than the biopsy. I am giving him my fear, but can't seem to get a grip.
I know it will all be over soon and whatever the outcome is, it is. I cannot control what happens or when it happens. I can only trust that God is in control and knows what is best for me. Sickness or health.
The day was eventful and I was full of teary eyed, denial humor, fear and honest to goodness shit rage. Luckily, I didn't crap my pants. I took care of that happening once I woke up. I took my meds and more meds to prevent such issues. I took .75mg of Xanax, which usually doesn't do much to the average adult, however, I am a 4'9" adult. Lemme tell you, I was mellow, however, freaked out.
I had prayed and prayed for God to take the fear from me every chance I had. I worked, struggled and battled with letting the fear go and trusting in God for all that I am. It was a hard one. A really hard one. My brain is set up to freak me out. I was given the gift, as I said before to be much feeling, much emotional and pretty much afraid of everything that can invade my body. I'm sure you understand. So I shut it down until they called me in. Then, my nervous humor hit. Thank GOD for my humor. Or his humor rather.
As I am being prepped to go into my little out-patient surgical room, I had my final mammo and walked half naked to the room with the table. Or should I say bed. I'm thinking of how it was explained to me and it matched my imagination perfectly. Sterile room, cold, smells sterile, chairs and machines all over, but no evidence of a machine that will suck this stuff out like a vacuum. I'm nervous and I am shaking like a leaf. The humor left me and I was overcome with confusion and fear. a tad.
I laid my short body on this gurney with a hole in the center of it. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to climb up this damn tiny stair stool and get my boob in the hole. It was quite comical really. I commented about the punching bag thing and we laughed. The nurses were so nice! I lay on my belly and PLOP goes the boobie. Fire in the holE!!! I am comfy and cozy, xanax has me chilled out, but still fear is running through my body. Then bam! I calm.
The calmness that overcame me was so unusual for myself. So unusual, I thought something was wrong. As if they may have given me something in the numbing product. There was some pain, but the nice doctor injected more and I didn't feel a thing. I was on the most comfy bed of my life at that moment. Not because of the lack of feeling, but because the feeling of being comforted. This comfort was unbelievable in retrospect. it was only a couple of days ago. Or 1 day, thats right 1 day. The nurse rubbed my shoulder and helped me sit still. She had warm sweet hands and spoke softly to me as if a child. I was asked if i was ok a lot. I was unbelievably ok. I was really ok and felt like a warm blanket was over my body.
What felt like a warm blanket of great comfort, like when you would sleep with your Mommy and feel so toasty and warm, was God. I know it was God. I struggled with giving it all and trusting 100% with my being and soul. I know he was in control, he supplied my need for comfort. I am ultimately thankful. God answered my prayer. He wrapped his arms around me, embraced my fear and lifted it from my body. I don't know how else to explain it. I have NEVER been given that kind of comfort when I'm physically in pain. Never.
So to this moment in my life that I shall remember forever. I THANK GOD for having the answer to my prayer and granting me my sanity and helping me through my horrid fear. I am now trusting God with my result consultation on next Tuesday. This is even more difficult than the biopsy. I am giving him my fear, but can't seem to get a grip.
I know it will all be over soon and whatever the outcome is, it is. I cannot control what happens or when it happens. I can only trust that God is in control and knows what is best for me. Sickness or health.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
i thought i was scared last night but this morning, i feel like i'm going to be handed a death sentence. i know, i know, its just a biopsy. but c'mon. its something that doesnt belong in my body. regardless.
i am so struggling with putting all of my trust in god and giving it all to him. i just wish that voice in my head would go away. you know the one that says, "you're going to find out you have cancer, hahahaa!" When in fact, I know this is purely procedural. 100% safety and prevention. i know that. i do. i wonder if i pray like the cowardly lion only different words, "i do believe i'm fine, i do believe i'm fine." lol.
i am trying to put my sense of humor into this also. for some reason, its hiding way deep inside of me. i have never, ever, had anything inside of my body. nothing. i've had "female" issues, but who's not used to that? at some point in our lives we have something going on, even if its just a pap smear. its just something we do as prevention. but to have needles or the thought of needles in my breast scares THE LIVING SHIT out of me.
so thank god for psychiatrists and medications that make you feel like you pretty much don't care that i will have at least two dr's holding on to my boob. just one detail that i find funny is that my boob will become a punching bag, hanging through a hole in a table and hang there for about 45 mins. lol. i will also be raised on a table like a good ol 66 classic mustang.
off i go. appt is at 915 in panorama city so i gotta hit the road, potty issues and all. oy vey
and i have nervous gas. ha!
i have to remember god got me through my most suicidal, lonely and desperate times of my life.
i am so struggling with putting all of my trust in god and giving it all to him. i just wish that voice in my head would go away. you know the one that says, "you're going to find out you have cancer, hahahaa!" When in fact, I know this is purely procedural. 100% safety and prevention. i know that. i do. i wonder if i pray like the cowardly lion only different words, "i do believe i'm fine, i do believe i'm fine." lol.
i am trying to put my sense of humor into this also. for some reason, its hiding way deep inside of me. i have never, ever, had anything inside of my body. nothing. i've had "female" issues, but who's not used to that? at some point in our lives we have something going on, even if its just a pap smear. its just something we do as prevention. but to have needles or the thought of needles in my breast scares THE LIVING SHIT out of me.
so thank god for psychiatrists and medications that make you feel like you pretty much don't care that i will have at least two dr's holding on to my boob. just one detail that i find funny is that my boob will become a punching bag, hanging through a hole in a table and hang there for about 45 mins. lol. i will also be raised on a table like a good ol 66 classic mustang.
off i go. appt is at 915 in panorama city so i gotta hit the road, potty issues and all. oy vey
and i have nervous gas. ha!
i have to remember god got me through my most suicidal, lonely and desperate times of my life.
Monday, April 5, 2010
i have been told from time to time that i am a drama queen and tend to blow things out of control. i used to wonder how and why? i would become hurt and cry. no drama queen here. i don't cry at the drop of a hat or anger quickly. nor do i feel and hear everything with more passion than i can explain. when i love, i love painstakingly, when i fear, i fear with such intensity. i have been categorized as a much emotional person and "very easily overwhelmed", based on my file at the doctor's office. this time this drama is just as real if not more than any other i have experienced.
in my last blog i talked about the fear of death, the lump in my breast and how will i handle it. well, the day has come where the biopsy will be performed on my right breast. i didn't bother to search for the said lump, nor did i want to know what it felt like. i felt it. i made sure it was what i was looking for and i'm more scared than ever. not only because of the biopsy tomorrow, but because of how it feels and what category it falls into.
ive done much searching to find out about the different types of lumps women and men can develop. and to be honest, i'm really freaking scare. i thought i had this fear of biopsy and results handled and well under control. apparently not. i feel like i'm going to run screaming and i am finding it impossible to eat because i am so nervous. i slept the day away so i wouldn't have to cope with the fear and spiral into a crazy lady in tears. regardless, the tears are waiting to pour.
thoughts of what they will do and how they will do it is running through my head like one of those songs you hate that keeps playing on the radio or the cd player thats stuck on repeat. lol. i'm good like that. my brain hates me i think.
i thought i had paid my dues in childhood suffering with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. i was crippled, literally, with pain. i was at school one day at age 7 and fell to my bootie with pain. pain so bad that i could not stand and barely tolerate sitting. and i am also under the assumption that all of the hell i went through as a kid until 18 years old was enough to fill the talley sheet. no such luck. health issues are common for human beings, i know. but goodness gracious. isn't there a roster that says "she's had enough heartache in her life, lets give her a break and chill." ????? conclusively NOT. ugh
im scared as hell. im shaking, im being as calm as possible. i am taking my xanax. i am breathing mindfully, thinking slowly, walking slowly and mindfully. i am trying to practive my meditation through Christ who strengthens me. im trying really incredibly hard. what freaks me out most is waiting for the results. i have no problem with needles n stuff. i just can't imagine getting back results that are in the red. i pray, plead for that not to be so.
statistics show that 33% of women tend to have fibroid tumors or dense tissue in their breasts and its totally "normal". how is that so? how is it normal for the body to create tissue that doesn't belong there? how is that freakin normal? last time i checked, it wasn't.
this little thing in me is about the size of a large pearl. hopefully its pretty like that too. but really, 9cm is pretty nice and big for a ring, however, not allowed in my breast.
some women are concerned with losing the breast, for myself, i really don't care if it comes to that. meaning, if they need to remove what is poisoned, take it out ASAP! i want nothing rotting in my body. nothing that is potentially infectious and invasive. the last thing i'm worried about is lost part of or the entire breast. just remove it. god said if its diseased, paraphrasing here, cut it off.
i know that god answers prayer and is in control of all things in my life. i also know that i can leave it at his feet and trust him with every bit of my being. and sometimes i don't know or forget how to do it. like right now for instance. i am struggling with leaving it at his feet. i am having a hard time with the battle in my head that says its going to be fine, which i know is god speaking. this head of mine loves to fool with me. its true when they say the mind is far stronger than the body. it is and i despise it.
god says he will care for, clothe, feed and provide shelter for even the smallest of creatures. not to worry about things of this world. not to worry about what we don't need and concern ourselves with what we need spiritually. i am struggling. and i know that i know he will provide the strength and wisdom i need when it comes to my results.
even though i know that my results will not prove that i have something malignant in my breast. i know its going to be a fibroid, my family has a history of fibroids, so i'm holding onto that. i am holding onto it so tight and trusting god as much as i can.
call me a baby, but what else can someone think or do with this kind of stuff going on in their body? really, i cant imagine taking it with stride. "oh its just my body and there's a tumor in it. no big." how? perhaps i am being a drama queen. who knows. i just know, i'd rather be a drama queen rather than be in denial of life itself.
in my last blog i talked about the fear of death, the lump in my breast and how will i handle it. well, the day has come where the biopsy will be performed on my right breast. i didn't bother to search for the said lump, nor did i want to know what it felt like. i felt it. i made sure it was what i was looking for and i'm more scared than ever. not only because of the biopsy tomorrow, but because of how it feels and what category it falls into.
ive done much searching to find out about the different types of lumps women and men can develop. and to be honest, i'm really freaking scare. i thought i had this fear of biopsy and results handled and well under control. apparently not. i feel like i'm going to run screaming and i am finding it impossible to eat because i am so nervous. i slept the day away so i wouldn't have to cope with the fear and spiral into a crazy lady in tears. regardless, the tears are waiting to pour.
thoughts of what they will do and how they will do it is running through my head like one of those songs you hate that keeps playing on the radio or the cd player thats stuck on repeat. lol. i'm good like that. my brain hates me i think.
i thought i had paid my dues in childhood suffering with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. i was crippled, literally, with pain. i was at school one day at age 7 and fell to my bootie with pain. pain so bad that i could not stand and barely tolerate sitting. and i am also under the assumption that all of the hell i went through as a kid until 18 years old was enough to fill the talley sheet. no such luck. health issues are common for human beings, i know. but goodness gracious. isn't there a roster that says "she's had enough heartache in her life, lets give her a break and chill." ????? conclusively NOT. ugh
im scared as hell. im shaking, im being as calm as possible. i am taking my xanax. i am breathing mindfully, thinking slowly, walking slowly and mindfully. i am trying to practive my meditation through Christ who strengthens me. im trying really incredibly hard. what freaks me out most is waiting for the results. i have no problem with needles n stuff. i just can't imagine getting back results that are in the red. i pray, plead for that not to be so.
statistics show that 33% of women tend to have fibroid tumors or dense tissue in their breasts and its totally "normal". how is that so? how is it normal for the body to create tissue that doesn't belong there? how is that freakin normal? last time i checked, it wasn't.
this little thing in me is about the size of a large pearl. hopefully its pretty like that too. but really, 9cm is pretty nice and big for a ring, however, not allowed in my breast.
some women are concerned with losing the breast, for myself, i really don't care if it comes to that. meaning, if they need to remove what is poisoned, take it out ASAP! i want nothing rotting in my body. nothing that is potentially infectious and invasive. the last thing i'm worried about is lost part of or the entire breast. just remove it. god said if its diseased, paraphrasing here, cut it off.
i know that god answers prayer and is in control of all things in my life. i also know that i can leave it at his feet and trust him with every bit of my being. and sometimes i don't know or forget how to do it. like right now for instance. i am struggling with leaving it at his feet. i am having a hard time with the battle in my head that says its going to be fine, which i know is god speaking. this head of mine loves to fool with me. its true when they say the mind is far stronger than the body. it is and i despise it.
god says he will care for, clothe, feed and provide shelter for even the smallest of creatures. not to worry about things of this world. not to worry about what we don't need and concern ourselves with what we need spiritually. i am struggling. and i know that i know he will provide the strength and wisdom i need when it comes to my results.
even though i know that my results will not prove that i have something malignant in my breast. i know its going to be a fibroid, my family has a history of fibroids, so i'm holding onto that. i am holding onto it so tight and trusting god as much as i can.
call me a baby, but what else can someone think or do with this kind of stuff going on in their body? really, i cant imagine taking it with stride. "oh its just my body and there's a tumor in it. no big." how? perhaps i am being a drama queen. who knows. i just know, i'd rather be a drama queen rather than be in denial of life itself.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Fear
i have never been the kind of person who is a afraid of death. come to think of it, i never really thought of it as an awful or sad thing. i mean, sure i was sad when someone that was close to me or a family member would pass on. but that was really the end of that life. i would mourn for about a week, at least it felt that way, and then move forward with life and living. now don't get me wrong, i am not insensitive in the least. i am much feeling about losing a loved one, i just seem to be able to cope with it differently. now that doesn't say i know what would happen to me mentally when my mom or dad pass on. regardless of my dad being an asshole. oh no! did i just call my dad an asshole? all jokes aside, we're all here on borrowed time anyway, so its inevitable. at least in a natural manner. and i know i can't live forever.
so this whole death thing. you really dont think about it happening to yourself much. i know its bound to happen someday of course and thats really ok. i just don't want it to happen before i am able to be in my nephew's life for as long as i can. no, i'm not sick or have a fatal illness, i hope. i also know that i would be shattered if i were to leave earlier than expected. i have too many people i want to love much longer. i don't want to know the sadness my husband would go through, my mom would be a mess and my sister, well, shes my best friend on earth. and the thought of not being and sharing happiness and everything in between. and ian, oh sweet wonderful ian. i cant imagine...cant even imagine. he always asks me if i will always be here with him. what if? sigh
why am i speaking of this? ok, i'll fess up. i had a mammogram about 2 weeks ago, maybe 3. within the last week i have had 3 repeated calls at home and a letter requesting i make an appt stat for additional testing. apparently, my right breast is showing something abnormal. i nearly pooped my pants and began to well up with fear and anxiety. its not often any of my tests come back abnormal. maybe once or twice. once was the left, but i had a lame ass practitioner not take into consideration that my glands WOULD BE swollen due to my cycle. ass. i still get worked up about it. i thought i had cancer right off the bat. this time is different. a highly reputable doctor referred me to the mammo and then set up the appt. the scheduler, who was her assistant sounded worried. so here i am. oh my god.
it was typical that i would check myself on occasion and sometimes i would forget like everyone else. it was also advised by my dr. to see her every year so she can do it herself due to my extremely neurotic reaction to many things different in or on my body. i have a great fear of pain and dying in pain or disease or any other way than going to sleep when its over. so! (as my 3 year old nephew would say) it just might be nothing. it might just be absolutely nada. it could just be something needing a biopsy and turn out to be hellish. aaaaand naturally, as it is my nature, i will be under the impression that i am indeed dying from breast cancer. i self talk, i meditate, i eat sugar, ive been bingeing and not aware, waking up while sleep eating. i'm a fucking mess.
in the last couple of days, since scheduling my appt, ive been somewhat weepy, have anxiety and feel the depression monster coming. although, it is that time of the month, the full moon just passed and i have been eating junk. i regret it every time i take a bite of candy. i'm taking my xanax so i can be human and not behaving like the poor kid i think i am in the back of my head. i felt my breast and did feel a little mass, OH GOD GIVE ME A XANAX! why do i torture myself? who else will, lol.
needless to say, i think i really am afraid of death. i don't feel my life is finished and i know its not a fatal or will be a fatal diagnosis and need to convince myself its a practice that is done every single day when something odd shows up. but what explains the look on the technicians face when she said my pictures came out just fine and she couldnt look at me? am i being so dramatic? OF COURSE. so i work on my feelings.
i am working day and night to not feel totally screwed and scared to death. i hate that my mind is so much stronger than my body and heart. and then even my heart is much stronger than my brain when it comes to love and impulse. as an example; i would much rather go to disneyland and be broke, than not go at all. i would much rather not pay my credit cards and pay a late fee than not go to new york. my priorities are kind of wacky in there.
so i will continue to meditate through God and breath mindfully, thoughtfully and slowly. i will stop being a nerd and let that little monster in my head tell me its going to be bad. its so hard! it is so hard indeed. rewinding tapes and rewriting them is very hard. i will hope for the best and will find out tomorrow that my boobs are just swollen and filled with sacks of fat. surprise! theyre huge. and then i remember the saying "be careful what you wish for." i've wished i had smaller breasts, for something that is impossible unless i were to correct what i find most uncomfortable and painful once a month. i could be eating my words. i pray god no. i'm going to go and eat a giant bowl of cheerios fruity with 10 gallons of whole milk now. they're healthy right? they are cheerios afterall. sheesh.
so this whole death thing. you really dont think about it happening to yourself much. i know its bound to happen someday of course and thats really ok. i just don't want it to happen before i am able to be in my nephew's life for as long as i can. no, i'm not sick or have a fatal illness, i hope. i also know that i would be shattered if i were to leave earlier than expected. i have too many people i want to love much longer. i don't want to know the sadness my husband would go through, my mom would be a mess and my sister, well, shes my best friend on earth. and the thought of not being and sharing happiness and everything in between. and ian, oh sweet wonderful ian. i cant imagine...cant even imagine. he always asks me if i will always be here with him. what if? sigh
why am i speaking of this? ok, i'll fess up. i had a mammogram about 2 weeks ago, maybe 3. within the last week i have had 3 repeated calls at home and a letter requesting i make an appt stat for additional testing. apparently, my right breast is showing something abnormal. i nearly pooped my pants and began to well up with fear and anxiety. its not often any of my tests come back abnormal. maybe once or twice. once was the left, but i had a lame ass practitioner not take into consideration that my glands WOULD BE swollen due to my cycle. ass. i still get worked up about it. i thought i had cancer right off the bat. this time is different. a highly reputable doctor referred me to the mammo and then set up the appt. the scheduler, who was her assistant sounded worried. so here i am. oh my god.
it was typical that i would check myself on occasion and sometimes i would forget like everyone else. it was also advised by my dr. to see her every year so she can do it herself due to my extremely neurotic reaction to many things different in or on my body. i have a great fear of pain and dying in pain or disease or any other way than going to sleep when its over. so! (as my 3 year old nephew would say) it just might be nothing. it might just be absolutely nada. it could just be something needing a biopsy and turn out to be hellish. aaaaand naturally, as it is my nature, i will be under the impression that i am indeed dying from breast cancer. i self talk, i meditate, i eat sugar, ive been bingeing and not aware, waking up while sleep eating. i'm a fucking mess.
in the last couple of days, since scheduling my appt, ive been somewhat weepy, have anxiety and feel the depression monster coming. although, it is that time of the month, the full moon just passed and i have been eating junk. i regret it every time i take a bite of candy. i'm taking my xanax so i can be human and not behaving like the poor kid i think i am in the back of my head. i felt my breast and did feel a little mass, OH GOD GIVE ME A XANAX! why do i torture myself? who else will, lol.
needless to say, i think i really am afraid of death. i don't feel my life is finished and i know its not a fatal or will be a fatal diagnosis and need to convince myself its a practice that is done every single day when something odd shows up. but what explains the look on the technicians face when she said my pictures came out just fine and she couldnt look at me? am i being so dramatic? OF COURSE. so i work on my feelings.
i am working day and night to not feel totally screwed and scared to death. i hate that my mind is so much stronger than my body and heart. and then even my heart is much stronger than my brain when it comes to love and impulse. as an example; i would much rather go to disneyland and be broke, than not go at all. i would much rather not pay my credit cards and pay a late fee than not go to new york. my priorities are kind of wacky in there.
so i will continue to meditate through God and breath mindfully, thoughtfully and slowly. i will stop being a nerd and let that little monster in my head tell me its going to be bad. its so hard! it is so hard indeed. rewinding tapes and rewriting them is very hard. i will hope for the best and will find out tomorrow that my boobs are just swollen and filled with sacks of fat. surprise! theyre huge. and then i remember the saying "be careful what you wish for." i've wished i had smaller breasts, for something that is impossible unless i were to correct what i find most uncomfortable and painful once a month. i could be eating my words. i pray god no. i'm going to go and eat a giant bowl of cheerios fruity with 10 gallons of whole milk now. they're healthy right? they are cheerios afterall. sheesh.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Visitation
"WOW! What the hell was that?" The first words out of my mouth on my first night in NYC. I was staying at the Warwick Hotel. The history of this hotel is rather fascinating to me as I am a huge Hearst Fan.
In 1926, William Randolph Hearst commissioned this hotel/apartment house be built in 1926 as a residential hotel/apartment building for his mistress Marion Davies and her colleagues from theater and film who were considered her good friends. It is said that he spent over 5 million dollars on the lobby alone. In the past, Cary Grant lived here for over 12 years. Many other celebrities have been guests at the Warwick as well. Elvis, The Beatles, and others according to historic tour guides. I had not known of the celebrities who stayed or resided at this hotel. I just had a basic knowledge of how it came about.
Interesting is not the best way to describe Mr. Hearst, eccentric and eclectic do not serve him justice either. He had a fancy for the finer and most rare of articles. he wanted it all. Much like myself. Lol. Who doesn't? So he did have it all.
The hotel is amazing and beautiful. Sits right across from MOMA and has a spectacular lobby made of marble and gold leaf, however, very tastefully done. It's beautiful and understated. I can imagine Marion strolling in with her light and easy personality. She was silly and dark. He and she were "partners" although he was still married to his wife, whom lived in NY and never granted him a divorce. Smart lady. Odd thing, she was his mistress but never slept with him. I don't have all of the details. I just know they never slept together and he also had a matching room built in Hearst castle in San Simeon.
On this particular stay, I had an experience I never thought I would. Other than in my home. (I am very open about my spiritual sensitivities and perhaps this is understood by the world we know not much of). I was lying in bed relaxing and meditating while listening to music. I suddenly felt something hop on the bed like a kitty cat or small animal. This happened at least 3-4 times throughout my stay. Granted, this was the first time anything happened and this is the only hotel I have stayed at over the duration of a few years. Being the skeptic I am, even though it is a gift, I chalked it up to being my imagination and in that space between sleeping and awake. I was proven wrong.
On the second night into my stay, I felt a pounce on the foot of the bed as if a large person might sit when he/she is tired. This happened a couple of times and again I just left it to imagination. So wrong, soo soo wrong. This occurred at least several times throughout my stay. A large pounce and the sensation as if someone was sitting and standing. So odd I thought. Then I remembered my gift. And the circumstances which brought me to my stay. It seems as though I were living in a dream. These situations and happenings were unfounded until I had a friend stay over with me for the rest of my stay.
Its about night 3 of 5 and we're on the bed chit chatting in the dark. Suddenly there is that heavy sitting and getting up. Not only on my side of the bed, but on their side as well. We thought we were drifting off. No such luck. I usually don't spook easily, but to have this happen while I'm in a hotel room is a bit much. Just a tad, lol. This was tripping us both out. Many things happened in one night. Incredible.
First we had the sitting hard on the bed a couple of times while I was alone. Then the pouncing of an animal, forgot to mention the sensation of kneading on my leg. Then we had our final experience, which made it all come together. March 22 we lay talking in bed again, the lights are out, the weather is beautiful and the hotel across the street are lighting up the streets beautifully as the ground is wet frm rain.
We lay talking and there's a considerably large plop on the right side of the bed. "Did you feel that?!" Lmao! We went back and forth a few times as it happened at least 3 times and then a knock. No lies! There were three knocks, gentle knocks that is. So being curious, I knock three times and ask it to repeat me. It did! It knocked back. So I'm thinking I'm nuts, but my friend is hearing it as well. This happened about three times. I now know something is really going on. Finally, I knock and ask it to do it again if its really real. I got back three loud angry knocks and a final gentle knock. Freaked out was the least that could explain the feelings of my guest. Is this an apparition protesting about who my guest was. To be honest he is a very close friend indeed. Perhaps it was his wife? We could be mistaken for being intimate. And maybe our thoughts were in the wrong place. And maybe this was a warning visitation making us be good kids. Its all in a days life for me. I was just tripped out.
I'm left wondering if it was Mr. Hearst. I don't know if I had ever mentioned in past blogs that I had been spoken to in the castle in San Simeon? Hmm. Can't seem to remember. I was, I can say for certain he spoke into my ear as we stood in his bedroom. And so I heard, "I don't like them here, make them leave." I heard this three times in a row, after asking it to repeat itself.
So the moral of the story is. NEVER ask for something you might want to hear....it could, in fact, be something you may be fearful of. I love my life!
In 1926, William Randolph Hearst commissioned this hotel/apartment house be built in 1926 as a residential hotel/apartment building for his mistress Marion Davies and her colleagues from theater and film who were considered her good friends. It is said that he spent over 5 million dollars on the lobby alone. In the past, Cary Grant lived here for over 12 years. Many other celebrities have been guests at the Warwick as well. Elvis, The Beatles, and others according to historic tour guides. I had not known of the celebrities who stayed or resided at this hotel. I just had a basic knowledge of how it came about.
Interesting is not the best way to describe Mr. Hearst, eccentric and eclectic do not serve him justice either. He had a fancy for the finer and most rare of articles. he wanted it all. Much like myself. Lol. Who doesn't? So he did have it all.
The hotel is amazing and beautiful. Sits right across from MOMA and has a spectacular lobby made of marble and gold leaf, however, very tastefully done. It's beautiful and understated. I can imagine Marion strolling in with her light and easy personality. She was silly and dark. He and she were "partners" although he was still married to his wife, whom lived in NY and never granted him a divorce. Smart lady. Odd thing, she was his mistress but never slept with him. I don't have all of the details. I just know they never slept together and he also had a matching room built in Hearst castle in San Simeon.
On this particular stay, I had an experience I never thought I would. Other than in my home. (I am very open about my spiritual sensitivities and perhaps this is understood by the world we know not much of). I was lying in bed relaxing and meditating while listening to music. I suddenly felt something hop on the bed like a kitty cat or small animal. This happened at least 3-4 times throughout my stay. Granted, this was the first time anything happened and this is the only hotel I have stayed at over the duration of a few years. Being the skeptic I am, even though it is a gift, I chalked it up to being my imagination and in that space between sleeping and awake. I was proven wrong.
On the second night into my stay, I felt a pounce on the foot of the bed as if a large person might sit when he/she is tired. This happened a couple of times and again I just left it to imagination. So wrong, soo soo wrong. This occurred at least several times throughout my stay. A large pounce and the sensation as if someone was sitting and standing. So odd I thought. Then I remembered my gift. And the circumstances which brought me to my stay. It seems as though I were living in a dream. These situations and happenings were unfounded until I had a friend stay over with me for the rest of my stay.
Its about night 3 of 5 and we're on the bed chit chatting in the dark. Suddenly there is that heavy sitting and getting up. Not only on my side of the bed, but on their side as well. We thought we were drifting off. No such luck. I usually don't spook easily, but to have this happen while I'm in a hotel room is a bit much. Just a tad, lol. This was tripping us both out. Many things happened in one night. Incredible.
First we had the sitting hard on the bed a couple of times while I was alone. Then the pouncing of an animal, forgot to mention the sensation of kneading on my leg. Then we had our final experience, which made it all come together. March 22 we lay talking in bed again, the lights are out, the weather is beautiful and the hotel across the street are lighting up the streets beautifully as the ground is wet frm rain.
We lay talking and there's a considerably large plop on the right side of the bed. "Did you feel that?!" Lmao! We went back and forth a few times as it happened at least 3 times and then a knock. No lies! There were three knocks, gentle knocks that is. So being curious, I knock three times and ask it to repeat me. It did! It knocked back. So I'm thinking I'm nuts, but my friend is hearing it as well. This happened about three times. I now know something is really going on. Finally, I knock and ask it to do it again if its really real. I got back three loud angry knocks and a final gentle knock. Freaked out was the least that could explain the feelings of my guest. Is this an apparition protesting about who my guest was. To be honest he is a very close friend indeed. Perhaps it was his wife? We could be mistaken for being intimate. And maybe our thoughts were in the wrong place. And maybe this was a warning visitation making us be good kids. Its all in a days life for me. I was just tripped out.
I'm left wondering if it was Mr. Hearst. I don't know if I had ever mentioned in past blogs that I had been spoken to in the castle in San Simeon? Hmm. Can't seem to remember. I was, I can say for certain he spoke into my ear as we stood in his bedroom. And so I heard, "I don't like them here, make them leave." I heard this three times in a row, after asking it to repeat itself.
So the moral of the story is. NEVER ask for something you might want to hear....it could, in fact, be something you may be fearful of. I love my life!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Taking the grrrrrr out of angerrrrr.
As of late, I have been recognizing that I do in fact, have an issue with anger. Surprise huh!?
About 2 years ago, it was highly recommended I seek help with this issue called anger and from time to time, rage. I had been aware that I can slip off into a rage, but only with regards to my safety. i.e. My ex-fiance' attacked me and I had discovered that I had this level of strength to out run, out push, out chase, and pretty much kick a door in kind of "skill" we'll call it. At the time, it was a bitter sweet moment. I mean the fact that I could chase a 6'3" man, much bigger and heavier than I, into a closet while wearing just his whitey tighties and socks. Oh yes, he put his hands on me and he learned not to touch another woman again. NO. I didn't hit him or beat him. I merely chased him at lightening speed into our bedroom sized closet as he slammed the door shut and held it with his pathetic boy body. And all I did was kicked the door in and it just happened to throw him across the closet into a dresser and he kinda got hurt. I swear it was self defense!
As I move along to the real reason for my bliggidy blog and its fabulous subject, anger, the grrr and taking it out of the ang. I just made my self smile sloppily.
To reiterate, as I see I may gave confused the masses, I will mention again that about 2 years ago, anger management was highly recommended to myself by a facilitator in my group therapy for other amazing things that occur in the brain. I laughed heartily wondering, "why in the hell would I need lame ass anger management?!" And so, being the curious little woman that I am, I was forced to ask. Apparently, I asked in the same manner. Who knew!??!?! The facilitator began to respond and I guess I happened to make or respond with sort of expression which may have been interpreted as anger, I guess...lol.
"Tammy, how are you doing today?" She asked. I had to step back a sec and think about it. And I really was angry. Who wouldn't be angry? I most certainly know that when the rug basically slips out from under you, things tend to get a little bit crazy in the anger department. Life had been changing dramatically. Naturally, I responded to her that I was doing ok, pissed off, resentful, tearful, depressed, angry, and "what the hell else do you expect, my life is for shit right now. How many times do I need to discuss the same thing over and over and over again?" I am assuming I didn't come across as gently as I thought.
Tammy, we've been doing some discussing and looking over your file and feel it would be most beneficial for you to attend an anger management group. Do you have any thoughts?" BAH! Did I have any thoughts? Of course I did and of course I shared. It was certainly made apparent that I had said issues and proven so during past groups. I think thats a sack o' crap, at least I did. I never went and let her know I thought they were wrong.
Well, here I am...And I am struggling with the demons of anger in my head. These demons did a great job at making sure I was clouded in my thinking and in great denial. I thought I was happy and go lucky Tam all this time. Suddenly, I found myself in a fit of anger and tantrums for the last 35 years we'll say. Now THAT was a wake up call. Wake up call being that I notice my husband stuttering and cowering from conversation. I had become exactly what was pointed out to me.
Recently, I have been at battle with all of this mental rot, mold and mildew called anger. Old tapes were drown in the back of my mind. Cobb webs on the handles of the file cabinets locked and the key thrown out to the birds. Anger. I met it finally. And now, the battle has begun.
I have always been one to try and see if there is a better way to live. Happier, more confident, function and hope. There was more to life than disappointment, there had to be. I was not born to live in scourage and angst, a torn up stomach and rattled nerves to the point of needing tranquilizers. We all know that sordid story. Whatevers. Ultimately, I realized there is a better way. And I believe I have found it.
The way I have found has been clearly sitting in front of me all of this time. I had read a book in the past that taught meditation by way of the Buddhist teachings. It worked wonders! I was living better, happier, but not at peace. At least to that point where I am beginning to experience. The anger returned only in the form of hatred and rage most of my days. Hair(s) are turning white, skin is getting frown lines and the guts are talking back again. The most embarrassing part about this is when my tummy gets in an upheaval, I get VERY gassy and blow up like a damn m-16 firecracker.. NO LIE. I become a giant ball of methane. Not fun and not good for the marriage. Really who wants to sleep next to the giant farting machine. "She's tiny, but she's mighty, she's the tiny mighty fartin machiiiiiine."
So my reality became anger, my mornings became dark and regretful for being awake. And finally, it took John telling me he is afraid to approach or talk to me a lot of the time. I was floored. Literally floored. I had done the ultimate damage. I did grow into someone he did not marry. I was the definition of anger. I hated everything and everyone around me. This is all piled on top of my cyclical bipolariffic episodes. Thats when I had the moment of truth. I did need help with my anger and my depression would improve.
I found an awesome book that has helped switch my thinking around. I am in beginning stages of practicing transforming my anger into peace and compassion. I am learning to let things go that don't belong to me emotionally. In the meantime, I have had to become somewhat disconnected from the familial issues and complaining about mind numbing gossip and negativity. I am truly learning to apply this philosophy to my life. Only on page 50, but its a definite life's time work in progress and so far, so happy. The book is called Anger. I can't seem to remember the name of the author and I am just too damn lazy to go get it. I think his name is Thich Tahn Nahn? Yikes. I forgot to mention, this in conjunction with another book called Highly Sensitive Person. Of which, I am. I love knowing this and not feeling like I'm coocoo anymore.
This transformation is amazing. The mindful breathing, thinking, eating and walking. Every aspect of my life is done with deliberate movement and thought. Mindful loving and smiling. Enjoying every moment I have to smile, taste, smell and live. Anger comes in aaaaand I want to scream and remind myself of that annoying "hug and embrace your anger and it will eventually transform into love." How very, very, love, peace and drugs. Grass, pot, maryjane, marijuana and lsd. LOL! The separation between my feelings, where mine start and where their's ends is very distinct. At least not.
These two books are changing my outlook, I'm sure I'm repeating myself. I do that a lot. :) I am accepting that I take on too many feelings of other's and do not allow myself to have my own. That's where the anger starts in. Forgetting where I AM and that I AM not their anger or sadness. I am not their joy or spazm. I am my own feelings and there is no need for me to become whatever the hell it is. Sounds brash I know, but when it all comes down to the bottom of the barrel, a lot of my anger is fed by my family. My Mom and my Sister. Sadly they are incredibly angry and bitter. They have their reasons for sure, but there is no need for me to become that. I was born to be loving and joyful. And its odd how I ended up here.
One more short little word about this anger and owning and giving and mindful business.
My greatest challenge is with my Mother and Sister, due to reasons written above. I feel horrible thinking of ways to avoid that energy and ways to accept and deflect. I haven't gotten there yet, but hopefully soon. These strong women in my life are not of a great forgiving nature and are probably as angry as I was and still am I'm sure. I was there for an overnight stay with them last night. The energy was awesomely thick and I focused on being with my little Ian. It was hard. He is an absolute blast. The unfortunate part is one of them trying to tell me something that is a thorn in their side and see their blood start to boil. Hard stuff.
I consume myself with Ian's positive nature. Challenge, challenge, challllleeeeenge. Ugh, I was ready to scream at them to shut up. I breath, I breath, hum, sing with Ian..."HOW ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH CAN I KEEP FROM FEELING THEIR ANGER?" I'm dying here. I had no way of knowing how to deflect this except to withdraw and hide in play time. I stayed silent, at ease (seemingly), and pretend to be listening. I didn't mention I have been somewhat ridiculed for being one to search for the truth or inner peace in "one of Tammy's books." Yeah, my Mom just that and rolled her eyes thinking I didn't see her until I told her I did and asked why she wouldn't want to see me at peace. Conversation ended. These thoughts are ruminating, resinating and the words said float around my head with sadness for Mom. It must be how they saw me when I was an asshole or fuzzed up in my "issues", if you will.
All in all, Im hoping I learn the skills to confront in a kind way. To make for certain my feelings about my changing my way of life and practice of love, kindness and forgiveness. Dahli Lama said, "To practice Christianity, is to practice; love, kindness, and forgiveness. Without this, it is pointless." I couldn't agree more.
About 2 years ago, it was highly recommended I seek help with this issue called anger and from time to time, rage. I had been aware that I can slip off into a rage, but only with regards to my safety. i.e. My ex-fiance' attacked me and I had discovered that I had this level of strength to out run, out push, out chase, and pretty much kick a door in kind of "skill" we'll call it. At the time, it was a bitter sweet moment. I mean the fact that I could chase a 6'3" man, much bigger and heavier than I, into a closet while wearing just his whitey tighties and socks. Oh yes, he put his hands on me and he learned not to touch another woman again. NO. I didn't hit him or beat him. I merely chased him at lightening speed into our bedroom sized closet as he slammed the door shut and held it with his pathetic boy body. And all I did was kicked the door in and it just happened to throw him across the closet into a dresser and he kinda got hurt. I swear it was self defense!
As I move along to the real reason for my bliggidy blog and its fabulous subject, anger, the grrr and taking it out of the ang. I just made my self smile sloppily.
To reiterate, as I see I may gave confused the masses, I will mention again that about 2 years ago, anger management was highly recommended to myself by a facilitator in my group therapy for other amazing things that occur in the brain. I laughed heartily wondering, "why in the hell would I need lame ass anger management?!" And so, being the curious little woman that I am, I was forced to ask. Apparently, I asked in the same manner. Who knew!??!?! The facilitator began to respond and I guess I happened to make or respond with sort of expression which may have been interpreted as anger, I guess...lol.
"Tammy, how are you doing today?" She asked. I had to step back a sec and think about it. And I really was angry. Who wouldn't be angry? I most certainly know that when the rug basically slips out from under you, things tend to get a little bit crazy in the anger department. Life had been changing dramatically. Naturally, I responded to her that I was doing ok, pissed off, resentful, tearful, depressed, angry, and "what the hell else do you expect, my life is for shit right now. How many times do I need to discuss the same thing over and over and over again?" I am assuming I didn't come across as gently as I thought.
Tammy, we've been doing some discussing and looking over your file and feel it would be most beneficial for you to attend an anger management group. Do you have any thoughts?" BAH! Did I have any thoughts? Of course I did and of course I shared. It was certainly made apparent that I had said issues and proven so during past groups. I think thats a sack o' crap, at least I did. I never went and let her know I thought they were wrong.
Well, here I am...And I am struggling with the demons of anger in my head. These demons did a great job at making sure I was clouded in my thinking and in great denial. I thought I was happy and go lucky Tam all this time. Suddenly, I found myself in a fit of anger and tantrums for the last 35 years we'll say. Now THAT was a wake up call. Wake up call being that I notice my husband stuttering and cowering from conversation. I had become exactly what was pointed out to me.
Recently, I have been at battle with all of this mental rot, mold and mildew called anger. Old tapes were drown in the back of my mind. Cobb webs on the handles of the file cabinets locked and the key thrown out to the birds. Anger. I met it finally. And now, the battle has begun.
I have always been one to try and see if there is a better way to live. Happier, more confident, function and hope. There was more to life than disappointment, there had to be. I was not born to live in scourage and angst, a torn up stomach and rattled nerves to the point of needing tranquilizers. We all know that sordid story. Whatevers. Ultimately, I realized there is a better way. And I believe I have found it.
The way I have found has been clearly sitting in front of me all of this time. I had read a book in the past that taught meditation by way of the Buddhist teachings. It worked wonders! I was living better, happier, but not at peace. At least to that point where I am beginning to experience. The anger returned only in the form of hatred and rage most of my days. Hair(s) are turning white, skin is getting frown lines and the guts are talking back again. The most embarrassing part about this is when my tummy gets in an upheaval, I get VERY gassy and blow up like a damn m-16 firecracker.. NO LIE. I become a giant ball of methane. Not fun and not good for the marriage. Really who wants to sleep next to the giant farting machine. "She's tiny, but she's mighty, she's the tiny mighty fartin machiiiiiine."
So my reality became anger, my mornings became dark and regretful for being awake. And finally, it took John telling me he is afraid to approach or talk to me a lot of the time. I was floored. Literally floored. I had done the ultimate damage. I did grow into someone he did not marry. I was the definition of anger. I hated everything and everyone around me. This is all piled on top of my cyclical bipolariffic episodes. Thats when I had the moment of truth. I did need help with my anger and my depression would improve.
I found an awesome book that has helped switch my thinking around. I am in beginning stages of practicing transforming my anger into peace and compassion. I am learning to let things go that don't belong to me emotionally. In the meantime, I have had to become somewhat disconnected from the familial issues and complaining about mind numbing gossip and negativity. I am truly learning to apply this philosophy to my life. Only on page 50, but its a definite life's time work in progress and so far, so happy. The book is called Anger. I can't seem to remember the name of the author and I am just too damn lazy to go get it. I think his name is Thich Tahn Nahn? Yikes. I forgot to mention, this in conjunction with another book called Highly Sensitive Person. Of which, I am. I love knowing this and not feeling like I'm coocoo anymore.
This transformation is amazing. The mindful breathing, thinking, eating and walking. Every aspect of my life is done with deliberate movement and thought. Mindful loving and smiling. Enjoying every moment I have to smile, taste, smell and live. Anger comes in aaaaand I want to scream and remind myself of that annoying "hug and embrace your anger and it will eventually transform into love." How very, very, love, peace and drugs. Grass, pot, maryjane, marijuana and lsd. LOL! The separation between my feelings, where mine start and where their's ends is very distinct. At least not.
These two books are changing my outlook, I'm sure I'm repeating myself. I do that a lot. :) I am accepting that I take on too many feelings of other's and do not allow myself to have my own. That's where the anger starts in. Forgetting where I AM and that I AM not their anger or sadness. I am not their joy or spazm. I am my own feelings and there is no need for me to become whatever the hell it is. Sounds brash I know, but when it all comes down to the bottom of the barrel, a lot of my anger is fed by my family. My Mom and my Sister. Sadly they are incredibly angry and bitter. They have their reasons for sure, but there is no need for me to become that. I was born to be loving and joyful. And its odd how I ended up here.
One more short little word about this anger and owning and giving and mindful business.
My greatest challenge is with my Mother and Sister, due to reasons written above. I feel horrible thinking of ways to avoid that energy and ways to accept and deflect. I haven't gotten there yet, but hopefully soon. These strong women in my life are not of a great forgiving nature and are probably as angry as I was and still am I'm sure. I was there for an overnight stay with them last night. The energy was awesomely thick and I focused on being with my little Ian. It was hard. He is an absolute blast. The unfortunate part is one of them trying to tell me something that is a thorn in their side and see their blood start to boil. Hard stuff.
I consume myself with Ian's positive nature. Challenge, challenge, challllleeeeenge. Ugh, I was ready to scream at them to shut up. I breath, I breath, hum, sing with Ian..."HOW ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH CAN I KEEP FROM FEELING THEIR ANGER?" I'm dying here. I had no way of knowing how to deflect this except to withdraw and hide in play time. I stayed silent, at ease (seemingly), and pretend to be listening. I didn't mention I have been somewhat ridiculed for being one to search for the truth or inner peace in "one of Tammy's books." Yeah, my Mom just that and rolled her eyes thinking I didn't see her until I told her I did and asked why she wouldn't want to see me at peace. Conversation ended. These thoughts are ruminating, resinating and the words said float around my head with sadness for Mom. It must be how they saw me when I was an asshole or fuzzed up in my "issues", if you will.
All in all, Im hoping I learn the skills to confront in a kind way. To make for certain my feelings about my changing my way of life and practice of love, kindness and forgiveness. Dahli Lama said, "To practice Christianity, is to practice; love, kindness, and forgiveness. Without this, it is pointless." I couldn't agree more.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
One of my miss-adventures. Whats life without them? Easy!
I swipe my card to check in, nothing happens, "c'mon you piece of overused shit! work!" I'm assuming it heard my threats and began to work. Aaaand its not working again. Here we go again with another adventure. "Ma'am, let me help you." Its the nice JetBlue guy, he's kinda cute too. A nice tall drink of cafe con leche, if you will. Mmhmm. I'd date him, lol. I'm a short, scuzi a grande piping hot cup of caramel machiatta. No harm done. mmmm caramel frapp with whipped and caramel sauce. This was not turning out to be a smooth operation of sorts.
"Ma'am you're at the wrong airport." What the hell? Everything's been going so smoothly so far, aside from being an absolute brainiac having put my iPod in a safe place only to forget where the hell I put it. Nothing abnormal for me, so it all seemed to be going just swell, dandy even. HA! Almost smoothly. I first go to the first terminal, AA, turns out I'm at the wrong place and the wrong time by about 50 miles and whatever. After great inspection of my paperwork, we discover I am flying JetBlue, as I thought and told the desk guy. Thank God for senses of humor once I got to the JetBlue kiosk. My sense of humor.
I was already sweating from just being nervous and find out the machines are acting up and there were no seats but the upgrade. If I didn't purchase the extra 4 inches, yeah FOUR inches of extra leg room, I would have been sitting in the back, objectively called "steerage" by oneself, the high school choir headed for NYC too. CRAPPPPPPPPUH! I just told him to just give me a TEN DOLLAR PER INCH seat and I'll be fine. I'm not going to exactly stand in front of the plane waiting to see if someone will not show. somethings not right cause I bought this shit over a month ago. And the fun continues...
After running for the security check and sweating my ass off,Just before you unload your items and place your stuff in those filthy buckets, including shoes (more germs) and have them roll away while you have a moment of GREAT violation and invasion of privacy. There is always a moment you hope upon hope your bags and other items actually come out of the other side. Its almost like the feeling of seeing them come out of the other end of the great shrinking machine like Willy Wonka's, only it doesn't come out and ends up on the tele. In the meantime, I wonder if there's trolls waiting inside to spit and lick all of my stuff. Who lives in those things? Tiny little monsters with long teeth, insane black hair, bloody hatchets and nothing on but a bamboo skirt. Like that movie from the 70s.
TSA has new rules and must wipe your hands with a piece of cloth. I thought to myself, "this is just weird and holy shit what the hell will they do now?" There I am, little me, innocently waiting to move forward and I walk up as everyone else . A little lady about my size but not of the same "girth", lol, took this little fabric that looks much like a wallet size prayer cloth and cleaned it up after the person before me. Who, by the way, by today's paranoid TSA (lauging cynically) is being thorough at their job and would have done the classic profiling and taken the very nice man in front of me. For obvious reasons. So this cloth is placed on this exray thingy. Its an odd machine.
"CHECK FOR EXPLOSIVES" IN RED! I couldn't believe I set off the dangerous/hazardous/potential terrorist/weird substance on my hands aligned with a loud beeping sound. Meh. I have become a "possible threat" to the aircraft. REALLY? Yep, really. The panic, the sweat ran down my face from running and now became the sweat of hot flashes mixed with the persperation of utter embarrassment and wha, huh, eff! I get I.D. check, ticket check, looked at like a criminal, literally a criminal. Naturally, being the light and happy person I am, my humor doesn't go over well. If I could advice, never joke with the cranky short TSA officers at Burbank Airport, it can get ugly as ugly as they were. For the first time ever I was patted down, were talking FULL body search minus the cavity check..
Walking, walking, walking over to the special place of doom, they look inside and out of everything, I was beginning to wonder if there would be a cavity check. That can go either way dependent on whether or not its a foxy dude or Mickey Rooney or just a chick. No such luck. I did get a woman, I guess it was better. I wouldnt want to have my puffiness rubbed down by a cutie anyway. I literally got rubbed and moved all over cept for my "cavity" if you will. lol. I think I'm beginning to enjoy this a little too much, the writing about it that is.
We joked about it and weapons and how people carry them on and how many creative ways she's seen them hidden. We talked about how female gang members carry their weapons strapped to their inner thighs all the way up to the coochie quarters should they be super skinners. I wish I had her name. We chit chat while she swept her hands under my breasts and around the bee hive o honey, but still with respect. Wow, I'm all talkin n stuff here. And to think I'm super duper flight doseage cranked with xanax. This is the longest effing flight or so it seems.
We go further into our conversation and she had no idea that as short or long back into the 70s-80s, cholos would fight with chains and knives. NO GUNS! She was shocked, "Whaaahaat? No guns? Are you serious? Now they just use guns huh. Wow. Bike chains? Thats funny and damn painful! " I agreed and told her they take the easy way out and just pull a weapon. No animalistic satisfaction in really hashing shit out, for those who chose to be violent and fight. And I honestly believe it. Nothing relieves conflict with vatos, cholos, pachucos, thugs, etc., like a good old fashion fist fight. Am I wrong. I had a fist fight. It got a lot of shit worked out and I kicked her ass. So it was a double whammy. I gave her some upper cuts and kidney punches and she just pulled my hair. LOL.
After all of this jibber jabber and everything being swabbed and rubbed, I get to catch my flight in 20mins. I was starving, needed a bagel and maybe something to drink. I'm carrying my supposed light weight laptop and and trying to manage to go as fast as I can. Good GOD, my flight was already boarded and of course I am the last to make a dramatic entrance onto the plane and am lost aaaall over again. All ability to think or speak were taken from me. Hands shaking from all of the excitement, cranky and hungry.
My flight was nice and smooth, not comfy and the restlessness just would not quit. For the love of Mike, I was cranked on tranqs and nada! I was fortunate enough to have someone offer the aisle seat for trade. FINALLY! Something is on my side and I don't have to suffer through 5 hours of being in the middle. I hate the center seat. The story doesn't end here, but I'll save the rest for posteriority. LOL.
Moral of the story? Neosporin can be considered a dangerous or explosive material, always bring the correct itin info with you, and please make sure you have something to eat. Otherwise, you may give the parent of the wild child in the front row a dirty look only to realize they smiled at you, leaving you feeling like an asshole.
"Ma'am you're at the wrong airport." What the hell? Everything's been going so smoothly so far, aside from being an absolute brainiac having put my iPod in a safe place only to forget where the hell I put it. Nothing abnormal for me, so it all seemed to be going just swell, dandy even. HA! Almost smoothly. I first go to the first terminal, AA, turns out I'm at the wrong place and the wrong time by about 50 miles and whatever. After great inspection of my paperwork, we discover I am flying JetBlue, as I thought and told the desk guy. Thank God for senses of humor once I got to the JetBlue kiosk. My sense of humor.
I was already sweating from just being nervous and find out the machines are acting up and there were no seats but the upgrade. If I didn't purchase the extra 4 inches, yeah FOUR inches of extra leg room, I would have been sitting in the back, objectively called "steerage" by oneself, the high school choir headed for NYC too. CRAPPPPPPPPUH! I just told him to just give me a TEN DOLLAR PER INCH seat and I'll be fine. I'm not going to exactly stand in front of the plane waiting to see if someone will not show. somethings not right cause I bought this shit over a month ago. And the fun continues...
After running for the security check and sweating my ass off,Just before you unload your items and place your stuff in those filthy buckets, including shoes (more germs) and have them roll away while you have a moment of GREAT violation and invasion of privacy. There is always a moment you hope upon hope your bags and other items actually come out of the other side. Its almost like the feeling of seeing them come out of the other end of the great shrinking machine like Willy Wonka's, only it doesn't come out and ends up on the tele. In the meantime, I wonder if there's trolls waiting inside to spit and lick all of my stuff. Who lives in those things? Tiny little monsters with long teeth, insane black hair, bloody hatchets and nothing on but a bamboo skirt. Like that movie from the 70s.
TSA has new rules and must wipe your hands with a piece of cloth. I thought to myself, "this is just weird and holy shit what the hell will they do now?" There I am, little me, innocently waiting to move forward and I walk up as everyone else . A little lady about my size but not of the same "girth", lol, took this little fabric that looks much like a wallet size prayer cloth and cleaned it up after the person before me. Who, by the way, by today's paranoid TSA (lauging cynically) is being thorough at their job and would have done the classic profiling and taken the very nice man in front of me. For obvious reasons. So this cloth is placed on this exray thingy. Its an odd machine.
"CHECK FOR EXPLOSIVES" IN RED! I couldn't believe I set off the dangerous/hazardous/potential terrorist/weird substance on my hands aligned with a loud beeping sound. Meh. I have become a "possible threat" to the aircraft. REALLY? Yep, really. The panic, the sweat ran down my face from running and now became the sweat of hot flashes mixed with the persperation of utter embarrassment and wha, huh, eff! I get I.D. check, ticket check, looked at like a criminal, literally a criminal. Naturally, being the light and happy person I am, my humor doesn't go over well. If I could advice, never joke with the cranky short TSA officers at Burbank Airport, it can get ugly as ugly as they were. For the first time ever I was patted down, were talking FULL body search minus the cavity check..
Walking, walking, walking over to the special place of doom, they look inside and out of everything, I was beginning to wonder if there would be a cavity check. That can go either way dependent on whether or not its a foxy dude or Mickey Rooney or just a chick. No such luck. I did get a woman, I guess it was better. I wouldnt want to have my puffiness rubbed down by a cutie anyway. I literally got rubbed and moved all over cept for my "cavity" if you will. lol. I think I'm beginning to enjoy this a little too much, the writing about it that is.
We joked about it and weapons and how people carry them on and how many creative ways she's seen them hidden. We talked about how female gang members carry their weapons strapped to their inner thighs all the way up to the coochie quarters should they be super skinners. I wish I had her name. We chit chat while she swept her hands under my breasts and around the bee hive o honey, but still with respect. Wow, I'm all talkin n stuff here. And to think I'm super duper flight doseage cranked with xanax. This is the longest effing flight or so it seems.
We go further into our conversation and she had no idea that as short or long back into the 70s-80s, cholos would fight with chains and knives. NO GUNS! She was shocked, "Whaaahaat? No guns? Are you serious? Now they just use guns huh. Wow. Bike chains? Thats funny and damn painful! " I agreed and told her they take the easy way out and just pull a weapon. No animalistic satisfaction in really hashing shit out, for those who chose to be violent and fight. And I honestly believe it. Nothing relieves conflict with vatos, cholos, pachucos, thugs, etc., like a good old fashion fist fight. Am I wrong. I had a fist fight. It got a lot of shit worked out and I kicked her ass. So it was a double whammy. I gave her some upper cuts and kidney punches and she just pulled my hair. LOL.
After all of this jibber jabber and everything being swabbed and rubbed, I get to catch my flight in 20mins. I was starving, needed a bagel and maybe something to drink. I'm carrying my supposed light weight laptop and and trying to manage to go as fast as I can. Good GOD, my flight was already boarded and of course I am the last to make a dramatic entrance onto the plane and am lost aaaall over again. All ability to think or speak were taken from me. Hands shaking from all of the excitement, cranky and hungry.
My flight was nice and smooth, not comfy and the restlessness just would not quit. For the love of Mike, I was cranked on tranqs and nada! I was fortunate enough to have someone offer the aisle seat for trade. FINALLY! Something is on my side and I don't have to suffer through 5 hours of being in the middle. I hate the center seat. The story doesn't end here, but I'll save the rest for posteriority. LOL.
Moral of the story? Neosporin can be considered a dangerous or explosive material, always bring the correct itin info with you, and please make sure you have something to eat. Otherwise, you may give the parent of the wild child in the front row a dirty look only to realize they smiled at you, leaving you feeling like an asshole.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
No title
Ahhh, yessss. New puppy, new ideas, new fresh season and a running chance to have finally found my peace and quiet amongst the anger that dwells with in the misshapen roundedness of my skull.
Where should I start. Certainly not in a place I had started or ended before, but in a place of who knows what. Sometimes I feel my head as a giant riddle waiting to be figured out.
A few weeks ago I was in such a rut, anger, sadness, depression, ultimate negativity. Far more than I had had in months. Or at least weeks before that. Regardless, it seems as though a bump on the head from falling in a drunken sleeping med state rendering me to have the first stitches of my entire life; may have changed my perspective.
It was about 1am, wake up to go to the poddy. I'm thinkin it's just like every other night and I just happened to dose myself out with some Xanax to calm the racing thoughts, jitters, and body tremors. These "jitters are the most uncomfortable sensations of electricity that occurr once I try to relax. Anyway, I wake up and step out of bed and find myself falling fast and hard into my bedside table. So I fell. What else is new? Right? Everyone knows I am a bit klumsy from time to time and I fall. As I did the week before. See, my bed is really high, up to my breasts. SO I use a child's two step stair to plant my happy sleep ass on.
The fall itself felt entirely slow motion, literally like I was drunk, floating down fast and hard, yet sloooow moooooo. There was quite a loud thund (I must add that I was as nekked as the day I was born). I had no idea how mexican I was til I hit the table. I cried out with a nice little "AYYY!" Hubby jumps up within seconds, I feel liquid falling in my hands and wonder how in the hell I got a cup of water to spill on my head??? It was my blood, long story that is already long short. I gashed open my head, tiny but severe, and ended up in urgent care, seeing my skull and getting 5 stitches. THATS JUST GROSS. Thread in my skin. Tied in a knot. Gross!!! Oh, the awesome part was that I DID see my skull. Its kinda like the color of a pearl, only gooey stuff lining it.
The situation as a whole was quite comical in that I have never fallen out of bed, naked, cried out "AY!" like the good little Mehicana I am, and screamed I was bleeding. Call it morbid sense of humor. Anyway, the reason for telling this sorded story of when I fall I do it right kinda thing, is that I believe it released something that dwelled within these rounded walls we call my brain.
Its really odd to be honest. I wake up one day, its the worst day of my life. I fall, get stitched up, sleep a couple of hours, life is pretty damn good. It wasn't one of those "thank God I didn't die" epiphanys. It was an "Omg I woke up and I'm happy" moments. Its as if the jarring of my gray matter did something I could never do on my own.
Since the day I fell, approximately a month ago, I have had this sensation of peace and quiet in my head. Literally. Yeah, I've had a bipolar cycle, however, not so bad. I mean, I really enjoy life. I know I sound surprised right? Right! I am surprised.
I'm wondering if its possible that a screw was loose and it really took a little shaking up to put it back in place. And I can't say that I have had this much mental clarity in the last few years. With the exception of the healthiest I have ever been due to exersize and dietary changes. And I am doing some nutritional changes striving to become me again. But really? Who woulda thought?
Is it really possible? Is it possible that the frontal lob may have been set back into place, making my head come back around to where it was as birth? I'm being so serious. I know I've heard stories about this stuff. Lol, I love that last sentence.
This bump, fall of death, Evil Kinievel stunt, Devil may care, let's see how hard and how wide I can open my head feat seems to have done just that. Awakened my senses and desire to read, create and find that me somewhere. I am happy to say that I am happy. I can babble on forever.
For instance, I usually get really frustrated with my Mom, who doesn't, about her whatever she does that bothers me. This week she didnt. I find myself breathing in and letting things go. I am mindful and thinking within and being a better listener than talker. I am truly making an effort to be mindful of other's feelings. Its as if I woke up and God has given me wider eyes to search and see. To really be successfully me. Authentically me. Not what others expect, but what I know of myself to be true. To be as I am. I'm good with it. I am in shock. ON THA REAL YO!
As hard as it is to accept that things will fall in front of me on my path to knowing myself more authentically, I will have to face it. I am working hard, so hard at not being afraid. The biggest thing that has kept me from me. Fear. What if something hurts or someone gets mad at me. Oh hell, everyone does it I'm sure. I just wonder if its on such a heightened level?
I am also reading a book that is helping me to accept my highly sensitive nature. A book that is guiding me in the way of acceptance and how to use it for the great good, which or whatever it may be for myself. Perhaps I have been creating this moment of clarity in my head for the last however many years and am just now being shown my progress.
I also am finding my compassion for humanity in a much more profound way. In a truest way I cannot explain. I just cannot, for the life of me, explain. I don't have the money to always donate, but I have my voice and my spirit. Come to think of it, that is one of those things that have given me some freedom too.
I just know life is really good today. And life is a moment at a time. Nothing can be predicted, nothing can be foretold or controlled.
Where should I start. Certainly not in a place I had started or ended before, but in a place of who knows what. Sometimes I feel my head as a giant riddle waiting to be figured out.
A few weeks ago I was in such a rut, anger, sadness, depression, ultimate negativity. Far more than I had had in months. Or at least weeks before that. Regardless, it seems as though a bump on the head from falling in a drunken sleeping med state rendering me to have the first stitches of my entire life; may have changed my perspective.
It was about 1am, wake up to go to the poddy. I'm thinkin it's just like every other night and I just happened to dose myself out with some Xanax to calm the racing thoughts, jitters, and body tremors. These "jitters are the most uncomfortable sensations of electricity that occurr once I try to relax. Anyway, I wake up and step out of bed and find myself falling fast and hard into my bedside table. So I fell. What else is new? Right? Everyone knows I am a bit klumsy from time to time and I fall. As I did the week before. See, my bed is really high, up to my breasts. SO I use a child's two step stair to plant my happy sleep ass on.
The fall itself felt entirely slow motion, literally like I was drunk, floating down fast and hard, yet sloooow moooooo. There was quite a loud thund (I must add that I was as nekked as the day I was born). I had no idea how mexican I was til I hit the table. I cried out with a nice little "AYYY!" Hubby jumps up within seconds, I feel liquid falling in my hands and wonder how in the hell I got a cup of water to spill on my head??? It was my blood, long story that is already long short. I gashed open my head, tiny but severe, and ended up in urgent care, seeing my skull and getting 5 stitches. THATS JUST GROSS. Thread in my skin. Tied in a knot. Gross!!! Oh, the awesome part was that I DID see my skull. Its kinda like the color of a pearl, only gooey stuff lining it.
The situation as a whole was quite comical in that I have never fallen out of bed, naked, cried out "AY!" like the good little Mehicana I am, and screamed I was bleeding. Call it morbid sense of humor. Anyway, the reason for telling this sorded story of when I fall I do it right kinda thing, is that I believe it released something that dwelled within these rounded walls we call my brain.
Its really odd to be honest. I wake up one day, its the worst day of my life. I fall, get stitched up, sleep a couple of hours, life is pretty damn good. It wasn't one of those "thank God I didn't die" epiphanys. It was an "Omg I woke up and I'm happy" moments. Its as if the jarring of my gray matter did something I could never do on my own.
Since the day I fell, approximately a month ago, I have had this sensation of peace and quiet in my head. Literally. Yeah, I've had a bipolar cycle, however, not so bad. I mean, I really enjoy life. I know I sound surprised right? Right! I am surprised.
I'm wondering if its possible that a screw was loose and it really took a little shaking up to put it back in place. And I can't say that I have had this much mental clarity in the last few years. With the exception of the healthiest I have ever been due to exersize and dietary changes. And I am doing some nutritional changes striving to become me again. But really? Who woulda thought?
Is it really possible? Is it possible that the frontal lob may have been set back into place, making my head come back around to where it was as birth? I'm being so serious. I know I've heard stories about this stuff. Lol, I love that last sentence.
This bump, fall of death, Evil Kinievel stunt, Devil may care, let's see how hard and how wide I can open my head feat seems to have done just that. Awakened my senses and desire to read, create and find that me somewhere. I am happy to say that I am happy. I can babble on forever.
For instance, I usually get really frustrated with my Mom, who doesn't, about her whatever she does that bothers me. This week she didnt. I find myself breathing in and letting things go. I am mindful and thinking within and being a better listener than talker. I am truly making an effort to be mindful of other's feelings. Its as if I woke up and God has given me wider eyes to search and see. To really be successfully me. Authentically me. Not what others expect, but what I know of myself to be true. To be as I am. I'm good with it. I am in shock. ON THA REAL YO!
As hard as it is to accept that things will fall in front of me on my path to knowing myself more authentically, I will have to face it. I am working hard, so hard at not being afraid. The biggest thing that has kept me from me. Fear. What if something hurts or someone gets mad at me. Oh hell, everyone does it I'm sure. I just wonder if its on such a heightened level?
I am also reading a book that is helping me to accept my highly sensitive nature. A book that is guiding me in the way of acceptance and how to use it for the great good, which or whatever it may be for myself. Perhaps I have been creating this moment of clarity in my head for the last however many years and am just now being shown my progress.
I also am finding my compassion for humanity in a much more profound way. In a truest way I cannot explain. I just cannot, for the life of me, explain. I don't have the money to always donate, but I have my voice and my spirit. Come to think of it, that is one of those things that have given me some freedom too.
I just know life is really good today. And life is a moment at a time. Nothing can be predicted, nothing can be foretold or controlled.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Talk baby talk
I feel as though the last 4 years have been a long streaming thought of useless information and emotions. Stream of consciousness, that's what its called.
I have had soooo many diverse thoughts I had often though perhaps I needed some SERIOUS help. And now, no I feel so totally normal and at ease with the information that may fly from my mouth. Maybe it flies out because whomever I am speaking with needs to hear something so random and unfoundedly ridiculous, lol, really does need to hear it. Sigh
I used to be so ashamed of my newly found adult outspoken-ness. I was a shy girl, didn't say much, screamed about rock stars, but never really had an opinion or the balls to share. It was all about my boobies looking ok and not like a freak. Or the fact that I had a hole in my shoe. OOOR the wonderful fact that I would fall flat on my ass while talking to a friend who happens to be standing next to my crush of the month. ALright, crush of the semester. Call it teenage obsession. So mouth was typically sealed and when something came out it was a Duran Duran yelp
I started this whole "expression" of oneself really late in my youth. Try about 30. For some reason all of the turds I picked up seemed to sort of disappear and my brain found its self confidence and started to gain knowledge on a conscious level. Lets not give 3 years of therapy any credit. Its not like I had an amazing facilitator or two in group therapy once a week either. I would not change that for anything.
It took a lot of oblivious practice I guess. I have no idea how suddenly I could blurt out facts about my position on issues with regards to different subjects of that particular time and know what the hell I was talking about!!! Slowly but surely (shirely, heheeh), I transformed into a soap boxer. YIPES!
My family was in shock at the fact that I was becoming a woman with a voice. Not just any voice, however, a big voice that made sense and meant what she said and said what she meant. Protected onself and standing up for what she believed in. Oh JOY!!
Suddenly the voice was muted and a set back or 5,000,000 years and rendered me fearful to speak, then suddenly I bounced back! I found my voice, my passions, my love, fear, compassion, etc., and I love it. I love my voice, my strong will and the refusal to back down, but do it respectfully for the opposition most of the time, if I have to.
I'm not claiming to be an awesomely intelligent debator, I just love the practice of one's voice. The fact that I can say what I need to and still maintain my sense of self control and facts makes me feel so alive.
It is alive. Life. I am convinced my voice has its own mind as well. I find myself responding to issues that are so important to me and find myself typing, talking, rummaging through my thoughts with fervor. It feels almost like a flash of fever. OH this passion to speak is wonderful. I hear myself sometimes and I am in shock.
There is no reason on God's green earth anyone should have to feel ashamed to speak and practice our freedom of being a human being. We are not here to shush, we are here to SPEAK AND SHARE our thoughts and all that mushy stuff :)
I guess you could say I'm having a good day. It also feels incredible when friends you have not spoken to since high school send notes over commenting in such a positive way pertaining to my intellect. Lol, intellect. Something I would never think of being or brag about. I'm a serious high school drop out. These notes are the biggest self-esteem boosting statements. Its not like being told you're pretty, nice boobs, nice whatever the hell they think of. It meant and means soooo much when my voice is heard and appreciated for the way I convey my message. NEVER would I think this would be something to spark the life back into me. EVER!
That said, I'm starting to feel voracious for adventure and life. Its amazing how much a small sentence just put the icing on top of the delicious strawberry and whipped cream cake with pistachio ice cream on the side. The compilation of it all. And I actually feel as though I have made it to the almost an adult stage lol!!
I'm a total late bloomer. Married late, schooled late, careered too late, however, retired too early. I shouldn't say that, but I'm blessed for now. For this day, this very one day I have all I can have. I am blessed with the life I have been given with my husband. Oh my, am I.
SO I will move forward with my learning of inner peace and containment of anger and rage that festers within me and use my energies for many things I believe in very strongly. In person, on FB, in email, phone, who the hell cares, its what I believe. I am so thankful for this comfort with myself speaking. I mean seriously, I was born speaking. Literally asked if I was a midget when I was about 3.
My biggest and most important thing I wanted to say within these text walls is to empower our children to speak. I was intially going to talk about how my family would say stop talking and all of that, however, when i realized what I was saying after I typed it, it was positive and I love it!
Let's listen to our little talking people walking around singing songs from NikJr. and quoting Tinkerbell or Wow! Wow! Wubzy! For this is such a gift of creativity that cannot be taught in school or at a job. It IS their soul they share, their hearts, thoughts and power. It has been proven that children who speak a lot, we're talkin talk radio babies, tend to have more creative tendencies and succeed moreso. I just love their little voices :) And I love the light that shines from within.
Soon they will be our next great speakers and our voice. For now, we are their voice and want them to have the free spirited passion to speak without being embarrassed. I am looking so forward to my 3 year old nephew to begin his path into school. He's a talker and I adore every moment of it. Even if its him screaming about going into time out :\
I have had soooo many diverse thoughts I had often though perhaps I needed some SERIOUS help. And now, no I feel so totally normal and at ease with the information that may fly from my mouth. Maybe it flies out because whomever I am speaking with needs to hear something so random and unfoundedly ridiculous, lol, really does need to hear it. Sigh
I used to be so ashamed of my newly found adult outspoken-ness. I was a shy girl, didn't say much, screamed about rock stars, but never really had an opinion or the balls to share. It was all about my boobies looking ok and not like a freak. Or the fact that I had a hole in my shoe. OOOR the wonderful fact that I would fall flat on my ass while talking to a friend who happens to be standing next to my crush of the month. ALright, crush of the semester. Call it teenage obsession. So mouth was typically sealed and when something came out it was a Duran Duran yelp
I started this whole "expression" of oneself really late in my youth. Try about 30. For some reason all of the turds I picked up seemed to sort of disappear and my brain found its self confidence and started to gain knowledge on a conscious level. Lets not give 3 years of therapy any credit. Its not like I had an amazing facilitator or two in group therapy once a week either. I would not change that for anything.
It took a lot of oblivious practice I guess. I have no idea how suddenly I could blurt out facts about my position on issues with regards to different subjects of that particular time and know what the hell I was talking about!!! Slowly but surely (shirely, heheeh), I transformed into a soap boxer. YIPES!
My family was in shock at the fact that I was becoming a woman with a voice. Not just any voice, however, a big voice that made sense and meant what she said and said what she meant. Protected onself and standing up for what she believed in. Oh JOY!!
Suddenly the voice was muted and a set back or 5,000,000 years and rendered me fearful to speak, then suddenly I bounced back! I found my voice, my passions, my love, fear, compassion, etc., and I love it. I love my voice, my strong will and the refusal to back down, but do it respectfully for the opposition most of the time, if I have to.
I'm not claiming to be an awesomely intelligent debator, I just love the practice of one's voice. The fact that I can say what I need to and still maintain my sense of self control and facts makes me feel so alive.
It is alive. Life. I am convinced my voice has its own mind as well. I find myself responding to issues that are so important to me and find myself typing, talking, rummaging through my thoughts with fervor. It feels almost like a flash of fever. OH this passion to speak is wonderful. I hear myself sometimes and I am in shock.
There is no reason on God's green earth anyone should have to feel ashamed to speak and practice our freedom of being a human being. We are not here to shush, we are here to SPEAK AND SHARE our thoughts and all that mushy stuff :)
I guess you could say I'm having a good day. It also feels incredible when friends you have not spoken to since high school send notes over commenting in such a positive way pertaining to my intellect. Lol, intellect. Something I would never think of being or brag about. I'm a serious high school drop out. These notes are the biggest self-esteem boosting statements. Its not like being told you're pretty, nice boobs, nice whatever the hell they think of. It meant and means soooo much when my voice is heard and appreciated for the way I convey my message. NEVER would I think this would be something to spark the life back into me. EVER!
That said, I'm starting to feel voracious for adventure and life. Its amazing how much a small sentence just put the icing on top of the delicious strawberry and whipped cream cake with pistachio ice cream on the side. The compilation of it all. And I actually feel as though I have made it to the almost an adult stage lol!!
I'm a total late bloomer. Married late, schooled late, careered too late, however, retired too early. I shouldn't say that, but I'm blessed for now. For this day, this very one day I have all I can have. I am blessed with the life I have been given with my husband. Oh my, am I.
SO I will move forward with my learning of inner peace and containment of anger and rage that festers within me and use my energies for many things I believe in very strongly. In person, on FB, in email, phone, who the hell cares, its what I believe. I am so thankful for this comfort with myself speaking. I mean seriously, I was born speaking. Literally asked if I was a midget when I was about 3.
My biggest and most important thing I wanted to say within these text walls is to empower our children to speak. I was intially going to talk about how my family would say stop talking and all of that, however, when i realized what I was saying after I typed it, it was positive and I love it!
Let's listen to our little talking people walking around singing songs from NikJr. and quoting Tinkerbell or Wow! Wow! Wubzy! For this is such a gift of creativity that cannot be taught in school or at a job. It IS their soul they share, their hearts, thoughts and power. It has been proven that children who speak a lot, we're talkin talk radio babies, tend to have more creative tendencies and succeed moreso. I just love their little voices :) And I love the light that shines from within.
Soon they will be our next great speakers and our voice. For now, we are their voice and want them to have the free spirited passion to speak without being embarrassed. I am looking so forward to my 3 year old nephew to begin his path into school. He's a talker and I adore every moment of it. Even if its him screaming about going into time out :\
Saturday, February 20, 2010
IF you told me 11 years ago that I would be married with several pets, I would tell you you're crazy. Well, here I am. Married, 7 pets, a beautiful home and MARRIED!
I was a spry little 32 year old when I met John. On the internet. He was rude, obnoxious and plain old stupid. Not a good idea for a man to behave, specially with me. I was sassy, strong, self confident and wanted nothing to do with men except for sex.
I had met several very young men, ew, exchange numbers, have the lamest dinner dates possible and wondered if they were lay worthy. Kind of like the whole sponge worthy episode on Seinfeld. He was a hottie or so I thought in my drunken NYE stupor.
It was 1999 and I had sworn to hoodratdom and using the opposite sex, as men had done to women throughout the beginning of man. I wonder if they had bars back then. Odd drinks like the "I just discovered Fire" cocktail. Anyway, that was it! I was going to have sex with strangers and go home. Ha! Or so I thought.
The boys, literally 23, were "eager" to go out. Loved my giant ass and loved the fact that I would make them beg for my number. Serious! I loved it. I had once made this giant cutie pie get down on his knee and ask me for my number LOUDLY during last call as the bar emptied. Everyone saw him and that was mmm mmm good.
The sex never happened, the usage of weirdos, as we know, turned out to be. One was married and almost got me killed. Amazing. One followed me out to my car and actually thought I would go have "breakfast" with him. Oh and another. So gross. We're dancing up in the club and decided I would like for him to touch my ass and attach his mouth to my neck, much like an octopus.
Ok, so the fun was had more with my girlfriends. Turning down drinks and men/boys and "accidentally" grabbing the hotties asses. "Ooops! I am so sorry. Did I do that. Noooo." Or the "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to put my boobies on you or in your face." Oh good times. GOOOD EFFING TIMES!
As life went on in this state of mind I gathered what ended up loser after loser. I guess that happens in a bar full of younger than I testosterone filled men. Mmmmmhmmm. Men. The smell of men makes me wild. LITERALLY.
I met John right at the highpoint of hoochie time. I got that close. I was going to FINALLY get laid after a 3 year dry spell. He interfered with my self destructive behavior! He got in the way, if you will. And I was thankful. But married?
Marriage, weird word. Firey weekend sex buddies? Now that's awesome. And so it goes. 11 years. Wow. ELEVEN YEARS. Do you people have any idea what a feat it is to make it that long in a relationship in my family of women? It is a challenge and a complete shock. I was more or less the 3year habit girl or so it started out to be. To have a guy around for that long was something we could not fathom. At all.
Dating n' stuff was good. The sex was amazing, far better than my fiance' for sure. I had never, ever been pursued in such a way. I had never in my entire adult life been told to be myself and that they would never try to change me. Wha, huh?
11 years of sorded fun? Times were good and I was flat broke. I brought in maybe 600 bucks a month. This poor girl with nothing to offer but my awesome lovin skills. LMAO! He says I love you and I freak out!! He can't you can't its too soon! No! It had only been two weeks for the love of Mike!
SO here I am. 11 years later, married, bored to death on a Saturday night with stitches in my head.
It takes a special person to make it to my side in 3.2 seconds with a wad of clothes to stop the bleeding. I barely like my own blood. Warm like a bath running like water. Yelling like a true Meximelt. "aaaayyyyiiieee!" At 1a.m.
Four hours later, we're passed out in urgent care, gooey blood coming from the skull. Frozen room, hard but heavenly gurney a bag of peas and my guy. My sleepy hero. Adventures I tell ya.
The vows we took went back and forth and racing in my head. It does whenever there is a crisis with us. "You shall feel no rain", keeps playing over and over in my head. Remembering the wedding, coming home with a migrane and looking at my boring guy watch the news. GOD HE IS SOOOOO BORING! Lol. Not that I regret it. But I just wish it were a little less mundane. Mundane....
In my frustration that is cause by such boredom, I am going back and forth to the east coast to see a friend or friends. This would be the third time in the last year. GOD that town makes me so happy and feel so alive. I would love to live there if I could afford. Just a little co-op situation would be great. But who would be there for me? My lover? My unfriended friend? My dogs? My shoes or purses? Or would it be the hot dog vendor.
SOmetimes I wonder if I married too soon. If I just didn't sew the oats enough. If I am ready for this comittment deal. I do, quite honeslt wish from time to time, perhaps too much, that I were single. Wearing those slightly plunging blouses carrying on dancing with strangers, drinking and living it up. And sometimes I don't feel that I've gotten that out of my system. I want to be single to be free and see my sweet lover. Yes, lover. He is mine without shame. I'm an adulteress. A giant red letter should be placed on my shirts. However, he knows.
I guess my point is to seriously think about whether or not you want to settle down, literally. It is absolute and you have to want and desire such tv watching or baby making and then diaper changing. Yet another regret.
I just can't believe I've been with him for 11 years. Odd but true. I'm assuming I am in for the long haul. Otherwise, he would be the best one that got away. Even though its another Saturday night I get to watch him pass out, snore and go to bed by 9! I know 9. 11 years, wow.
I was a spry little 32 year old when I met John. On the internet. He was rude, obnoxious and plain old stupid. Not a good idea for a man to behave, specially with me. I was sassy, strong, self confident and wanted nothing to do with men except for sex.
I had met several very young men, ew, exchange numbers, have the lamest dinner dates possible and wondered if they were lay worthy. Kind of like the whole sponge worthy episode on Seinfeld. He was a hottie or so I thought in my drunken NYE stupor.
It was 1999 and I had sworn to hoodratdom and using the opposite sex, as men had done to women throughout the beginning of man. I wonder if they had bars back then. Odd drinks like the "I just discovered Fire" cocktail. Anyway, that was it! I was going to have sex with strangers and go home. Ha! Or so I thought.
The boys, literally 23, were "eager" to go out. Loved my giant ass and loved the fact that I would make them beg for my number. Serious! I loved it. I had once made this giant cutie pie get down on his knee and ask me for my number LOUDLY during last call as the bar emptied. Everyone saw him and that was mmm mmm good.
The sex never happened, the usage of weirdos, as we know, turned out to be. One was married and almost got me killed. Amazing. One followed me out to my car and actually thought I would go have "breakfast" with him. Oh and another. So gross. We're dancing up in the club and decided I would like for him to touch my ass and attach his mouth to my neck, much like an octopus.
Ok, so the fun was had more with my girlfriends. Turning down drinks and men/boys and "accidentally" grabbing the hotties asses. "Ooops! I am so sorry. Did I do that. Noooo." Or the "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to put my boobies on you or in your face." Oh good times. GOOOD EFFING TIMES!
As life went on in this state of mind I gathered what ended up loser after loser. I guess that happens in a bar full of younger than I testosterone filled men. Mmmmmhmmm. Men. The smell of men makes me wild. LITERALLY.
I met John right at the highpoint of hoochie time. I got that close. I was going to FINALLY get laid after a 3 year dry spell. He interfered with my self destructive behavior! He got in the way, if you will. And I was thankful. But married?
Marriage, weird word. Firey weekend sex buddies? Now that's awesome. And so it goes. 11 years. Wow. ELEVEN YEARS. Do you people have any idea what a feat it is to make it that long in a relationship in my family of women? It is a challenge and a complete shock. I was more or less the 3year habit girl or so it started out to be. To have a guy around for that long was something we could not fathom. At all.
Dating n' stuff was good. The sex was amazing, far better than my fiance' for sure. I had never, ever been pursued in such a way. I had never in my entire adult life been told to be myself and that they would never try to change me. Wha, huh?
11 years of sorded fun? Times were good and I was flat broke. I brought in maybe 600 bucks a month. This poor girl with nothing to offer but my awesome lovin skills. LMAO! He says I love you and I freak out!! He can't you can't its too soon! No! It had only been two weeks for the love of Mike!
SO here I am. 11 years later, married, bored to death on a Saturday night with stitches in my head.
It takes a special person to make it to my side in 3.2 seconds with a wad of clothes to stop the bleeding. I barely like my own blood. Warm like a bath running like water. Yelling like a true Meximelt. "aaaayyyyiiieee!" At 1a.m.
Four hours later, we're passed out in urgent care, gooey blood coming from the skull. Frozen room, hard but heavenly gurney a bag of peas and my guy. My sleepy hero. Adventures I tell ya.
The vows we took went back and forth and racing in my head. It does whenever there is a crisis with us. "You shall feel no rain", keeps playing over and over in my head. Remembering the wedding, coming home with a migrane and looking at my boring guy watch the news. GOD HE IS SOOOOO BORING! Lol. Not that I regret it. But I just wish it were a little less mundane. Mundane....
In my frustration that is cause by such boredom, I am going back and forth to the east coast to see a friend or friends. This would be the third time in the last year. GOD that town makes me so happy and feel so alive. I would love to live there if I could afford. Just a little co-op situation would be great. But who would be there for me? My lover? My unfriended friend? My dogs? My shoes or purses? Or would it be the hot dog vendor.
SOmetimes I wonder if I married too soon. If I just didn't sew the oats enough. If I am ready for this comittment deal. I do, quite honeslt wish from time to time, perhaps too much, that I were single. Wearing those slightly plunging blouses carrying on dancing with strangers, drinking and living it up. And sometimes I don't feel that I've gotten that out of my system. I want to be single to be free and see my sweet lover. Yes, lover. He is mine without shame. I'm an adulteress. A giant red letter should be placed on my shirts. However, he knows.
I guess my point is to seriously think about whether or not you want to settle down, literally. It is absolute and you have to want and desire such tv watching or baby making and then diaper changing. Yet another regret.
I just can't believe I've been with him for 11 years. Odd but true. I'm assuming I am in for the long haul. Otherwise, he would be the best one that got away. Even though its another Saturday night I get to watch him pass out, snore and go to bed by 9! I know 9. 11 years, wow.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Music, I guess?
"Oooh baby I love your waaay, everyday." Lovely song. Lovely, lovely, looooohoooovely. Reminds me of childhood, when it was all rosie colored and less complicated than this adult life, I wished so badly to come quickly. I longed for it so badly. And now I have remind myself to be careful for what I wish for. Not that I want to be dead or anything of the sorts, I'm just sayin it kind of sucks sometimes.
So I'm 10, on my bike singing Frampton. The breeze from the speed of riding on my bike. Long black hair, black hair all the way down my back to my ass. As a matter o' fact it flew, literally flew in the wind. The tennis ball in my spokes made no sense and I couldn't sense of how or why it was there. All it did was make my bike ride kind of wonky. Really? A tennis ball? Hmmm. I kept on riding. God knows I AM the epitomy of 10years old. I was striving for Tomboyism, but not allowed as I was the "doll" of the family. You know, the first daughter, therefore, the dressied up daughter. Honestly, just like a doll. Perfect hair, and on and on....kind of sounds like an obsession I have currently shed myself of.
The sense of freedom from riding a bike, rollerskating, running and being a kid. Sweet and simple. I'd listen to my fold and play record/am radio some friends gave me for a holiday or something. I was 10 and I was a bad ass. Triumph, Sonny & Cher, The Beach Boys 45s were handed down to me from a cousin whom I ended up dispising for the rest of my life. I mean really, what would you do if your 15 yr old cousin calls you a little bitch? You'd wanna bite her for sure. Literally BITE her. I was a biter back then. Heheheh
So many songs that bring back so many good times and memories of really awesome experiences in my life. The first time I went to a bbq over my Dad's vato friend's house. "Lowrider, get a little lower nah." Good God, the rock n' roll my brother would play. All because of this, music has brought me in and out of "stuff" we'll say. Oh yeah, my father was a hoodlum. A pachuco, hung out with the homies. Wore a chain from his pocket in a giant loop. Dippity do in the hair. VATO with a wanna be tattoo.
There's this one song I cannot get through and it makes me quiver/shutter with utter disgust and the sensation of vomitting. 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover. Now that one kills me with those memories. All part of life non-theless. "Now slip out the back Jack". UGH! It makes me feel ill to write those words. I hear it and think of a horrible person I once knew. EW
Love's Babysoft perfume. sniifffff. aaaaah.
Elton John seems to be one of my favs amongst the other favs, lol. Reminds me of just being so care free, no bills, cars, husbands, children, stress, ugly people and things that just get to me like nothing else.
I never realized what a combination of music I enjoyed. They were healing and damaging at the same time. Joyful with colors and then slam into a brick wall. Currently, that is. In one of those flashback things. But its ok. Its mighty fine. It reminds me of my mortality. How old I really am. OH BILLY JOEL!! Love him. Mad passion.
43? Really? Who's 43? Certainly not me. I do not have any recollection of being anything older than 10. Who and what are you talking about? "I love you just the way you arrrrre." Oh sweet Billy Joel. SO would that make me what they call dissociative disorder? Haha! Another tag ay?
I turned 43, in case I didn't drop a bomb of a hint. Lol. I can't say that I feel 43 or that I can even own up to being 43. Odd stuff. This aging business is so difficult to process without the muddy puddles of memories. Its on the tip of your tongue. You can smell and taste a moment of your life. Or in this case, hear and see. And whats up with putting a number on how many years I've been here.
I descended upon the masses with bad humor, too much compassion, pain, and humility. I have no idea why or how I am here or still here at that. See, life has handed out some seriously shitty hand. I have never won poker nor will I and thats ok too. I just figure its material for a bad comdienne, such as myself. Aspiring to be one, at least one thing I desired as a child. Goodness, I wanted to be anything creative and had an expression from my mind and whatever else flies around my head Writing blogs was certainly the farthest from my mind. But I really enjoy it. I can say words that make no sense or belong together. I can SPEW the rot from my brain.
Its amazing what rot and moss is in here. And thats ok too. I'm so not complaining, I think I am sharing how complacent I have become. So not good for my soul. Sometimes its really comfy though. Depressed? Sleep in, why the hell not?! Mania for shopping? Woot! I love shopping. But in the end, it IS all ok. I just wonder what kind of impact I've made on anyone or anything. I hate the thought of being a time vampire and abusing my privilege of life.
Which brings me to the fact that I got my whopping settlement from the vampires that work for the state disability and thr minions. Yeah. LOADS. Just enough to let me buy a few luxury items, take a vacay and help Momma out cause of an awful financial situation. They really did me a favor. SUper favor. "Hey Tammy Osuna-Burton! We've put a price on what you're hard work totalled up to be. Aaaaand its half of your annual salary. Here honey, go shopping."
Those big spender and employers of all things negative. There is some residual pain. A little bitterness in that they "decided" that I didn't have a problem at the workplace due to an ass I worked with. But it happened to be due to a past life experience. Boy am I going to haunt them. Really scare the crap outta them. OK ENOUGH. I just get a little sad and upset once in a while. Oh the meloncholy. I liked my job. I really liked everyone I worked with. I had what I needed, made what I needed and it was good. I shopped for random stuff and mostly for others. Had really nice clothes and bought jewelry I loved. Having grown up a little poor girl, this was super important. I bought diamonds, precious stones, great shoes, gifts and gifts and regret not having donated more. But you see, we end up caught up in that and become the boss I know as evil and evilette. And again, thats ok. I'm in a better place?
SO my point has probably become a big ball of confusion and I've gone of the beaten path again. Oh I love to blog. No grammatical corrections, criticism is only for the misspelled and however ignorant I may seem. It all really doesnt matter anyway. Its just words. words, words, wooords. Such a great place to divulge random shit.
Ok back to it. What I am trying to confirm is that I really don't like this adult business. It's wonderful cause I can come and go as I please and say what I choose to say. Pick my own politics. Stand on a soap box and preach my opinion, back it up with a coke and smile...lol. And that I love Peter Frampton and thank him for just one part in his song. "Oh baby I love your way. Everyday. Wanna be with you night and day..." Something I would dream of as a child. I would hear it in my head and hope someone would sing it to me. Love me that much. And he does, I think. Its hard to tell sometimes. SomeONE who would walk over to me and hold my cheek and kiss my lips ever so softly as if a whisper. Hmmm. I loved being 10.
So I'm 10, on my bike singing Frampton. The breeze from the speed of riding on my bike. Long black hair, black hair all the way down my back to my ass. As a matter o' fact it flew, literally flew in the wind. The tennis ball in my spokes made no sense and I couldn't sense of how or why it was there. All it did was make my bike ride kind of wonky. Really? A tennis ball? Hmmm. I kept on riding. God knows I AM the epitomy of 10years old. I was striving for Tomboyism, but not allowed as I was the "doll" of the family. You know, the first daughter, therefore, the dressied up daughter. Honestly, just like a doll. Perfect hair, and on and on....kind of sounds like an obsession I have currently shed myself of.
The sense of freedom from riding a bike, rollerskating, running and being a kid. Sweet and simple. I'd listen to my fold and play record/am radio some friends gave me for a holiday or something. I was 10 and I was a bad ass. Triumph, Sonny & Cher, The Beach Boys 45s were handed down to me from a cousin whom I ended up dispising for the rest of my life. I mean really, what would you do if your 15 yr old cousin calls you a little bitch? You'd wanna bite her for sure. Literally BITE her. I was a biter back then. Heheheh
So many songs that bring back so many good times and memories of really awesome experiences in my life. The first time I went to a bbq over my Dad's vato friend's house. "Lowrider, get a little lower nah." Good God, the rock n' roll my brother would play. All because of this, music has brought me in and out of "stuff" we'll say. Oh yeah, my father was a hoodlum. A pachuco, hung out with the homies. Wore a chain from his pocket in a giant loop. Dippity do in the hair. VATO with a wanna be tattoo.
There's this one song I cannot get through and it makes me quiver/shutter with utter disgust and the sensation of vomitting. 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover. Now that one kills me with those memories. All part of life non-theless. "Now slip out the back Jack". UGH! It makes me feel ill to write those words. I hear it and think of a horrible person I once knew. EW
Love's Babysoft perfume. sniifffff. aaaaah.
Elton John seems to be one of my favs amongst the other favs, lol. Reminds me of just being so care free, no bills, cars, husbands, children, stress, ugly people and things that just get to me like nothing else.
I never realized what a combination of music I enjoyed. They were healing and damaging at the same time. Joyful with colors and then slam into a brick wall. Currently, that is. In one of those flashback things. But its ok. Its mighty fine. It reminds me of my mortality. How old I really am. OH BILLY JOEL!! Love him. Mad passion.
43? Really? Who's 43? Certainly not me. I do not have any recollection of being anything older than 10. Who and what are you talking about? "I love you just the way you arrrrre." Oh sweet Billy Joel. SO would that make me what they call dissociative disorder? Haha! Another tag ay?
I turned 43, in case I didn't drop a bomb of a hint. Lol. I can't say that I feel 43 or that I can even own up to being 43. Odd stuff. This aging business is so difficult to process without the muddy puddles of memories. Its on the tip of your tongue. You can smell and taste a moment of your life. Or in this case, hear and see. And whats up with putting a number on how many years I've been here.
I descended upon the masses with bad humor, too much compassion, pain, and humility. I have no idea why or how I am here or still here at that. See, life has handed out some seriously shitty hand. I have never won poker nor will I and thats ok too. I just figure its material for a bad comdienne, such as myself. Aspiring to be one, at least one thing I desired as a child. Goodness, I wanted to be anything creative and had an expression from my mind and whatever else flies around my head Writing blogs was certainly the farthest from my mind. But I really enjoy it. I can say words that make no sense or belong together. I can SPEW the rot from my brain.
Its amazing what rot and moss is in here. And thats ok too. I'm so not complaining, I think I am sharing how complacent I have become. So not good for my soul. Sometimes its really comfy though. Depressed? Sleep in, why the hell not?! Mania for shopping? Woot! I love shopping. But in the end, it IS all ok. I just wonder what kind of impact I've made on anyone or anything. I hate the thought of being a time vampire and abusing my privilege of life.
Which brings me to the fact that I got my whopping settlement from the vampires that work for the state disability and thr minions. Yeah. LOADS. Just enough to let me buy a few luxury items, take a vacay and help Momma out cause of an awful financial situation. They really did me a favor. SUper favor. "Hey Tammy Osuna-Burton! We've put a price on what you're hard work totalled up to be. Aaaaand its half of your annual salary. Here honey, go shopping."
Those big spender and employers of all things negative. There is some residual pain. A little bitterness in that they "decided" that I didn't have a problem at the workplace due to an ass I worked with. But it happened to be due to a past life experience. Boy am I going to haunt them. Really scare the crap outta them. OK ENOUGH. I just get a little sad and upset once in a while. Oh the meloncholy. I liked my job. I really liked everyone I worked with. I had what I needed, made what I needed and it was good. I shopped for random stuff and mostly for others. Had really nice clothes and bought jewelry I loved. Having grown up a little poor girl, this was super important. I bought diamonds, precious stones, great shoes, gifts and gifts and regret not having donated more. But you see, we end up caught up in that and become the boss I know as evil and evilette. And again, thats ok. I'm in a better place?
SO my point has probably become a big ball of confusion and I've gone of the beaten path again. Oh I love to blog. No grammatical corrections, criticism is only for the misspelled and however ignorant I may seem. It all really doesnt matter anyway. Its just words. words, words, wooords. Such a great place to divulge random shit.
Ok back to it. What I am trying to confirm is that I really don't like this adult business. It's wonderful cause I can come and go as I please and say what I choose to say. Pick my own politics. Stand on a soap box and preach my opinion, back it up with a coke and smile...lol. And that I love Peter Frampton and thank him for just one part in his song. "Oh baby I love your way. Everyday. Wanna be with you night and day..." Something I would dream of as a child. I would hear it in my head and hope someone would sing it to me. Love me that much. And he does, I think. Its hard to tell sometimes. SomeONE who would walk over to me and hold my cheek and kiss my lips ever so softly as if a whisper. Hmmm. I loved being 10.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Can't get out tha funk.
Rainy, rainy days. I love rainy days, they bring new fresh air, the flowers fall in love with the sun again and things just seem anew. I love the rain. I love many things about the rain and what it does and means for most of us. Only this year it seems just wet. No biggie and I think I figured out why.
For about two years after John and I got married, we decided to try to have a child for about a year. Nothing happened but late cycles, anticipation and fear, but mostly disappointment and depression.
I guess you could say I misled myself into believing I didn't want children when we wed in 2002. Maybe I did. And now I am regretting some of my decisions. Marriage, family, happiness and no babies.
I honestly could not stand the thought of the responsibility of having a little human being. The stomach with a person inside floating around in fluid. The bubble in the belly, pain, aches and any difficulties that could have happened to a woman of 38. Wow. Anmios. That long needle stuck in your belly button that checks the fluids and health of the baby. All of this happens after 35. And yet, I was throwing it back and forth in my head.
Right around my 38th birthday, which was our 2 yr anni. I felt the need,hunger, desire, and need to make a child in my belly. Meanwhile, John was not on the same page, finding out he never really was. I ached for a child in my belly. I ached for feeling feet, hands, hiccups, shoving and pushing around in my belly. A living being inside of me growing. I didn't even mind the thought of the possibility of those wonderful bathroom issues and vomitting. I really, really hit me hard.
I cried, I didn't care, I cried and tried to figure out what and how to approach John with the new attitude about babies and finally realized the feelings of desiring a child since I'm 18, was still there. As it still is at 43.
We went to yummy dinner at our favorite hole in the wall italian place in Eagle Rock. Oh it was a fav. I miss it often. I'm still rummaging through my brain about what and how to tell my new husband of two years, my new husband who is going to be told he has to inpregnate me or I will be lost forever in a pool of regret. "Will he still love me? Will he leave me? Will he agree or call me nuts?" Oh those thoughts. I was so worried he would laugh and run. He didn't
We ordered, and chatted away with our glasses of bitter house chianti. Feeling giddy about going home and snuggling together. You know, new marriage stuff. NOT that I'm cynical about it, its just something true. I looked at him across the table and just blurted it out. "I want to have a baby and I need to know if you want to have one with me. If not, you can just get me pregnant and I will be on my way." He had the look of seeing a ghost and said I was nuts and wants me to be happy and ok, lets try. Needless to say, nothing came of it and I could not get pregnant. And as much as I hate to say it, if both don't want something it wont happen.
Five years later, we are childless and have lots of pets. Which is great cause I can come and go as I please, do whatever the hell I want right? Life is so carefree. All there is is poop duty, potty training and cuddling animals. "Have to go potty? Go outside now, make poopie doop...good girl, you made poop outside. What a good dog." Oh its exciting indeed. I love them and am blessed with them, but what does is serve to the spirit of desiring parenthood?
Many of my friends tell me to embrace the fact that I have none. Or I should be happy with what I have. "You have a beautiful home, awesome husband and all of those cute animals. I'd take poop pick up over diapers and crying." Ha! I don't think many people realize that a lot of us who regret not having a child and having animals instead hear those statements and sigh with questions. Are these animals truly feeding my maternal instincts? Do I get to see them off to their first day of school? Do I have the blessing of kissing them goodnight after a nice warm bath and homework? Did I, me, myself, I, I, I, get to bond with a little human being from my body and provide them life through nurturing them in my belly? I mean, God gave me a uterus to possibly utilize as a cozy place to carry a child for 9 months, right? And finally, my breasts. My breasts are given as a means to feed said child should I have one. This female body that is designed to carry life and give part of itself to love and care for. The annoying misconception of breasts being a part of the female body to objectify. Thats not such a bad thing, but the reality of what my body, in my opinion is made for.
On to my biggest regret which is becoming childless. I wake in the morning sometimes with a tear in my eye that I am not hearing someone call for me for love and morning kisses. A little guy or girl asking for help putting on her socks. Or even watching and experiencing a major blow out about absolutely nothing that makes any sense. Detention, the flu, awards, saying "I love you Mommy". These things that seem mundane to those who have children or one child do not realize the blessings that are good bad and really ugly, are truly blessings. These things are gifts. GIFTS.
What it all boils down to is realizing how and what brings me down and what brings me up. I am regretting not having a baby as I wanted much younger in life, otherwise I would not be in this funk about it. I also feel that I should have taken a different path from time to time with regards to whom I married. And now being 43 and 56 is just not smart to try again. I would not do that to a person. With medications and age against us, its all that much harder to hit the reality wall from time to time.
I have to honestly say, I DO come to a funk everyday when I walk by one of our spare rooms and jack and jill bathroom. Out in the yard with space for club houses and swings. Room enough for baby to sleep in our room once we would bring baby home. Life seems to not have as much meaning as it should. Life seems empty with nothing to really look forward to. And the hardest and darkest part is knowing all of my life will be for not but shopping and running around town. Its as though I am here, just to be here. And on my darkest days battling depression, hurting for no reason at all, I wonder why I'm here.
SO my next step in life is to try to find some piece of mind with regards to children. Perhaps it will never change and I will be alone in the end. I guess that has to be alright. Well, I know it has to be alright. I do have my awesome nephew, but who knows? My husband is 14 years my senior. SO what does that say to me. I'm a drag tonight. A real downer. For this I am sorry to dump such regret and sadness.
Alright kids, I think I've said my piece of the funk for the day and hopefully it will leave with the clouds and the rain.
Its the rainy days. The rainy days also bring clarity and a clean slate for me. Oh rainy days I love thee.
For about two years after John and I got married, we decided to try to have a child for about a year. Nothing happened but late cycles, anticipation and fear, but mostly disappointment and depression.
I guess you could say I misled myself into believing I didn't want children when we wed in 2002. Maybe I did. And now I am regretting some of my decisions. Marriage, family, happiness and no babies.
I honestly could not stand the thought of the responsibility of having a little human being. The stomach with a person inside floating around in fluid. The bubble in the belly, pain, aches and any difficulties that could have happened to a woman of 38. Wow. Anmios. That long needle stuck in your belly button that checks the fluids and health of the baby. All of this happens after 35. And yet, I was throwing it back and forth in my head.
Right around my 38th birthday, which was our 2 yr anni. I felt the need,hunger, desire, and need to make a child in my belly. Meanwhile, John was not on the same page, finding out he never really was. I ached for a child in my belly. I ached for feeling feet, hands, hiccups, shoving and pushing around in my belly. A living being inside of me growing. I didn't even mind the thought of the possibility of those wonderful bathroom issues and vomitting. I really, really hit me hard.
I cried, I didn't care, I cried and tried to figure out what and how to approach John with the new attitude about babies and finally realized the feelings of desiring a child since I'm 18, was still there. As it still is at 43.
We went to yummy dinner at our favorite hole in the wall italian place in Eagle Rock. Oh it was a fav. I miss it often. I'm still rummaging through my brain about what and how to tell my new husband of two years, my new husband who is going to be told he has to inpregnate me or I will be lost forever in a pool of regret. "Will he still love me? Will he leave me? Will he agree or call me nuts?" Oh those thoughts. I was so worried he would laugh and run. He didn't
We ordered, and chatted away with our glasses of bitter house chianti. Feeling giddy about going home and snuggling together. You know, new marriage stuff. NOT that I'm cynical about it, its just something true. I looked at him across the table and just blurted it out. "I want to have a baby and I need to know if you want to have one with me. If not, you can just get me pregnant and I will be on my way." He had the look of seeing a ghost and said I was nuts and wants me to be happy and ok, lets try. Needless to say, nothing came of it and I could not get pregnant. And as much as I hate to say it, if both don't want something it wont happen.
Five years later, we are childless and have lots of pets. Which is great cause I can come and go as I please, do whatever the hell I want right? Life is so carefree. All there is is poop duty, potty training and cuddling animals. "Have to go potty? Go outside now, make poopie doop...good girl, you made poop outside. What a good dog." Oh its exciting indeed. I love them and am blessed with them, but what does is serve to the spirit of desiring parenthood?
Many of my friends tell me to embrace the fact that I have none. Or I should be happy with what I have. "You have a beautiful home, awesome husband and all of those cute animals. I'd take poop pick up over diapers and crying." Ha! I don't think many people realize that a lot of us who regret not having a child and having animals instead hear those statements and sigh with questions. Are these animals truly feeding my maternal instincts? Do I get to see them off to their first day of school? Do I have the blessing of kissing them goodnight after a nice warm bath and homework? Did I, me, myself, I, I, I, get to bond with a little human being from my body and provide them life through nurturing them in my belly? I mean, God gave me a uterus to possibly utilize as a cozy place to carry a child for 9 months, right? And finally, my breasts. My breasts are given as a means to feed said child should I have one. This female body that is designed to carry life and give part of itself to love and care for. The annoying misconception of breasts being a part of the female body to objectify. Thats not such a bad thing, but the reality of what my body, in my opinion is made for.
On to my biggest regret which is becoming childless. I wake in the morning sometimes with a tear in my eye that I am not hearing someone call for me for love and morning kisses. A little guy or girl asking for help putting on her socks. Or even watching and experiencing a major blow out about absolutely nothing that makes any sense. Detention, the flu, awards, saying "I love you Mommy". These things that seem mundane to those who have children or one child do not realize the blessings that are good bad and really ugly, are truly blessings. These things are gifts. GIFTS.
What it all boils down to is realizing how and what brings me down and what brings me up. I am regretting not having a baby as I wanted much younger in life, otherwise I would not be in this funk about it. I also feel that I should have taken a different path from time to time with regards to whom I married. And now being 43 and 56 is just not smart to try again. I would not do that to a person. With medications and age against us, its all that much harder to hit the reality wall from time to time.
I have to honestly say, I DO come to a funk everyday when I walk by one of our spare rooms and jack and jill bathroom. Out in the yard with space for club houses and swings. Room enough for baby to sleep in our room once we would bring baby home. Life seems to not have as much meaning as it should. Life seems empty with nothing to really look forward to. And the hardest and darkest part is knowing all of my life will be for not but shopping and running around town. Its as though I am here, just to be here. And on my darkest days battling depression, hurting for no reason at all, I wonder why I'm here.
SO my next step in life is to try to find some piece of mind with regards to children. Perhaps it will never change and I will be alone in the end. I guess that has to be alright. Well, I know it has to be alright. I do have my awesome nephew, but who knows? My husband is 14 years my senior. SO what does that say to me. I'm a drag tonight. A real downer. For this I am sorry to dump such regret and sadness.
Alright kids, I think I've said my piece of the funk for the day and hopefully it will leave with the clouds and the rain.
Its the rainy days. The rainy days also bring clarity and a clean slate for me. Oh rainy days I love thee.
Friday, January 29, 2010
My heart and logic
God only knows how much I strive to be a tough cookie, thick skinned, not such a softie and make attempts at practicing a tad of apathy to my rose colored world. When I say apathy, I mean having enough heart to say stop before I get into situations I can't come away from due to my much open and breakable heart.
I was born, there was a bucket of compassion and anger twisted up with some impulsivity and unrealistic emotional goals and the desire to find whatever it is I am here for. I'm sure everyone is born with that one. We all wonder the why and the what in our lives.
I had asked someone, I do believe it was my therapist. I asked him why is it that I give of my heart so openly with no regard for consequence, all for good reasons. Why is IT so hard for me to turn the other cheek and run like hell without shedding a tear. AND why is it so hard for me period. He responded to me, "Well who the hell died and left you an angel?" BAM! Grounded in a heartbeat, for the meantime.
My heart feels shattered, completely, wholly and utterly broken and ready to fizzle out after this summer and the last couple of weeks. Not due to mental health issues, just issues in general. Normal life stuff. Then a kind hearted person (friend)posted a plea to rescue some pups in danger of being put down at the shelter, I looked, I balled, and here I am still crying. I can't do it all. I know.
The shelter. I can't get it out of my head. I get chills, cry, chills, stomach cramps, anxiety attacks, etc. I can only think of how cold it is in there. Sad puppy faces, sad puppy eyes. One has a paw missing cause she was used as a bait dog. A bait dog? Really? Seriously? What horrible humans. I can't remove the face of these four wonderfully lovely dogs. Still babies, no chance at happiness and yet one looks like she's smiling. My thoughts are so running away with me and my heart is again a mess. I can't, absolutely cannot! figure out a way to become not so soft to this.
I can't believe some people do call them "just dogs" or "just animals". Animals. How on God's green earth can anyone minimize any life for to just "just"? HOW???? How is it that someone look into the eyes of a pooch and not see life and vibrance. Joy and curiosity for life and love? An animal that will never love themselves more than you. Selfless and full of kisses.
(I had once walked into an animal shelter in Pasadena and hyperventilated from the pain that struck my heart. Literally. If these people could see the pain these animals are in, the loneliness. One I would definitely survive, maybe more would want to save one.)
Animals, our cohabitants on this earth. Whom I believe were put here to bring us much needed companionship, unconditional friendship and love, as well as a test of our patience and humanity. To test our abilities to have compassion, give love unconditionally, snuggle, kisses and share our lives with. I'm getting all spiritual on you alls. ;)
Really, think about it. How or why else would we be given each other and our fellow living creatures? Yeah, we have domesticated them down to an animal we can own, but can only borrow from time and God. I strongly believe they have been put here, as we all are, to love and cherish. Not just as humans, but as spiritual beings as well. Our lives and existence is merely brought to this conclusion in my opinion. I was born to live and love and help as much as I can. I am not perfect at all. But I try, I hope?
God help me seeing strays and help the animals commercials which I cannot watch. If I had my way, I'd have a ranch of strays, much like my Tata did. Perhaps I have mentioned before about his carrying around a 50# bag of Ol'Roy to feed any stray he may have seen. He would feed them. Give from his pocket, which was not lined too well, there were a lot of holes in them. He gave from his heart he was blessed with. I'll just say it, he was pretty piss poor and still feeding the animals. Key element GIVE from what he didn't have. He was a wonderful human being. I really think he planted this seed into my heart while I wasn't looking. hehee.
I guess one could say its not a good idea to have too many pets. More logical to walk away. It makes more sense to not help a helpless creature because it will make your housework load that much more due to the furry contents within these four walls. To this I say BAH! People can walk to places for help, speak for themselves (most of the time), go to a food bank. Animals cannot. They cannot speak, eat clean food and drink fresh water.
I can't say I am an animal activist. Perhaps an emotional reactionist to their suffering. I will admit I do not have the cajones to have a rescue, maybe work at one, but to have one is HUGE.
OH the tears still roll down my cheek. I cannot get the thought of it all out of my head. And perhaps, this is who I am supposed to be? I know I was born with this heart, this head, this mind and all of the gobbledy goop that goes with. I suppose its ok, most of the time.
I was born, there was a bucket of compassion and anger twisted up with some impulsivity and unrealistic emotional goals and the desire to find whatever it is I am here for. I'm sure everyone is born with that one. We all wonder the why and the what in our lives.
I had asked someone, I do believe it was my therapist. I asked him why is it that I give of my heart so openly with no regard for consequence, all for good reasons. Why is IT so hard for me to turn the other cheek and run like hell without shedding a tear. AND why is it so hard for me period. He responded to me, "Well who the hell died and left you an angel?" BAM! Grounded in a heartbeat, for the meantime.
My heart feels shattered, completely, wholly and utterly broken and ready to fizzle out after this summer and the last couple of weeks. Not due to mental health issues, just issues in general. Normal life stuff. Then a kind hearted person (friend)posted a plea to rescue some pups in danger of being put down at the shelter, I looked, I balled, and here I am still crying. I can't do it all. I know.
The shelter. I can't get it out of my head. I get chills, cry, chills, stomach cramps, anxiety attacks, etc. I can only think of how cold it is in there. Sad puppy faces, sad puppy eyes. One has a paw missing cause she was used as a bait dog. A bait dog? Really? Seriously? What horrible humans. I can't remove the face of these four wonderfully lovely dogs. Still babies, no chance at happiness and yet one looks like she's smiling. My thoughts are so running away with me and my heart is again a mess. I can't, absolutely cannot! figure out a way to become not so soft to this.
I can't believe some people do call them "just dogs" or "just animals". Animals. How on God's green earth can anyone minimize any life for to just "just"? HOW???? How is it that someone look into the eyes of a pooch and not see life and vibrance. Joy and curiosity for life and love? An animal that will never love themselves more than you. Selfless and full of kisses.
(I had once walked into an animal shelter in Pasadena and hyperventilated from the pain that struck my heart. Literally. If these people could see the pain these animals are in, the loneliness. One I would definitely survive, maybe more would want to save one.)
Animals, our cohabitants on this earth. Whom I believe were put here to bring us much needed companionship, unconditional friendship and love, as well as a test of our patience and humanity. To test our abilities to have compassion, give love unconditionally, snuggle, kisses and share our lives with. I'm getting all spiritual on you alls. ;)
Really, think about it. How or why else would we be given each other and our fellow living creatures? Yeah, we have domesticated them down to an animal we can own, but can only borrow from time and God. I strongly believe they have been put here, as we all are, to love and cherish. Not just as humans, but as spiritual beings as well. Our lives and existence is merely brought to this conclusion in my opinion. I was born to live and love and help as much as I can. I am not perfect at all. But I try, I hope?
God help me seeing strays and help the animals commercials which I cannot watch. If I had my way, I'd have a ranch of strays, much like my Tata did. Perhaps I have mentioned before about his carrying around a 50# bag of Ol'Roy to feed any stray he may have seen. He would feed them. Give from his pocket, which was not lined too well, there were a lot of holes in them. He gave from his heart he was blessed with. I'll just say it, he was pretty piss poor and still feeding the animals. Key element GIVE from what he didn't have. He was a wonderful human being. I really think he planted this seed into my heart while I wasn't looking. hehee.
I guess one could say its not a good idea to have too many pets. More logical to walk away. It makes more sense to not help a helpless creature because it will make your housework load that much more due to the furry contents within these four walls. To this I say BAH! People can walk to places for help, speak for themselves (most of the time), go to a food bank. Animals cannot. They cannot speak, eat clean food and drink fresh water.
I can't say I am an animal activist. Perhaps an emotional reactionist to their suffering. I will admit I do not have the cajones to have a rescue, maybe work at one, but to have one is HUGE.
OH the tears still roll down my cheek. I cannot get the thought of it all out of my head. And perhaps, this is who I am supposed to be? I know I was born with this heart, this head, this mind and all of the gobbledy goop that goes with. I suppose its ok, most of the time.
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