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.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Cant seem to think of one.
Ooooooh, I have so many mixed up feelings going on today with what is going on in the world, Haiti in particular, and some bullshit comment Pat Robertson and his gaping hole that should stay shut.
John and I were having a conversation the other day and he mentioned in passing a comment Mr. Robertson, if he deserves to be called Mr. (the louse). Apparently, and of course the world knows and I'm like 5years behind, so mad! Ok, so he pretty much said (and I'm paraphrasing of course) what is going on in Haiti is because of the fact that they have a pact with the Devil. WTH?! Who is this man. Mr. 700 club. A show my grandparents watched when I was a child. A show that was harmless and the only thing they did wrong was sing off key. Has this man seen pictures of innocent babies dead lying in the streets. The orphans left with nothing. Babies stuck under the rubble. You get the hint.
I have often found myself overreacting to issues involving immigration, animal cruelty, and your all around injustices in the world. I have tried to give of myself and pray, donate, what have you. But I find my reaction to such assinine statements such as this bringing me to just about the boiling point.
I am astonished and disgusted at how people who are "people of God" and those who pray and send you away with brotherly love and Christ's blessings. Now, if they thought of what and how they were saying things, they would teach the meaning of God's love. Am I wrong? If I am, maybe I'm on the wrong page of life.
Pat Robertson has again made a mockery of the Christian community. I know he is one person amongst many hundreds of thousands of honestly good Christ worshipping peple. He is a spoiled egg. He is rotten to the core.
I know I'm all over the place with this damn blog. Its so hard for me to keep my thoughts organized when I become beyond angry. Which I know is a sin. Wrath.
How on God's earth does this person think anyone would appreciate what he has to say? If he loses a leg, I hope someone says its because he made a claim that his leg is lost due to him being an asshole. Oops. Sorry, I took that to an all time low.
I just have one question. Who and what gave him the right to be so self-righteous he is already standing in line for purgatory, hell, whatever level of Dante's hell. We are to be righteous in the Lord, not self-righteous. We are not to be proud or boastful. God forgive me, but he needs a little check in with God. I know I'm far from perfect, so far it hurts. BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTT, doesn't one think that God feels pity for this man who represents himself as a man of God for saying such things? One who thrives to be Christ like, definition of being Christian. A man who reads the Holy Bible to millions of people on public television. Does he not realize the err of his ways? Obviously he does not.
In closing, I'd like to apologize for my tyraid in the event it may offend. Since when have I been shy with my opinion though. Lol. So my little note to the creep on the 700 club.
Dear Creep,
You are the slime of the earth. A great misleader and example of God's love and sympathy. You are an apathetic little man with a power trip who has the balls to actually say that people are suffering, dying and starving to death due to some pact you strongly believe they have.
How about this, why don't get under some of that rubble and see how it feels to slowly get smashed to DEATH or lose your entire family because a natural disaster happened.
God didn't make the earthquake Mr. Intelligence, the geological make up of the earth decided to talk. Do you suppose you can make it down there and stand on one of those gaping holes and say those words?
Oy, I'm getting redundant. ugh. I'm notrealizing my anger is making me just as good as mister creepy pants. God forgive me.
John and I were having a conversation the other day and he mentioned in passing a comment Mr. Robertson, if he deserves to be called Mr. (the louse). Apparently, and of course the world knows and I'm like 5years behind, so mad! Ok, so he pretty much said (and I'm paraphrasing of course) what is going on in Haiti is because of the fact that they have a pact with the Devil. WTH?! Who is this man. Mr. 700 club. A show my grandparents watched when I was a child. A show that was harmless and the only thing they did wrong was sing off key. Has this man seen pictures of innocent babies dead lying in the streets. The orphans left with nothing. Babies stuck under the rubble. You get the hint.
I have often found myself overreacting to issues involving immigration, animal cruelty, and your all around injustices in the world. I have tried to give of myself and pray, donate, what have you. But I find my reaction to such assinine statements such as this bringing me to just about the boiling point.
I am astonished and disgusted at how people who are "people of God" and those who pray and send you away with brotherly love and Christ's blessings. Now, if they thought of what and how they were saying things, they would teach the meaning of God's love. Am I wrong? If I am, maybe I'm on the wrong page of life.
Pat Robertson has again made a mockery of the Christian community. I know he is one person amongst many hundreds of thousands of honestly good Christ worshipping peple. He is a spoiled egg. He is rotten to the core.
I know I'm all over the place with this damn blog. Its so hard for me to keep my thoughts organized when I become beyond angry. Which I know is a sin. Wrath.
How on God's earth does this person think anyone would appreciate what he has to say? If he loses a leg, I hope someone says its because he made a claim that his leg is lost due to him being an asshole. Oops. Sorry, I took that to an all time low.
I just have one question. Who and what gave him the right to be so self-righteous he is already standing in line for purgatory, hell, whatever level of Dante's hell. We are to be righteous in the Lord, not self-righteous. We are not to be proud or boastful. God forgive me, but he needs a little check in with God. I know I'm far from perfect, so far it hurts. BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTT, doesn't one think that God feels pity for this man who represents himself as a man of God for saying such things? One who thrives to be Christ like, definition of being Christian. A man who reads the Holy Bible to millions of people on public television. Does he not realize the err of his ways? Obviously he does not.
In closing, I'd like to apologize for my tyraid in the event it may offend. Since when have I been shy with my opinion though. Lol. So my little note to the creep on the 700 club.
Dear Creep,
You are the slime of the earth. A great misleader and example of God's love and sympathy. You are an apathetic little man with a power trip who has the balls to actually say that people are suffering, dying and starving to death due to some pact you strongly believe they have.
How about this, why don't get under some of that rubble and see how it feels to slowly get smashed to DEATH or lose your entire family because a natural disaster happened.
God didn't make the earthquake Mr. Intelligence, the geological make up of the earth decided to talk. Do you suppose you can make it down there and stand on one of those gaping holes and say those words?
Oy, I'm getting redundant. ugh. I'm notrealizing my anger is making me just as good as mister creepy pants. God forgive me.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Sometimes
I was just thinking about how sometimes the one you hold dearest to you heart is not what they seem. Amazingly painful and awfully bad. But when used to my vindictive advantage, it can become incredibly useful and fun.
We'll see in the weeks to come how much I have learned, repeated or been as vindictive as scorpio's are described to be. The tail and its stinger is angrily shifting back and forth waiting for the victim. The stinger will be toxic for me with perhaps scary or toxic as well for the person responsible for bringing out this devil in me.
I had always denied the full explanation of how and what scorps are like. I thought it was a bunch of bull. But, in fact, this information is to be true of which I had not experienced until a few years ago with a particular being I trusted implicitly. Yep. Oh, nothing major will change, things will just become more exciting and adventurous once the issue is resolved.
Oh boy, I had no idea how angry I am.
I am, typically, a nice, easy going, loving and trusting woman. Loving everyone and anything regardless of life's woes. I really am. But for some reason, this is the straw that broke that lil camel's back. The last straw, the final countdown, running like wildfire, and will result in the feeling of my wrath descend upon their sweet head.
PHEW! Thanks for letting me gab and vent.
We'll see in the weeks to come how much I have learned, repeated or been as vindictive as scorpio's are described to be. The tail and its stinger is angrily shifting back and forth waiting for the victim. The stinger will be toxic for me with perhaps scary or toxic as well for the person responsible for bringing out this devil in me.
I had always denied the full explanation of how and what scorps are like. I thought it was a bunch of bull. But, in fact, this information is to be true of which I had not experienced until a few years ago with a particular being I trusted implicitly. Yep. Oh, nothing major will change, things will just become more exciting and adventurous once the issue is resolved.
Oh boy, I had no idea how angry I am.
I am, typically, a nice, easy going, loving and trusting woman. Loving everyone and anything regardless of life's woes. I really am. But for some reason, this is the straw that broke that lil camel's back. The last straw, the final countdown, running like wildfire, and will result in the feeling of my wrath descend upon their sweet head.
PHEW! Thanks for letting me gab and vent.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Cycles are a comin.
Please note: I hate my keyboard as I do chicken livers, mean people, and oysters.
The cycles are beginning and I don't know how many more times I can handle it without going completely bonkers.
Today was like any other day, pass out on the couch, wake up insanely early, have my cocoa and chill. Bit today of all days, I woke up in a foul mood of the dark hole. I realize this will happen from time to time with the bipolar situation and you would think I would be used to it by now. But at some point, 3.5 years seems to be more than enough. One day happy, one day total bleep which will last a good two weeks.I will grapple, fight, cry, try to avoid binging and being mean to those I love.
I'm not feeling special or self pity at this point, perhaps the first year or so when I realized I may spend the rest of my life on medication. Ok, I occasionally do feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I wake up and wonder wtf? How on earth did this happen and where did it come from? God only knows and him only. I do know stressful situations can trigger the onset, but this is dicuous. It also seems as though there is no understanding from anyone in my family, including my husband. Dont' get me wrong, he gives me what I need when this part comes. Love and support, but he has no clue as I don't on how to make sense of it, which leaves him pretty much retarded in that aspect.
While waking up, I noticed what a gloomy day it was and though, "wow, even the sky knows I want to die." Not literally of course. Well, hypothetically most of the time. This feeling is inexplicable. I cannot ever express the gloomy cloud, thoughts of death and the constant lump in my throat. All it takes is finding out someone I have no relation or knowledge of dies. If the dog isn't giving me a morning nibble. It's nuts. The biggest trigger is the lack of understanding and support from my family.
Once I was diagnosed with this particular disorder amongst a few others, which I've managed quite well, it was as if I was given a prescription for major depression for the rest of my life. Funny thing is, I know this not to be true. I know there are soooooo many good days in comparison to the bad and I am grateful for that. But these days, days like these. Days I want to run away from it all. Hide in a foreign country where I can live in denial of all of the bad things in the world. Hide from myself and be in even more denial about myself and the state of the chemical and hormonal inbalance in my phisiological make up. Or would that be biochemical? metaphysical? "Let's get physical, physical, I wanna get physicaaaaal!"
I am beginng to learn by information from family that this is not a rare mental illness in the family. Apparently, the Osuna klan has a long history of major depression, anxiety disorders, panic disorders, and bipolar disorder. So, I'm not shocked with this. Not in the least. I am just a little pissed. Super pissed. If I could I would find whomever put the kool-aid in my horchata and pretty much beat the crapola out of them, however, no way of really knowing or tracing it back.
If you will, I would like to go through a month or two of this particular situation. A lot of people believe bipolar is the Patty Duke style. Lol, style I know. A few years back she exposed her disability, which was disabling to her as it was a horrible level of it. She was mean and nasty, tried to hurt people, kill herself, and pretty much become the most destructive person in her own life. SO sad, and I am so happy she has found some solice amonst her storms and brought them to a minimum. Onward my friends. This I do NOT have.
As you know, I am a happy go lucky, denial, don't be mean to people, afraid to have pain kind of gal. And I love everyone I know as I would love myself. Not always the best in conveying, nevertheless, love them dearly. How is it possible when these fleeting thoughts of darkness that come from the depths of Satan's world. The binging behaviour and then the fun part, BINGE SHOPPING! That is the finest hour when that hits, however, destructive because I have created debt I don't need during my unemployment. Granted, I have my husband to lean on but I don't like to think that way. Wow, I could write for hours.
So this manic transitioning, this teeter totter, which I'm used to, is always a surprise when I wake up like this. I am always taken by surprise. You know when you're walking along and you trip on that Goddamn crack in the street you've seen everyday for months? You know its there, you know you might possibly trip on it, and yet you forget where you're walking and bam! On the ground. That is the best I can describe it.
I'm gonna bitch til I can't bitch no mo. NO MO. Needless to say, I am actually relieved that we did not have children. Poor kids would end up completely neurotic and have no clue where Mommy was coming from. Is she going to be happy today? Is she going to take us to Disneyland for the 5th time in 6months on one of her manic shopping episodes? Or is she going to throw down some cheerios and a gallon of milk and leave them with their bowls to fill and munch from. And I'm positive they would wish that one day I would go nuts and make french toast,pancakes, cupcakes, cookies and sweetened cereal for breakfast. Lol.
On another note, I am glad I have found this bloging spot. I can't remember if I listed my real name or what. I do find it a wonderful place to talk it all out. An unconditional spot to let it out and leave it for cyberspace to sort out. Spew the greasy stinky thoughts. And then, ramble on about silly things, which I'm sure will eventually come from my garbled head. :)
Finally a place without someone who tries to solve all of the problems in the world, which is a wonderful gesture, but sometimes detremental. A place to be blown off as I wish I could when its the bad shit.
And so it goes, rapidcycling. I know this will pass and I will see a good day in the future. Could be 10 mins from now. Could be 2weeks from now. I just have to ride it out. Love as much as I can to make it through. Remember I am not in a bubble of much. Remember there are so many people in the world with so many ailments, it's impossible to fathom. Remember to nurture not baby myself. Most importantly, remember how much I am loved. Very difficult to see, but I know I am cared for and will get through, again.
Now if I could just figure out a way to get past the meds and have a nice glass of red wine. mmmmm.
The cycles are beginning and I don't know how many more times I can handle it without going completely bonkers.
Today was like any other day, pass out on the couch, wake up insanely early, have my cocoa and chill. Bit today of all days, I woke up in a foul mood of the dark hole. I realize this will happen from time to time with the bipolar situation and you would think I would be used to it by now. But at some point, 3.5 years seems to be more than enough. One day happy, one day total bleep which will last a good two weeks.I will grapple, fight, cry, try to avoid binging and being mean to those I love.
I'm not feeling special or self pity at this point, perhaps the first year or so when I realized I may spend the rest of my life on medication. Ok, I occasionally do feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I wake up and wonder wtf? How on earth did this happen and where did it come from? God only knows and him only. I do know stressful situations can trigger the onset, but this is dicuous. It also seems as though there is no understanding from anyone in my family, including my husband. Dont' get me wrong, he gives me what I need when this part comes. Love and support, but he has no clue as I don't on how to make sense of it, which leaves him pretty much retarded in that aspect.
While waking up, I noticed what a gloomy day it was and though, "wow, even the sky knows I want to die." Not literally of course. Well, hypothetically most of the time. This feeling is inexplicable. I cannot ever express the gloomy cloud, thoughts of death and the constant lump in my throat. All it takes is finding out someone I have no relation or knowledge of dies. If the dog isn't giving me a morning nibble. It's nuts. The biggest trigger is the lack of understanding and support from my family.
Once I was diagnosed with this particular disorder amongst a few others, which I've managed quite well, it was as if I was given a prescription for major depression for the rest of my life. Funny thing is, I know this not to be true. I know there are soooooo many good days in comparison to the bad and I am grateful for that. But these days, days like these. Days I want to run away from it all. Hide in a foreign country where I can live in denial of all of the bad things in the world. Hide from myself and be in even more denial about myself and the state of the chemical and hormonal inbalance in my phisiological make up. Or would that be biochemical? metaphysical? "Let's get physical, physical, I wanna get physicaaaaal!"
I am beginng to learn by information from family that this is not a rare mental illness in the family. Apparently, the Osuna klan has a long history of major depression, anxiety disorders, panic disorders, and bipolar disorder. So, I'm not shocked with this. Not in the least. I am just a little pissed. Super pissed. If I could I would find whomever put the kool-aid in my horchata and pretty much beat the crapola out of them, however, no way of really knowing or tracing it back.
If you will, I would like to go through a month or two of this particular situation. A lot of people believe bipolar is the Patty Duke style. Lol, style I know. A few years back she exposed her disability, which was disabling to her as it was a horrible level of it. She was mean and nasty, tried to hurt people, kill herself, and pretty much become the most destructive person in her own life. SO sad, and I am so happy she has found some solice amonst her storms and brought them to a minimum. Onward my friends. This I do NOT have.
As you know, I am a happy go lucky, denial, don't be mean to people, afraid to have pain kind of gal. And I love everyone I know as I would love myself. Not always the best in conveying, nevertheless, love them dearly. How is it possible when these fleeting thoughts of darkness that come from the depths of Satan's world. The binging behaviour and then the fun part, BINGE SHOPPING! That is the finest hour when that hits, however, destructive because I have created debt I don't need during my unemployment. Granted, I have my husband to lean on but I don't like to think that way. Wow, I could write for hours.
So this manic transitioning, this teeter totter, which I'm used to, is always a surprise when I wake up like this. I am always taken by surprise. You know when you're walking along and you trip on that Goddamn crack in the street you've seen everyday for months? You know its there, you know you might possibly trip on it, and yet you forget where you're walking and bam! On the ground. That is the best I can describe it.
I'm gonna bitch til I can't bitch no mo. NO MO. Needless to say, I am actually relieved that we did not have children. Poor kids would end up completely neurotic and have no clue where Mommy was coming from. Is she going to be happy today? Is she going to take us to Disneyland for the 5th time in 6months on one of her manic shopping episodes? Or is she going to throw down some cheerios and a gallon of milk and leave them with their bowls to fill and munch from. And I'm positive they would wish that one day I would go nuts and make french toast,pancakes, cupcakes, cookies and sweetened cereal for breakfast. Lol.
On another note, I am glad I have found this bloging spot. I can't remember if I listed my real name or what. I do find it a wonderful place to talk it all out. An unconditional spot to let it out and leave it for cyberspace to sort out. Spew the greasy stinky thoughts. And then, ramble on about silly things, which I'm sure will eventually come from my garbled head. :)
Finally a place without someone who tries to solve all of the problems in the world, which is a wonderful gesture, but sometimes detremental. A place to be blown off as I wish I could when its the bad shit.
And so it goes, rapidcycling. I know this will pass and I will see a good day in the future. Could be 10 mins from now. Could be 2weeks from now. I just have to ride it out. Love as much as I can to make it through. Remember I am not in a bubble of much. Remember there are so many people in the world with so many ailments, it's impossible to fathom. Remember to nurture not baby myself. Most importantly, remember how much I am loved. Very difficult to see, but I know I am cared for and will get through, again.
Now if I could just figure out a way to get past the meds and have a nice glass of red wine. mmmmm.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Mawwiage
Please don't get me wrong when I say that if I had known marriage would lack this much lusture, I would have become the hood rat I had planned on back in 1999! Ha!
All jokes aside. There is nothing worse than sitting on the couch texting your sister on a Saturday night with my built in date right next to me. He'svery happy watching Man vs Wild with our little cutie pie Charlie, but what about me?
This wonderfully romantic man I met 11 years ago, is the most wonderful and caring husband a woman would want. He's a great provider, understanding, nuturing, loving, spoils the hell out of me and has the patience of a saint. Not sure which one, but I'm guessing it would be a collaboration of all of them, including a tad from God himself. The man has stood by me through EVERYTHING. I have no idea why or how he could have survived for this long? I guess just as I have. Only, he's not a pain in my ass.
I am indeed the pain in his ass and perhaps his entire being, I'm positive of this. Between mood swings, in and out of food addicting with binging and starving myself, right down to the outright tantrums for beautiful sparkly things. The tantrums were so 4 years ago. He is also tolerating my need to collect animals, to a point.
I sometimes sit next to the Mr. and just look at him and thank God above for sending him to me. Then again, I look at him and wonder why I was matched up with someone older than me, slower than me, and turned pretty much into a boring dude, like me. Ok, so maybe he's not that boring. This, my friend, rings true.
Marriage. It's wonderful being married, its just the boring stuff I didn't learn watching One Life to Live. The everyday poop duty, yard duty, the trash, dishes, making the bed, laundryyyyyyy. They never showed Vikki Buhcanan doing laundry? Na. She just walked around all day talking to family members wearing her expensive clothes. And when they did show a wedded woman with kids, she was still fancied up and waiting for her nanny or hubby to head home.
Nope, it can be as boring as going through the same website(fb) in the evening, taking that hot shower and using that awesome Nutrogena body scrub. Or it could mean you've gone to Target and bought yourself one of those quatro shavers you's wanted for soooo long but were to cheap to actually buy(deep breath)cause all of those closeout christmas decorations are just two isle over and it is far more important that shaving your legs, who's gonna see em anyway? Aaaaah. Wait! There is one more thing I totally forgot to list; it is the best sale ever when Tampax are on sale for 5 bucks instead of 7!! Woot! That's when I go to the book aisle and zone out.
One day I had an epiphany! This is what its supposed to be like. It's like hanging out with your best friend in your jamas without showering that morning. Its eating dinner at separate times, acting like a nut making over your pets, and yes, the final blow, tolerating the occasional tantrum. Turns out all of that romance one expects is living life with someone you are so ultimately comfortable with. Someone, even though he is a little boring and I probably am too, you love unconditionally.
It's not about all of the romance, sex and sex, oh and sex (ok maybe sex), for me its the intimacy of being together. The idea of being dedicated to one another enough to be together till he either leaves me in the middle of death valley or I relocate to NYC. Being able to tell him I really don't like him today for whatever reason. Him listen to me cry night after night. And I tell him the same thing over and over again til I have to call him by his name. It's comforting and feels great to know its all there on the table. Every bit of it. Except dirty underwear and socks. That's just not in the marriage contract...erm, license.
All jokes aside. There is nothing worse than sitting on the couch texting your sister on a Saturday night with my built in date right next to me. He'svery happy watching Man vs Wild with our little cutie pie Charlie, but what about me?
This wonderfully romantic man I met 11 years ago, is the most wonderful and caring husband a woman would want. He's a great provider, understanding, nuturing, loving, spoils the hell out of me and has the patience of a saint. Not sure which one, but I'm guessing it would be a collaboration of all of them, including a tad from God himself. The man has stood by me through EVERYTHING. I have no idea why or how he could have survived for this long? I guess just as I have. Only, he's not a pain in my ass.
I am indeed the pain in his ass and perhaps his entire being, I'm positive of this. Between mood swings, in and out of food addicting with binging and starving myself, right down to the outright tantrums for beautiful sparkly things. The tantrums were so 4 years ago. He is also tolerating my need to collect animals, to a point.
I sometimes sit next to the Mr. and just look at him and thank God above for sending him to me. Then again, I look at him and wonder why I was matched up with someone older than me, slower than me, and turned pretty much into a boring dude, like me. Ok, so maybe he's not that boring. This, my friend, rings true.
Marriage. It's wonderful being married, its just the boring stuff I didn't learn watching One Life to Live. The everyday poop duty, yard duty, the trash, dishes, making the bed, laundryyyyyyy. They never showed Vikki Buhcanan doing laundry? Na. She just walked around all day talking to family members wearing her expensive clothes. And when they did show a wedded woman with kids, she was still fancied up and waiting for her nanny or hubby to head home.
Nope, it can be as boring as going through the same website(fb) in the evening, taking that hot shower and using that awesome Nutrogena body scrub. Or it could mean you've gone to Target and bought yourself one of those quatro shavers you's wanted for soooo long but were to cheap to actually buy(deep breath)cause all of those closeout christmas decorations are just two isle over and it is far more important that shaving your legs, who's gonna see em anyway? Aaaaah. Wait! There is one more thing I totally forgot to list; it is the best sale ever when Tampax are on sale for 5 bucks instead of 7!! Woot! That's when I go to the book aisle and zone out.
One day I had an epiphany! This is what its supposed to be like. It's like hanging out with your best friend in your jamas without showering that morning. Its eating dinner at separate times, acting like a nut making over your pets, and yes, the final blow, tolerating the occasional tantrum. Turns out all of that romance one expects is living life with someone you are so ultimately comfortable with. Someone, even though he is a little boring and I probably am too, you love unconditionally.
It's not about all of the romance, sex and sex, oh and sex (ok maybe sex), for me its the intimacy of being together. The idea of being dedicated to one another enough to be together till he either leaves me in the middle of death valley or I relocate to NYC. Being able to tell him I really don't like him today for whatever reason. Him listen to me cry night after night. And I tell him the same thing over and over again til I have to call him by his name. It's comforting and feels great to know its all there on the table. Every bit of it. Except dirty underwear and socks. That's just not in the marriage contract...erm, license.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Missing and longing for my yard.
My garden was alive and full of flowers and plants. Doves would reside in our little pavillion and at last, I learned how to grow little seedlings into actual fruit. Strawberries. I had a home surrounded with the sweet scent of acacia, jasmine, pink jasmine and hyacinth. The jasmine was crawling all up and around the perimeter of the house on an old fashioned 40 year old chain link fence. The fence also had bouganvillia growing in and out of the fence. Fuscia so vibrant it would attract bees, many butterflies, hummingbirds, and any other living critter it would provide nectar for. There were so many plants and trees it was overwhelming. It was unbelievable that I had such a yard to work in. Something I had just become so comfortable in and then we move. Granted, we wanted to leave Burbank. It just didn't seem like it was going to happen so quickly.
I would find myself practically living in the yard gardening and breathing in the fresh air. Feeling the dirt under my feet and feeling so grounded and closer to God. I learned so much about myself over the last4 years of working in the garden. I really grew an appreciation much stronger than before for this earth. I would watch the dove families have their babies and stare at the bees. Gardening also saved my life.
When I began to garden, it was completely accidental. It started with simple stuff like watering the plants and grass. Then slowly I began to catch myself pulling weeds, trimming flowers and pinching off the dead petals and before I knew it, I was in my virtual heaven and saving grace.
The gardening began and I began to see the flowers become happier and happier but with great hesitation and seeming of much saddness. So I continued to do my best and work so hard. Little did I know, I was missing something. The presence of peace which I could find in God.
I was in the car one day and heard an awesome song by Kirk Franklin - Looking for You. My eyes welled up with tears and I ran home and got that little iPod and loaded it. I began to find more, and more songs!Gregorian chants, salsa, gospel. Needless to say, this became my playlist for my walking and gardening of which I would spend at least 5 hours out of my day. It was like a dedication to taking care of living things through my worship and blessings to come. I would find myself singing and enjoying the lyrics without even thinking the flowers, trees, animals, plants, you name it, would respond. Respond they did. This, my friend, is and what saved me.
At this time while I was learning so much about my yard, which gets a pruning, which doesnt, and how and when to fertilize. I would garden barefoot to feel the earth under my toes. I felt so close to the earth, so close to God and what he has blessed us with. This life of the earth. Sweet scents, buzzing bees, and all the like from my sweet garden. Sadly, I did not feel such bliss till the opression of suicide that weighed on my heavily started to subside.
My racing thoughts of suicide were so comfortable and cozy before this new found appreciation. The one particular day I "happened" upon gardening, I had been tempted to take my life with whatever I could. Pills, razor blade, the train, it didn't matter. I hated me, life, and was consumed with horrid sadness. Diagnosis of illness and living in bipolar mania rendered me helpless, hopeless and not worth a poop in my mind. It was as if God called me out to the yard to accidentally slip into the green thumb mode. As if he called me into a life of peace with such activities and his knowing how much I have a love for the sweet smell of flowers.
Needless to say, God did intervene and saved my life 3 years ago through my garden. I really relearned a way to love and praise God. I felt anew. And now, I am here, in the desert wondering whats in store and how am I ever going to get that feeling back. The satisfaction of gardening and offering up its beauty to God.
The desert can be a harsh place to grow all of those wonderful things I did back in Burbank. The extreme temperatures, freezing one season, frying the next are unforgiving. I am saddened by this climate change. I cry from time-to-time for my gardenin Burbank. How and what can I do with this one? The interior of our home is nurtured with love and our loving our new quieter lifestyle.But what is it that I am supposed to be learning from this particular part of my life? I care for my nephew quite often. Sleep overs, making cookies, being silly and tickle time. I can't seem to imagine what it is. I hope and trust in God that he will show me how to nurture this yard, but at this point, it feels hopeless. I know something will come and that I can never make the past the present. To wish for something that was to become what is now is impossible. Those times pass for a reason. There has to be something I can do with our home and gardening to bring me back to that feeling as I am, part of the earth. Feet on the ground, hands in the dirt with my iPod blaring wonderful music that brings such inner peace has to be somewhere around here. But God only knows when and how. sigh
I would find myself practically living in the yard gardening and breathing in the fresh air. Feeling the dirt under my feet and feeling so grounded and closer to God. I learned so much about myself over the last4 years of working in the garden. I really grew an appreciation much stronger than before for this earth. I would watch the dove families have their babies and stare at the bees. Gardening also saved my life.
When I began to garden, it was completely accidental. It started with simple stuff like watering the plants and grass. Then slowly I began to catch myself pulling weeds, trimming flowers and pinching off the dead petals and before I knew it, I was in my virtual heaven and saving grace.
The gardening began and I began to see the flowers become happier and happier but with great hesitation and seeming of much saddness. So I continued to do my best and work so hard. Little did I know, I was missing something. The presence of peace which I could find in God.
I was in the car one day and heard an awesome song by Kirk Franklin - Looking for You. My eyes welled up with tears and I ran home and got that little iPod and loaded it. I began to find more, and more songs!Gregorian chants, salsa, gospel. Needless to say, this became my playlist for my walking and gardening of which I would spend at least 5 hours out of my day. It was like a dedication to taking care of living things through my worship and blessings to come. I would find myself singing and enjoying the lyrics without even thinking the flowers, trees, animals, plants, you name it, would respond. Respond they did. This, my friend, is and what saved me.
At this time while I was learning so much about my yard, which gets a pruning, which doesnt, and how and when to fertilize. I would garden barefoot to feel the earth under my toes. I felt so close to the earth, so close to God and what he has blessed us with. This life of the earth. Sweet scents, buzzing bees, and all the like from my sweet garden. Sadly, I did not feel such bliss till the opression of suicide that weighed on my heavily started to subside.
My racing thoughts of suicide were so comfortable and cozy before this new found appreciation. The one particular day I "happened" upon gardening, I had been tempted to take my life with whatever I could. Pills, razor blade, the train, it didn't matter. I hated me, life, and was consumed with horrid sadness. Diagnosis of illness and living in bipolar mania rendered me helpless, hopeless and not worth a poop in my mind. It was as if God called me out to the yard to accidentally slip into the green thumb mode. As if he called me into a life of peace with such activities and his knowing how much I have a love for the sweet smell of flowers.
Needless to say, God did intervene and saved my life 3 years ago through my garden. I really relearned a way to love and praise God. I felt anew. And now, I am here, in the desert wondering whats in store and how am I ever going to get that feeling back. The satisfaction of gardening and offering up its beauty to God.
The desert can be a harsh place to grow all of those wonderful things I did back in Burbank. The extreme temperatures, freezing one season, frying the next are unforgiving. I am saddened by this climate change. I cry from time-to-time for my gardenin Burbank. How and what can I do with this one? The interior of our home is nurtured with love and our loving our new quieter lifestyle.But what is it that I am supposed to be learning from this particular part of my life? I care for my nephew quite often. Sleep overs, making cookies, being silly and tickle time. I can't seem to imagine what it is. I hope and trust in God that he will show me how to nurture this yard, but at this point, it feels hopeless. I know something will come and that I can never make the past the present. To wish for something that was to become what is now is impossible. Those times pass for a reason. There has to be something I can do with our home and gardening to bring me back to that feeling as I am, part of the earth. Feet on the ground, hands in the dirt with my iPod blaring wonderful music that brings such inner peace has to be somewhere around here. But God only knows when and how. sigh
Validation
I know this starts out seeming to be a blog seeking for emotional validation. It certainly is and a spewage of new experiences. This is a blog of follow up with regards to paranormal experiences I have spoken of, which is left for interpretation of the reader.
As I had written before, I think, I have had some odd experiences in my life that many would say was just my imagination. Or as I had said in a past blog, I needed medication to quiet it all. The odd voices, perhaps, physical experiences no. I don't know what I would do without the paranormal experiences as I have become very comfortable with the occurence from time to time.
We left Burbank in June of 09 with hopes and beliefs that these situations would be gone. You know, leaving the energies behind. We had cleansed ourselves of Jack, John's dad who seemed to be pretty pissed off when I first moved in in 2000. I had prayed and hoped it would finally silence and the feelings of someone watching, touching, laughing in my ear would part. Well, ixnay on the ongay. Yeah, the end is not here and he seems to be becoming more and more familiar with out new home.
Jack, we'll call him for certain. He has made for certain that I am well aware of his presence, I'm sure I'm repeating myself. Eh, who cares if I'm redundant ay? Anyway, from seeing him walk up stairs, opening doors, peering at me through the kitchen swinging door holding my hand, trying to frighten me by following me around the house, and helping me find my cat. This man was not going to leave. For sure.
Upon moving into our new home, everything felt clean, fresh and free of paranormal activity. The energy was great. The house was brand new to us and beautiful until night two of physically living in it.
Bedtime came around after a HUGE day of unpacking, painters finishing, carpet and flooring installation and any other bit of insanity that happens when moving. Believe me, I will never do it again. So we hit the hay and naturally John falls off into his peaceful slumber while I am ever restless and fail to find the sleep fairy with ease. I roll over in bed and suddenly I hear someone take about 5-6 steps in our bathroom which is wide open to our bed. Yeah, I thought to myslef "oh fuck." How and what the hell is here or possibly followed us?
I know something has come. I do know for a fact it is Jack smoking his cigarette around the house in odd places.
About 4 nights ago, I was walking from the slider to the potty suddenly I was stopped in my tracks with a chill racing through my entire body...I smelled cigarette smoke. All of the windows are closed tight and not one person smokes in this house. I became a little freaked out and sort of angry about the fact that John may have brought his father with him. Which, in fact, is to be the truth. And I know for certain his Mom probably asked his father watch over us. FOR A FACT. This occured once more about two nights ago.
We do have a few personal posessions of Jack's. His trumpet he playing in the Army during WWII, some pics and a pipe. Not to mention the fact that John is the spitting image of his father. I am also positive John may have more than that somewhere around here. Oh yes, the pencil drawing of Jack that was drawn by a poor guy living on the streets in Germany during the War just trying to make a buck. Imagine this drawing has been in the family since 1940 at earliest I can remember being told. And this picture is so realistic to him its uncanny.
I realize this blog of sorts is pretty much my moment of babble, but believe me, living with this going on around me for longer than Iwould like is even more of a pain in the ass.
I'm not sure I shuold tell this part of my paranormal experiences, but I will. I have to tell someone out there about this who wont find me insane. Literally and certifiably nuts. What I would like to share is my contact with an actual being that was seen with my eyes, heard with my ears and felt on my body.
I had taken a trip up north with my family, just us girls, one of those fun weeks of no worries and living like a woman should. Happy and free. Long story short, I was touched and mocked by a demon that was so unexplicable. I could not describe what it looked like, but it was like none other I have seen. Crouched in a corner of our hotel room, mocking me, sqealing my words and laughing crouched in the corner. I began to pray for protection from Christ and his precious blood to surround me with wisdom, strength and protection. I pleaded and as I pleaded this frightening figure jumped upon my bed. YES! God as my witness, it did. If you could imagine an awful sound of the type of voice spewing from its head. At last, the final and most terrifying moment ended with this being of sorts jumping on my chest. OY VEY!
I'm not too sure if anyone really can identify with these things, stories, fantasies, however you choose to call them, I just need some validation. I need for someone, anyone to tell me it isn't something that needs to be medicated away. Someone who won't look at me like I need more medication, such as my therapist. Just anyone who has a clue about this paranormal sensitivity. Sometimes it comes to a point of desperation.
I have come to accept these situations and visitations as I no longer find the spirits, what have you, to have any strength in my life. And thank God for his presence which has helped me to accept it within the safety of his arms and my trust in that these experiences will never harm me.
Hahaha, maybe I'm not so good at making long stories short ay? Well, that is the charm and the luster of being me. And it is good. hehehe.
As I had written before, I think, I have had some odd experiences in my life that many would say was just my imagination. Or as I had said in a past blog, I needed medication to quiet it all. The odd voices, perhaps, physical experiences no. I don't know what I would do without the paranormal experiences as I have become very comfortable with the occurence from time to time.
We left Burbank in June of 09 with hopes and beliefs that these situations would be gone. You know, leaving the energies behind. We had cleansed ourselves of Jack, John's dad who seemed to be pretty pissed off when I first moved in in 2000. I had prayed and hoped it would finally silence and the feelings of someone watching, touching, laughing in my ear would part. Well, ixnay on the ongay. Yeah, the end is not here and he seems to be becoming more and more familiar with out new home.
Jack, we'll call him for certain. He has made for certain that I am well aware of his presence, I'm sure I'm repeating myself. Eh, who cares if I'm redundant ay? Anyway, from seeing him walk up stairs, opening doors, peering at me through the kitchen swinging door holding my hand, trying to frighten me by following me around the house, and helping me find my cat. This man was not going to leave. For sure.
Upon moving into our new home, everything felt clean, fresh and free of paranormal activity. The energy was great. The house was brand new to us and beautiful until night two of physically living in it.
Bedtime came around after a HUGE day of unpacking, painters finishing, carpet and flooring installation and any other bit of insanity that happens when moving. Believe me, I will never do it again. So we hit the hay and naturally John falls off into his peaceful slumber while I am ever restless and fail to find the sleep fairy with ease. I roll over in bed and suddenly I hear someone take about 5-6 steps in our bathroom which is wide open to our bed. Yeah, I thought to myslef "oh fuck." How and what the hell is here or possibly followed us?
I know something has come. I do know for a fact it is Jack smoking his cigarette around the house in odd places.
About 4 nights ago, I was walking from the slider to the potty suddenly I was stopped in my tracks with a chill racing through my entire body...I smelled cigarette smoke. All of the windows are closed tight and not one person smokes in this house. I became a little freaked out and sort of angry about the fact that John may have brought his father with him. Which, in fact, is to be the truth. And I know for certain his Mom probably asked his father watch over us. FOR A FACT. This occured once more about two nights ago.
We do have a few personal posessions of Jack's. His trumpet he playing in the Army during WWII, some pics and a pipe. Not to mention the fact that John is the spitting image of his father. I am also positive John may have more than that somewhere around here. Oh yes, the pencil drawing of Jack that was drawn by a poor guy living on the streets in Germany during the War just trying to make a buck. Imagine this drawing has been in the family since 1940 at earliest I can remember being told. And this picture is so realistic to him its uncanny.
I realize this blog of sorts is pretty much my moment of babble, but believe me, living with this going on around me for longer than Iwould like is even more of a pain in the ass.
I'm not sure I shuold tell this part of my paranormal experiences, but I will. I have to tell someone out there about this who wont find me insane. Literally and certifiably nuts. What I would like to share is my contact with an actual being that was seen with my eyes, heard with my ears and felt on my body.
I had taken a trip up north with my family, just us girls, one of those fun weeks of no worries and living like a woman should. Happy and free. Long story short, I was touched and mocked by a demon that was so unexplicable. I could not describe what it looked like, but it was like none other I have seen. Crouched in a corner of our hotel room, mocking me, sqealing my words and laughing crouched in the corner. I began to pray for protection from Christ and his precious blood to surround me with wisdom, strength and protection. I pleaded and as I pleaded this frightening figure jumped upon my bed. YES! God as my witness, it did. If you could imagine an awful sound of the type of voice spewing from its head. At last, the final and most terrifying moment ended with this being of sorts jumping on my chest. OY VEY!
I'm not too sure if anyone really can identify with these things, stories, fantasies, however you choose to call them, I just need some validation. I need for someone, anyone to tell me it isn't something that needs to be medicated away. Someone who won't look at me like I need more medication, such as my therapist. Just anyone who has a clue about this paranormal sensitivity. Sometimes it comes to a point of desperation.
I have come to accept these situations and visitations as I no longer find the spirits, what have you, to have any strength in my life. And thank God for his presence which has helped me to accept it within the safety of his arms and my trust in that these experiences will never harm me.
Hahaha, maybe I'm not so good at making long stories short ay? Well, that is the charm and the luster of being me. And it is good. hehehe.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Resperidone a.k.a. anti-psychotic/for schitzo treatment...
I would like to introduce the wonderfully amazing me! Just a little sarcasm to start the day off right.
As of late, I have been struggling with another bought of manic depression. Don't ask me why or how. But apparently I have been diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder due to my rapid cycling of depression, manic shopping and the need for something outrageous. Not to mention the in between times when I am a chatter box (not that I was born talking), high energy, the world is my oyster mania. As a result, I have been through many different types of medications and trials to find out what works. And so, what seems like a century later, the Dr. and I found the right mix which was effective for only a year.
Ok, back on track.
As I said before I have been battling the manic depression fearcely this last summer. Nevermind the stress from selling/buying a new home, falling head over heels for someone other than my husband, random weirdness from family, and fighting the 10 year itch. So many other details have lead to this I suppose. Oh, I forgot about having to remove someone from my life I thought was an incredible friend, but turns out, she went bitch on me. So the let down of the harsh reality of said friend hit me hard in the gut and the heart. I still miss her, however, she has proven me right in that she really didn't give a shit to begin with. UGH!
So this depression was completely overwhelming as it is for John who tries to understand, however, will never understand. . I did have suicidal thoughts, the fantasy of being no longer was an incredible sense of relief. I had to ask family members to remove "sharps" from my sight. Not that I would intentionally do it, but when in a state of total confusion and mixing up the med. recipe could lead me to do something unconsciously. Seriously. Needless to say, I spent my summer either sleeping, crying for hours or unintentionally scaring the shit out of John. Eh, no self pity, just pushing this shit out.
Wonderful experiences due to major manic depression.
I don't know if I've ever talked about the gifts given to myself, sister, brother and Mom with regards to spiritual experiences? Probably not since I am new to the bloggonation! Yes, we see and hear spirits, which led me to believe is totally normal. But as of late, these "spirits" speaking to me have been troublesome. If you could imaging hearing a woman laugh loudly in your ear, someone asking to help them in a frighteningly desperate voice, you just may have freaked out a tad too. Seeing people, hearing conversations over what seems to be a radio and persons walking upstairs in the bathroom which is directly over the family. Needless to say I'm kind of spooked at this point.
As a result of my voices that seem very real and a conversation with the good ol' doc (who is awesome btw), we came to the conclusion to remedy this situation, more meds. Not only did we increase one for the depression, but now, I have been prescribed something that I happened to read up on. Upon referring to nih.gov, I have learned that this particular medication is used to treat patients that are schitzophrenic. The shock and fear that ran through my head is unbareable. Is this an illness I have had all of my life? Am I over-reacting? Perhaps. WHo knows, and who kinda doesn't care anymore? Me. Wow, I didn't realize how much I needed to babble about this. So odd how that happens.
Anyway, the point of my blog is that I am really freaked out and have just been spared the diagnosis process. Is this really shitzo effective disorder that I've been secretly handed? Is THIS what has plagued my poor sweet Aunt Deedee who was forcefully administered electroshock therapy back in the good ol 60s & 70s? I knew it was "in the family" , however, I never, ever thought anyone of us would have to face the possiblity of it being oneself. Wow.
As I strain and try to keep on track with this blog, so many things are rushing through my head. I'm positive this is normal and the side effect of being a masterful multi-tasker. Minus the laughing lady help me call. It's so hard to stay on subject, it's almost as if I am a.d.d. A diagnosis that has become a scape goat for those who just cannot concentrate. I know there is a latent a.d.d. in adults. Hmm
Anywho, I'm finding this blogging business is an extremely cathartic means of learning about ourselves. I guess. Doesn't getting to know more about yourself go away? The necessity to try and figure shit out and stare at History channel all day? I'm tired of trying to figure out this b.s. It's been 3 long ass years of mental changes. Why couldn't this have happened ages ago while I was still young and more capable of handling such things? And how on effing earth did I allow so many things to cause such grief in my life? I wonder if I could have avoided this inner hell?
Jeez, I could go on for hours about these issues that are currently being remedied, I hope. Meds and therapy. Meds and therapy, repeat 45 times.
Off the beaten track. An intuitive once told me I had the gift of leading the dead to their final resting place. I was the kind heart waiting to send them over. I just haven't fine tuned into that gift. Oh yes, this was said while reading over the DEVIL tarot card. Comforting. hmm
As of late, I have been struggling with another bought of manic depression. Don't ask me why or how. But apparently I have been diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder due to my rapid cycling of depression, manic shopping and the need for something outrageous. Not to mention the in between times when I am a chatter box (not that I was born talking), high energy, the world is my oyster mania. As a result, I have been through many different types of medications and trials to find out what works. And so, what seems like a century later, the Dr. and I found the right mix which was effective for only a year.
Ok, back on track.
As I said before I have been battling the manic depression fearcely this last summer. Nevermind the stress from selling/buying a new home, falling head over heels for someone other than my husband, random weirdness from family, and fighting the 10 year itch. So many other details have lead to this I suppose. Oh, I forgot about having to remove someone from my life I thought was an incredible friend, but turns out, she went bitch on me. So the let down of the harsh reality of said friend hit me hard in the gut and the heart. I still miss her, however, she has proven me right in that she really didn't give a shit to begin with. UGH!
So this depression was completely overwhelming as it is for John who tries to understand, however, will never understand. . I did have suicidal thoughts, the fantasy of being no longer was an incredible sense of relief. I had to ask family members to remove "sharps" from my sight. Not that I would intentionally do it, but when in a state of total confusion and mixing up the med. recipe could lead me to do something unconsciously. Seriously. Needless to say, I spent my summer either sleeping, crying for hours or unintentionally scaring the shit out of John. Eh, no self pity, just pushing this shit out.
Wonderful experiences due to major manic depression.
I don't know if I've ever talked about the gifts given to myself, sister, brother and Mom with regards to spiritual experiences? Probably not since I am new to the bloggonation! Yes, we see and hear spirits, which led me to believe is totally normal. But as of late, these "spirits" speaking to me have been troublesome. If you could imaging hearing a woman laugh loudly in your ear, someone asking to help them in a frighteningly desperate voice, you just may have freaked out a tad too. Seeing people, hearing conversations over what seems to be a radio and persons walking upstairs in the bathroom which is directly over the family. Needless to say I'm kind of spooked at this point.
As a result of my voices that seem very real and a conversation with the good ol' doc (who is awesome btw), we came to the conclusion to remedy this situation, more meds. Not only did we increase one for the depression, but now, I have been prescribed something that I happened to read up on. Upon referring to nih.gov, I have learned that this particular medication is used to treat patients that are schitzophrenic. The shock and fear that ran through my head is unbareable. Is this an illness I have had all of my life? Am I over-reacting? Perhaps. WHo knows, and who kinda doesn't care anymore? Me. Wow, I didn't realize how much I needed to babble about this. So odd how that happens.
Anyway, the point of my blog is that I am really freaked out and have just been spared the diagnosis process. Is this really shitzo effective disorder that I've been secretly handed? Is THIS what has plagued my poor sweet Aunt Deedee who was forcefully administered electroshock therapy back in the good ol 60s & 70s? I knew it was "in the family" , however, I never, ever thought anyone of us would have to face the possiblity of it being oneself. Wow.
As I strain and try to keep on track with this blog, so many things are rushing through my head. I'm positive this is normal and the side effect of being a masterful multi-tasker. Minus the laughing lady help me call. It's so hard to stay on subject, it's almost as if I am a.d.d. A diagnosis that has become a scape goat for those who just cannot concentrate. I know there is a latent a.d.d. in adults. Hmm
Anywho, I'm finding this blogging business is an extremely cathartic means of learning about ourselves. I guess. Doesn't getting to know more about yourself go away? The necessity to try and figure shit out and stare at History channel all day? I'm tired of trying to figure out this b.s. It's been 3 long ass years of mental changes. Why couldn't this have happened ages ago while I was still young and more capable of handling such things? And how on effing earth did I allow so many things to cause such grief in my life? I wonder if I could have avoided this inner hell?
Jeez, I could go on for hours about these issues that are currently being remedied, I hope. Meds and therapy. Meds and therapy, repeat 45 times.
Off the beaten track. An intuitive once told me I had the gift of leading the dead to their final resting place. I was the kind heart waiting to send them over. I just haven't fine tuned into that gift. Oh yes, this was said while reading over the DEVIL tarot card. Comforting. hmm
Monday, January 4, 2010
Ready, steady, go - with apprehension
Dear me,
Today you will be starting a new chapter in your life and begin to change your lifestyle of eating as we know it. I know the little voices in your head are telling you you will fail, yet again. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You've done it before and you're going to have the same results. Major weight loss and 1 year later, you're all chubbed out again. How long will you have to live this life of the 'yo-yo' dieting? How long are you going to torture yourself with the up and down business? Because seriously, you're killing me, literally. Go ahead, blame meds, depression, plain old eating the wrong things and binging on sugar on a continual basis. You're pathetic. Oh yes, pathetic with a capital L. Oops, P." I know it sounds awful. Hey, I needed to get that out of my system. The negative self talk we all know to well as human beings and self-fullfilling prophecies. Uh, huh.
Thus, little voices playing old tapes, videos, files, iTunes, and those giant bank safes." Whichever name you choose to call these little friends that whisper in your ear, "you won't do it this time. And fail. Epic fail. Just don't bother Tam, its a pain in the ass and you're gonna die anyway. Besides, the couch is so much more comfy than walking and eating broccoli. Grab some poppin corn and a donut. There you go. We're back in business. "
You see, these voices are the voices of anti-reason filled with anxiety, depression and fear of another failure in my life. Why failure. Well, in short, my brain malfunctioned in Oct of 2006 and its never been the same. This malfunction left me unable to make sense of anything and unable to work. Thus, my feeling of failure from the get go. Even though I am doped up on anti-psychotics and helps with those nasty little effers. It's just not enough. So one with the sheeeeow!!
----------------------------------------------
I woke up this morning with an ambitious feeling of being successful in this eating style change. I know I can do this, I had before and felt pretty damn hot after my success. Feeling hot, hot, hot! Its unbelievable how awesome I feel when I'm down to a certain size and weight. Its truly amazing how strong I feel within my core. So what happened? Where did my inner strength go?I have no answer, but to sit here and type up some ramblings and goings on in my 4'9" head.
Upon my wakening, I was daydreaming about how strong I felt just3 years ago, and where the hell did the last 3 years go? I know where it went, I just don't know where I will find that strength again. My body and mind were in awesome mode regardless of all of the bundles of poop in my life. I should say former bundles of poop. We're, me and the little voices are on to the new chapter of weight loss.
With great apprehension, I am moving forward to make this permanent change. I will do my best to not listen to the voices, literally voices, in my head. This will be my first attempt since 3 years ago at weight loss and fitness. Fitness being the primary goal. My brother told me "Its not about being skinny or a size 2. Its about being healthy and having longetivity. Being able to walk without pain or a scowl on my face cause it hurts your feet when walk." I have to agree with him and accept that. I've been told since I'm 11 that Iam overweight and that was a blow below the belt. There I am 11 and hitting prepubescence with a flying torch above my head. SCREAMING torch.
As I finally let you go and have ran your brain amock, hoping not.
So the moral of this story is: Lay off the sugar and heavy laden foods filled with saturated fat and refined sugars. Begin life anew. Make positive change in my life and as a result end up in that inner strength mode and walk for miles again. Shake that groove thang in the right direction and wake up with energy. Don't let those good drugs take control and learn to keep that power over your domain.......
Oh! Another thing. Get another puppy, its good for the psyche. Now on to the meeting and getting weighed in. Oy vey. I need a new puppy bad.
Today you will be starting a new chapter in your life and begin to change your lifestyle of eating as we know it. I know the little voices in your head are telling you you will fail, yet again. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You've done it before and you're going to have the same results. Major weight loss and 1 year later, you're all chubbed out again. How long will you have to live this life of the 'yo-yo' dieting? How long are you going to torture yourself with the up and down business? Because seriously, you're killing me, literally. Go ahead, blame meds, depression, plain old eating the wrong things and binging on sugar on a continual basis. You're pathetic. Oh yes, pathetic with a capital L. Oops, P." I know it sounds awful. Hey, I needed to get that out of my system. The negative self talk we all know to well as human beings and self-fullfilling prophecies. Uh, huh.
Thus, little voices playing old tapes, videos, files, iTunes, and those giant bank safes." Whichever name you choose to call these little friends that whisper in your ear, "you won't do it this time. And fail. Epic fail. Just don't bother Tam, its a pain in the ass and you're gonna die anyway. Besides, the couch is so much more comfy than walking and eating broccoli. Grab some poppin corn and a donut. There you go. We're back in business. "
You see, these voices are the voices of anti-reason filled with anxiety, depression and fear of another failure in my life. Why failure. Well, in short, my brain malfunctioned in Oct of 2006 and its never been the same. This malfunction left me unable to make sense of anything and unable to work. Thus, my feeling of failure from the get go. Even though I am doped up on anti-psychotics and helps with those nasty little effers. It's just not enough. So one with the sheeeeow!!
----------------------------------------------
I woke up this morning with an ambitious feeling of being successful in this eating style change. I know I can do this, I had before and felt pretty damn hot after my success. Feeling hot, hot, hot! Its unbelievable how awesome I feel when I'm down to a certain size and weight. Its truly amazing how strong I feel within my core. So what happened? Where did my inner strength go?I have no answer, but to sit here and type up some ramblings and goings on in my 4'9" head.
Upon my wakening, I was daydreaming about how strong I felt just3 years ago, and where the hell did the last 3 years go? I know where it went, I just don't know where I will find that strength again. My body and mind were in awesome mode regardless of all of the bundles of poop in my life. I should say former bundles of poop. We're, me and the little voices are on to the new chapter of weight loss.
With great apprehension, I am moving forward to make this permanent change. I will do my best to not listen to the voices, literally voices, in my head. This will be my first attempt since 3 years ago at weight loss and fitness. Fitness being the primary goal. My brother told me "Its not about being skinny or a size 2. Its about being healthy and having longetivity. Being able to walk without pain or a scowl on my face cause it hurts your feet when walk." I have to agree with him and accept that. I've been told since I'm 11 that Iam overweight and that was a blow below the belt. There I am 11 and hitting prepubescence with a flying torch above my head. SCREAMING torch.
As I finally let you go and have ran your brain amock, hoping not.
So the moral of this story is: Lay off the sugar and heavy laden foods filled with saturated fat and refined sugars. Begin life anew. Make positive change in my life and as a result end up in that inner strength mode and walk for miles again. Shake that groove thang in the right direction and wake up with energy. Don't let those good drugs take control and learn to keep that power over your domain.......
Oh! Another thing. Get another puppy, its good for the psyche. Now on to the meeting and getting weighed in. Oy vey. I need a new puppy bad.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Well, well, well.
Well, well, well. Looks like I've got myself a way to share my adventures and miss-adventures I have fallen upon or may fall into in the very near future.
See, my grammar is bad, my spelling is probably failing and it's colder than a you know what in you know where. That said, you are fairly warned and blessed with holy water as not to catch this horrific ailment called; I've been a housewife not out of choice, but out of instanity, blabbidy, blah, blaaaaah.
I will start out by saying thank you to a fellow blogger who reminded me of how good it feels to put this noise in my head out for strangers read and mill over. This will be my unconditional soundboard for me to torture and torment. Hahaha. And yes, I am insane.
Hmm, uh, eeeerm. The thinking process is so hard on me. Its filled with music, sounds of rocks falling and rain. Let me not forget and the colors. Oh boy there are a lot of colors.
Someone once said when they heard music they saw colors. At that very moment, I had someone I could identify with. The noise in this noggin is loud and colorful. I see music as color as this person does. What a freakin relief. Siiiiigh. I can't begin to tell you's how hard it is to feel like you're the only one with this sound and color simutaneously plotting against my train of though. I guess its kind of like A.D.D.?
It has been said, lol, I don't make much sense. NEVER. Not I. I am always streamline, know where I'm goin and a fashion diva at the same time. Afterall, I do own one pair of designer shoes, two serious designer handbags, and I bought my pajamas at Wal-Mart. Trend setter!
Really folks, on the serious side. I think I just may be verging on a new friendship here on blogspot. I just hope it doesn't expect me to tuck its little blog in bed.
SO through my adventures as a "sophie gurl" I will share. My extreme ups, downs, binge shopping, housedress wearing, passion for marshmallows and simply can't live without my paxil and lamictal without losing a bit of gray matter, long drawn out grammatically incorrect babble, while wearing a little 19th century bun, smelling of rose water, wanna be a lady who does lunch will be posted here. Here for your personal entertainment or downward spiral to join me in the perils of the bipolar kindom we know as my brain.
Its not so bad, there's cookies in here. ;)
See, my grammar is bad, my spelling is probably failing and it's colder than a you know what in you know where. That said, you are fairly warned and blessed with holy water as not to catch this horrific ailment called; I've been a housewife not out of choice, but out of instanity, blabbidy, blah, blaaaaah.
I will start out by saying thank you to a fellow blogger who reminded me of how good it feels to put this noise in my head out for strangers read and mill over. This will be my unconditional soundboard for me to torture and torment. Hahaha. And yes, I am insane.
Hmm, uh, eeeerm. The thinking process is so hard on me. Its filled with music, sounds of rocks falling and rain. Let me not forget and the colors. Oh boy there are a lot of colors.
Someone once said when they heard music they saw colors. At that very moment, I had someone I could identify with. The noise in this noggin is loud and colorful. I see music as color as this person does. What a freakin relief. Siiiiigh. I can't begin to tell you's how hard it is to feel like you're the only one with this sound and color simutaneously plotting against my train of though. I guess its kind of like A.D.D.?
It has been said, lol, I don't make much sense. NEVER. Not I. I am always streamline, know where I'm goin and a fashion diva at the same time. Afterall, I do own one pair of designer shoes, two serious designer handbags, and I bought my pajamas at Wal-Mart. Trend setter!
Really folks, on the serious side. I think I just may be verging on a new friendship here on blogspot. I just hope it doesn't expect me to tuck its little blog in bed.
SO through my adventures as a "sophie gurl" I will share. My extreme ups, downs, binge shopping, housedress wearing, passion for marshmallows and simply can't live without my paxil and lamictal without losing a bit of gray matter, long drawn out grammatically incorrect babble, while wearing a little 19th century bun, smelling of rose water, wanna be a lady who does lunch will be posted here. Here for your personal entertainment or downward spiral to join me in the perils of the bipolar kindom we know as my brain.
Its not so bad, there's cookies in here. ;)
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