The Devil’s Got My Secret

There are a few certain sad facts about me

  1. I have been raped by more men than I have consented to
  2. I have never actually finished anything that I have started – as far as gals are concerned
  3. I have a Semi-Psychotic disease that plays an active role in all of my long-term decisions, and most of my short-term decisions.
  4. I don’t really understand what a “healthy” relationship actually looks like because – for the most part – I have never had one until now
  5. All of my True friends would love to dispatch my paternal parental unit, but I would still embrace him if he decided to come to my graduation next year – despite deeply seeded scar tissue between the two of us
  6. I can’t tell most of my loved ones more than half of my life experiences.
  7. Most the time people just assume I am lying or that what I tell them is just my disease talking
  8. They are usually right about the disease part – while being wrong about it being a fallacy
  9. I have given up on telling those I trust the most, about the more horrible things that have happened
  10. Until recently I have spent 99% of my mature life (er age 13+) consistently suicidal

 

These are all true – and most of them I have kept to myself up until now.

There are also some pretty cool things about me

  1. I usually escape the crippling effects of my disease through writing, painting, and singing
  2. I have an understanding of myself that surpasses most women my age
  3. I am impressively good at being a mother – looking at all of the obstacles I face
  4. Most of my life I have survived through my own efforts
  5. Despite not knowing what a healthy relationship should look like, I am still capable of giving love
  6. I forgive just about anyone who seeks it
  7. I practice a Universal and Unconditional Love, for all people, without exceptions – and understand that I do not have to like them
  8. I am not a victim of my past, because I have successfully moved beyond it to find other, better way of living
  9. I will be a High School graduate next year
  10. I am starting to heal from the sexual scars of my past.

So, there are a lot of reasons to thank the Gods for my life being just the way it has been. I do not think I would be capable of the level of humanitarianism that I now show had I not suffered the way I have. Despite everything in my life being as hard as it has been, I can still see people – even horrible, evil people – and a part of me just cares for them – even if I choose to leave them be and not give them my time. I am not sane, I know this. That being said – I am not unlovable, or untouchable. 

 

I haven’t blogged in a bit because I have been working pretty vigorously with a therapist and have simply been too mentally exhausted to spend much time blogging. I will soon be dedicating to a daily entry so I  can share my life with everyone here.

An interesting event from my day. A couple with 4 very young children in their van was asking a vendor on my walk to the bus station about a feed that is no longer done on Fridays, the mother was nearly in tears, and as far as I could assume, or sense, the father only seemed like he wasn’t because he was attempting to Superman for his babies. I immediately wrote down to address of a nearby 7/11 and bought them all hot cheeseburgers and sodas with my food stamps. While they ate the woman behind the counter looked at me and said “That was nice, what you did and all, but that woman has food stamps” I told her that it didn’t matter to me if if she had a million dollars in her van. She asked for help, and I give that kind of love without asking. I explained that her food stamps might be low, they might e trying to hold on to the little bit that they have for an emergency. It could be any reason that they were trying not to use that money, and that it was not my place to question or judge – and that it was not her place to try to vilify them for taking the help, or to make me feel that I had given a gift the need not be given. She apologized and shut her mouth. I proceeded to take them to a nearby grocery store and spent $50 of my remaining stamps on more food for them to take home, at least that they had. Both the mother and the father were in tears at this point. I told them both that they are somebody’s baby, and that as a mother, I would not let them, or especially their young daughters to go hungry when i was capable of giving them what they needed. They left with 3 grocery bags full of quick meals, and a set of full stomachs – filled with WARM food. Something I DO know the value of – having been homeless before.

It was a pretty cool experience.

I am okay tonight.

Lovin’ you family

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Wouldn’t They Stop?

Mad Girl… can you believe what they’ve done to you? Wouldn’t they stop, when you asked them to leave you alone?

I am broken. I still care for my little boy, and I love his daddy dearly – but I am exhausted from the mere action of living – or so it seems. I just ready to bend and let these demons make black the world they once ruled before. It’s easier than fighting them. It’s easier than trying so desperately to hold on to my sanity. This fighter is worn, I am tired and in a very bleak and shattered place. My partner thinks I am tired of him, that I am overwhelmed with his way of living. I am not. I love him just the way he is. But I am tired. I am just tired…

“Like the water in the well 
My melancholy state 
Folly, fear and hate, I know 
Even time will never tell 
She teetered, she tripped 
And then she fell 
My faith in this world 
Is a bottle of nothing 
Still I fly 
Still I fall”

Misery Loves Company

I am insane. I am insane. I am… I am completely lost inside myself today. I have not taken a day off yet, taking the baby out – somewhere, ANYWHERE – every day just so I myself could get out of the house. I am desperate to stay outside of my head because it is getting very dark and cold in here and I am so scared of losing myself that it is almost stupidly pathetic. I am insane… I… I… I am dangerously close to losing myself and I am expressing almost no symptoms. This could either mean that I am not completely lost – or it could be that I am going to slip under without any warning. It would be the first time since I had my son. 

To go along with my insanity, I am at a dissonance with my partner… Neither of us is sure this is going to work out. I am sure that if he lets me, I am willing to love him through this, but even then – sometimes loving someone just is not enough to save what should never have happened. I am in no way saying I think this should never have happened, but as Borderlines do, I am keeping him at a dangerous distance and I am scared that if I cannot break this chain that I will lose him and my son will lose a Dad. I am so broken. I am so scared of myself because I am stupidly dangerous. 

I am fully aware of the havoc my disease can wreak upon a heart like his… without even thinking…

I’m praying something changes. Yes. Praying.

Our Strange Duet

Don’t sell me your stories of who I am supposed to have been – especially because I don’t remember anymore. Do not try to convince me of the girl who has become nothing more than a foggy, mottled picture – that you might know her. She is fishing poles and hay bails, tadpoles and seaweed. She is glass milk bottles, big houses (not really that big now), and a green blanket for safety. She is warm summer nights and a very broken heart. She is pieces of a memory and you know her no better than I do. I can only take the scars left in her wake and try to make a patchwork quilt that will keep my family warm and safe in the future. I know the woman I have become, I know her very well. She is power and praise, she is lost and confused, she is right where she is supposed to be. She is baby bottles and little blankets, sweet teas and coffee, rune stones and bible verses, bus rides and sleepless nights. She is color, bouncing, drifting, in motion with her soul. She is me, and she is I, and she is Self. I am she as well and we have been scandalously intimate for some time now. Who she will make us into in the future is up to me entirely. What pieces will make the memories yet to come – I do not know. I do know, I am here. I am alive. I am safe. I am whole. I am crazy. I am perfect just the way I am. Broken pieces and all. So don’t you dare try to tell me who I once was, while trying to tell me who to be because of it. I am who I am supposed to be. I am a good mother. I am an even better Mommy. And yes, there is a difference. I am at least a decent friend. I am whole. I am broken in my wholeness. I am different, for sure. And yes God (however you define Him/Her/Ect) made me this way, and I will not be moved.

Not Broken – Just Bent

It’s not all that unfamiliar to me – this sleep deprived, sore muscle, trance-like state that I now find myself in. Most recently it is attributed to the goings-on of new motherhood, before that – too many nights spent in waiting for the police to come try once more to snuff out the light of passion in our hearts, to punch our dreams, to catch our river of righteous anger and passion with their spider-web lies and violence. Before that it was just the side effect of insanity. I am so used to forgetting to sleep that I cannot even really complain now that sleep is being denied me by my most beautiful little boy. 46 Days I have been a mom. 46 nights I have had every reason to keep myself sane. But that is the stupid part. I am not sane. By any rights. I am lost in this sea of total confusion and misunderstanding, hallucinating things that people didn’t really say or do, then spending sleepless nights sorting the reality from the fictions in my head. All of this while desperately trying to be a good mother, running myself into the ground – which only worsens my psychosis – to make all the necessary preparations for my child’s health and happiness. I have a meeting with TANF tomorrow and hopefully I will come back with some cash and some food stamps to spend on the little man and his loving parents.

Here’s to one more day still lucid.

Here’s to tomorrow.

Here’s hoping

Hello, My Name is Regret

So, I have been fighting back some pretty crippling depression of late. Old demons rearing their ugly heads at me left and right. I am not the woman I would like to make you believe that I am. Yeah, I have survived an unfair onslaught of tragedies and calamities, brokenness and scars – but I am still pretty pathetic when it comes to what should be the easiest of my challenges – myself. I hardly have the strength to lift my eyes to the path before me, my head hangs in regular defeat. Even now I am powerless to stop my past from haunting my loved ones. I get the loss of precious belongings.. I really do… but it just needs to stop… I am really losing myself in this. I feel like I am being swallowed whole by regrets. I love my son, and his daddy, but I regret ever going to San Francisco – though without going there I would have neither my son or his dad today. I regret letting that first selfish lover touch me…. I regret letting the fire lick at my skirt so many times… I regret the Occupy Movement as a whole, and sometimes I really regret never having the psycho-physical ability to relieve those I care for of the unimaginable burden I must be on their lives. I regret a lot of things… shit, I pretty much regret existing. Maybe if I had come later my parents would have been more prepared for me, maybe if I hadn’t been so sickly they would have had more time to fall in love with each other, maybe if I could have taken better care of the boys they would have the skills they are lacking now – which I won’t delve into. Maybe if I had fought a little harder my dad would have stayed in Oregon… maybe he would have fought a little harder to win back the heart of his wife and keep his crumbling family together. Maybe if I wasn’t so incapable of finishing the things I started I would be a graduate now, well on my way to the Psychology degree I have been pining for. Maybe if I had never come to existence at all…

Now this is not to be taken as “I regret existing and am thus going to hurt myself” on the contrary, I now have so many people itching to see me give up, to see me break, that I refuse to prove them right. I will not hurt myself – if I can help it. Sitting here with my son in my arms I hardly plan on ever trying to hurt myself in any way. I have a new promise to keep, that I won’t ever leave him.

I am simply trying desperately to get these screaming demons out of my head.

 

Crumpet