Someone Healed Me The Other Night

Something healed me the other night.

Something compels me to write this now.

I was laying on the day bed watching TV with a bowl of soup.

I was uncomfortable.

I have have (had) Interstitial Cystitis.

I had wondered if this was going to happen again.

What happened last summer, when something put tremendous weight on my stomach.

My chakra was full of brown light which is the wrong color really.

I thought maybe whatever or whoever it was meant me harm,

Yet I humbly allowed it to come. I was not in pain then but it’s presence made me frightened and scared. Maybe it was frightened and scared and holding onto to my soul for dear life.

The soup was warm as I felt pain beginning to come.

It touched me as the warm fluids filled me stomach as if it was timing it. To detract from ripping a child’s bandage.

The way I don’t panic is to think of you. Or him. Or both.

Then JC.

And I talk to it as if it were my monster who wants to me my friend.

I ask. Is someone there?

It touched me.

Are you alive?

It touched me

Are you from this dimension?

Two touches

Are you healing me?

Something spooned me from back and held me tight as light did it’s magic on my cells.

Let Go.

Let God.

I went to bed on a pill for pain. Just a bit to keep me calm.

He went to bed with me.

and brought a friend.

I thought of calling another and they said,

We are here, there is no need for others to hear.

Big Ben pointed completely up.

Ring.

Hello?

You doing alright?

Yes. Yes I am now.

Two days no pain.

Only blessed grateful humility for what is just is.

Does this heal you too?

 

 

 

Dear God, Help Me Be A Good Mother

My first bully?

My Mother.

So many people honor their parents. So many people are blessed with supportive Mother’s who are always there for their daughters. Sometimes I hate those people. Why? Because I’m afraid I’m turning into my Mother.

Let’s face it. There are many of us whose parents tried their best when you were young. My Mother was one of them. Having me at 20 was not a cake walk. Leaving my poor Father was in my best interest she said. But now she is 72 and her meanness has only aged like fine wine.

I pray to God that I don’t end up treating my grown son the way she treats me. I broke the cycle when he was young, but maybe this mediocre life of failure and illness and loneliness will just take it’s toll and 20 years from now, I will be the troll on my son’s facebook page. Maybe fucking facebook will burn to the ground because it’s done nothing but cause trouble with my Mother. I friend her because she has few friends. I friend her to share photos of my Grandson. Yet when I speak out about anything she disagrees with, be it politics or the things I like, she even starts arguments on Facebook in comments. She is my Mother? Do you know how embarrassing it is to my friends to see that negative and button pushing things she says to me in front of everyone.

My Mother lived with my Grandmother in the 90’s. My Gram was in her 70’s then and my Monster was in her 50’s. I didn’t see this happened, but I believed it happened. My Grandmother let my Mom live with her for awhile. My Mother was so verbally abusive to my Gram that my Gram had to call the police to remove my monster from her home.

My Gram….

(Me sharing some of my writing with my Gram before she passed in 2012)

She never said a mean thing about the things I wrote. She listened to my stories of  search for love. My supernatural experiences and always said, “Honey. Bless your little heart.”

My Gram and I would often talk about how mean my Mother was. You’d think my Mom might have been abused by my Grandparents. Not at all. Maybe they were guilty of apathy, I just know Gram died in 2013 and Mom was living with her again. I was in Seattle. God only knows how she treated her until she died. She would abused me long distance. (The distance not being long enough which is the real reason I left Indiana, with the goal to get my son to leave the backwater Christian hypocritical state)

I still have these two.

God only knows what I’d be without you.

My son and my grandson. God don’t let me turn into her and lose them. I’m so lonely and so tired of not being loved by my first family my Mother and my sister, that if I do start to make him miserable, I will end my life sooner than God intends because the last thing I want to do is destroy my child like my Mother continues to destroy me.

The End.

That Dam Dream Door Bell Won’t Stop Ringing

and this one time…

Dam you subconscious.

All these men I know keep showing up in my dreams, uninvited.

Men I’ve never met who are often well known and/or whom I never think about during the day unless I start dreaming about them and then, I can’t stop thinking about them! This has happened to me since I was a child…but that’s another story.

For a long long time, it was the same guy. Eddie Vedder. He knocked on my dream door while dreaming in London in ’93 and relentlessly, made a couple of  lucid

(weird horn sound like there is a ship coming into port in the parking garage in the building next door?)

Violet Beauregard

“Wonka! What is this? The film “Event Horizon?!”

appearances a year til about 2012 when he stopped showing up because some “new guy” was there. …but that’s another story.

Sometimes my night time visitors are men I have known, but on a purely platonic basis. There I am sleeping, minding my own dam business and for fucks sake, suddenly,  I wake up in my dream and there is this friend trying to woo me.

and that’s pretty dam easy since I have been celibate for 4 years! but that’s another story…

I’m usually confused and overtaken and before I know it, and then….”off he goes.”

One night Deepak Chopra showed up.

That was awkward.

He said it was for spiritual purposes. …but that’s another story.

Oh God…(eye roll)

(stop kissing me on the lips while I write this James! This is about someone else) hmmm-which is why he probably is kissing me it’s not about him. Oh wait. Now it is…shit!

Where was I?

(dam! I’m in the balcony at the Richmond Theater?!) Dam you BAFTA Celebrating Downton Abbey Dammit Liz Trubridge!

Oh…

My sweet Dutch friend whom I let go of long ago, showed up in my dreams last night.

Stop!

(Bart he won’t leave me alone while I try to reminisce about you or maybe it’s some weird spirit guide that gets off on doing impressions of Sci Fi actors. Waaa.

Jesus!? He keeps kissing me!

and he never speaks to me. Who is this doppleganger?

ok, I’m not rereading the rest of this entry because it’s pointless.

I don’t remember if I was talking to my subconscious or to Bart. That kiss has me distracted.

In that dream, it was just an embrace. Yet it reminded me of the last time, before he flew away across the sea 4 years ago. I could smell your shampoo and the texture of your red jumper.

I don’t understand what you are trying tell me Mr. Subconscious. It’s not like I don’t speak t him almost daily. It’s a known that we have moved on and we know we can never recreate that magic that started in 2010 that eventually faded into reality. I am so grateful for the journey with him. Being around him, made me feel ageless. Being around him made me feel unconditionally loved.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be mad about these dreams I don’t ask for. Maybe I can change my perspective when I wake up from a dream where someone is loving me again because it’s atrial fibrillation on my sad lonely heart. To remember happiness so I know my waking self can still feel it and achieve it.

Oh how I loved taking care of him when I could. I hope I made a difference in his life. I hope he always knows how magical wooing was. I will never ever forget it.

but I can’t help the tears upon waking wishing I could touch what I just felt so deeply.

Sadness is so beautiful sometimes.

Like Anthony and The Johnsons.

It is better than an imaginary love. So much better because you don’t have imagine holding them.

So I guess I’m not mad at the thoughts I think when I’m asleep. I’m just made at physics because you can’t hug a dream back. But I can remember the feel of his red sweater and the smell of his hair.

For the the first time in my life perhaps, I am proud of my unconditional love for him even as  he speaks with other women and hopefully someday find a woman that suits him. Someone his age.

Because he deserves to have that for his whole life, not just the part until I pass on.

I hope this makes you feel as snug as a bug in a rug.

Darling, you said you weren’t going to re read this?

Yea right.

…But I didn’t perform any copy editing. 

Everything Makes Me Cry

(Crying as I type this)

No one to hold me but a blog.

I live without meds so I feel things again. Deeply as it seems not feeling for over ten years makes one quite unused to really sad moments. In some strange way they are beautiful because I can cry. I think menopause is around the corner because everything is making me cry.

I was living alone and so very sad and lonely last five years. My 13 year relationship didn’t work out. My marriage of 8 years didn’t work. My family is small. My Mother although alive is of no support at all never has been.

My son is living with me now as he has trouble supporting himself and his child. My grandson is almost two. I have been so blessed. It used to be easy to take care of the baby. Now, my body is breaking down. I feel aging come along. I live in a city I left for better pastures but moved back as my relationship ended and I was left alone in a city.

I have had so many hopes. So much work, so much writing put into a screenplay that goes nowhere. So much appreciation for what I have yet there is a general sadness that seems unfair. Many of my old friends have lives with husbands and kids now so I have really no one to even vent to….

I’m so scared of so many things.
Never having even a part time job anymore, I have two degrees but can ‘t get a job as cashier. Live now on disability and never planned for this life.

I am able to manage my mental health but now I have a new chronic condition, a painful spasm of bladder that can’t be cured and often I end up in ER for pain management because I can’t get a really good Urologist on medicare. This IC, as it’s called is scarier than any mental health issue I had. It may disable more than my mental healthy ever did. I am already disabled.

My Grandson is so sweet and such a blessing but I take care of him for days on end as the teenage mother is a mess and does not care for baby. I have to help. But why can’t I enjoy it now? I am so tired. I am so tired.

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. I have never been alone for this long. Celibate for 6 years now. Then men I met here are very country and often quite dysfunctional so I just stopped believing in love. I use to have such a great social life and career in this town. That was in my 30’s. I was young. Pretty but really smart. Now I feel wiser but so old. The world seems like a young person’s place and I just want someone to cherish me again. I am so deserving of this. I have tried dating sites. I have gone to meet people. I am even open to long distance relationships. I had a really good one once in Holland. He was too young for me and deserved much better future than being with a woman so much older than he.

I just can’t stop crying and my son God love him is here and he has to listen to me because I have no one else. I so wanted to be the kind of Mother at 52 that was strong and there for him. Not this woman who was diagnosed, tortured by psychiatry, lost her everything to meds that kept me lobotomized to recover only to end up without a partner and sick and so ready not to age yet.

Getting old is a drag. Being single, makes it terrifying.

Dear God, please send me someone.