I need a repairman. Not a Psychiatrist. An electrical engineer who works on brains.
It’s funny what causes me anxiety. My life is dominated by no purposeful events on a daily basis. Most days when I wake up I panic because there is nothing to do that day and no one to do it with. I’m always the girl on the outside of everyone doing things. Watching while others are in tribe. It’s like that painting my Renoir. I feel like the girl with glass of water. And I didn’t get that idea from a film.
Most mornings it’s hard enough to come down from the panic I have when my eyes open because of the dreams I have a night. Dreams of love that left me. Men who were in my life but gone, off living better without me. The Lithium is helping me by not letting me go manic angry on God, but in some ways, it makes me kinda not care about anything or really enjoy anything except when I’m getting love from my Grandson. Otherwise, I’m walking around smiling when I just feel separate from everyone on Earth. I don’t know how to take normal life sometimes because of the trauma. I guess love is all I need but they don’t put that in a pill.
I spoke to a really hopeless man I met on the Icarus Project yesterday. His story was miserable and his outlook on things getting better was non existent. I could see why. It did seem hopeless and the despair he felt the most was where did his life go? What happened to the man who had it all together and handled things with confidence. Now he’s alone in a scary place with people he does not know. He has not alone time, yet he is so lonely for love. I didn’t want to be one of those positive all the time people because he frankly didn’t want to hear it. I instead just told him I feel the same way. Where does love go when one has mental illness? Why do many of us get abandoned by the ones we love and sometimes that is family. I just wanted to reach through the computer and hug him. It made me really down. We are just random occurrences in the Universe controlled by a meat bag with a grey computer that eventually quits. Maybe there is a force in the Universe that picks up our energy when we pass, giving us to a chance to re-imagine a life where everyone we lost and everything we suffered goes away and we dwell on a holographic plane of some kind, who knows?
Because I have so little money every month to live on disability and getting a job has been a nightmare, I rarely do anything extravagant like inviting someone over for a get together. I have two friends left in life that live nearby. One has recently become ill and has hardly left her house for two months, which angers me as I watch a person with Bi Polar who has weight struggles who use to be very strong, submit to a mysterious ailment that keeps her in a chair all day. I feel for her but it scares me to death. That could be me. I already sit around most days restless to go somewhere, the thought of an illness putting me out, without a partner to to help, she has one, sounds terrifying to me. But despite my limitations I decided to throw a get together for my old college buddy, the last friend I have in town.
I knew it would be good to have a few of her friends over. Even though I may go a bit broke buying things for party, I know I need it. But what is strange is today I want to be weepy. I’m perplexed by what’s not happening in my brain. I am actually nervous and overwhelmed now. Why can’t anything make me happy? I think because in my life I use to be such a social butterfly and had a partner and friends and did festivals and concerts and parties, that since I have been single and in this town, those receptors in my brain are no longer attached. They have lost their long tern connections due to isolation and depression. It’s like they need to be reattached to feel excited about having a few friends over. I’m worried they will think I’m poor. Isn’t that horrible. Will I have enough food? Where will they sit since I don’t have a sofa. Will they be bored and leave early. What will happen when they leave and I have a good time and then I’m alone again for days with nothing coming up. All or nothing.
I know that negative thoughts wire your brain in a way you don’t want, but loneliness and wanting love is a connection I can’t un connect unless a miracle comes along in the form of love.
Last night I was speaking to a friend on the phone. He calls every night and often calls again before I go to bed so I don’t get scared to go asleep alone. I have never met him. There is a mystery behind this man that I have mentioned in this blog but as today, he’s just this guy from Massachusetts who seems to care about me and sometimes tells me he loves me. I have ask him as I have before, please come see me. Please end this mystery I was told by a third party and be you. Please be the man who has been there for me since 06 and God, if you can even exist make him the one so I can’t stop making up love stories in my head about men that will never come.
I guess if he were to come, I would be really very anxious as I don’t know how to be with a man anymore. Everything makes me cry. Even though there are a going to be other souls in my lonely apartment tonight, that black hole of “God I can’t bare going to bed without someone spooning me at night.” will be in my pocket saying, “as soon as they leave, you are alone again, ….naturally.”
I guess it’s just the sadness of how mental illness can age us earlier than we should. I don’t think I’m going to see any new posts on here that have hope until the Universe provides light to fill up that black hole and reattach all the healthy receptors in my brain when I was, well happy.
I’ll try to remember this and I’ll watch it through mixed tears.
Why don’t our souls have credit reports? Poor people might do better for themselves in this world.
However, in this real world where a devil could actually become President, I’m 53, on disability and not worth much apparently. All the years I worked and paid taxes and made decent money to drive a car that actually drives and even have a mortgage not to mention how easy it was to lease a classic historic apartment in the city.
I am not the woman anymore. That was 22 years ago. I don’t look like her, I have lost my mind since then and the beep BEEP BEEPING of the torturous construction equipment outside the window reminds her of scene from Clockwork Orange when they try to torture the main character with sound to get him to kill himself.
And my Mother sneaks into my life and screams at me “you always makes bad choices” as if you have not Mother Dearest. What about all the men you fracked when I was a kid and I had to listen to it and I was only in first grade.
And what about the ghost that kisses me everyday? No one ever said Jesus was a flirt. Apparently he likes me. But you can’t share a lease with a ghost or made love to them in the traditional way let alone expect them to bring you a cup of tea for breakfast.
And the lovely old apt I view yesterday, the one overlooking The Children’s Museum, is begging me to rent it. The planetarium is just a few hundred feet away, reminding me of when I was fabulous and could align a laser projector and get paid for it and play Dark Side of the Moon as loud as I want and get marriage proposals afterwards it’s that woman, it’s only the 35 year old woman wanting to use this apt as a time machine back to the day when I could hang out with people of all ages and be cool and when finding a date was so easy, I only had to open my mouth, but hanging in in quiet desperation in an apt that in the end will be so empty and quite because I have only one friend who won’t climb stairs and a son who is busy and no social group. My Mother and Sister will never visit me there as it’s in the “black” part of town and I don’t care if they come anyway. So back in the day that apt would be perfect for entertaining. More space than I have furniture since I lost everything in Seattle. But, it did have a fireplace.
When you’re lonely, a fireplace can kinda be like a date. It’s warm and nice to look at.
But when I left my sister called to scream at me for getting a checking account with the credit union she works for because I’m a financial mess and she does not want my misery on her and she makes up things I have never done with the woman who cooked me in the womb.
I’ve never felt so alone.
So financially powerless.
So grateful that a 2 year old little boy and his Father thinks I’m swell. Because if it were not for that baby screaming Nana Nana! when he sees me, I think I would shrink like a gardenia in the desert.
So as I sit in the same clothes, I think, that apt had a pretty bad bath tub, so bad one wouldn’t want to get in, windows that were lovely but painted shut and an old 1910 elevator that didn’t go. Three flights up, who would move me in? Extra charge for parking off Meridian Street. The possibility that I will pay him $35 to tell me my credit does not qualify me, but it never shows the good I do on those reports does it? My soul has over 1,600 other soul friends from all the volunteering and good I’ve done and trees I’ve planted. But all people see if a woman who has medical debt from something that was not her fault, and old corrupt cell phone charges (TMOBLE) and in end I always tell them in advance on paper I’m a mess because I’m bi polar and if you really knew who I was I would pay you to tell me.
So I probably won’t apply for the fireplace because in the end, whats the point of walking around in a drafty European type needs a bit of polish apt to be alone in front a fireplace next door to a place I once worked where I can’t get an interview now.
I’ll just go to some dumpy over priced low square footage strip mall kinda apt complex and pay too much and live too little because well, I always make bad decisions as Mom says.
….although, this album would sound great on wooden floors again.
I’m ashamed of myself when I get cross with my dear son.
One of the signs of a sick society is how it treats it’s weakest citizens, the sick and the elderly. In the US, it’s an increasingly troubling problem concerning the number of dementia and Alzheimer cases that rise every year. Elderly parents are often put into a sterile lifeless nursing home to die because the family does not want to bother with them. In China they always take care of elderly parents. In India, the elders are often head of the family. In Korea, elders are highly respected. In the US, they are passed over.
In this day of youth oriented culture our obsession with youth only aggravate the problem on what to do with the aged. American Indians regarded the wisdom of the elders as the glue that held together the tribe.
I don’t know how many times I have heard from my own son statements like: “You don’t know what your talking about when it comes to raising children. Things are different now.” He’s 23. The Mother of his child is 19. She often says, “I listen to Science, not you.”
One evening she comes over with the baby at 10pm to see my son, the baby’s Father. I ask “why is the baby still up? His bedtime is 8:30.” I know because I watch him overnight a few times a week. We have a set schedule. He says “night night” when he is tired. On this night, the baby shows up in PJ’s with chocolate cake on his face. He begins to say night night, tries to get in bed but seems too wired to sleep and gets back up. This goes on for 10 minutes. The poor kid is tired but obviously ramped up from the caffeine and sugar in the cake he ate. (Cake at 9pm for a 1 yr old.) I ask the Mother why would she feed him such a thing just before bedtime. This can affect his sleep.
Her response: “I listen to science. This is not true at all.” I’m completely perplexed. This teenager has an high school education and is clearly a poor mother on so many other levels I can’t go into here, but she won’t even admit when she is wrong. So I sit there and watch my grandchild deal with a caffeine rush at bedtime.
Why are the parents of a man you are trying to get to marry and who helps support your child is not worth respect. She is rude. She answers by yelling at me.
She knows I have depression. She knows I’m lonely with other health problems. There is no empathy whatsoever. No putting baby first. No putting herself in my shoes. No concern that my son might be turned off by her behavior to me. Of course he is a bit turned off but is settling for her. She tells me I don’t know what I’m talking about. Every experience I have had in my life no longer applies according to her disrespectful narcissistic self absorbed personality. It’s all over in girls her age. A snarky glib know it all attitude she gets not from actual study, but from twisting truth so she can always be right by saying “I read it on the internet.” Yet she does not take this child to a pediatrician. He has not had a check up since he was about 9 months old. He is almost two. He is very small for his age. She feeds him artificial snacks, hot dogs and fast food. I cringe. I cringe because my son is smart. He is older, but he is like her, they have no respect for the fact that I am 52 and I raised a child.
Also when it comes to work, they think since I have been out of work place for over a decade, I have nothing to offer when it comes to supporting their job searchs. I managed people. I hired people. I worked since I was 15. She has had only one job in her life and it lasted 6 months.
Another way they disrespect elders nowadays is not being able to make eye contact when you are speaking to them. They’re always looking at a device and are not willing to actually look at you when trying to communicate. When you ask if they would please give you their full attention in a conversation, they begin to convince you they can hear or say I don’t really care what you have to say or even worst, “just leave me alone.”
Bottom line is the young think they know it all and our experience is old fashioned and no longer applies to their world. Since I’m only 52 and they won’t listen now, what will be my treatment when I’m 80? Will my pre internet life have any relevance to that future. Will we be burdens they just don’t want to bare?
With nothing to do, with no place in society, with being passed off as obsolete, it’s no wonder the elderly are losing their minds and become confused and unable to use their brains. We caused this as a society. When you forget a portion of the population that worked all their life to bring forth the next generation, only to be boxed away later, is why so many senior citizens sit alone unable to take care for themselves or remember the names of their relatives. Their minds are not used anymore and they are sent the message what they learned in life no longer applies to the modern world..
I know why Maude in Harold and Maude thought 80 would be a good time to die. She wanted to die when she still had happiness. Then again she had no children to make her feel unneeded. She might not have made it that long if that film had not been made in the 70’s before the tech age of cold social media.
I worry about my future. I have no retirement. I have health problems. I have no husband to help in my old age. And it looks like my son is choosing a girl to spend his life with who has bullied and disrespected his Mother in front of him from day one. Even though I have been the only one in the family who drops what I’m doing anytime to take care of the baby. And the care I give him is as if he is Prince George. I give 200% when that child is with me. They don’t ever thank me nor do they even acknowledge my methods are effective because the baby is always happy from being with me when they come to pick him up.
My life goes from one horrible situation to another. If it’s not shrinks labeling my personality and ruining my life on meds, or suffering with a chronic bladder condition, now it’s my own flesh and blood betraying me by letting a dysfunctional teen mom upset his peace and disrespects his Mother.
She has never once thanked me for anything I have done. Even when I have them for dinner I have never even heard, “Thank you, that was a nice meal.” Often it’s “I don’t like that.” Never acknowledges the money I have spent to help with the baby. My son does thank me. It’s so hard when your own son says, “Mom, you don’t know what your talking about.” I’ve been a Father for two years.
My Mother never loved me. I have been so kind to my son because of the verbal abuse I endured and still endure from my Mother. My son is all I have left. If he chooses to marry this selfish teen someday, I know she will want me in a nursing home and i will be forgotten. (The nightmare is when he was 16 he met a girl that was so fabulous, so smart, so sweet he was smitten by her. She lived out of state and he only saw he summers. This girl adored him and treated me like a Queen. Slowly my son last contact because he stopped trying and she moved on) The girl he is with now told my son she was on pill. She was not. She got pregnant. Now they are a couple. They would not be one if not for the baby. I wanted someone to cherish my son. What she does to him is another story completely. It’s breaks my heart.
And all the wisdom I carry about how life was before internet and how to raise a balanced child is going to waste.
I don’t feel life is worth much after 50 anymore. I use to be able to get really great jobs with my experience and sadly with my looks back in the day. Looks got me in the door, my brain got me the job. After being on disability for over a decade I can’t even get a job as a cashier. I have two degrees. My greatest job now is helping shape this beautiful grandchild of mine who adores his Nana. He rarely runs to Mommy when she picks him up. He does no want to leave me.
“What a drag it is getting old.”
I feel guilty for writing this because I love my son, I just don’t like the way he talks to me. I’ll go to bed ashamed for writing this. Not because he will read it. No one in may family is interested in my writing. They basically think I have no value or skills. They see me still as disabled and weak. Maybe thats my fault, but when I see someone not dong right for a child it causes me great pain.
God still doesn’t listen to what I say.
I have said it before and I will say it again, Dad died in his sleep at 54 . If this is all there is, I can only hope for the same quickest peaceful death to keep me from living another 35 years getting my heart broken and passed over again and again.
There is nothing more redundantly sacred or joyous than the birth of a Grandchild. Especially if that child comes in a time of life when you least expected to be a Grandmother. And that at times until the baby arrives you search for a better word than Grandmother because your own Grandmother died two years ago a 89. If she had lived just one more bit of year, she would have seen another generation arrive in front of her. I would have been a Grandmother who had a Grandmother. It’s very nice people live longer there days.
Cars. He wants to know where his cars are?
These are the mornings when I remember it was much more enjoyable when you had a handsome man (A Grampy if you will) in the bed with you, sharing that early morning WAKE UP! Ce cera cera is the only way to be because that little face makes up for the lack of romantic love. A gift when I lack the other if I may.
It is also lovely to have a newborn to care for while I am still a very young 52 in the mind of course and still in this bio body suit I carry around. It does not always cooperate. I remember those dreamy early days when the baby was very tiny and would sleep in my arms. Oh my aching back. It’s when the thing that your parents did to you, try to tell you stuff about this future, having kids, watching your kids have them etc…and I know my brain is way better at it now but my body was better at it then. My Grandson is almost two. Bending down to lift him, bending down to bath, bending down to retrieve him from toddler bed it’s all a pain in the ass. There is no one to be angry with than Father Time. It’s ok. It’s a workout when I can’t get to the YMCA. That kid is the YMCA. It’s a heart racer loving them like one does.
Where are the diapers?
There is so much joy when they say Grandchildren are perfect kind of children because you get to send them home. I get that now. I think it’s the shear heartbreak you feel when they go home with Dad but later when your enjoy a nice joint and a glass of vino, life is really perfect. We remember the utter endless early mornings when all you can do is open one eye to change a diaper. And why are toddlers so dam happy in the morning?
I better get going on this essay he will only be sleeping for another bit and this coffee and this lovely green has reminded me how much I do enjoy the times when I’m alone. Yet I’m not really alone. When that child goes back to where he is going, I become a child again. A child who dreams of dreams I dreamed when I was almost 2. A boy. A boy I knew. He came into my life a few years back and when I’m alone he comes and says to my heart.
Oh my darling, lets make a story, sit down and tell me how you feel. Tell tales of the things I see. I watch you from afar, rock a bye your sweet baby Lincoln. And one day you will find your way if you keep loving and do what your hearts say. I brought the glad tidings to you, in a dream. So listen now what I say, I never left you. Be a girl. Be that little girl in your heart all the time. No matter how lonely you are, you are and will be mine.
What was I just talking about? How did I end up here? Sometimes I find myself in places that seem so queer. One minute I’m cleaning up toys and the next minute when I’m away from noise, I feel someone enter my aura. A presence that watches over me. That guides me this way and that. To write. To dream. To flow. The less resistance the better while your in a eddie they say. Well it’s about time to stay on schedule. That tiny child will be waking soon and I don’t want him to ever feel unheard or passed over or unimportant ….
Who let the doves in here?
Grade: C+ – Went off topic. Run on sentences. Didn’t make sense. Redundant.
This is a post from a group I belong to that supports people who are empaths and light workers. It felt appropriate for this blog…..
Hello fellow light workers…
I need to share. Feeling spiritually drained today, which lately is rare. I have come into my psychic abilities very fast, over the last three years. I struggled with a mental illness label for 20 years because of the things I said to shrinks, which got me drugged because I believed them. I know as a child I have spirit guides and non Earthly beings watching over me. I had synchronicity very young and it has increased exponentially over the last 4 years as I weaned myself quite horrifically off the bad meds that kept me from being the empath I am.
Awaking to this ability to channel an entity has caused me to question myself in the past that I was schizophrenic. I have accepted this now and have a story about it as well.
The challenge I have is that I’m alone, which in a way is good. No one else can be around me as I open up. My family is basically evil and does not see me heart. My son who is 22 has my 1yr old grandson. I am very very sensitive to babies and taking good care of these new souls. I find that my wisdom and compassion is greatest around children. but when i watch my grandson at their house, I get very upset. They are smart good loving people but don’t know what us that had children so long ago know. They are just young and will find their way, but I keep reminding them how important these first five years are. Sometimes my son hears me. They are often so busy when baby is awake, there is not as much one on one with him as I have observed. But all parents learn.
When I’m with the baby alone, he is actually communicating with me. He often sees my psychic struggle even when I’m not showing it, which i never do in front of the child…..and I feel like he is from somewhere else.
Last night there was an incident that upset me. My son came over to visit which was lovely, just the three of us. But he was on computer most of time and that bothers me. We tood a walk down to the lake and that was lovely. Just being in nature with my son and his son. I try not to give advice unless I see for instance the baby has diaper rash bad and I have to remind him of how to keep that at a minimum. I don’t preach, I just observe. My son is peaceful and non confrontational, but his fiance is 18 and still a child herself and did not have the guidance from her parents so I understand.
So anyway, he said, would you like to come back to house and sit while I’m working and his fiance went out with friend. I always say yes because I’m filled with light being with this child. He brings me up when I’m down. I like helping them with laundry and keeping house. That’s what Mother’s do for their adult children sometimes. I enjoy feeling needed.
There is a quick I often laugh about with them…They only have two bottles.( why? it boggles the mind, not like they can’t buy more) Mom is trying to make baby a toddler before his time. At night, when I’m with him, I put him down by rocking him with bottle til sleep. This is the precious time of the day with a child. I think they missing it. They have a rocker, but have not put it in room. So I have stand over bed with bad back rocking him and singing. I don’t believe in letting a baby cry himself to sleep. Some people do.
After they were gone, I could not find the two bottles. The baby was restless and tired and hungry and started to get upset. I could feel the situation was out of my control and looked for over 30 minutes with crying child trying to find one bottle.
I text my son, cause he was out of minutes, and I’m not allowed to call Mom’s cell phone because her family dislikes me and they blocked my number a year or so ago and she still has same phone. I ask my son to ask mother to call because baby was in distress. She took an hour to call.
So I had to lay him down without bottle because he was so tired and let him cry for a bit. Which is what my son told me to do, because he could not figure out where bottles were from work. This type of energy immediately drains my soul. I thought maybe he will go to sleep in a bit, but that bit lasted 45 minutes off and on. I was trying to communicate how desperate I was with son in text and that is just not the way the world should be. I needed to speak with him and got frustrated and got quite impatient and a bit angry with my son, which I despise doing because I was raised that way. How can you let this happen? Why do you leave me in this situation and mostly your child?…where I have to try to sooth a hugry child, I can’t. He said, just give him sippy cup. As if I had not tried that. I’m 52. I just throw the phone to the floor and lay in dark kinda not there praying the baby would finally sleep.
Another text from my son, “don’t question my parenting” ???
I was stuck in the heart chakra. I raised my son as a baby like he was a precious angel I would never have let him self soothe and not only that, he and she and many (young) people have no respect for the wisdom of elders anymore. Especially their own parents, who you would think once they have kids, help them understand you as a Mother to them….
I let my son be an adult, when it comes to the welfare of my grandson, I would hope that my loving son would listen to helpful hints on how to do it right. How to make sure a child feels safe when he cries out that someone will come. How to not raise a frightened and abandoned child. I’m not saying they are, what I’m saying is that they are missing the spiritual component of making that child the center of attention when he is awake and doing your own things when he sleeps.
What I do remember is that when I went in better prepared in energy to pick up baby, we lay down on bed and HE comforted me. He was looking right into me. He was saying, Nana, I know your pain. Nana, I use to be your Nana. I’m back to remind you of your divinity and don’t worry about my parents who don’t get it yet, I choose them. It was heaven. (now i’m crying). Immediately he started doing funny things to my face as he lay on me. He was fine. I was not. He made me laugh. Sticking his fingers in my mouth and giggling. We feel asleep and it was wonderful having something love me lay on me and sleep.
When baby’s Mom came home, I said nothing about bottles but she began to look around. I just did not want to make her defensive so I left, kinda happy I was there for baby, but a bit broken and unheard. Like my voice is not there. So it is what it is…but I knew going home to my lonely place, I may end up in dark space.
I came home and my old habits of my behavior when I was under a shrinks care, came back. I forgot my light inside. I felt unheard. Like we are healing the planet but some can’t hear our love and sometimes they are our own family. My Mother is abusive and my sister allows it. So I only have my son and Grandson.
I took three times the anxiety meds that are used only rarely for panic attacks, and this morning I’m deadened to spirit. It’s what I call The Black Curtain. You can’t find yourself. I am against pills the only reason I keep these benign ones, is to keep me from going to an ER and admitting myself to a psych ward, when I feel things that get too intense.
But still, my spirit guide was not with me when I could not control the bottle situation. I wondered,,,where are you? why do you leave me when I’m in the middle of giving care and something almost evil stops me. (Maybe it does not leave, I just an too upset to hear) …that’s when I went back to the old ways, before I knew my true self and just took three times the dosage of a pill I rarely need, to almost punish me. I knew I would just sleep longer and would wake up hung over. I can see the behavior, and I’m thankful those days are over. Why take a pill when you can just cry it out, because taking the pill does not take away the pain, it delays it.
I don’t know where I was going with this post, or why I needed to share, it’s just that sometimes, when we wake up to who we are, it can be scary. Especially when it only seems to come in when one is balanced. I feel everything deeply. The suffering of others, the world, the creatures, me. The gift of an empath I guess.
My existential angst is; who is there to help me when I’m off alignment and even meditating seems flattened. When I get lost inside. I don’t believe in demons, but when telling my family doc about my gifts he listened and believed me. He did say in a joking way about the pain I endure from abandonment since childhood, that I need an exorcism. We laughed, but inside I almost felt like, yeah, I have some pretty horrible trauma, that often blocks my psychic abilities and the fear I will turn into my own psychologically abusive Mother, no matter how much I fight it. I don’t think so though, I was a good parent because of the crap I endured when I was young. I broke the cycle. But did I on myself? I give all my love away and save none for me sometimes.
I protect myself everyday with healing light, but stuff still gets in. But that baby, who just came from another dimension, I want to be with him all the time and teach him, but he is not mine and I’m lonely, single and wish I could start again, with the gifts I have in consciousness now. I look forward to the days when I will teach him mindfulness and magic and believing we are all connected. for now I have to let go.
Sorry this was so long. Thank you for reading.
Namaste.
ps. How do some psychics not go crazy first before they figure out what they are doing?
pss. When I woke, I said “Help.” Anne Lamott says there are only three prayers; Help, Thank You and Wow. I said help and within 15 minutes a man dressed quite nicely with two children came to door. He ask about how residents of our community could stop violence. I said “help the ones doing the violence because they are suffering and we are not helping the fragile, weak and forgotten and do not remember the teachings of Jesus.” He agreed and gave me a pamphlet on on how to read The Bible which I just started doing again. I dusted it off and found a page turned down I never turned down. It was from the book of Acts. I thought, this must be God helping me hear him better. I was grateful with tears.
She looks around the apartment. One can tell a depressed person lived there. Although there is art and color and hope all around, it appears that the jewelry thrown on the floor and phone off hook show a darker side of this existence.
So as an act of compassion for another, who will eventually come by, she does the dishes.
She picks up the unwashed clothes on the floor and hangs them neatly in the closet.
She dusts her angels and her talisman.
She over waters her little tree and jade plant.
She notices the hamster has little food, so she feeds it the whole bag.
The kitchen floor has not been clean for a long time because there is no mop. She scrubs it with her best french linen until her hands crack and bleed. She is happy she is just being.
After vacuuming, sanitizing the tub and toilets, she is tired.
She remembers the video of the dying fish where a dog tried putting water on it with it’s paw, but to no avail. She sees the worlds pain and decides, today is not the day for it.
She meditates.
She writes a letter for her son she never intended to send and leaves it on the unused dining room table. She feels better.
She plays new age music to calm her.
She turns off her phone and decides to get in the bath. She wonders why turn off phone, it never rings much anyway, but feels it’s better because when it rings it’s only someone shaming her for feeling bad.
The pillow and flowered down comforter actually makes the bath tub quite comfortable.
Briefly her mind floats back to the days of torture. She stays with the memory of the forced unknown restraints in the ER where she almost died and saw purgatory. Surely this is better than that day and much more comfortable. At least she can be free to know, those days of insanity were caused by the hands of psychiatrist who succeeded in poisoning her and brain washing her hopes and gifts to something that should be purged. Waste in her brain.
She thinks about how God or something maybe mental illness planted a searching inside her and condemns the thing that put it there. And wonders if there is nothing but star dust, her own twisted brain did it to her and that is too much to bare. To rot away for another 30 years or so keeping this all inside seems overwhelming. But it that feeling passes too slowly.
But in the bath, it’s safe. The music is calming and she imagines angels anointing her with oils, although they aren’t really there, it’s just now she’s getting cold.
At least she knows she can feel shameless because there won’t be much cleaning up for the people that will eventually find her, which will only be the maintenance staff whom she requested two months ago to fix her leaking facet.
They won’t even have to shampoo the carpet, I’m sure they will wonder who they will charge for the tub clean up however.
……as she leaves her biological body suit, her real ethereal family waits with a proper bath.
This entry is like a train to nowhere which is also somewhere but where I don’t know because the ticket is written in code…..it has no point other than to ramble along through clouds of my thoughts and how it’s still up there with all that weight is beyond me…and I don’t want to sleep. I never want to write either because in the morning I’m ashamed of what I say.
My therapist and I need to work on this, but he says this is good, but it’s censored because only my journals know the real truth of me.
There are things I can only say in my private hand written journal, but I’m afraid to open it cause when I write or read things I have written in them, I feel spirit in the room and it gets cold and my body shakes uncontrollably, not from fear, but as if someone like my deceased Grandmother or Princess Diana is in the room and they are the only ones and my journal that can tell you what I am really wishing I could tell you. But i keep it to myself. Sadly, by doing that I get no validation on what is happening and then by keeping it secret, I keep myself from getting hurt by realizing my thoughts are crazy not gifted. soo.
I can’t seem to write. I can’t focus, I can’t find anything I want to say with the words I own. I have things I have to say but can’t say to anyone because there are no words to describe what is happening inside of me. Is it real or am I crazy as hell….I guess I just vent today…and not give a crap if any of this makes sense or follows any order..it’s just stupid thoughts coming out because I can’t bare to go to sleep.
One minute, everything is working well, the next thing I know another wall. Mostly this wall is trusting myself and my inner voice, which was always intuition which now I don’t trust. I dont’ trust my head. My heart or my intuition. So if God comes in, which door will he use and will I even recognize his wisdom if I deny all my own imagination.
blah blah blah………whine whine..oh happy happy, sleep, terror, crying wake up again, start over whine, ramble dream happy happy sleep etc…etc…alone.
I’m dealing with so much loneliness while dealing with so much recovery and trauma and nightmares. Then sometimes I have lucid dreams that a good mares or I astral project and I forget who I am and what happened to me in the last decade of my existence. These dreams are so good, that when I wake and look around and see where I am, still her in this hell hole, alone, I want to throw up every morning. So I try to meditate and start over again, until the next night oof sleep where I have no idea where I will go.
I have not woken up happy in over two years. Also winter is coming and I’m going to be stuck in this two room apartment freezing with no nature and alone with my computer and bad TV and too many dreams.
My life has changed completely since I left Seattle. At least there I had my trees and the water and ferries and Orcas. There were places to go when I was troubled and I could walk there. Now I live in parking lot surrounded by a freeway with nothing but industry and Eli Lilly who make a bunch of money selling drugs now with side effects that I steal deal with. I do have my family, but they are so busy, there is no time to see them in the end especially my grandson, I might as well be 2000 miles away still.
I hate the place I grew up in. I hate this city. The people are ok, but everyone dresses the same and no one walks anywhere so I’m stuck keeping a used car running and no where nature to drive to. I left for a reason. The real hell is that I’m back and nothing is working like I thought it would when I was 35. Time feels like it’s running out at least for love.
Every morning it feels like I’m kinda waking up in a softer hell. Alone. I hate going to bed because I imagine I’m laying with my soul mate but he never comes and then I dont’ know what my dreams will bring and then I know I have to wake up to the reality of my life. On the good side, my spiritual practice is stronger than it’s ever been. I meditate regularly and sometimes my heart feels broken open to all the pain in the world that my stomach burns. My therapist who I respect because he allows me to talk about my gifts without judgement and feels there is more to life than what everyone sees. I know spiritual awakenings crack open your heart and sometimes it hurts like hell. I have stopped calling friends crying and looking for comfort. They have no time and why waste my voice repeating it out loud. Sometimes all I need a a really good sob my eyes out session. I feel God’s presence but I can’t understand shit he is saying. 🙂
To top it off, I have PMDD which is a kinda highly psychotic feeling before my period. No violent thoughts and actions like when I was on meds, but more like gravity magnifying itself into a funnel of deep depression. So a doctor started me on birth control, as if I need it, no one has made love to me in three years, which is another story and when no one touches you, one can feel like a lab monkey in a steel cage, and I won’t make love to someone that does not send me over the moon, so the possibility of intimacy may be gone forever. I’m not gonna find my soul mate in this Velveeta cheese town…..anyway, doctor put me on birth control, but now these birth control pills have side effects too…..itching everywhere! Why is there a way to send cameras to Mars but they can’t make a fraking pill that does not have another problem to fix an original problem. It’s always fraking something.
It’s also strange to still be menstruating at my age, as if I were in a relationship that I could have a baby at my age…even if my body could handle it, even if I knew the child would be ok, would I be able to handle the pregnancy and the post partum depression that I had 21 years ago? And who has a kid at 51? You’d really not see them grow that old so having a period is kinda like something mocking me…’like hey, your not in menopause, and your emotions are going to drive you mad before you bleed like a waterfall, but your eggs are rotten and your worthless because you can’t really make a baby, but I’m gonna keep you bleeding and make your emotions drive you mad.” (psychotic laughter from my uterus) I would prefer just to get menopause over because if that’s on its way and I have healed my mental illness from taking dangerous drugs, will I have to deal with another type of madness which is losing your ability to make life and mourning that. I’m really a positive person and treat the people I see and give to people who need, but it’s all an act, because everything makes me cry and my solar plexus burns when I see famine, war and violence and injustice.
Just like this bucket challenge for ALS. Great. Wonderful. Charity is awesome. But only 15,000 people die every year from ALS, what about suicide? What about Robin Williams? You’d think there were be ice for suicide because 800.000 to almost a million people a year take their lives. But who cares about sad people? If you can’t see a disease and you don’t have mental illness it’s just invisible feelings that you should just let go of. I fucking hate people who say that shit. I also get really upset when people who have not been traumatized tell you just to be positive. Yea, tell a Vietnam veteran to forget watching his buddies brains being blown out in front of him. Why doesn’t anyone care that pills are being prescribed that have black labels that say SUICIDAL SIDE EFFECTS. Why and how does a doctor get away with this and what kind of person would take this shit. Me. I did and I believed the hype in some magic pill for something I didn’t even have and I sometimes hate myself for taking that stuff. I swallowed the pills and my life was swallowed. I lost so much and was lobotomized for ten years, that now I’m waking up to what has passed, I’m kinda panicky like I can’t believe I’m still here but at the same time, feel damaged from it all. Will these wounds every heal. What will heal it is not money, is not fame, it’s love but a unique love that maybe does not exist.
I’m have been a grad student, done amazing jobs and had amazing experiences and meet many famous people purely by synchronicity and serendipity. So I see magic, but in seeing that magic I get confused about whether it’s God or it’s my “untreated bi polar” which I never thought was right because I never have mania, although shrinks said when I’m too happy that’s bad. Frak them.
Also, as a romance writer I have fallen in love with my muse. He’s a real man, He makes me feel not crazy and I secretly wish he would make a film from my blog, and I”m too scared to write to his agent. I realize as a filmmaker you have to cast out your hook to catch anything, but I’m afraid of rejection so I do nothing about the twenty years of storytelling I have. Journals and journals full of magic and tragic scenes that could really change someone’s world too…but it’s so massive a body of work, I’m overwhelmed and mentally drained by it…I just want someone to take it and make it what they want it to be.
I also don’t do it as this man, who seemingly was thrown into my face and I feel in love at first sight is unavailable but seems familiar in a reincarnated way. So all day, I wonder about quantum physics and quantum entanglement, which is about atoms, but can be compared to two lovers who have never met, and yet separated by long distances, can feel what the other is feeling. I hate this knowledge. I feel such shame for loving someone who is already someones. I ask God to take it away if it’s not suppose to be, but he put it there in the first place and I’m kinda pissed at the Universe. Why? What am I suppose to do with this feeling?
I have moments when I think I’m prophetic and dreams that are prophetic and often astral project and have conversations with grand people. I feel like I’m learning that God is bigger and more magical than I thought, but literally, the palms of my hands are cracked and bleeding due to writing down all the trauma I have seen as an advocate for change in mental illness treatment. It’s killing me. Twenty years of work…I pray that someone would just show up like in a Disney film and send me a letter that says “you have a wonderful story and I’m going to help you tell it.” There has got to be a reason for the last decade of horror and also miracles. I see connections everywhere. Sometimes so excited about them that there is no one to share them with that would believe me or not judge me or celebrate the mystery in it. I feel like I’m a scientist testing theories and my own mind, but I have no feedback from the other one….so I guess that means the experiment failed and that I’m actually really just delusional about who I am and what I feel and what happens to me.
I should have never seen The Truman Show, because that is what my life has felt like in the past and it’s almost like a horror film. Something is in the room but I can’t see it. Sometimes I don’t even feel safe and the next minute there are a thousand angels over my bed and I’m made of light. How can a soul go through these things ALONE. This isn’t casual conversations. It’s the kind of talk you only have with a shaman.
and love…love is real, love is asking to be loved says John Lennon. That’s all I want. Is for someone to love me exactly the way I am and make me laugh and who feels like Jesus. Is that too much to ask? I don’t want to be with just any man. I have been with many. I know the next time I fall in love, I want to see fireworks. I’m afraid that will never happen, maybe in the next life, but mostly now, I’m just afraid to go to bed. To wake up to Groundhogs Day again, nothing happens, nothing goes away and I feel stagnant and lost and almost sometime like I killed myself and I don’t know it and I didn’t go to a real hell , i Just went to another world where everything looks the same, but dreams dont’ come true in this realm and that I will just die alone on social security and be forgotten and do nothing to change the world because I killed myself already…maybe I won’t ever die and it will remain like this for eternity…that would be hell.
To imagine having a dream really come true like finding the one, and falling asleep on his chest at night and feeling pure peace of mind for the first time in my life, who watches over me, would be heaven. I don’t know who I am anymore, but I do know I am kind. I help people. I care about injustice and there are many scenes in my life where I’m proud of myself. Like the other day, driving to get weed after a miracle came along to give me extra money to buy food and my natural medicine, marijuana. On the way over, there was a dreadlocked middle aged woman, sun burnt standing in the middle of a busy street in town. She was standing on the other side of the street so I could not stop in time. I had to help her. Suddenly my abundance didn’t feel so good knowing this woman was holding up a sign saying she had three children to feed and I know people in this town, they dont’ see homelessness like I have and don’t believe in these people. So I ran my errand and prayed that she would be there still on my way home. I stopped and bought her water from France and put my love into it and drove as fast as I could to get back to where she was. I had to pull over to a parking lot and cross the street to give her money and water. I felt so high helping and felt so sad that I couldnt’ give her more. She thanked me and I went back to my car. She was standing where people turn left into the mall and I watched as a lady in a SUV pulled up right next to her and was waiting for turn light. She sat there for three minutes and I watched as she ignored this woman. I know that bitch in the car had money or at least maybe a kind word for this dirty soul. She did nothing I cold feel rage fill my heart. How people ignore the suffering. How the fuck do they sleep at night? No one gave her any money and I thought how brave she must be to stand there all day trying to feed her kids and how painful and heartbreaking that her life had come to that point. But it takes great bravery to be that humble to stand on a corner and let rich bitches judge you. As I turned out into traffic there was no one behind me as I passed her and slowed down and said it’s going to bet better and looked at the rich bitch and gave her the evil eye. I should not be that way. It’s not very Buddhist of me, but sometimes I feel hatred for people who ignore the poor standing in the hot sun, just trying to feed their kids. well, if I have died, I’m surely not in hell cause God sees these things and I dont’ do them for God, I do them for the people. I pay it forward. I have to. There is no way I can enjoy abundance while someone else suffers. It does heal my heart of feeling broken and unloved. I love myself during these times.. I just wish it would stay that way and not start dreaming of Prince Charming again….back and forth back and forth blah blah blah..
Blessing to anyone who reads this dribble.
Blessings to me for being real and naked even though it feels uncomfortable and if my soul mate is reading this now, send me a message that it’s really you in my head before I go mad or at least I can stop experimenting and just become rational and sane……and watch housewives or orange county and just check out emotionally.
p.s.
Dear God, I’m faxing this to you, because whoever is out there in my head, you better give him my number because I know you have three answers for wishes:
1. Yes.
2. Not now.
3. Got something better in mind.
Right, that’s fine, but hey I’m no spring chicken so could you step it up respectfully..
your humble servant, unconditionally.
and by the way, I don’t really like this band, but I like this song and I can’t tell you why.
Science Goes On - A Blind Date With God 
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