I’m Still Standing

One of the most extraordinary photos I ever took. A tree in my yard in Seattle was cut down and look how it still smiles.

The funny part was it was also hidden in cluster of larger bush trees that over took it as years passed. When they cut it down they found an old bike inside the ivy.

I guess I identified with this tree stump the day I found it. I didn’t want them to cut the tree. I was felt like the little tree that had been overtaken by it’s surroundings and the sound of the chain saw cutting it was a sort of giving up for me.

I’ve been fighting to change my mind. I do the work. I endure great sad isolation with periods of great joy when I’m with my Grandson. I can’t find friends here. I am very social. A butterfly. Most days are consist of me being stuck in my apartment with a car that needs fixed that I can’t afford to fix because I can’t get a job to pay for it and I can’t get a job without the car blah blah blah………

I feel like I shouldn’t be complaining because words are things but so is suffering. Buddhist tradition says to hold your suffering like a baby. Knowing it needs attention too. But sadness I have, on many levels. Realistically. Spiritually and even super paranormally. It’s hard when i wake up in morning with either nightmares or panic because when I  open my eyes to nothing or no one it’s like Ground Hog Day. I basically spend the day trying hard not to break down. Praying to God he help me by sending a sign. Anything.

I feel like I’m a beautiful talking bird in a cage that was once free. That bird hears thoughts inside her head on how to get out but can’t escape. I do get involved. I help others when I can get there. I give love and attention to my Grand baby. I feel Jesus too. He touches me. He comes in to say I’m not alone. It’s difficult to believe he loves me, but he keeps coming back. Sometimes I tease him and respectfully ask for a real live human on a daily basis and then apologize for being ungrateful and he loves me anyway.

But you can’t go to the park for a picnic with a ghost. Well, I guess you can but if you have a conversation, well, you may get looks.

Love is something I have a memory of and if my once grand and fulfilling life is just a memory in the past. I’m only 53, yet I already kinda know what it feels like to be 73 when no one comes by as much and your friends are dead and the house is silent and joy has left the building a long time ago.

I’m confused.

I’m grateful.

I’m in love with you and it’s ok.

And I believe

…….and I cry and I haven’t written much in this blog because it all went away. Maybe it’s the Lithium. Perhaps time. Maybe deep down I don’t care anymore and that scares me and I look for signs and I get them and my telepathy with (you?) still kinda scares me because I think maybe something else is kinda using you and the only dates I get are little boy men who have nothing to say.

You have things to say. I’m spoiled by you. By your mind. Like the couple of days before Christmas and I had read my journal from December 2012 where it all began. I could fill it again. I was laying down and remembering when you came in. I was happy you were there because I was not scared. I kept thinking to you, this is where it all began. We revealed in those innocent new times. Because I don’t expect anything from you anymore that was the right time for serendipity. My phone went off and as I always do, wished it was you.

It was. You said “it all began…..” and my heart said…”see, he’s still there.”

Thank you.

Then I’m back to reality and trying to find something on TV while I lay in my day bed, lonely for you worried if I’m sane. Mad at myself for wanting you and so sad that I have this gift and it’s being wasted just existing in an apartment alone day in and day out. It’s two parallel universes I have to jump from daily. I guess I’m grateful for the jump, but I rather stay with you all day like when we use to sleep with each other’s energy at night. Santa didn’t bring what I wanted and I will admit I’m very childish to say that. I’m still a child. I’m sorry.

But I’m not going to throw myself on the floor because I didn’t get the toy I wanted. I’m used to that. But maybe God, you can stop being so ironic…it’s not funny anymore. I’m a tree and I’m not getting enough light. Please Dear Lord, talk to your Father.

Back to the little tree. I see this living being that once was and I see it smiling and I remember when more coincidences happened in nature and I revealed in them. So I will pull out of my head that long lost day when I was down and I found this little tree stump that said to me:

LOOK AT ME!

I’M A TREE!.

 

Reconnecting Social Receptors Is Confusing

 

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.

 

 

 

 

“As If Someone Could Hear”

I’m in love with someone I’ve never met, yet,

he feels like I’ve known him for lifetimes.

I’m in love with someone I’ve never met, yet,

but his heart is not mine.

I’m in love with someone I’ve never met, yet;

he’s my imaginary friend.

I’m in love with someone inside of me til the end of time.

I’m in love with this feeling that lets me feel I’m right to be,

Me.

but……

I’m so confused.

I’m so frightened.

To say the truth.

What a fool I am. I have no real proof.

Yet,

I hear……..

(Keep going)

but more like feeling than a voice.

He waves through me when I’m lonely.

He just now kissed my lips.

(I love it when you do that)

He holds me tight when I’m in pain.

He speaks to me in a heart beat in my throat.

or funny whispers that pop in my right ear,

as warm as a snugly coat.

For so long I was scared to have him come near.

(Please don’t hide. I’ve waited so long)

God said, she said

“Go with what you know.”

(hint, highlight the above to understand)

(I’d never hurt you)

Your all I know.

and if you have to, it’s ok to go.

(I’m Lonely Without You)

Was it God’s idea to give me this magic that comes disguised. 

I am so sure you feel it when I look into your eyes.

I am so sure you feel it because sometimes I feel YOUR cry.

from My eye.

(Say it)

Simply & purely,

I’m in love with the voice in my head, although it comes through the heart and grows out of our third eye.

How this happened I don’t know why.

(Maybe Quantum Entanglement darling)

I don’t know anything about physics, nor do I have a word that rhymes.

(Neither do I)

You make me laugh like……..

But still I can’t prove he hears me back

is why I hide.

I’m not a very good poet and you know it.

I’m not good at getting to the point

and things don’t often rhyme

but I guess it’s time for my simple mind to write it down.

golden chalice. 

This is my ……

way of coping, til someone else comes along.

 

P.S. How does 2+2 = Number 6

I don’t know why but I seem to like it.

😀

A Soul Mate’s Secret Knock

Today was a wonderful day compared to the entry a few days ago while on medication. I felt like I could feel nothing.

“He” was not there.

“God” was not there.

“Creativity” was not there.

and I was out of medical marijuana and without that for depression I am lost to the wind.

I did stop the anti psychotics 24 hours ago. My body swelling has gone down and my mind is sharper. I am however still experiencing blurred vision. I managed to write a rage piece in this blog which for me was really good since writing has bee very hard for me for a long time. I have been censoring some feelings. I feel freer to express those now without shame thanks to a friend.

The story was about being in hospital and it purged the anger of why it happened again to me.  Since I stopped the medication the night before, my mind had ideas, I could think and I found a bit of weed to help it along. It was fueled by sheer outrage that it keeps happening to me.

I will never take dangerous anti psychotics again.

under God’s protection, this I swear for my own health and well being.

but hey God,

dude,

Sir,

Like you gotta help me with this other problem and you know what it is I speak about. This blog is bleeding with it.  How about feeding my heart now. I’ve had enough of darkness ya know? Stuff, where like, I have to keep reliving the same crap and you promise me love and Prince Charming if I do these things then I find him in mysterious was and we can talk in weird ways and you promise and promise but nothing happens. Where do I go from here?

Where do my “boys” come into this tale? This blog is a juxtaposition of two worlds. The reality of dealing with a mental illness and a label and trying to understand Quantum Physics when you are a C student so you can find your soul mate you’ve been looking for for 52 years because you can blame it on Disney movies.

I don’t want to go to bed. I want him in my head.

Is he busy?

Does he not really love me?

He said it was fine to write it all out without guilt, so where do I go from here. Where ever does he go when he goes away? Or do I go away and forget and he is always here and it is just logistics that cause problems like time zones and sleep etc..etc…

He never says he can hear me in writing though? hmmmm? I wonder why. Do you know? I have run my own rational science experiments on this situation in three years and some results have been astounding. I’m not going to broadcast that on Twitter, but still. I like him, but God, what gives. Is this your doing? Like when my ears change and then I think of him and I smile and then my right ear goes off and it starts talking to me in pulses. Sounds crazy to reader it’s normal to me. That’s how it started. We have progressed to a much deeper less primitive communication that often I misread. There is always the fall back to that when I cry or when he interrupts me reading or doing things he is proud of me doing.

I’d call it my

“soul mate’s secret knock“

🙂

I confess in a message to him basically from my heart which was from You and poured my sheer truth out and still although so kind, he never said a word about the other dimension he dwells in with me. So do I dwell there alone? God, am I crazy or just misguided? I think this must be some kind of silly gag I agreed on before I was born. Ha ha.

Am I doing something wrong?

Have I convinced myself of something that is not there?

I just heard him say

(“write: should I write this journal entry in my blog as part of my story and real life happy struggles?”)

I guess it’s fear that it’s not happening and I’m foolish or perhaps I have the wrong man associated with a wonderful feeling. Maybe it’s two taking care of me in two different ways. My body vibrates three different ways at times when I’m feeling good. (just now a pressure change in my ears which he is thinking of me or getting closer)

I don’t know anything really about Quantum Entanglement, I just throw the term around because I dig the way it sounds. But if atoms can entangle why can’t souls before birth? Just wondering.

Have I wished this? what ever “this” is into existence?

Are we spirals affecting the environment?

One might say

“Yes Darling, every single spiraling word…”

I’m not suppose to tell you this, but the gentleman I refer to here is James Callis.

God’s Gift Wrapping Paper Never Runs Out

Photograph by James Callis

I woke in a dream floating on a cloud.

The sky was purple and pink ribboned wrapping paper.

The grass was mossy green soft.

The often unnoticed dandelions looked furry and friendly as spoke the thickets.

Then the crickets made comments about clouds were apples, chirps of pick it!

I wasn’t even thinking a thought of you.

I heard canvas in the wind and saw an indigo sail.

(like those boats of yours, said Neruda)

The ship of the third eye’s guidance system began spiraling in artful wind.

My right ear popped as it hit my waves.

I don’t know how I did not know it was you.

But my unmind could not see true.

 I lingered on your clouded sky, laying on the grassy ground

and regretfully blew my mind away.

The next day crickets projected an eye into clouds,

carrying a unhappy mad smile.

The love pirate was back, ever transforming my mind into a shape shifting

presence trying to get in.

Into what? I wondered.

Into my thoughts, he thundered.

Breath so intense, I impulsively blew myself away,

once more.

I unknew however that if I have been found by something with no words,

why not allow it to see me?

Maybe his vessel is stranded?

Perhaps transmitting from heavens disguised in crimson?

My heart, not my mind, could read the timeless…in parchment…in parallel?

So, you sail in and out?

(Why is it you never shout?)

Practically speaking, I ask God to explain.

How was I born on these linear clouds, while also being our rooted tree.

Why do I dream? if outside reality is well, reality.

Would you suggest I go? back down? to the ball of …chaos?

……………….a long time went by………………………….

It became quite cold upthere/downhere.

As the star show started, sponsored by no, one…

For an ancient audience of two or three, previewed the story in an unnew game.

Could be a retro opera house, could be lite-bright.

No….it’s connect the dots with stars by Hasbro,

in collaboration with Nasa’s sky toy program.

It spoke, in twinkly fashion a flashing riddle I can’t understand.

“I know that…” I thought to I am.

Why? is the question? answer if you can.

A projection popped into my googled thoughts.

See! I said to Krishna.

His blue boat keeps washing up on to shores of clouds.

“They do belong to him,” He didn’t say outloud.

I blushed.

(In baby voice)

I’m sorry, but a muse…”Whatever does this he want?”

no reply.

“Whatever shall I do?”

I sighed.

And God said….

“Uh, I sort of accidentally gave him your quantum mobile number.”

A sudden smiling on my own lips a cheeky you know you can’t resist me crooked smile that I was not making. I pushed it away with a frown.

“I’ve heard that joke so much before, it’s become a bore.”

Smiled God in a tempting open handed, unsharing, teasing fruit fashion.

Strawberries or peaches? 

Scars and leaches?

God was confuddled. “I’m texting Jesus.”

upon which he received a lite speed reply.

Go ahead, see if I care. Your just trying to make me crazy.

God was actually staring at his phone.

“STOP MESSING AROUND WITH HER heart FATHER…..

by the way, this weeds dank!”

J.C.

Wondering what Jesus spoke, God’s voice left me broke.

“You had no right to give my entanglements my digits. I don’t even know him.” in thought

“Oh yes you do” (God coughed)

“I thought you liked the other one?” he said.

“You mean the one with the bass in his throat? No 20 years my heart bleed such a Once upon an entangled dream ship time ago!

I let go.

You told me so.

This ? is something completely differently, you know!”

Do I?

I do.

That’s not an answer! he bellowed.

I wasn’t talking to you fella.

Well, then, like your made of jello.

That didn’t even rhyme.

I didn’t have the time.

At least his songs rhymed.

The sailor’s presents aren’t in dreams, it’s on the outside of sleep, inside on the outside.

He coughed, “uh, what were we talking about?

I exhaled with discretion to the supreme being…and floated away again.

Presently, space trash fell from the Universe next to me on my soon to be forgotten cloud.

It was my worn blue kOkOpelli diary with a psychedelic post it note on front from G.

Please refer 2 page 118 1/2 in journal dated in some untime in 1995 in average penmanship…

Some blah, blah date:

Dear God,

God Create The Perfect Man For Me

..not a perfect person,

a perfect soul.

blah, blah blah about thirty times.

“Fine, but I was ignorant then.!”

I’ll breath out hard and do it, but I know this is still a joke.”

We didn’t stare at each other for a long time.

So I tried on omnipotence and created my star pencil and simply dotted..

Sorry sir, your…..

‘thoughts too big for my size.’

signed me.

He lite brited back.

“That’s also not funny at all.  That’s just dumb. I’m calling your Son!”

“You don’t have his number.” he tested.

“Ha! He carried me on the beach last week and I guessed it.”

Without a tear God said,

“What happened to the man whose chest you laid your head?

You gave him to someone more deserving and that’s unworthy!

“So he’s only 3Dish?”

No you want me to be narcissistic even. That’s how it appears to me in heaven.

Then maybe you need to turn it up to 11?

“That dimension is special access pass, I don’t have clearance past seven.”

Would you be happy just being here?

Sure, the Dali Lama is just here.

and yes, my not secret love is always near. Space never changes with a bang.

Then my un used cosmic phone rang!

God and I shared long curious sshhhing glances.

I mouthed, should I chance it and answer it?

Who is it!? 

He said with his eye.

I held up a flip charted sky for God to spy…

(is what I didn’t say in my childlike No Code unvoice so my psychiatrists won’t understandkindaway)

“Don’t let him go!”

“Oh no, if it’s that typewriter from another dimension, absolutely know!”

…so the phone kept ringing and we basically just sat there for an eternity.

Fine.

I answered it.

Basically what transpired was a one way conversation God could not understand.

Me:

I think you have the wrong number.

Me:

How do I pronounce it? That’s a lark, you made it up?

Me:

Yea, right.

Me:

I was wrong

Me:

I was tired of acting.

Me:

(smiling)

God:

(irratated)

Me:

(crying)

God:

(tries to put his ear to the phone)

Me:

Stop it!

Me:

No, sorry not you. Just this guy.

Me:

No I’m alone.

Me:

It’s ok.

Me:

Please you must not explain. I already know this and to hear it spoken is redundantly painful.

Me:

It’s not what I think? Now that’s funny.

Me;

I’m patient enough for numerous lifetimes.

Me:

I promise I won’t sell it on ebay.

Sign it,

Downloaded

Me:

You know it’s unconditional.

Me:

I love you more.

Me:

Then I shall await your post.

Me:

……………………………………………..

God desperate for gossip bribed me, again…with a juicy red strawberry, the kind from an English garden.

No bribes. I’m not talking. I pardoned.

‘Accept my apologizes. I’ve used that one before too haven’t I?”

And you gave me peaches.

You love peaches.

But Santa said I could have strawberries.

Want to taste it, it’s really red and sweet?

Your very wicked you are.

You’re not falling for it this time are you?

I want to, but am afraid of love. Now give me your car keys. I need to get off this cloud.

You going fishing?

Yes, and this time I am the bate. If nothing bites, then no need for band aids.

” I owe you one. ” he kinda promised as he left to be I am and get a new phone.

Thinking I was safely on the other side…

…..A shooting star flirted by simultaneously as my second heart beat butterfly like madly.

I’m not so sure that tiny star had landed in my pocket gladly.

But the delivery was brilliant!

I reached inside and found some thing round and hot with speed.

To my surprise, it was a mustard seed.

I expected the package to be flat but I got a sphere.

*hmmmm, I wonder whats on the food network?

(sound of fridge humming…wondering if I need to eat. Wondering if being with baby all night made my creativity go sky high, reconsidering that theory and estimating the practical reason for the inability to stop editing and adding to a post, is actually a gift of three years of celibacy from innocent love. So, that’s an upside I would think…hmmm food)

A feeling comes on, like the lifted Lorax and my ear pops and someone just rings my psychic door at 2am.  I answer it here.

Me:

Oh God, what are you doing now?

?

You just want chocolate.

Me:

That’s your fault.

?

So that was quite a creative rush for you?

Me:

Need we speak in such common echos?

?

If not on paper, where?

Me:

In here.

?

What good would that do?

Me:

Keep me from being under another public humiliation spell of obsessed love.

?

Too late.

Me:

Precisely.

?

Just go with it.

Me:

It’s not it, it’s with you. You could be anyone? You could be, uh, a I don’t know what? A chip in my head or the ghost of Winnie The Pooh, the original, not the remakes…

?

I don’t want to be a cosmic leech.

Me:

I was just about to say that. Stop thinking my thoughts.

?

You can’t hurt me by imagining me?

Has it ever occurred to you that I’m am only in your head?

Me:

Uh, yeah.

?

Why take fear when you can choose love?

It could be something interesting for the both of us.

(covering my ears)

lalalalalalal I’m not listening, that’s coveting, lalalalal

?

Please, choose love. Please.

Me:

No

?

Please my lady, tell me why?

Me:

“Criticize things you don’t know about.”

-Steve Martin

?

You don’t trust me?

Me:

Your only a character in a show.

?

I’m just a strawberry growing out of a cloud.

I’m an angel that just wears my face so you will notice?

Me:

What? I don’t have time for this.

?

What if I said, I simply need you to trust me and that I simply need you more than you need me.

Me:

……………………………………………………..

I am a narcissist. I’m sorry.

but I think your transmitter needs to be turned up to 11 because I have no idea what to do with this sunflower seed or what you are trying to say.

?

It was a mustard seed darling.

Me:

Sorry, God and I shared a bong.

?

I was watching.

Me:

I could tell you wanted to break in a few times, but I can’t talk to you on the phone and in waves in my ears at the same time.

?

Your perfect just the way you are.

Me:

That’s why I fell in love with you, and the crying, the crying did it. It’s all your fault.

?

I didn’t do anything.

Me:

I know you didn’t, and that’s why you are wonderful just the way you are.

?

Stop listening to him.

Me:

Jealous?

?

No, but he is charming and you are the female him.

Me:

He’s my Daddy.

?

And your tormentor and has not allowed me in now.

Me:

At least he spoke to me in person. And watched over me.

?

And I have not?

Me:

No, you have, but not in the physical.

?

Did you sleep with him?

Me:

You know me well enough to ask me that.

?

I think I do.

Me:

And that’s another thing. He never crossed that line.

?

I bet to differ madame. I am sure you remember these days.

Me:

We were always wearing suits. He never touched me.

?

But you took him there.

Me:

Where?

?

Me:

Where did I meet you?

?

Turn off his music and I’ll tell you.

Me:

Fine.

?

Me:

You won’t ever not let me win will you?

?

That’s how I am on this side of the hole.

Me:

So, you are not jealous of him as you are much further out and such speeds of distance and unknown love boggles my mind. I never really had this on my list.

?

 (giggle)

Me:

I love that. It’s like you laugh totally unprepared. It’s just me that’s here on the wrong dimension.

?

………………………………………

Me:

I love ……………………….that the most.

Me:

Where’s this going?

?

Me:

You could say I’m in need of a Doctor.

You make me quite hysterical.

?

Soon, very soon.

Me:

I’ll hold my breath.

?

You know, it’s bigger on the inside.

Me:

Sir, that’s quite impertinent, and it is this very uneasy feeling you evoke in me that has to stop.

?

Just one more episode?

Me:

Ok, but no strings attached cuddling. Promise?

?

I guarantee it.

Me:

Waaaaaa.

?

Strike that, reverse it.

Un Mari Imaginaire ne Vous Laisse Tomber

It’s Thanksgiving Day. My whole family went to their other families and I predicted I would be alone and I whined about it for a few days, but realized this is nothing new. Then, as the Universe often does, I got an invitation from a friend. I rarely go out because all my friends are married.  So I got dressed. Put on make up which I never did which felt weird and then did the whole dressing up thing which I use to love to do but now just feels like a costume for a lonely middle aged woman looking for a specific love.

So I make ornaments because I didn’t have any money to buy anything to take to the hostess and went out after dark. I don’t see well after dark. I drove there thinking this will be nice and I’m grateful and all that palava, and then I can’t find the house. I had been there just two days before but was driven and didn’t pay attention. I called their mobile phone. No one answered.  I text. Nothing. This happens to me often in the last decade. A weird cruel tormented feeling of being in The Truman Show and everyone is laughing at me and it was all planned. That paranoia comes from being on bad meds for years when everything was not quite right.

So I go home and here I am. Writing. I’m certainly pissed but at who? I am triggered by the fact when I grew up people had home phones and when it rang on holidays you heard it and answered it or it kept ringing.

We are a disconnected society. We are literally, many of us, yours  truly included, live in compartmentalized lives. We don’t dwell in caves with groups. We live in boxes alone next to each other. Like a hamster cage. So this night with people was going to be fun for me. I have to ask God or whatever it is, are you joking?

None of this would matter except I would not mind living with the love of my dreams in a grocery sack. The challenge is finding the right small art shop that carries his brand. I am in my 50’s and been married and had long term relationships, short terms and I know now what I want. I’m open, but when you find the perfect flower, you never forget it.  You grow it. If you want Passion Flowers in your garden your not going to plant carnations. 17 years ago I made a list as told by spiritualist and seekers who said, put down all the good and bad trait of the man you dream of…I did…rarely did any relationship I had, tick off more than a few of the 23 traits…more bad ones than good ones. So why not stop and say, hey I will wait for something bigger to make it for me and if it does not then, c’est la vie. There are men like this..but for a normal  midwestern born girl, this lacks them. These men I seem to have always been fascinated with were artists. Actors, Musicians and Thinkers.

Okay I dream big, but why fight it? Seriously trying to be rational is hard work when your heart is not dead til it’s dead and if one is a writer then the imagination is always taking over anyway. If it’s your true nature and brings you enlightenment and learning about yourself and love, then why not dream of Grand gentlemen. Why settle. Yes odds are against us due to education, upbringing, exposure to the arts and living in a city where these people dwell. One of the best things to come out of the internet is Twitter. All your favorite heros on present there and if you choose you can learn about them and even speak to them. In the 60’s and 70’s, anyone I admired was not contactable. You could not express your appreciation for their work except through fan mail, which probably never got read. At least now, the thinkers and those that inspire you can communicate in real time. It’s delightful.  Like you got into a VIP party but sometimes are too  scared to go up to your heros. I am. In real life the famous people I have run into by accident I have always never spoken of who they are or said a word before spoken too. I am a bit more confident on the internet. I feel clever and likable.  In person I am actually quite shy, but my heart has grown some wings and won’t  let me just be in my own shadow. So with all this in mind, my list may prove to get me nothing in the future because what I seek may not be possible in this lifetime. Maybe the next. The prospect of carrying unrequited love into old age does not sound like a party. In fact it scares me to death until I remember the secret thing I have always done to sooth myself, it’s just now I’m wiser and know how to use my “gifts” much better now. I have had an upgrade on my parallel dimensional quantum entangled twin love soul software. 😀

So I will carry on with one of my tools for depression  and loneliness I have used since I was a child, I have an imaginary love that sorta speaks French like I sorta do not and when I got home, determined not to feel sorry for myself his presence shows up. I can’t see him, but I can in French….We don’t talk out loud, we play each others sensations and emotions like an orchestra….we do have a secret code, but it’s in bad French from the 5th Dimension. It’s a very romantic inner dialog that words don’t really apply to..

It’s a way of coping that soothes me. Much better to have an imaginary friend, than to take a black label warning drug or get drunk to cope with isolation, stigma and PTSD.

…so I talk to myself. big deal.

Lui:

Ma chérie, je voulais tellement que tu rentres.

Elle:

Tu savais que je étais sur le chemin.

Nous ne parlons pas de ce qui est déjà connu, parce que ce est de retour histoire, nous savons tous les deux. Nous lisons chaque autres émotions. Pourquoi perdre du temps sur bavardage quand nous pouvons demeurer dans l’amour.

Elle:

Je crois que vous êtes non seulement télépathique, vous êtes la magie.

Lui:

Je ne peux pas l’expliquer, mais ce qui se passe à un certain niveau. Je ne remets pas en question il.

Elle:

Comment je ne vous séparer du réel vous?

Lui:

Imaginez moi comme votre personnage préféré et puis il y aura pas de souffrance.

Elle:

Je ne sais pas qui est ce personnage?

Lui:

Vous serez. Je vous le garantis.

Elle:

Ne retenez pas votre souffle.

Lui:

La respiration est facultative dans cette dimension

Elle:

Lui:

Elle:

!!!!

Lui:

Je sais.

Elle:

Il ya une tristesse à cette.

Luis:

Je sais.

Elle:

Il fait froid ici dans l’espace.

Lui:

Elle:

D’accord. Un épisode plus.

(Je aime la façon dont cet homme me fait rire quand je suis triste.)

Lui:

(Je vous ai entendu dire cela.)

Lui/Elle

Him:

Darling, I think I left the imaginary turkey in the oven.

She:

C’est la vie.

p.s.

Thanks for writing this for me.

(darling, just don’t proof read this…to bed.)

I Can’t Tell You Why I’m On This Train To Somewhere

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.