Jul 122016
 

I stood there, without a towel, naked, my long hair dripping at top speed town onto the dirty towel on the floor, it quickly becoming soaked as I tried to figure out what the hell just happened. My skin burning, everywhere, because of the extremely rapid and aggressive scrubbing of the brush against my skin as panic overtook me further and I was trying to scrub off the nastiness I felt all over me, running down the drain.

Only, the scrubbing didn’t get rid of the yuck my body feels. I looked down and saw blood pouring down and wondered when I cut myself. I stumbled backwards and almost fell as I looked at my wrists to see what the damage was, I blinked and blinked again as I looked at myself only to realize that the water was running clear and there was no blood, “just” a flashback flooding me, reminding me of a time not so long ago.

I had nothing to wear except the pj top I had stripped off and everyone was already in bed so I couldn’t call out for a fresh towel or clothes. I looked at myself, naked, in the fogged over mirror and still felt dirty, I reached for my Faceshop aloe cleanser and my Clarisonic and scrubbed my face, I didn’t think I did it too rough until I was rinsed and applied the moisturizer. I didn’t know a 90 dollar moisturizer could sting so bad and I didn’t know the sting my body was feeling was exactly what I needed to snap back into reality.

I wrapped a half dozen elastics around my sopping hair and tossed on the dirty pj top and shut the hot water off. My heart was still pounding, it still is, but the panic seemed to have left me, I was back in reality and doing my best to dry a semi-soaked bathroom with a washcloth. I did my best, it wasn’t much, but at least I feel semi in control again.

The stairs, 12 of them. I counted 12. I usually count by 6 and when I got to the bottom I noticed that I had went all the way to 12 but I couldn’t go back up and start again. There was hair dripping and needing help and…

Maybe the panic attack isn’t over…

Jul 112016
 

I feel like I am being crushed by the world. My heart is broken. My soul a shadow that doesn’t want to be caught, possibly the only part of me that has escaped bondage and is truly free. I will never find a way to heal my soul or a Wendy to stitch it on.

I cry tears that only a dark angel dares to see, to wipe from salt stained cheeks. And I look to the sky and wonder if God is looking down at the broken mess of me. The unspoken broken a fiery light ablaze while I’m on scraped knees.

No one physical to pull me from the wreck, to rescue me from a tainted reverie. To cup my chin and stop the river of tears flowing from my eyes. To wrap their arms around me, hold me, bring me to life.

I want to walk from the shore into the waters deep. Feel the cold touch me, the sandy bottom moving between my toes, my hair floating along the waters top like a weed let go. I want to exhale deep and sit below the surface while my lungs scream for air that isn’t there.

Look out across the gently stirred water and see legs and feet and faces splashing and playing as I inhale deep below. I want the pain of the rush filling my lungs. To stare up at the sun dancing in a billion fragments across the waters top while what’s left of life slips further and further away.

I am alone.

I am tired.

I am running low on tears and high on fears.

I am broken.

Alone.

Undone.

Maybe someone will reach in deep and grasp my soul, breathe it back to life in a way I can’t. There is a resemblance of hope -that I will wake from this dream. But, you know what they say about hope… It breeds eternal misery. I would hate to have to be eternally miserable when I am perpetually miserable here and running towards every sign with the word “exit” shining red against white.

I am far from fine again. I suspect that even that nonchalance is too hard to grip longer than the fake smile when asked how I am doing. Oh, man, do you really want the truth? Didn’t think so.

I just want to be alone in my own thoughts, the prison that I have created and yet I don’t want to be alone at all because those bars don’t just keep me from getting out, they keep others from getting in. A comfort that covers body, not the roaming soul.

Life isn’t a gentle zigzag like a feather makes when it falls from the sky. It’s choppy, unpredictable, painful and a road I am tired of travelling.

So tired…

Day 6 | Lost Pain

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Jul 062016
 

My brain isn’t getting along with itself and I can feel myself crawling inside while simultaneously trying to escape. I am shutting down. Pulling away. From what? I don’t know. I suppose from everything. Given my recent struggles with flashbacks and dreams and nightmares and not being sure about any of it, I feel like it is so much easier, and even necessary to slip inside my shell and allow this ragged hell to run its course.

Nothing in life, or death, makes sense anymore. I am done trying to put pieces together. The puzzle isn’t complete, or maybe I have the pieces to more than one at once. Darkness vs light. They say everything has an opposite. Can I be the opposite of myself? Do I want to explore the dark side of the moon or do I want to admit that even though I don’t see the dark side it doesn’t mean the light doesn’t touch it.

I suppose we all have our intimate spots and our dark sides. Is it bravery or stupidity that causes some of us to embrace them?

“And one sweet day,
you’re gonna drown in my lost pain.

Do you wonder why you hate?
(Our burning ashes, Blacken the day)

Are you still too weak to survive your mistakes?
(A world of nothingness, blow me away.)”

Jul 052016
 

Holy mosquito!! The storms and rain and more storms have made the plants go crazy happy but the mosquitos have popped up in swarms waiting to eat you alive. I am fairly sure I could become anemic if I stood outside with them long enough, for real.

Got groceries today, yay for food. It cost a small fortune. Met an American man who was buying like 30 boxes of maple cookies, no joke, and I asked him if he had a cookie problem, he laughed and said he only comes up here (to Canada) once a year so he stocks up because you can’t get them in the states. Who would have thought you can’t get maple cookies in the USA? Seriously, someone should create a maple law to get that corrected.

I napped today, didn’t sleep long enough or well enough last night. My brain is misfiring and I am questioning reality and feeling a whole lot insane. When you don’t know if a dream was a dream or if it’s a memory you really start to wonder and the last week or so I have been really wondering.

I am sure anyone who follows me on twitter would have seen the several more morbid quotes from the last few days. Why morbid? Cuz that’s where my brain is at.

At the grocery store the cashier asked how I was doing, I’ve known her my whole life and she saw the anxiety and stress on my face. I said to her “I am killing myself and the note will be to all the old people who got in my way today.” Not killing myself but I really was THAT frustrated by the amount of people and their stupidity. I am human’d out now. My mom was following along and asking me why I was buying four of everything. I told her that I wasn’t going back for a month so everything had one a week. She said “but we will need milk” I said “we can buy a cow.” I bet I end up going back next week for milk…

The sky was blue, grey, thundery, shiny and cloudy today. So I guess the weatherman FINALLY got it right for once!! YAY WEATHERMAN!!! Whoever you are, I quit watching when I learned to pay attention to nature to know whether rain was coming. Old people, the really old ones who grew up on farms and literally slept on mattresses made outta hay, those are the ones you wanna talk to. They know how to fertilize your crop without a chemical and they know how to get rid of potato bugs without a pesticide, they also know how to tell when it’s going to rain simply by looking at the leaves on a tree. Don’t take their advice on oiling your driveway though, bad for the environment and very VERY illegal. Same with burning trash. I guess they didn’t get the memo’s on that one, but at least the food is fresh!

My brain feels like it is tunneling its way out of my skull, like even it knows being inside of my head isn’t a safe place anymore. Maybe it isn’t sure of whether or not the bones that encase it are real or if they defy the laws of physics and disappear only to reappear in a different time.

You ever try to explain to a scientist how things can cease to exist and then reappear and that you can’t control time yet you can travel through it? Yeah I have. They give you dirty looks like “this isn’t in the textbook.” Scratch your head dear therapist, scratch it hard and when you figure out what’s wrong please prescribe me the cure, or not, I mean at least I am able to stare into the knots of the wood above and be entertained for hours while debating whether or not they are fluid or solid, since molecules are all moving, even in a solid object they just have no space to go. The world is a plethora of shape-shifters.

AND that’s day 5, with a migraine no less.

Jul 042016
 

I was up and washing my face when I heard the bells of the two alarms go off signalling it was time for me to take my morning meds. A week ago when I was told to write it on my hand and set the alarms I was less than happy, actually I was probably bordering angry but I knew I had messed up big time by basically quitting my meds altogether and being non-compliant. We had had this fight before so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. The word “MEDS” written on my hand like a child learning their address was somewhat humiliating, even though only he and I knew what it was for or why. No one else even asked. I must’ve washed my hands a dozen or more times that first day and had to rewrite it after every time. I was not about to cause another issue, not so soon after being scolded like the child I was acting like.

The following day I asked if I had to keep writing it on my hand and was told it depended on if I was going to remember my meds or not. I rewrote it.

Today when the alarms went off telling me it was time for meds I realized I hadn’t missed a dose and haven’t rewritten the word on myself since that day. The timers though? Seriously annoying, but a fight I am not willing to have, so they will stay because it’s a battle I won’t win anyway.

The life I live is interesting, to say the least, and I have heard many women say they would never be in a relationship that required their submission, but because of my past, I can’t imagine a relationship where a woman has free reign. Some would say I am being abused while others ask me why they can’t find a man who cares so deeply about their… everything. Taking on the responsibility of another person is huge, as any parent would agree, taking on the responsibility of another person who also has some health issues is beyond honorable. I don’t know what he gets out of it, but I am happy he has stood by me through the last several years of love and loss and of course my health. I know full well that without him I would rarely take my meds at all, I would be depressed, I would be cutting, I would be a lot of things that I am not because he has given me permission to embrace life rather than long for death.

It’s July 4th, 2016 and because I am not American it really holds little meaning to me, but we just had Canada Day on the 1st, which is the day Canada celebrates its birthday. I find it sort of ironic that we celebrate it in years when it has truly been here since the moment of creation. Instead of happy birthday, you are a few hundred years old it really should be happy birthday, you are a few million!

Man seems to place their own set of rules and value on everything, its sad in a lot of ways.

I saw a meme yesterday that said something like “I am renewing my passport so that I can travel across man-made lines in order to visit other humans.” And it’s so true. Why do we have boarders and need a passport to visit other people and experience other cultures. A drivers licence I can understand, its proof that you should know what you are doing while on the road and therefore keep people safe. It’s an education that most people achieve, but a passport is something anyone can get and anyone can use and that everyone needs if they decide to travel past those invisible man made lines.

The thunder is crashing down around and the TV has a blue screen saying “reconnect me” because the wifi was washed out with the rain. The hail earlier was interesting since it came down while the sky was still blue. There had been a chill in the humid air that was a sign that something was brewing.

It took two full hours for my comforter and sheets to dry but I am feeling super blessed to have a washer and dryer that are large enough to easily accommodate a big load. Had the humidity been lower it would have been finished in the hour it normally takes. Such is life.

After dinner instead of doing the dishes I crawled into a warm bath. I am fairly sure that my exfoliator is made up of extremely thick toothpaste, it even smells the same, but it works! And, smelling like good breath really isn’t a bad thing, right?

Laying in bed right now writing and watching Secretary on my computer since the internet is down and I am reminded why I relate to this movie so much. Definitely not a movie for everyone, but when you have lived the life I have it is often easier to relate to what isn’t considered “normal” than to what is.

I guess every one’s version of normal is vastly different and that is what ultimately makes each of us so incredibly unique.

The storm is still twisting violently and the sky sounds like a pack of ravenous wolves. I decided to do the dishes because well, they needed done and why wait until tomorrow when there is nothing to really do when the tv and wifi are out because of the storm. It’s a good reminder to use the time I have wisely. Its also a reminder that it really doesn’t take more than a few minutes to do a simple task like the dinner dishes when you quit procrastinating.

Apr 052016
 

The slithering serpents forked tongue’s lies echoes in my head and my heart breaks and my body bleeds and hate boils to the surface and I learn myself in ways I thought were long forgotten, but apparently forgotten not long enough.

The soaked through bandages line the trash can and a fresh one covers the sliced up lines on broken flesh and for now, I have no regrets.

In fact, I haven’t felt much of anything and maybe I should be concerned that I don’t but instead I am trapped in this euphoria that I had forgot even existed.

The sky spewing snow onto the spring’s earthy scented ground and I know the weather is just as lost and confused as I am, and somehow I am okay with the white blanket laying itself down because the down that covers me will be peeled away come morning and there will spring forward new life.

The only memories of days like yesterday and today will be in the forms of scars that I can no longer even count. Takes 56 days for the blood to come back, 56 days before I am once again working on full. Whatever that means.

I am feeling overly lost in a world where I don’t want to be found, and yet somewhere deep inside I know my stripes have already been healed by the ones that Christ bore on the cross so that I could be saved.

I don’t have to worry what happened today or yesterday or what will happen tomorrow because He has a plan greater than we can see. Yeah so I don’t know why or how or what for but I know that he knows and that is comforting enough for me to rest my head and sleep.

So sleep I will.

Feb 182016
 

I watched her twindling away and looking at my young son and calling him her own. The Alzheimer’s had eaten away at her memory and instead of seeing my dad as her son she saw her great grandson as her “Little- Lenny”.

I thought watching her memories fade would be harder for me. But it wasn’t. Then, I felt cold and even dead for not finding it anything more than amusing. Seeing her forget became interesting, and even laughable. I don’t cope well. I never have, so when she called to argue about the date or would call my grandpa an old pervert who had stolen her husband’s wallet I couldn’t help but laugh.

When she came to me concerned that the mirror was broken because it sometimes showed her an old lady instead of her young self I listened intently and wondered how much of what we see is real and what is simply distorted by our memories and time.

There is a lot in my life that I would love to forget. I think part of me envied that. Envy is a big word but that’s how I felt. Why are the strong turned weak, those who want to remember everything robbed of their memories and those who long for death seemingly trapped within the confines of life?

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