I cry for this body (poem)

I cry for my body

For its wounds

for its scars

for its transgressions

and the transgressions it has survived.

For the wounds that bled,

The bruises that healed

For internal damage, and a heart, I’m afraid, may never heal.

A brain so broken,

there’s only life long repair.

No quick fix.

No silver bullet.

No “Magic Pill”.

Only wear and tear.

Blood, sweat and tears, has this body received,

and has this body exchanged.

It has endured:

Bear Traps,

sword fights,

2 x 4’s


Mayhem of the mind

Murder of the soul

and physical deformity.

All to be whole.

All to be loved.

All to be accepted.

All to be whole…

There is no piece of me that has not or has yet to shatter.

There’s no part of me that does not have a story.

I gave up on Happy Endings,

guffaw at fairy tales,

and realize that humans are the real danger.

The true Boogey men?

The true monsters?

There are why I cry,

sob for this body.

9.29.15 06:35 am

Dedicated To Amy R and Mel B.

I’m Done

I’m done.  Totally over it.  I’m done with politics, St. Francis, Facebook, all social media…I’m sick and tired of bullshit.  And it’s me I’m sick and tired of.

You take PTSD, DID, and bipolar type I, put em together and what do you get?  Someone whose behavior mimics Borderline Personality Disorder.  But my Axis II is always deferred.  When your one abusers middle name is Chester- and my last name is an alcohol?  God shore has a great sense of humour.

I’ve also come to the conclusion that people hate living in reality.  They like fantasy.  They don’t want to live in the cold and ugly and mean truth.  Brutal honesty is for cromags, tact is in…

My God, I have been through so fucking much. I swear, people keep telling me to do more, be more.  I’m lucky I’m not fucking nonverbal okay, assholes?  I’ll probably never get married and I’m totally okay with that.  I don’t know why, but I’m okay with that.  They can come and go as they and I please.  I just know Dave made me a woman, he taught me  better way of life.  He’s teaching me how to live and how to, as someone I adore greatly said, “Find what makes me happy.”  Another person I admire greatly had a meme up, with Buddha’s picture and a caption that read:  Suffering comes from giving too many fucks. Attachment is the root of all suffering. Yupo.

I’m frustrated.  I see people who were pretty fucked up a few years ago, healing and ,moving on, and I’m like, WTF, over?  And my mom doesn’t want to come over to my place because I am a cluster/clutter fuck.  Well, I got a fucking bachelor’s and half a MSW.  I’d say for someone who was fucking put through hell and splintered into 79-82 or however many little pieces of a whole, that’s pretty fucking good.  Sorry you don’t understand me, just like I don’t understand you, but I’m a loyal fucking person.  I don’t turn on a dime, unless shit happens.

I’m over all of it.  Just am.  Sick of it all.  Great band, by the way.  At least their name is great.  I’m uber frustrated.  I’m in a great deal of pain.  My knee is all fuct up.  I have-my fucking cartilage in my right knee is flaking off.  And floating around my knee.  No matter what, I’m gonna have to have surgery.

I also started asanas in yoga.  Held plank for not a consecutive, but total five minutes. Oh Dear Ganesh, am I sore!!!  I wail like a yenta, but with Hinduism.  No wonder people don’t get me, I’m a blend.   Herbie said, “31 flavors of fucked up.”  I like to think, 31 flavors of collaborated bullshit.  But, Let’s try being nicer to me, shall we?  How about, 31 flavors of awesome sauce?  I like that.  31 levels of awesomenessoisty.  I make the fuck up out of word, so let’s go.

Yesterday my bed was vibrating and shaking and my alarm clock was on iPod and making AM radio noises.  I smudged, white candles, gave it back, all that shit.  Banish x53, so mote it be.  I hereby banish hate, fear and loathing from myself, a process which has already begun, let it continue on, until the burning of the sun.  So mote it be.  ABOVE ALL-KEN-HARM NONE!!!!

Oh dear Lord.  There’s that 31 flavors of blended awesome sauce.  Jesus H.  OoP!  There’s another flavor!

Okay.  I need to clean.  And banish.  I have Feng Shui smudge I’m going to get busy with. Usually about this time, I’m fading, but now, I am coming alive.  I swear, I got 13 fucking hours of sleep last night.  Slept right through an obligation.  Damn.  But, I feel better,  With Grief it is either feast or famine.  Fall makes me happy.  Going up north to see the colors change, would be awesome.  Maybe I’ll scoot out after the 8th, and go to some places I have never been before.  That would be wicked cool.  Sleep in cheap motels, yeah…  I’m digging it.  I likey.

I’m over it all.  Just over it all.  Not going drink, not going to do drugs, not gonna any of that shit.  Just need to free my soul.  Re-new, re-member, re-knew again.


Another Day, Another Hollah!!!!!

What’s up, people?!!  I swear, I must be manic or something.  Yes, I have Bipolar I as well.  I swear, what don’t I have- well, MS, Lupus, Cancer-it can always be worse.

So, fake people, fake friends.  The “Frenemy”.  Caught and operates in it’s natural habitat, which would be toxic environments, attacking on and luring the young, the isolated, the vulnerable and those who just don’t plain care anymore.  I’ve tried to rid my life of as many of these as possible.  But they are like cockroaches, they’re everywhere!!!!

Ugh.  Had a dream about a male frenemy from High School.  Was my true love’s best friend.  Still probably is.  Yeah, true love.  He’s a big deal and I let him go when I was 20-present, so he could do what he had to.  Because I loved him too much.  Never don’t love too much, you’ll never regret it; regret not loving enough.  That’s the real kicker.

My system has been quiet.  Like, too quiet.  But Sunday was tough.  Just really neurotic.  I’m sure I drove people mad.  I’m back on my regular wake up early schedule.  Slept soundly.  I have a sleep study tonight.  Yay!!  But, we’ll see.  I think it is just trauma and my weight- two things that can be managed.

I’ve tcob this morning.  Already.  Sent emails out and everything.   Have an ortho appointment, and therapy as well.

Dave made it up there.  He’s in.  Jesse cook, October 27.  SO stoked.  My outfit comes Thursday.  Now, to get the ticket.

Decided to get my Reiki training started.  I meet with her the 28th.  I’m totally stoked.  Heal the healers is my goal.  Empaths Unite!!!!

Not much else.  Just life is beginning to normalize.  Now if I can just get my house in order we’ll be good.


Have a great day,


New Day, New Dawn, Am I feeling Good?!

New Map made this morning. Haven't made a map since April. Check out,
New Map made this morning. Haven’t made a map since April. Check out, “WTF is a map?” to see the difference.

Good Morning.  My Great Grandmother, Faith, mother of my 100 year old Grandma Mary came through the light this morning.  What that means is:  When the lights flicker, or, like this morning, just turn on when the lamp is off, it’s Grandma Faith telling me to do something, or that she is proud of me, or some message.  So, tomorrow, I am heading up to Big Rapids, to see my grandma Mary- who, incidentally, because of her Macular Degeneration- is listening to Tu-Pacs’ audio autobiography.  My father does not approve.  Oh well.  He’s not her parent, he’s my parent.  Remind me to tell you about Grandma Faith’s story about the gypsies that would camp near the Strange school in Grand Ledge.

So, I slept like a rock.  I had a dream I was supposed to go to jail.  In my dreams lately, I’ve been sticking up for myself.  A lot.  To some pretty tough characters that my brain makes up, or has met before.

My windows are going to be looked at today!!!  I swear, I’m the last person in my condo complex who has the old windows.  And yes,my screens are on the outside of my window.  Surprise Bitch!!!!

So, I don’t feel a lot of sadness.  I don’t feel his presence a lot or that often, like I used to, so I feel like I have moved on and as a result, so has he.  And that is a true blessing.  I feel like I can go back home, take a shower, get ready, clean my house, smudge, cuz the New moon is popping, and do what I have to do.  I have to go to the pharmacy today.  That is my only errand.  And get gas.  Woo Hoo!!!  But?  Am I blessed enough to do those things?  You betcha.

So, I did a new map.  Zachary, the part of Vicky, who is a part of Vickie, who is, apparently, under construction still, has a door with a hook latch.  Behind this door are more cult memories.  My therapist has been on medical leave, so there’s a lot of work I cannot do unsupervised.  I need her guidance and experience.  And it’s behind this door.  Daphne, the 15 year old?  Never heard of her.  Never met her till this morning.  However, I have noticed me being more adolescent/teenage like.  It has been very frustrating for me.  So, that waits.

Scrubbed the rug yesterday with mom.  Did more grief work, but that has been read.  Today, hopefully, will be a normal, life day.  How bout that?

Here’s hopin’.  Have a great day!

Lower Than A Snake’s Nuts

Yup.  That’s pretty much how I feel.  It’s 4:24 EST.  Can’t sleep again.  Fell asleep at 8:30.  Now, I’m starving, in more ways than physically.

So, my neighbors did NOT fuck with my security system.  The magnet fell out, someone put it on my door, trying to be kind.  Uh HUH!!!!  Who’s the paranoid, hateful, angry, person with Hyper vigilance due to their PTSD?  Yeah.  That would be me.  Hence, why I feel lower than a snake’s nuts.

I sent my ex an email.  One of his friends stalked my Facebook page.  Lame.

Dave lived in Okemos.  I’m thinking of taking a road trip to see where he was staying at.  It even had his email address.  That’s fucking useless.  It was funny.  The address was not as delusional as his others have been.  Definitely.  I miss the man I fell in love with everyday.  He’s gone, and even if there is a funeral, I cannot go.  He’s still listed in the system.  I don’t know what happened.  I don’t know if he’ll be in a grave or cremated.  Doesn’t matter.  He’s gone.  We all end up the same way and sometimes, the same place.

It hurts, and if you have ever loved an addict/alcoholic, you know the pain and heartache we put you through.  Dave was an IDU- Intravenous Drug User- he shot Meth.  By the end, I think he was smoking it.  Hell, I think if he could put it on his food like salt, he would.  He was a really good cook.  Used to be a pastry chef.  He always knew where the great little restaurants were.  He always knew where the good food was.  If he hadn’t been a sociopath, he would have been a, “foodie”.  He would have been posting food porn on Facebook and Instagram.  I really miss him.  Don’t get me wrong, once I found out that it was all true and he was as sick as I had feared, I was terrified of him.  Welcome to my Nightmare…He was my best friend, as best as a Sociopath can get.  There was even a Dave/Zuzu sunset tonight.  He was funny.  He was incredibly disciplined.  Neat.  Groomed.  I always knew when he was going to go on a bender.  He’d get real quiet, real skulky and sulky, go lock himself in the bathroom, shave and everything, and then disappear for 12+ hours.  I hated that.  He’d say, “there’s a meteor shower tonight at three am, I’ll wake you up so we can see it”, okay.  I wake up, there’s a note that says, “I went grocery shopping at Meijer, be right back.”  The Meijer on Plainfield?  Was a twist and turn away from a real trailer park out of a Rob Zombie horror movie.  I mean, kids running around that you can tell there was an incest epidemic in the trailer park.  In other words, a few of those trailers were meth labs.  If they blew, no one would be missed.  It was creepy.  Yeah, I got to go there.  Got stared down.  It was fall.  The leaves hadn’t been raked or blown away in years.  Three feet high around the foundation of these old, seventies trailers.  All in primary, bright chromatic colors.  So fucking creepy.  Dave was very creepy.  I found a priests costume in his closet.  A fake one, not a real one.  But still.  DL, anyone?

Christ.  See?  That’s the double bind?!  I love you, I need/want you, but you keep hurting me. What do I do?!!!  WTF DO I DO NOW THAT YOU ARE GONE YOU FUCKER??????!!!!!!!

“My heart is a Ghost Town…”  Adam Lambert

Dave is Dead

About a week ago, I found a magnet on my door.  Some fuck nut had put a magnet on my door (private entrance), and it fucked up my security system.  So, all morning, I was on the phone with personal calls and then to the security company.  Well, I didn’t have the proper information.  My father was here when it was installed, because I was probably in the hospital.  Anyways, there was A LOT of information I needed to get clearance that I did not even know I needed.  Communication is weak in my family.  Very weak.  So, my dad is up North watching my 100 year old grandmother.  He’s being a smart ass- cuz, naturally, I thought it was Dave fucking with me.  So, my father blows me off.  Which hurt and caused old wounds to open up- you don’t care, you never protected me, blah x 3.  Then, he calls me back and tries to tell me what to do, he wasn’t hearing what I was saying.  So, we yell and he hangs up on me.  K.  Dee.  (His father)

So, then I call Dave’s old Parole Officer to see where to send the PPO.  The PO calls me back and leaves me a message: “Dave is Dead. He died last week.  Dave is dead.  You don’t have to worry about him bothering you anymore.  Dave’s Dead…”  WTF!!!!!!!

So, after I inhaled, I started to sob.  Belly aching, heart breaking sobs.  I mean, like, the full body sobs?  I’m a mess.  He was a monster.  And why he was a monster and how he became a monster, I’m not 100% sure, but I know some aspects and those are private.  Some things are best left unknown.  Even he deserves some peace. He always tried to seek God.  He tried to be a monk, he tried to go to church.  He tried everything.  Well, God is love as one of my friends told me tonight.  And, as a medium, he did make it to the other side- the light side.

His PO has no idea what he died from, we guess physical problems- HIV, HEP C, Diabetes, IDU Meth Addict.  I think he overdosed on meth as a suicide run.  That’s my bet.  AS his PO said, “doesn’t really matter, we all wind up the same.”  A freaking men.  A freaking men.

So, after I gained my composure, I called the security system company.  Apparently, my system has been in test mode for some time and I have a faulty device.  Really?  Just so happens, the beginning of the year, my neighbors stole my WIFI and changed my password.  I had to change it to something they would never guess.  Then, the magnet on the door, and something else.

And now that Dave is gone and no one knows?  Mm mm.  I gotcha.

SO, now that Dave has passed away, how do I feel?  Torn.  Really torn.  But really glad he’s not in pain and tormented anymore.  Neither are we.  We’re all free.  I think that means I have forgiven him and now I can heal.  Really heal.  Cuz I was never able to heal or grieve constantly looking over my shoulder since 2012. Jesus, what a shitty year that was. Christ!  Lost F Dog, lost Chris, Lost Button, found out I was a SRA survivor, Interferon and Dave’s trial.  Fuck that year.  If I was ever going to drink, that would have been the year.

So, I can’t sleep. I’m starving and all I have is a turkey Lean Cuisine.  Every time I get  up, I get out of breath and my chest hurts.  I don’t know wtf that is about.  I’m tired.  Just tired.  And I got a four year old coming tomorrow morning.  Er, this morning.  Jesus.  I can’t do it.  I can’t do…everyday is a battle.  With PTSD, DID, HIV, alcoholism squirrel brain, war with God, neighbors, no friends, no men, I’ve been sick with a bacterial infection for two weeks.  I was so sick last Friday, I was hallucinating.  Fuct up.  I just can’t do it.  At least, right now, I don’t feel I can do it.  I just feel like I’m almost at the top of the mountain.  Just a little further and I’ll be there, but I’m so fucking tired.

I cut a bunch of fuckers out of my facebook account.  I cut out some really long term friends who have just not been there for me and I haven’t been there for them, insensitivity, circumstances, life.  Just trimming the fat.  Plus, if they don’t give a damn about me when the shit hits the fan in my life, when I’m there for them when the shit hits the fan in their life, wtf am I hanging around for?  Or, I never hear from them?  What’s the fucking point?  None.  Just noisy fuckers.  Fuck em where they eat their eggs.

So, it’s 2:37 am here on the EST.  Usually they’d be coming home, waking me up.  I’m thinking about a food run.  It’d be fast food, but it would be something in my gut.  I need to take care of myself really hard core especially now.  No lip service, action only.

Well, I hope you are all doing well.  Life’s a bitch.  Get a helmet.  Thanks Denis Leary.

Decisions, decisions…

So, yesterday was pretty much the worst day I’ve had in a long time.  I had zero sleep, been so nauseous, I can’t hold down my meds, lost ten pounds in a week, hallucinating, and have trouble/shallow breathing.  So, good thing I was going to my immunological disease clinic for labs and lab review and anything else she could throw at me.

Well, my liver enzymes are rising.  What that means, because I have Hep C AND HIV, thanks Dave!  I had to do Interferon.  For those of you that don’t know what Interferon is, it’s like chemo for your liver to eradicate the Hep C.  You take these horrid pills- I used to call them my chemo pills twice a day.  Made me so nauseous, I couldn’t keep anything down.  So, I learned to take em at night, right?  Then, once a week, you have to give yourself an injection of this Interferon shit. It Interferes with your body, dig?  So, I did it for like four or six months, but here’s the deal, well, two:  It’s supposed to eradicate/cure the Hep C and then it makes you bat shit crazy.  I mean, BAT.  SHIT.  NUTS.  It doesn’t matter if you have a mental health history or not, it will drive you, literally, insane.  And it did me. I was doing it during the criminal trial with Dave. This one one computer troll called me, “fat”.  I was like, that’s Interferon buddy. Let’s see if you can put a serial infector in prison, stand up for yourself and others (How many we don’t exactly know, somewhere in the thousands we guess), stop a health epidemic, stand up to an abusive, drug abusing, sex addicted, satan-worshipping ex, and do interferon.  Fuck you.  When you pay my bills, we’ll have some thing to talk about.

Anyways, I told my NP, Edna, I wasn’t doing Interferon again.  It’s akin to suicide.  Liver cancer or something.  She says it’s fatty.  But the Interferon never cured the Hep C.  I had to break it to my mom.  Not easy.

And then?  Labs.  And my last two Hep B vaccines.  So, I go down to the lab- which was packed.  And she takes these three tubes out of a specially sealed packages, TB, Meningitis and another one I couldn’t read.  So, I look up TB symptoms on the web.  Anthony.  Just got out of Prison- an institution, half way house, Pine Rest.  All a lot of people crammed into little bitty living spaces.  Bastard.  So, my mom came over with a kerchief on yesterday.  Looked like Clint Eastwood’s mom.  Had to call people and tell them to get tested or checked out for TB.  Because I was possibly exposed.  Humiliating.

September 8, 2015 8:53 am

So, how was your Labor Day?  I spent mine between my couch and bed.  No one called from the lab.  No one called from the doc office.  I called this morning and left a msg with the nurse.  I was hallucinating Friday night before bed.  I’ve finally been able to eat today.  Because I haven’t eaten in a few days, I’ve been pigging out.  And shopping.  And having PTSD episodes.

Did I mention I have a new part?  He’s a part of a part of a part- yes that is possible.  His name is Zachary.  He is four.  He has a door with a latch on it with more cult memories.  I’m like, is this shit is ever going to end?  My therapist is gone, out on medical leave.  I won’t see her till the 18th of this month.  WTF, am I supposed to do?  I’m busting out every coping skill and skill I know.  I gotta call the DBT therapist today.  Cuz I need to deal with this.  I’m all emo brain and my meds need to be tweaked.  I see him today.  At three.  So, we’ll see how that goes.  I want off the Geodon, back on Saphris so I can sleep and I can go back on Tramadol for my pain.  That stuff works.  That damned Norco was bullshit.  No more Opiates again.  No more.  Never again- unless I have surgery and it’s all monitored and controlled.

Well, I better get going.  Gratitude is an action.  Need to clean and organize the sacred spaces.  The matching night stands come today for the bedroom.  Gotta get my poop in a group, but I can only go so fast.  you know?

Have a good day, y’all!!!!

So, that’s the health drama- with the HIV, I have about one a year.  But, I met a new part- Zachary, 4 year old boy. Part of Vicky, wj=ho is the other side/part of Vickie.  Great.  1 o’clock two nights ago, he had his toolbelt on and was ready to make our meditsation corner.  I’m like, bud, not now.