Back To Life (ish)

Good Morning!  It’s a Monday.  Slept for eleven hours from Saturday to Sunday, which means I only sleep six the following night.  So, I just made breakfast, pounding soda, and I just felt the need to write.  Don’t know why, just something needs to come out to play!

I forgot to mention, my see you next Tuesday/Cuntasaurus Rex of a neighbor was blasting Pink Floyd’s, “Lunatic is on the Grass” song after I got out of the View before partial.  I punched the wall, cuz I figured it would have been better than her throat.  So, yeah, Love thy Neighbor, not.  I’ve said loud enough so she can hear me- we share a wall, yes, it sucks-that if she was bleeding out, I’d call 911, but go about my business.  Mom was like, “That’s not good”, or right or fair or some such horse shit, and I said, “She wouldn’t do the same for me.”  So, turnabout is fair play.  I think she’s back to going to church and shit like that.  That’s her pattern.  She’ll screw half the county, then when she gets her ass handed to her, she buttons up and tries to repent or some such bullshit.  Bless her, change me.  I can’t wait till she leaves.  Even my cat growls at her.

Speaking of cats, I got my baby back.  Yes, last Tuesday, when my folks went up North to help my Aunt, I absconded with Grover.  So, my baby is back.  Siouxsie ain’t having none of it, but I just let them sort it out and try to give equal time etc. to both paw-ties.  I’m very happy to have my little bub back.  My sponsor helped me move him.  I still have to get his cat condo, but he’s got his, “Wheel of Death” toy and a big ol bag of catnip.  So he’s happy.  Siouxsie is not, and she may never be, but it’s getting better.  Good days and bad days.

We are going to Artprize today.  I need to find a piece of Art that inspires a design in me and take a picture or card of the expo piece, and then sketch out my design for Wednesday’s class.  I have color squares to finish painting, another assignment I have to finish/revamp, and study for our quiz/test on Wednesday.  Since our career presentation is due the 19th, I have to step up my game x 50, for that little extravaganza.  But, I finally love what I am in school for.  She’s a great professor.  Her passion for design is really inspiring.  I’m thinking of easy careers for me to go into after I do this stint of school.  Something where I am self-employed, can make and design my own hours, flexible schedule, but the insurance!  Pre-existing conditions, I don’t know.  But I would really like a life of something again.  I’d really like to be self-sufficient.  But, one day at a time, that’s how you build and ensure a successful future.  Or, so I have found.

I finally found my niche for volunteering/service work.  I’m so grateful.  It’s anonymous, so I can’t get into it, but let’s just say, I’m very happy with the direction it is going in.

Let’s see, what else…My mom and I cleaned the snot out of my bedroom that I rarely sleep in yesterday.  Washed walls, floors, surfaces, redecorated, smudged, laid down a protective, positive energy barrier between the shared wall with my bitch of a neighbor, and finally!  After living here for six years, I put up two of the most meaningful pieces of art that I have been hankering to put up on a wall.  I finally feel like the house is moving, you know, like the energy is starting to flow.  Hallelu!

I elected not to go to my class reunion this year.  First of all, the official reunion is going to be hosted in a Dave and Buster’s on the East side, along with a private room and a cash bar and a midnight champagne toast.  The night before, there will be a Homecoming football game with an, “afterglow”, at the local drinking hole/bowling alley.  Now, I did a few people’s fair share of drinking at that bowling alley.  There was never an afterglow for me, just a ton of regret. I couldn’t afford the official reunion with a hotel room.  So, I opted to stay at a local friend’s house, which she had graciously opened to me, and has graciously kept open for me, and the football game for $1000, Alex.  Then, the bowling alley decision was made Saturday night/Sunday morning.  I was pissed.  Can’t go, because after the service work I discovered Saturday, that would be a huge step/leap back for me.  And my class likes to party.  Our five year reunion?  Was a Fifth- even the invitation to the reunion was in the shape of a fifth.  No.  It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I can’t.  I’m not jeopardizing my sobriety and serenity.  That’s a deal breaker.

So, yeah, that has happened all this past week.  Went over the new map last Wednesday with Katy.  All my parts are all connected to me, I am very large on the map, and three of them are right out in front.  So, we have work to do.  Both Katy and my sponsor will be gone in two weeks time.  Just the right time for the one year anniversary of Dave’s death (the 8th), and the 8 year anniversary I tested positive for HIV (18th).  So that period might be difficult, but as long as I am mindful and diligent, I think I have half a shot of making it through this time period.

Well, that’s about all I can think of for now.  Hopefully, with some time managemnt and getting back on my ADHD med, at a lower dose, I might actually be able to finish projects, instead of leaving them hanging and half done.  What do you know?!

So, until next time…

 

 

 

 

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Let It Go

I should be showering for a 12 step meeting, but I have an itch…for a spew.

So, yesterday, being Friday the 13th, and me, being a Satanic Ritual Abuse survivor-how the hell that ever happened, Allah only knows, but it was an anniversary.  EVERY Friday the 13th from September through May is an anniversary.  Apparently, it is a HUGE day in the Satanic calendar.  Whatever.  Freedom of religion, I guess.  Except when you murder people in front of children and it’s not war- that’s my values, I guess.  ANYWAYS, yesterday was tough.  With most anniversaries, it lasts about three days, two days prior, and the day of said anniversary.  Ok.  So, I made it through.  I bought a black out curtain for my bedroom.  So Myself and my neighborhood would have some privacy.  I don’t recommend them if you battle depression.  They make the room like a cave…of despair.  It’s good, cuz they cut out noise and light- for migraines.  But not for like, being happy and productive.

Okay, flaky part of me emerges, there were five planets retrograde.  Now, we are only down to four, Mercury going direct in like, a week.  But everything damn near is in Taurus and that means money, home, things that grow, stability- all things I struggle with.  I have been troubled because of the damn anniversary and I didn’t even know why-until, duh!  Friday the 13th.  I learned early on, if I was to survive and get though high school and make it out of that godforsaken town, I had to reframe 13 as lucky- which esoterically speaking, it is.  BUT!   I digress!  Surprise, I know.

So, This Taurus thing has been highlighting what you want to materialize on this mortal plane, dig?  Erstwhile, I have been trying to figure out what my next chapter/career/adventure for my forties is going to be, and how to get through.  One thing I know for sure?  I sure as hell don’t want to be sick anymore.  I shore as hell don’t want to be anchored to my past.  I’ve been sick with DID since I was 5,6,7 and so on.  Been disabled since 2002; and sick, physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally since 2000.  I don’t want anymore!!!  I want to live!!!  I want to travel!!  Fuck!  I won a vacation a year ago!  My parents will be married 50 fucking years this July.  I planned the vaca around the time they got engaged in November, to their/our favorite vacation destination- Charleston.  It’s a timeshare thing, but they never got their golf shack when they retired in 2000, because why?  Me.  And they made a choice.  They could have put me in a home and walked away, but they didn’t.  And if y’all don’t think I don’t have gratitude every. single. fucking. day for that and them, and part of the reason I work my ass off so hard, is so they can enjoy their golden years, sonny?  You need to put down the drugs and delusions and check in.  So, basically, twice around the barn to get to the house- now is not the time for black out curtains and checking out.  Now is the time to hustle and manifest on the material plane.

So, there’s this guy I know.  Been sober for like, a million years.  Wise as shit.  He’s like a little 1970’s Buddha/Artist/Tao Wizard/Classic Rock groovy dude.  One day, he says; “How do you let it go?  You just let it go.”  Fuck you.  Because at that point, I was still a’ wrestling with some serious demons.  But the only person holding on to my past, I mean, I’m down to one part, I think, is me.  Because that has been my identity for 16 years.  That’s a huge paradigm shift.

So, while laying in my den of misery, I’ve been asking myself a question, okay, questionsssss- What do you want?  Who do you want to be?  What do you want to accomplish- Fuck!  Do you want to accomplish anything.  I’ve come full circle.  I want to be an antique freak.  Just have a booth, in a mall, just for starters, and then eventually, expand.  My mom has been warming up to the idea.  It’s real part time.  Like, some antique malls you go and work, some you don’t, some you pay rent, some you just work there a couple times for booth rent.  I mean, the trips to shows would be write offs…I love looking at Dead People’s Stuff- NOT MINE- There is an actual antique store named Dead People’s Stuff.  Personally, with my macabre ass, I think it’s fucking hysterical.  I also thought about writing a one woman show with a bunch of monologues, that are certain slices of my life.  All the characters, etc.  Florida.  Greece.  Detroit.  Ypsi.  GR.  Men.  The last 16 years.  The Lazarus Club.  NAMI.  All of it.  Just my life in monologues.  There’s a theatre here I can rent to do my show.  I’d need a chair, some lighting, and audience, and about 5 angels. But, just some ideas I’m tossing around.  I’m tossing around a lot.  I loooooooooove to travel.  I love to perform.  But I gotta get a routine down.

Part of my problem is with this DID and being knocked off my square, there are some times, I need to just curl up and huddle up, you know.  Self preservation.  But, there are also times, when, I need to live life fully.  Just rip the marrow out of the skeleton of life.  And savor life.  Not be afraid all the time.  When Dave died, so much fell away.  So much left.  I finally wasn’t looking over my should all the fucking time.  What a relief!!!  My God. I knew it would take his death for me to finally be free.  I know the priest he confessed his sins to on his death bed, is probably still drunk.  Seriously.  He was a bad dude.  More than you could ever imagine.  And my dysfunctional ass loved him.  A part of him.  Do I think he had DID?  I used to.  Now I know he was just a murdering basterd.  Oh!  That would be another monologue- all three loves, that actually loved me in return, were all murdering bastards.  Whether for country, war or thrill, they were all murderers.  I now have 15 minutes to get to my meeting.  Crunch.  Okay.

So, long and short of it.  How do you let it go?  You just let it go.  I have decided I don’t want to be that person anymore.  I don’t want to remember her at all.  I don’t want any part of her at all anymore.  She was sick, hurting, miserable, and sad.  And LONELY.  AND SCARED- of EVERYTHING!!!!  It’s time to live again. It’s time to reach up and out.  To push through the dirt and bloom.

“It’s Not Your Fault”.  “You like apples?  How bout these apples?”  Yeah, it’s possible.  Anything is possible.  But sitting on your hands and wishing for disney or pixar or whoever, or prince charming – if you have seen Into the Woods, you know Prince Charming was a douche-to come and scale your castle walls.  Unh uh.  Ain’t never going to happen.  Gotta hustle and flow, baby.  Hustle and flow.

 

 

 

BOOM!

That’s street for, “yer world is about to get rocked”.  Prepare to be amazed…or disgusted.  At this point, I don’t really care which.

I am on a med known as Prazoscin, or minipress.  It’s many side effects suppresses night terrors.  It was like finding the Fountain of youth.  Although after several years of taking it, two weeks ago yesterday, I had my first night terror/flashback.

I was four and holding the hand of the High Priestess of the Oakland County Sect of The Brides of Satan.  She was four foot nothing, frosted blonde hair and the teeth- the fucking teeth of the satanist/cannibal.  Filed to a point, stained with blood, cigarettes, et al, and yellow.  Yellow, grey and red near the gums.  They use dentures to cover their cult teeth.  She was holding my hand- 4 years old mind you- and we were at a murder/suicide site on the East side of Washington Street in Oxford.  The East side of main street was the other side of the tracks.  Lots of rentals, Harleys-gang type riders and guns and coke- well, an 18 year old named, “Eddie Hamilton” had hung himself?  Apparently.  I was there with the High Priestess to disseminate the scene, and to make decisions.  See, the plan was to kill my makers and my parents and have me slide in the hooves of the High Priestess.  But, no.  God had other plans.  Alotta other plans for me and them.

So, it was decided.  “Eddie” would be dismembered (Chopped up) and covered in egregious amounts of lime and put to rot under the church in the village that had rebuked their advances.  “Eddie” was to rot under the now, UCC church’s bell tower.  Three days later in August, all that remained of, “Eddie Hamilton” were some of his teeth and some half rotted bones.  So, that was settled.

10th grade. 1989.  Miscreant.  Flurry of cause and effect.  New Kid.  Lasted three months.  Loved Elvis. Disappeared after three months and was never heard from again.  The kid’s name?  Eddie Hamilton.

So, that has been haunting me for two weeks.  Today, my rock and her daughter are driving to WA to begin a new life.  I have a sponsor who makes time to be a recovery coach, buy a recovery house, candle her mans ear, but not sponsor me.  So, in a few weeks, I’ll have seven years.  I did it with God, cuz these last three sponsors I had were the most hands off, except one, bat  shit crazy mugs I ever had.  7th step says- is your shit working for ya?

I had a dream about My Greek love-Joshua last night.  Why? I have no idea except that God wants to torture me.  Three, four years ago, Joshua was in Kzoo.  I had not seen him since he departed for Jerusalem in 1992.  We were to meet up in a year and I was to join him in Israel, happily blah x 3. When I came home from Greece, after recovering from Greek Chicken Pox, I told my father I had to return to Greece and then to move to Israel to be with Joshua.  My father had lived and taught in Kenya in the 60’s.  Israel and Western Africa were rumbling towards war.  I had no idea.  He denied me.   I sobbed and drank harder.  Twenty some odd years later in a home west of Kzoo.  Joshua was in the Israel military as a Tank Commander and had been a POW twice.  He had been married, had a beautiful boy named David, and was living with a white girl from IA who was his enabler.  He had turned into a 24/7 drunk with either MS or ALS.  Either way he has managed to take his enabler all over the world for several years.  But he was going to replace her soon.  MM hmm.  I walked out on him and ran like the wind.  They tried to catch me.  No no, Roma disappear, seely boy.  So, I had a dream we were back on Spetses and it was Christmas and it was frosty.  We stayed at the boys school there.  Where The Magus was filmed and the guy who wrote the Magus taught at the boys school.  Something about retsina, a roof, a full moon, gravel in his ass, and teradactyl doves the next morning.  But alas, that one was not meant to be.

Neither was the quarter mexican super duper special agent.  Neither was the biracial Emmy nominee comedian that I was engaged to a million years ago.  Discovered I was pregnant.  My Pediatrician told me the pregnancy was ectopic.  So I had a D & C.  Dusting and Cleaning as they are treated.  “Living room’s Done!”.  Then, I was ferried off at 19 to MN, for my first in patient psych visit.  That was where I saw DID- in a DUDE- up close and personal for the first time.  Mine was playing euchre or something.  My king picked me up with my folks with a bouquet of daises.  We went to the Wisconsin Dells, on the way home.  1999, after I lost touch with my king, heard he got married and was well on his way to a life of well deserved and earned success, I was at an OB/GYN.  Did the usual questions- how many children?  How many live births? The humiliating ones.  I told the RN my pregnancy-choke-was ectopic.  So she had me lift my shirt to see the scar.  I was uber confused.  Oh, there it is, she said.  No.  That’s from my belly piercing that didn’t work.  Well, then an argument of sorts developed.  Well, if it was ectopic, they went in through your belly button!  Nurse Ratchett hollered.  They did a D&C I said- that’s it.  Then, she thought I was trying to lie to her or some sick shit, I’m beginning to realize my doc lied to me and I could have had Jonathan Micheal, and this bitch is picking a fight with me!  So I- as graciously as I could, through gritted teeth, said something to the effect of you’re the nurse, you’re the goddamned expert, you should know!

The bitch walked out.  I’m fucking devastated, heart in the third level of this building and my doc comes in.  Oh, those years of acting and hiding the unnamed pain.  Smiled through the tears.  You alright?  She asks.  Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.  When I left in 2007, to come to GR?  On Mother’s Day, I planted a Rose of Sharon for Jonathan Micheal.  It’s still blooming.

Well, I feel like curling up in the fetal position and shutting off my heart and brain.  How bout you?