Man I am a manic mess sometimes...re-reading my rapid fire thoughts confuse me now...It seems I had a lot to say and such a short time get there before I went in another direction. How anyone could read me and not see the fractured thoughts...idk...still there is good stuff in the middle of my madness I think...so I will repost this one as well.

take a deep breath, it’s a long one this time!

Back to the way back, baby…
Reflection of the truth I stumbled around a while back. Time has no effect on me, because it just runs away from me so quickly. My peeps remember with laughter how my clock is set to one time and one time only…I ,uh don't change the time during time change because it messes with my head…I lose myself…I must know what time it REALLY is…so they all call it 'Mary time'… but you just gotta add or subtract the real time or whatever…whatever that means. My clock doesn't change.
Yah, my new boss has only just met me ,but he already knows me better then most people… he told me the other day, 'why is it when I talk to you, I feel like I am chasing my own tail!' teehee… I am not sure if I am offended by that or not…hmmm. Funny thought though, I do know that!
Anyway, that was not why I started writing today. I saw a picture yesterday. It was a picture of the girls. It was taken on a day that haunts us when we sleep. Fate had found it and asked if we could throw it away…burn it…or tear it up? I wouldn't let her, because… They were so small, so young… strange how one picture in time can take you back to a place in your head…negating all the history and truth that pulled you out of the pit of nasty that in one instant tried to kick the breath outa ya the first time around. It's like in a movie, all you get to see is the tunnel vision…like everything zooms into that one instant. And the feelings you had in that one instant crashes into your now, overpowering the peace you tentatively hang onto. 'Breathe', the voice in my head shouts…'breathe…your not there , it's not happening now, your out… breathe, deep breaths.'
Uh, That's not the point either…
The point is… taking responsibility in my history. Remember random and purpose…yah, I wasn't insane when I wrote that...not quite… just chasing my own tail, man. (I have always understood the Cheshire cat in Alice in wonderland.) Random…random things causing chaos in spite of your purpose or maybe because of your purpose. I am not going to go back to read what I wrote…I hate to do that… my old writing is like smoke…or dominoes. I build upon them until I can get to the other side…right or wrong...I don't care… it's who I am …no apology's…please don't make me go back and dissect what I said once…It's degrading and demoralizing for me. I'm already way past it, baby…are you tripping over my thoughts of yesterday, oh well, wait until you hear what I think today! Psht… mortals, teehee …just kidding! Tina, if your reading this: I can feel your eyes rolling.
I like to read Lord Byron, right...he said one time when asked, why does he write , he said I don't want you to become me, or even like me, I want you to take my thoughts and find your own way there, or around them… if ya can…or not…your call. Ok yah, I paraphrased, but there it is. Ya know build your own history and if my thought made you think about something…then I am done. I feel liberated...again, no apology's. Chasing your own tail, right. If you don't like it then stop reading it…right, just because it's there and handed to you. you don't have to take a hit off it…right? Just say no…right? I can, and have said , no for over 11 years now, no thanks ,man I got a better high then you can find in this world!!!!
I digressed again, dancing around the pain in the telling of the truth.
It was my fault. I was the adult and I left my girls in the care of others, innocently.
We all have choices, right? Random will slap you silly… sometimes. But the truth inside random is that there can be a purpose to it, if ya let it. But first you must take the responsibility of your actions, however innocent, however simple it seems...people will sometimes get hurt... Even when you mean no one any harm. Your innocently trying to do what you think is best for everyone and someone gets hurt.. Random.
Take responsibility for it so you can move forward.
It's like this…
I didn't mean for someone to hurt my children. It was never even a thought in my head… innocently I took my girls to a free babysitter. Something terrible happened. I didn't cause it. I didn't ask for it. I didn't invite it. I didn't even fathom the possibility. But wham! Random came and brought its friend chaos and raped our collective souls.
Crying, no,no… screaming out to Him…. my love, the maker of my soul. I raged why… "Ripples…ripples from the pebble thrown into the pond." You throw two pebbles in, no matter how far apart their thrown, the ripples will eventually run into one another causing an effect, right? I could sit back and scream , I didn't mean for that to happen, but it wouldn't change their history, it would only cause them more pain? Denial is a real bitch. Just because I didn't mean for something to happen it didn't take away the trauma of the random happening. I had to take my part in their history, my bad choice, my decision, my pebble. I had to say my sorry… Our councilor argued… hell everyone argued…and we stayed in our own circle of hell, until I looked my daughter in her angry eyes and told her my sorry for my wrong choice. I meant no harm …BUT, my pebble caused a current that could not be taken away no matter what we did...it would remain…no matter how hard we prayed ,no matter how hard we tried to ignore it...it was there. No do-overs. History is complete in the instant you breath. You can't take back some things…you can't pretend it isn't there. What's done is done. Call it what it is. Take responsibility for it. Name it, tame it, but you can't control it…it is what it is. Cogs in the wheels right? We don't mean to hurt other people …we just do by mere randomness. Our intent must matter, yes , but responsibility of our misguided intent must be analyzed first.
Meaning no harm, but causing a ripple in the pond of our existence is our personal responsibility to learn from … or , comprehensively… to give into. Releasing yourself into the random, allows the purpose to emerge beautifully. Take a breath and allow the beauty of your ripples...it's like taking your hands off the death grip of yesterday to get to the promise of today. Ahhhhh. that's it, man. It's when I took my hands off my version of reality, and what everyone else was telling me, and let Jesus show me the promise He had for me… I saw the truth. Undoing me to find Him…oh, oh, oh that's it , man…teehee, I love living inside my head… or, ya know… you can just have another drink, smoke another joint, live inside your own pride, live inside your self created destiny, deny your responsibility in the chaos around you...ya know… whatever…Or take the truth and bring it very close to your face and kiss it seductively even when there is unbearable pain.. There is beauty in the truth however painful it is. When you come out from the dismal belief in a half truth you can find the inner working of the cogs and wheels and not be scared…
….if your scared…go to church… ha, ha, ha …sorry! inside joke…some of my readers will get that and if you don't get it … don't get offended … it wasn't meant for you, baby. Ahem, your not my only reader. Remember, I belong to heaven. I know who defines me! I know who I am…do you?
The end of my tail is simple, yet unyielding…I'm not gonna stop writing…it's who I am, who I have always been, who He created me to be. The Written word creates intimacy, between the writer and the reader...it always has…it always will. If you don't get that...I don't know why your even reading me! I read blogs all the time and I comment the writers…all the time. Intimacy is important for me, it propels me to new levels. I take full responsibility for the intimacy I relate and try to propel forward, but as a reader, you must take responsibility for your own passionate responses. Knowing the writer should not deviate the feelings of intimacy, or incur the wrath of the emotions that are provoked by the written word. That would be your bad… or your childish rejection of a innocent thought that got deep into your soul, in spite of yourself. Ya know, show you who you fear you have become. Muah!…always…muah!
Reminds me of the time I drove my friend through a group of protestors at an abortion clinic…they didn't know what was going around our heads.,…they didn't know as we drove away from them that she was still pregnant, because instead of me telling her and controlling her destiny and becoming her god I let Jesus do what He came to do. I let God be God, because I have complete faith in His abilities…and I know I am only human and mortal. I don't want to screw anything up He is trying to do and I know His ways are so way better then mine…yah, her baby is now almost one and everyone still wants to fight about it…
Mystical, really …holding a baby that you fought for; without saying a word…living and breathing His beauty, His love, His glory…not mine, not me… I'm a speck in the dust… but authentic beauty releases me to the truth of His love...and she now is one of us...whoop, whoop… who would have thought a thought like that… a nice complete family reaching out for the kingdom of heaven, maybe not from your history…not the way anyone thought they would get there…but getting there anyway…in spite of the obstacles. I took me out, I left me behind… I let my dramatic, and fervent prayers be answered and now we have one family more for His glory! Not mine…not me, man. Being a disciple to His people as He would if He were with them, instead of us; mere mortals trying to control the outcomes before us. If I have learned anything from my history it is that my way is not always His way…I don't get it when I am in the middle of the chaos or trauma that I feel around me…but I have utter faith that He will bring it to an end and I will have complete understanding if I take my death grip off of it and let Him lead me. It was a hard lesson for me, as I am such a control freak, and I know what should happen to make my picture perfect life complete. I mean I absolutely know what I want to happen to make everyone happy… but I can't make everyone happy.(I sooooo wanted to tell her exactly what to do…I mean I am older and wiser and…of course killing is wrong….but it wasn't about me, was it? ..I wasn't even a trespasser into her mind…I had to be a blank slate . He had to be there in my place.) Telling her what to do is not my job. My job is to love, indiscriminately…unquestionably…and absolutely. Bring the love ,baby…the rest will follow…let yourself go and become crazy in love…gotta ,gotta have it…I'm a love a love addict!!!
"Live vivaciously, love deeply, and pray fervently.
Remember to give with simplicity and serve with humility.
Still, observe that meekness does not necessitate weakness.
Therefore, when challenged by obstacles, fight with tenacity."
T.D. Jakes
Oh yeah! Nothing in the world more attractive than a man on his knees at the alter of Christ…oh yeah…It's a big world and I have seen many things lately …I glimpsed a piece of heaven last Sunday… I felt the pull of authentic belief as a young man , with not one thing left to him… let his face crumple into a mask of absolute remorse and fear. He stumbled to the alter of my God and lay at the feet of the only hope he could feel as his world collapsed into the oblivion he thought he had control of. The utter pain and humility and total disregard of anything else in this world receding from his tentative grasp on this world left him clutching and grasping at a Deity I intimately know and love. I was humbled…unreservedly humbled by the love of Gods grace and love…
humbling yourself to the will of Jesus Christ is a beauty that equates to nothing else. I've been roaming for awhile now. Roaming inside the confines of where He directs me to visit. Picking up pieces of life and discarding the negative as I go and seek His face, My Being a watcher into the service of other Disciples… watching those around me reach out to a Deity, that they know is the only thing that can save them when they are down to that last breath…ahhhhhh...That's my peeps, man… gotta, gotta have it. Love addict….That's where I want to live, and praise and love…A disciple… a revolutionist… absolutely, and utterly alive in a second of time. Breathing deeply the love that is offered, however tentatively and fearfully. Offering it anyway… There is ,I think authentic beauty in the stunning fear of the Deity that created me. Or ,ya know…I could be wrong…just a thought I am currently chasing. Wanna run with me????

another disclaimer...I wrote this one year out from a five year court trial. Is a little scattered,but ya thats how I write...sometimes.

ha! I found it!!

Ok. Let me be up front with you…k? I am completely and irreversibly lost in my postings. I have written so many things…I am like…lost. I don’t know if I have let you in on all my secrets or not…hmmm.
I want to talk about a conversation I had today, but I don’t know if I have written about it…or if I wrote about it and didn’t post it…cuz that happens a lot…Aggggg, I hate how disorganized I am…
Ok…what ever…I write to much , I talk to much, I think to much, I smoke to much, I am way to much!!!!! My boobs are to big for my shirt, I should wear my hair different, I should wear clothes that fit me and not hang off me…I should say yes to the guys that ask me out, I have way to many personalities… AHEM!!! can you tell I had lunch with my mother today???? OMG I pick at my daughters all the time too…I suck…. I will be better, I will be better, I will be better… psht, I’m getting ready to yell at them right now. Sometimes I have to silent scream in my head…. We went to the grocery store today…I know, I know its my fault, why do I ask them what they want if I am going to argue and get mad when they don’t pick what I want….Man I am annoying… Why would I ever think three distinct personalities could co exist and want the same things.
A guy I work with looks at me all the time and innocently provides the answers to all my conundrums… psht! what is it with men always having a good answer to the processing of my thoughts… and then telling me how I should do things instead of the way I do them… I’m not living in the thoughts. right girls...I’m processing the stupidity of my annoying emotions. I won’t stay in the processing I will get to the other side and be o….k…. I may start out here and go there and then back over here and say some really terrible things in between…but uh, yeah I don’t live there...I will get to the end and then be ok and done with the thought…Don’t tell me how to fix it… Or don’t go and tell everyone what I thought for that instant of confusion, on my way to get to the other side of the truth… just listen and smile…be a friend, and tell me something that makes you crazy too. And don’t think I live in all the processing thoughts that got me to the end of it...because I will look at you with genuinely innocent eyes, not understanding why your looking at me that way. Uh, I have already, with the help of true friends , that don’t distribute my private in a moment of anger or pain or rage or confusing processing thoughts, reached the other side of my thought and found a truth waiting for me…I’m not existing in the confusion, pain, disbelief, or anger anymore…uh, what’s wrong with you??? Why are you mad??? Being a girl sucks! King Solomen said, “ I have been all over and found few righteous men…and no righteous women“… yah! I know, I wanted to argue…but ,uh, well I do agree. Girls are mean, yet soft and sweet and full of grace… teehee, come on I am the mother of two little girls…I get the whole drama thang! Processing thoughts is a part of who we are… I tell the girls just be careful who you process with. Friends keep secret thoughts secrets…bitches share the parts that will make them look good even to the detriment of others ,sure it might cripple the person they are telling the secrets too, but what do they care…as long as they look good, they don’t care how it makes anyone else feel …right? Yep! Some girls are bitches. Ok,ok all girls are bitches, its what you do with the bitchiness that counts. Do you keep it to yourself or share with the world you live in??? I got told last night I am a big bitch, or wait that I was being a big bitch…I didn’t argue. I love being with real people that can call it like it is and call me out on my bitchiness… so refreshing, oh so tasty! I looked him dead in the eyes and told him he was being a dick. And then we walked away from each other… and then went back together again…because who else is going to tell us the truth about ourselves when we are busy lying to our collective souls. I don’t need another fake, non-real person reinforcing the lies I try to live in to keep me in the same level of existence I have surrounded myself with. Give me validity or give me death, man.
Ok, ok I was talking about dinner with my parents, with no wine in sight either… A sober conversation about crap I don’t want to talk about. I am in hell!!! They choose a topic that they always go to…no matter where we are. They are still processing… and their confusion makes my heart ache.
Realizing now I was not alone in my battle for justice, I merely felt all alone. I only felt like I was fighting the whole freaking world. I was being watched, and analyzed and quoted and … I was not alone. I don’t know, it really felt like I was alone. Hmmm, now that all the dust has settled and everyone has come to the conclusion that I really am not what a select few say that I am….because I have no history of their perception of me… and they sat in the courtroom and watched the lunacy unfold as the hilarity of the drama was exaggerated to the extreme…
….truths were told, now they can be told without overstretched emotions… which is to say, they are not as scared of me now…as they once were when I was in constant pain, and unbelievable terror. I don’t swing out the first thing that moves now… I am not filled with passionate hate and mistrust of everyone…yeah, I feel the love of my master ,now…so truths were told.
…. I listened intently as they spoke of their still constant hate and rage and…I couldn’t feel any of it. Humph, what a trip…nothing…no pain, no remorse, not apathy either…just, just, just… hmmm, ‘yah the persps are sad, and God hates the sin ,but doesn’t hate the sinner and they too could be forgiven‘…and still nothing, no pain, no rage, no utter sickness. Where the hell did Mary go????
…… I took people on a journey I didn’t want to go on…but we all went anyway…pebbles in a pond.
My niece, well my niece by marriage was 19 and just married when the horror show began…
…………..so young, and trusting… She is one of my favorite people in the whole world… soul mates…I’ve known her my whole life. We met when she was 17., I think I was thirty. … and then the unthinkable happened…how do you process that when your so young and childless. She used to leave me notes and lyrics to songs on my door…I don’t think anyone could look me in the eyes. Raw, absolute pain is hard to look at for very long and I tried to make everyone see mine., vividly. She encouraged me when I thought I might drown in my anguish. She brought me Jesus’ words, and scriptures. She made me get up and walk again, after I had already wrapped my burial clothes around me and my children. She helped me find me again, had she known me before??? Muah! Brittany! Love, love, love!!!!

…my horror show had a cast of many players… Each one had a part to play in my melodrama. Each one tried to shine a light into my dark world that I tried to keep everyone out of.
many important characters…
My sister, who had to come and play an actual on camera role. Her role got bigger and bigger as the days progressed. She never even tried out, she was just thrown in at the last minute. Always reliable, always willing to do her part… always willing to get a little dirty , and like me , laugh at you for laughing at her. That is my sister who I miss. 20 whole miles away. I wish everyone could see you as I see you Kim.
Her daughter played an extremely, extremely, extremely important role. Did I say extremely? She was my rock...and she married and had her first child in the middle of it… and many other incidents and traumas. My rock...yeah she was my rock… never wavering, always believing, always understanding…and if you knew what a b--- she was…humph , really though , I aint gonna lie…my rock. Sometimes you need a b--- in your life...I think… Samantha I hope one day you see, and know who you are…you are my rock, and you probably thought I was the strong one…Although it was your strength that kept me going!
………My friends…oh my many friends… how sick they had to have been to hear my drama…one more time, yet if I didn’t give updates they called to see what was happening… not for excitements sake, as I had a lot of those too. But real run for the tissue friends who called everyone you hated a s.o.b and explained very vividly how they should die. I fear naming them, but you know who you are…
….even small parts were important to me…I think about all the little things my village did for us.
……..Important men in my childrens life, I know I’ve blogged those before…
it was like we had our own little cheering section…
..funny, how I didn’t feel it when I was in it…I only felt the exceptionally few who called me names.
…I remember one women, she had heard I was a bitch from the perpetrators, she walked up to me to be introduced to me by my niece, she said she wanted to meet the biggest bitch in Blackwell… looking her dead in the eyes, I said flippantly, “don’t f--- my children , and we should get along peachy.“ (insert a big f---ing smile) I know, I know I lose control of my mouth all the time.
Forethought, Mary…forethought ..
I still suck at that…I never think before I act, or speak. Is that why people are afraid to talk to me?…truth flies out of my mouth, kind of regurgitating up on them their secret fears and facades??? Oh, Well I must suck, then.
People remind me tentatively, of our tortured history…and look at me surprised as I no longer feel the pain or the hate or the rage…anything other then love…hmmm, I have seen the perps. I look at them with real sadness, how black they must feel inside… how lost they must be… how ugly they look… lost, sad, lonely, and tortured… God told me a long time ago… they will always be that, but you, Mary…you will be great… you will be fine…you will find your way free from the pain…So , ahem…as Abram before me…I proclaimed His words and spoke myself into that existence…Mary the great…and I feel great… words, man…words have power…Overwhelmed with love … I have found myself very addicted… I could never go back to anything less then where He is… at the detriment to whatever doesn’t line up to His words, His love, His peace…I don’t have time for the drama...I ,uh …already reached my quota. I feel peachy, baby…oh so tasty.
….I look around at the people I made come with me on my journey and I feel like I have left them behind…I tried to take them with me…I realize that we are all keepers of our own souls…I know this truth… but at the same time I don’t want them to feel the pain as deeply as I once did. I recognize that pain and it feels horrendous, demanding and ugly.
I tried through my blogs to bring them with me to the end of who I was… to be who I am… to propel the truth to who we all are…so they too could reach the end of themselves without my apparently damaging trauma and turmoil creating misplaced faith to find the truth inside authentic love. I am still trying to undue the thing I had become… Lincoln park, man… If you went on my ride to other side of faith and you got lost…I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you…I was just busy pulling the mask from my face and finding the truth hidden beneath. Life really is beautiful, really it is. Thank you Nikki!

My beautiful mind summons me to come and play yet again…
I miss her…she beckons so gently at first…. It is easy to hide from her soft glances…
Intensity invades my play as I try to find the reason inside the lunacy I run from as I ignore her pleas…
The rolling waves of the seacoast I keep inside my mind threatens first then ravenously reasons for me to come back to play…inside the memory of what I have become.
Tearing my heart open I see the redness from the scars I run from as I pretend nothing matters when It all matters so much…so much…so much…
We become what we cannot control or overcome….
I need to be free from the tremors from the day before yesterday…I keep time with the tick tock from the clock that lives only in my head as I try to find the one I left behind….in my search for me…
Delirium seeks me as I search for the sorrow I can’t fit into anymore…
I lost me while I tore the colossal thoughts that used to fit me when I wore my sadness.
I feel the grey covering my eyes as I try to touch solid ground…
I can reach the sky ,but solid ground escapes my grasp.
Floating into the openness of the release I begged for …fear calibrates my thoughts as I try to find me…yet again….
Marrying the memory to the tomorrow is thoughtful and mundane all at once.
Your fear does not fear you.
Panic-stricken laughter is all you have left as they try to find the reason for your ability to soar.
Finding the answer inside your madness is a sublime chase that beacons you weather you want to play or hide.
Seeking the answer before understanding the riddle is heartbreaking and audacious.
Chasing the wind feels like satin against my naked body as I wait…
Finding the one I can worship leaves me tingly and anxious…
I loath the stares from the abyss as I try to find my way back to the one I can worship again.
They hold their breath as I transcend into the nothingness that they are; as they try to suffocate all there ever was.

ahem...and then she said this....

Seeing words erupt in front of my face as I try to taste the color of the disease they create.
Tripping across the sky to the bottom of the meadow that lives inside my head as I scream inside my perception of a truth.
Seeking the emptiness of the lies to hide from the fear I wrap myself up in when I try to find my slumber.
Laughing at the empty space in between then and now as I try to become real.
Sunshine erupts from the darkness as I try to steal tomorrow.
Subsiding nuances clamor to be the energy I need to breath.
Aching desires rescue me when I cant feel my heartbeat anymore.
Feeling the color to the hate that permeates inside the half truths that I reside in makes my skin quake at each breath I take.
You can’t be my every thought as I try to reach the sky ..on my own…on my own…on my own….
Pride fills my nostrils as I toss the truth from my heaving bosom to find the pain…to find the pain I misplaced yet again.
Pain in the form of ecstasy entices me to be free from the fear I labor to keep with me as I dream.
Pain looks like a kaleidoscope of colors as I close my eyes to this world and I take flight on my own…on my own…on my own.
Shearing stabs inside my flesh as I search for the face in my dreams…I search …I search …I search…
Releasing me to find the pain inside the sorrow of yesterday I try to find the surface from the pond of torment I keep my lover in…
Laughing at my torrid dance of hide and seek I shield my face from the penetrating glare of the intense stare from your eyes as I dream… my dream…on my own…on my own…on my own…
Reconciling yesterday to tomorrow leaves me shaking from the pain I cannot ignore…
Living inside lunacy is a twist of pristine colors that fall from my lips as I rapturously entangle my nature into the world I can touch.
Falling from the clouds I become one with the sky as I careen into the world that you live in…
Living inside my scream I try to be free from the guilt as I left Him without my dreams to find me…on my own...on my own…on my own.

I'm placing the disclaimer in the beginning of this blog, because I think that you need to have a little clarity before you begin reading. I wrote this just after starting a job after intensive training to be a peer recovery support spec. Wonders of wonders...my past keeps throwing up at me and I keep dissecting my own and others behaver as I careen into the instant I find myself stuck in. I had just had my best friend move away...and I was lost in my past and my future colliding...without a friend.

posting all my crap again...






CONFRONTING MYSELF

Confronting my psychosis… I can say it and know it and love it…I wish everyone were as loving as I myself am to my abnormality.
Living with crazy my whole life has been a rollercoaster of normal to insane to normal to insane… and not just my own madness either.
Delusions are tangible if you create your own personal world and stay inside your mania, but there is real danger inside that thought. Breaking out of your own self prescribed delirium can give you perspective and normalcy, and so you must strive to embrace everyday reality to come back to yourself to look back on your thoughts and see them for what they are…crazy.
Crazy is fun….
I love projecting my thoughts to others until they believe that I believe them, completely and totally…then I say psht wtf…Did you believe my madness….igtg now and be real uh over here…k! But thanks for the feedback…I’m gonna come over here and write my thoughts in the form of a story and YOU my friend may be my main character.
Manic behavior can be so exhausting. I think knowing I am right in the middle of my own mania is pristine and overpowering. Or I could be completely fucking wrong.
Crazy thoughts…
Crazy patterns…
Living inside the mania that lives inside my head…
I’m ok…
I’m ok….
I’m ok…
Crazy …. psychiatric disorder….
Analytically I could talk about the nature of the tender mind of the insane… but where would the laughter be then?
Systematically I could diagnose those closest to me… but why uncover the madness if you don’t have to?
My ability to discover other peoples’ neurosis at every turn will only lead you to think I am artificially intelligent when I in truth I have been in traditional therapy so many times… I can recite the definitions to my own personal labels as easily as I change my appearances to fit the box they try to keep me in as I frantically write my thoughts down so that I can remember to have my dreams.
Intrigued yet???
I’m a fucking trip, right?
My beautiful mind erupts upon itself only every now and then now… Its easier to conceal the damage now that I understand my own insanity.
Please don’t misunderstand me and my reason for writing to you my inner most thoughts. I love being who I am…I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never want to be ordinary. I would never pretend normalcy for the sake of appearing normal. The conundrum for me is … are you normal because you only have normal thoughts or ahem do you just keep your thoughts to yourself…because they are crazy… yah I don’t know…
I only really know that I embrace my mania, my deep thoughts….my insanity…but I maintain the ability to turn my thoughts onto your normal life and laugh my ass off at your uptight neurotic ways of doing things.
I met my first really sane person the other day. He probably doesn’t know he is sane. How could he, he was a beautiful , luscious plant in a field of dried up weeds…and all the weeds were telling him that he is a weed. Sure he doesn’t feel like a weed, he looks in the mirror and doesn’t see a weed, yet everyone around him tells him that he is a weed like them….he was no fucking weed!
He was a strong rock in the middle of my insane life that just keeps regurgitating itself up on me. When I got all wrapped up in my crazy he would look at me and say , “Mary, that’s crazy…. Where do you want to eat?” ahhhhhhh……… completely no judgment…just a mere observation…. I love him…. He just named my mania…and loved me anyway….sort of dismissing my insanity, as a consequence not focusing on it…and loving me anyway….
Until him, I had never met a normal person that I could stomach to be with and desire to be with… Maybe I was just so sick of the weeds that seems to continually surround me… he was like a deep intake of air that I needed to survive in the middle of the ocean I dream in. What will I ever do without him? Where will that next intake of air come from?
I guess I will journey on, although this time it will be more difficult. He never fit into any of my usual cast of characters. All that normalcy without the sardonic twist of superiority. Did I say he was sane? As in no neurosis, well none to striking as to point them out. Clever, clever man. Muah…I will miss you to much , already baby…
Being the worshiper instead of the worshiped is not what I thought it would be. Can’t it go both ways. All that insecurity wore me out. Worshiping and being worshiped at the same time would be great. I’m way to insecure to worship without being worshiped back to carry the concept all the way through. The whole yes…no…yes…no, thang… fuck I’m still tired, and confused… and sore, my fucking brain hurts! People around us are all wore out from watching the constant wrestling match. No one wants to hear his name anymore… we wore our audience out….sure it was fun for awhile, but I think they figured we would finally get it together… not just stop in the middle and say… uh , well … see ya, maybe… later… I guess…
…….I’m with you people...it seems now, like a terrible waste of my time.
Into the rabbit hole I fall again. Accept this time I have a net. I have spent the last ten years unraveling the insanity that was placed on me or injected into me by my mother. That is to say, which is my neurosis…is that mine or is it hers. Stronger and stronger I build my armor to withstand the truth I used to keep as a sword ,but now I use it as a whispered answer to the questions that encircles my mind when I am busy trying to live my life. Love the person ,but hate the disease …right? Someone taught me that. Muah, Gordan… I hope one day you will know how innately brilliant you are. Unraveling my short term past to uncover the reasons to my unparalleled experience to dream. I run headlong into the past that has been captured by those that think they can match my behavior to a word…a phrase...a diagnosis.
I debated a student of therapy today.
Ok, well… I debated her for two days.
Tradition states that this person came in and described these thoughts for thirty minutes so she must have this sticker placed on her chart. The diagnosis says that she will exhibit these symptoms. The therapist starts looking for the symptoms. Weather or not they are valid… she will seek them out, because it fits nicely inside her little hand held DSM.
The student and I sat across from one another sizing each other up. Each with our own veiled thoughts and scripted niceties that surrounded us as we first froze our own thought provoked words and painstakingly hurled them at one another. She believed that crazy is just plain old crazy…something to be dealt with and then discarded. I was profoundly afraid she would miss the true beauty inside the mania. She dismissed me as incomplete. I laughed at her attempt to be the hero.
I was a patient that she could not readily dismiss as crazy, because somehow…someway… I had become an equal… a part of the mental heath team. No longer could the good doctor stick some pills down my throat and tell me to stop dreaming. Ahem I was going to be listened to… What a fucking concept! The patient would be heard. Suddenly I found myself standing over the metaphoric couch they had made me lay down on for years. No longer in constraints I took concentrated breaths and silently watched the student try to dismiss the notion that real people had the right to their own recovery.
On this day… this day of orientation I sat at a table in a room I had known all to well. I had visited this room, this building, this place when I was deep inside my own personal disorientation. One by one the doctors that had treated me at various times in my delirium found their way to the table that I sat, and tried to avert their eyes as mine bore into theirs. When by chance they had to meet my gaze I could feel the fear and uncertainty they tried to hide from the snarling beast that sat in front of them. Was it their guilt at the past concept of re shaping the mind of the delirious? Did they wear their own trauma at their own ineptness? I effortlessly read the feelings they tried to hide from me or cover up in front of me.
In spite of their best efforts I had become me.
I had become me…without their medicine…without their words of utter emptiness thrown on me… without blame…without shame…without sneering contempt…
Just me.
I’m fine…I’m fine…I’m fine…right , friends.
I sat across from a man today.
I sat across from a man today on equal footing.
Well, kind of equal… as the great thinkers of today’s new metal health arena, they were now selling the paramount greatness of the magnificent concept of recovering crazies teaching other crazies how to survive in this fucked up world. It’s ok to laugh here at this point. Cuz it’s the funniest thing I have ever heard.
Condemnation aside for the moment. Reality will parade through the gaze of stupidity if your very, very patient.
So if I had remembered…today, I would have shown this man the scars I wear on my wrists. I forget that they are there. It was such a long time ago. I should have shown him my scars. He was there the day I was brought into the hospital. He was there as they uncovered my self inflicted wounds. He was there as I overheard his conversation on the telephone. He spoke not to me, as I was just the patient, he spoke to some voice on the other side of the telephone. He said my wounds were superficial. He dismissed my pain. In one sentence. In one word…superficial. The vast great intensity that I had felt as I cut my very own flesh to watch it bleed… to bleed the pain out of my soul.. To get rid of the pain in the only real way I knew how to do it as a eleven year old girl…he said to the no face voice on the phone, that it was a superficial wound. He dismissed my overwhelming pain in one word. Superficial.
Superficial…yet the scars remain. Some thirty years later the scars are still there. I didn’t die. Maybe he had a dinner later that evening. Maybe he was tired… maybe he had to rest for an up-coming training on adolescent suicide. I don’t know, maybe he was about to get dirty and the other voice was his wife telling him to hurry up. Ordinary, sane people getting freaky always makes me laugh and shudder at the same time. Utter silence as they proceed with caution. Afraid to let themselves go to become… oh never mind.
I got to wrap this up… for today anyway.
Life is so amusing to me.
The strangest part of today was that I was not angry…or in pain… or apathetic. I just passionately wanted to look him in the eyes. He had never looked me in the eyes in the hospital…or in his office later as he told me that, “didn’t I think I just wanted some attention, and that I had merely cut myself to get some attention?” I was a child so I agreed with him. He had all the power, and I had not one fucking clue as to why I had done it except that I hurt and I couldn’t feel that level of pain any more. It was to much to feel that intensely. Projected thoughts to bridle my intense feelings and harness me to reality…at any cost.
So, I left his office and bought my first quarter once of pot. I sold my Barbie dolls and bought a bag. Ahhhh, that was much better than cutting myself. Bandaging the gaping wound of our souls. I had found my Band-Aid.
…….so today, I sat across from a man that now recognizes his own weakness. Maybe I should have played crazy for him…he probably would have slept better tonight, huh? Instead, I played the part of me…as me. We are all keepers of our own souls, right?
That damn normalcy covering up my insanity will be the end of my own transparency…won’t it?

not sure if I posted this yet.
Undoing the nothing I have become…..

You can’t un-due what has been done…
You can’t take back what has been encapsulated into time.
Parading thorough time as if time itself mattered is like gasping for the color of rapture so it can release you from it’s grip… they can’t know, they can’t know…they can’t know…
You live inside a secret…
You participate in the performance that makes you focus on your surroundings while always understanding that it is a matter of the nothing to the very outcome of who you were sent to become.
Audacious living inside speckled clarity …
Reflective nuances have their way with you as you try to pull the nonsense from your very soul…
Ribbons of secular responses invade the carnal revelation of the make believe you exist in.
Nothing inspired…nothing gained…nothing transcending…nothing …nothing…nothing….
The matter at hand becomes the weapon toward beat the sound of the heartbeat you feel rather then hear.
The laughter is silenced as you incorporate the needs to satisfy the ache.
Your heart hears what your mind is screaming…
Trying to become mundane is the exact opposite to trying to become impressive.
Neither fit exactly right…
Becoming who you are…
Nothingness beckons you as you pull the skin from your face while your soul screams for the release….
….your not sure if your nothingness will ravish you or love you.

I fear
I fear there's nothing inside...

standing agaist the dark purple night sky I reach out to something I cant touch…
Something I cant imagine...
where do I go…
Where did I go…
Im stuck inbetween where I was …and who I might be.
I am frozen in fear to make a move towards something I cant feel, yet I cant go back to where I came undone.
unraveling the truth to the nature of my personal beast I cringe in trepadation.
The cool wind falls over my shaking body as I try to peer into the window of who I am to be…
I feel the eyes of truth boring into my spirit as I try to cover my nakedness…
ashamed I try to make my nature unknown to the eyes around me…
helplessly I tremble inside my own demise as I cling to the empty covering of my past.
I shreik into the darkness that threatens to envelope me…
I cant get my lips to move…
the sound trys to erupt from my soul as I tear at my throat…
save me…save me…save me…
glamour falls to the bleeding earth as I stumble to more solid ground…
rumblings from an uncertain place makes my lips quiver with my truth…
I tear at the beauty that cascades from my bleeding soul as I try to find the me I once was…