Free the Birds

There are days. Like today. When I want to do nothing more than to give the world the double bird salute and say FUCK OFF. Then hop in my convertible and ride into the sunset with my unbrushed hair blowing in the wind. I wouldn't even look in the mirror to see if the world's mouth was hanging open in shock. Fuck you world. 

What's even funnier? Is that I COULD do this. Fuck the world and its inhabitants. Let 'em rot and die. Fuck 'em, but I don't. Want to know why? So do I. Why do I care for people? People who don't give a furry rat's ass about me. Not really. People who hurt me day in and day out. People who only remember me on the first of the month when it's time to hand out money. So why do I fucking care? 

Because I don't want to be like them. That's why and I hate myself for it because a part of me DOES want to be like them. To be able to use and abuse others without a second thought. To not give a fuck and just take and take and take. But I don't. And I won't. And I never will be that person, but I want to be. Ooooh do I WANT to be. I pray that someday I will be that person and I wait for that day when I can walk away and say 

But instead I just take it. I take all of it. Heave on top of the pile that already sits on me. Why can't I just be like others? Why can't I just take? If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll figure it out and when I do.Fuck 'em all to hell. 

The Bell Tolls

Glass shatters
Beneath the waves
The mountains crackle and call your name
 A silent mourning beneath the sea
A siren's song it carried me

An observer nothing more
Darkness descends
Velvet shores
Touch my hand
Dry my eyes
Count the stars
Amidst the lies
Sprinkling dust between the trees
The earth trembles
On repentant knees.

Panic Room

Panic is an odd thing. Addictive. I've lived my entire life in panic mode. I didn't know it until recently when I stopped and then went into withdrawals. I no longer had to make decisions based upon what was absolutely necessary in order to simply SURVIVE for the next 24 hours. I no longer had to toss things aside in order to simply be able to exist beyond the next five minutes. It became my normal. Now it is not and well it's weird. 

At times I find myself, bored? No, not bored, confused? Yes, confused, definitely uncertain. Always waiting for the next catastrophe. Even creating  a few when none occurred because what the fuck else was I suppose to do? Just sit here and be "normal".  That was too weird. I need panic. I need chaos. Not really. It's just I know what to do in the panic and chaos. Without them I feel like I'm lost and in unknown territory. 

It's fucking weird to be normal.

Secure At All Costs

I have a thing with feeling secure and stable. The thing is I don't ever feel this way. Feeling as if my world can at any moment be sucked out from underneath is as much a part of me as breathing. Even when I KNOW things are ok, there is always this little tickle of doubt tucked in the corner that says prepare anyway. Just in case. 

From my birth my life was in constant flux. I never knew what the day would be like when I stepped off the bus each day from school. My home filled with drugs, alcohol, and abuse. While appearing neat and tidy on the outside was a constant roller coaster ride on the inside. Then whoosh I went to live with my grandparents. But that wasn't permanent either. Every six months or so my mom would pop in and I'd go live with her or a cousin or aunt or back to my grandparents. I never had my own room. Never hung posters on the walls or decorated. I was nearly 14 before I had a bed to sleep in. Usually I slept on the floor or sofa. 

Then there's the asswipe aka my ex husband. If my life was not chaotic before that so not intelligent decision then it sure as hell was after. It's only now today. When my life is starting to balance, when I'm finally connecting the dots that I realize how ingrained into my inner being this feeling of "be prepared" has become. Now as I build the foundation that most people grow up with I realize I have never lived beyond today. I have never thought of tomorrow. My entire existance has always been for the day. If I can find enough money to pay the rent for this week, this moment. To eat today I'll worry about tomorrow when it gets here. The downside to this living in the moment is that I always feel I'm in a constant state of panic. I am constantly in need of collecting, gathering, working, building and I never have that solid foundation that I know I can lean on if there's a bump in the road. 

It's a difficult place to be. To know there is nowhere to turn if things go a little bad. It reminds me of how alone I am in the world. How many bridges I've burned in my quest of trying to find this allusive security I seem unable to get my hands on. I know this is something I need to gain control over, but it has become a survival instinct within me. To the point it causes panic attacks whenever I feel my "supplies" are slightly below where they should be. Even though I'm ok. Even though things are not in danger I still worry. Be prepared. Plan A, B, C, D, and E are minimum requirements for every day of my life. It's exhausting. I'm trying to let go of this. I've gotten much better than I was before, but still that lump appears in my throat whenever I think things are not as ok as they should  be. While you'd think all of this preparedness would always keep me ahead, usually it ends up putting me behind because I use what little I have for some made up "emergency" in my mind. Then if a real one comes I don't have what I need to cover it. 

Blah. It's a never ending cycle. I just need a sugar daddy. Anyone got an extra they might like to share?

Eyes Wide Open

Yesterday as Jigger slept I lay there watching him. His even breaths as his chest rose and fell with each inhalation. For whatever reason I was feeling a bit nostalgic. I thought about all of the silent hours that pass between the two of us each day. We work together in our own business from home. Yet probably less than ten words a day ever pass between the two of us especially if we're busy working on a project. Even if there is no project, he's off in his world and I'm floating around mine. There is more silence that passes between us than syllables, but yet neither of us is uncomfortable. Neither of us feels that need or urge to fill the void with idle noise. We both are comfortable in the silence that lies between the syllables, consonants, and vowels. Don't take this the wrong way. We talk everyday. But we also sit in silence everyday as well. Every word spoken has a purpose, a meaning. Even if the meaning is to share a laugh or moment of happiness, sadness, or thought. Regardless of the meaning, the meaning and purpose still exists. Jigger and I don't spend much time on idle words. We don't speak for the sake of filling the void. 

What is strange is that this silence causes those around us to become nervous. They interpret our silence as anger. They ASSume we are angry at each other and that's why he and I don't speak to each other. There was a time when his family attempted to fill the void believing I was uncomfortable in the silence. However after four years they've come to realize I prefer the silence and have stopped trying to fill something I don't consider empty. 

So as he lay there, sleeping, inhaling and exhaling. I thought about how fortunate I am to have someone who is comfortable in my emptiness. So who can ebb and flow with my waves. Who doesn't try to harness me but instead tries to bend to accommodate me. For all the little things I get frustrated with, in reality I am very blessed and very fortunate to have someone like him. I often times become so absorbed within the moment of the here and now that my focus becomes very narrow. I see only that tiny fraction of space that is right in front of me. If there happens to be a crack in it, then I forget about all of the area around me that isn't broken. I instead focus on that tiny space that isn't perfect. I realized there in the silence of his sleep I need to stop viewing the world through such a narrow lens. I need to remember there is more than the space in front of me. There is more than the moment I'm in. I need to remember that even though he bends he can still break and to be gentle with him. 

Sometimes more can be said with silence than a thousand words. I need to remember to stop and listen more often.

Whispers

Whispers in the brain. Statics of electricity bursting forth. Giving birth to inspiration. Then vanishing into the night. Disappearing with no trace. Leaving you unable to recall from where or how or why. Unable to retrieve or recreate a moment. Lost in darkness. Shrouded by doubt and fear. Consumed. 

Until a spark releases you from its grasp. Then you run as far as you can before it reaches back out with its tendrils and drags you back into the darkness. Surrounding you. Suffocating. 

Alone. 

Whispers. Doubts. Sorrows. Fears. All consuming. All encompassing. Disorienting. Spinning faster. Becoming lost in the vacuum. Awake with unseeing eyes into a past before the future of now. Blind. Stumbling. Pulling. Higher or lower unable to know for sure. Right or wrong. Back or forward. Up or down. They are the same. Onward. What other choice do you have?

Trying to Tell Me Somethin'

So over the last two days, Jigger's nearly knocked me unconscious, almost blacked my eye, and broken my foot. Or I could be exaggerating a little. Sorta. 

Yesterday he put some of his work and books on a shelf attached to the wall that is THREE FEET to my right,from the spot where I sit and do my work. The books and shit FELL in an arc so that they fell on my head 3 feet away. If they had just fallen straight down, I could understand it, but their arc defies the laws of gravity. This is why I never liked fig newtons. Damn fig liars! 

Then he was going to visit his friend and taking his laptop with him as he undid the wire it swung around his computer desk and smacked me in the face. Not sure what I did to him but apparently all of his shit is seriously pissed the fuck off at me. I apologized but not enough because today I was sitting on the floor reading when he got up to get some water and stepped on my foot. Seriously the noise was so loud it scared him. He really thought it broke and for a moment I wasn't so sure. But nahh I'm tuffer than that. Mutherfucker is sore but I'll live.

So yea just throwing out to whatever spirits I seem to have pissed the fuck off. It was NOT intentional. I swear. Maybe.

Irritated Fuzz

Stupidity drives me beyond my limits.. I hate stupidity. I seem to attract stupid people as clients in my work. I find it extremely frustrating because I am unable to communicate and instead just put up with whatever stupidity they bring. I wish I could sort out boundaries but so far I haven't been able to figure it all out and it creates enormous amounts of frustration within me. Because when someone tells me they want it "dark, with no color but not black and white" I want to punch them in the face because omfg what the hell does that even MEAN?!

My frustration level is beyond maxed out. I need a vacation from life.

Friend or Foe

In my world, there is only black or white. You're either friend or foe. I trust you or I don't. There is no middle ground no room for error. If you're able to walk the tight rope and cross over into friendom, then I constantly fear I've "misjudged" you. That you're really a foe and at any moment you're going to show your truth hidden within. 

This is all in my head. A battle of good vs evil that replays itself constantly. Even when the person hasn't done anything wrong I push them so hard and make them jump through so many hoops they eventually walk away because seriously who has time to put up with it and to constantly prove themselves to be something they're not. But then when they walk away I shout "ah-ha knew it" they were foe. But there is a hollowness in that victory. 

As irrational as all of this is I know it and while I"m working on controlling it, at times it controls me. Even though I know it's all irrational the what if game always wins. "What if I'm wrong", the earth will spin off its axis and we'll all be plunged into the sun and everyone will be melted and it'll be all my fault.

All. MY. Fault. This thought is embedded in my DNA thanks to my father. The many gifts he's bestowed upon me all of these years. My parents divorced because of his alcoholism and abuse. They divorced because I ran away to my grandparents and refused to live with them. My mother reluctantly divorced him. It was all my fault. Which is why he tried to kill me several times. All my fault. 

Even today, any wrong in the world no matter how far removed from me it is, I feel responsible. I feel I have to fix it to correct it. Then I'll be "good" again, but it doesn't ever work out that way. 

I'm not sure why all of these things are coming up now. I've been having nightmares this past week. Haven't had them in awhile either. Whenever the nightmares come, they fuck with my head for awhile. Then they disappear and I tend to settle down and be less irrational. Take enough sleeping pills and not even Freddie can get you.

No Reason Just Cuz

I cried today. I don't know why or what brought it on. I just went to pee. Sitting there,suddenly a death sob exploded from me and the harder I tried to push it back in the further out it came. Until my face and floor were soaked with saltiness. Then as quickly as it came, it left. Sucked back into the black hole from whence it came. I walked back into our room, smiled at Jigger, and went on as if nothing had happened. Yet my head is spinning and my heart hurts and I don't know why.

Alone

I want to be alone. To scream. To sit naked. To laugh. To cry. To breathe. I am never alone. Never silent. Never free. Today my tethers feel more like shackles. Manacles. Connected to the earth that will neither release me nor consume me.

I want to breathe.

Nibbles n Bits

Ack! I have issues with food. Not just disordered issues but like real physical health issues. Sometimes the two cross boundaries and I get stuck in the middle of their feud. It drives Jigger fuckana nuts. Not only do I not eat certain foods because of texture. The few foods I do eat have suddenly started to make me sick. Not suddenly. Almost eight months ago I started developing heart burn. Like raging, alien gut bursting heart burn. I started cutting foods out until I narrowed it down to two specific foods. I no longer eat those foods. I also no longer have heart burn and no longer vomit daily. My IBS has also VASTLY improved by eliminating those two foods. 

But then there are days when there are foods I do eat, but I'm just not feeling that hungry so I just eat a little. Which upsets Jigger I should EAT the way he does. This makes me feel out of control so in order to gain a little bit of control I just STOP. EATING. altogether. I'll show you. I know this is wrong. I know I am wrong, but it's a reflex action. I'm working on it. 

So now I'm trying to patch things up because I didn't eat dinner. It was one of the two forbidden foods. There was almost a fight, but it fizzled as quickly as it began. I'm trying, but sometimes I get pissed that I have to try so hard. Why only me? The little two year inside of me stomps her feet and sticks out her lip and wonders "why does she have to play by the rules when no one else does"? 

I wish I had an answer for her.

Fragrance of Innocence

So I've been watching DEM play this game for awhile now and since she's cool and all dat so I decided to play along. It seemed like fun. Here are the Trifecta rules:

Your task this week, should you choose to accept it, is to write a love scene in no fewer than 33 and no more than 333 words. 

~~~~~~~~~~

He felt her without opening his eyes. Her fragrance filled the room and he breathed her scent deeply into his lungs. He liked the way it filled him with her from inside to out. Her sheer robe brushed his cheek as she walked by, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He could feel her watching him. Her eyes boring into his soul as if she were attempting to read the thoughts that drifted through his inner being. He shifted, feigning sleep. “Would this be the night?”

She’d been coming into his room for the last three weeks. Every night her scent taunted him, but she never allowed him more than a single breath before vanishing. Her scent came stronger, closer. He could feel her breath upon his neck. To be chosen, was all he wanted.  He’d done his research carefully before entering the Coven. He knew why she’d cast aside every chosen before him. He made sure not to repeat the same mistakes. It seemed his plan to gain the Queen’s attention was working. He just had to be patient for a little while longer. He nearly opened his eyes when he felt her nails outlining the perfectly curved stomach he had spent months working to achieve. As her nails continued tracing his body, he almost forgot why he was there. He could have taken her then, but that would have been no fun. “Patience, just a little while longer then I’ll be her Chosen, and then I’ll take revenge for the death of my sister.”

Her scent disappeared. He’d passed her test once again.  He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. How could something so bitter smell so innocent? He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep; knowing soon his bed would not be empty but filled with the Queen and her blood.

Free Giveaway Today

I mentioned yesterday about the book Letters from a Bipolar Mother. You can download it free at Amazon today and tomorrow. (Feb 8-9). Just click the image in my sidebar and you'll be taken to the free downloads. Also if you join Alyssa's mailing list, you'll receive free ecopies of all of the rest of the series.

Letters of A Bipolar Mother

While I don't usually promote books I am promoting this one. A friend (or alter ego in my head I never quite can be sure lol) has just released her book Letters of A Bipolar Mother (Chronicles of A Fractured Life). It's currently only available in ebook but the print versions will be available within the next few days. I've read the book and Alyssa manages to explain exactly how bipolar affects the worlds of those of us who are forced to waddle through it each day. If you have a loved one with bipolar or especially if you're a child whose parent is bipolar I highly recommend this book. It was written so the loved ones of those with bipolar might be able to get a glimpse of how we function and why we at times are so irrational. If you want you can read Alyssa's blog. Her website is http://www.alyssareyans.com

Marty McFly & The Deloreans

Sounds like a cool band from the 50's doesn't it? I just finished reading a book and it's got me all contemplative. Thinking thoughts I hadn't in awhile. I started reading when I was about 5 or 6. Not The Babysitter's Club or Goosebumps or whatever kids were reading back in the 80's. I read for lack of a better explanation, Native American romance novels. These were books where white women were taken captive but fell in love with their captor and then refused to return to the white world. I would read a book a day. I loved the idea of living in such a simplistic way of life. Being one with the earth, and creatures around you. Sitting together as a community at night before a blazing fire as elders told stories of the ancients beneath a bright full moon. 

Not only did I dream about those times but I longed for them as if I had once lived them and lost it. I longed for it the way a lover pines away for a lost love. To this very day I long for a life I know I will never have and it haunts me. It makes me sad and unable to fully exist in the skin that covers my bones. I feel out of place and out of time. 

The book wasn't about Native Americans though. The one I just finished. The one which brought all of these feelings and emotions back to the surface. It was however about a group of people who choose to live away from society without electricity or all modern conveniences. They live as one, work as one, do what is best for the group. Maybe worlds like that only exist in books. But I search for them and shed tears when I'm unable to find them. I miss them. My heart aches to be there. When I was younger everyone use to say  I had an "old soul". Maybe I just have a reused one.