Nevermore

Feet blistered
bleeding
pushing forward
to where…..
for what…..
I do not know.
Embracing the pain
relishing
rending
emotions
I want them not
I want nothing more
than to come to an end.
Not in death
not in suicide
memories
tainted with your touch
damage you have done
I want to rake your eyes
tear out your heart
your lying tongue.
Imprinted
a duckling on its parent
you
me
snarls fill the air.
I will not let you return from the dead.
I will not let you tear from me
hard won peace
acceptance 
self-love.
Vicious volley
words on the tongue
tear like bullets
through malignant shade
shredding spirit.
Tears
heavy
voices screaming in my head.
Allow me to reiterate
in case your specter cannot understand
You will not win…..
I am stronger.
I am braver.
I am no longer a child.
Blade driven
skewered black heart
your death
glee in myself
my strength
haunt me nevermore.
©July 3/19
Picture via Pinterest
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Happy Anniversary to Me

Good morning all.

Today is going to be a little different. Over in Facebook land I have been doing a countdown to today. Have caused not a little bit of confusion over there as I am right now. With all that goes on over a year long period changes within yourself (myself) can create a completely different person.

On December 23/17 I could have killed myself. Not intentionally but I had gotten to such a point in my life where I was trying so hard to block out the voices in my head. The ones telling me that no one cared. No one had time for me and my petty problems. So I downed handful after handful of pills that day. At one point, while at work, I took over 30 pills. To subdue the voices, to make me stop feeling. The higher I got, the less I worried.

I spent pretty much the entire year of 2017 in a depressive state. I was drinking heavily. Taking pills. How I did my job at work, as a mother, a friend, I do not know. And it is not like I did not try to stop taking the pills. But they were my out. My crutch when things got really hard to handle.

I should have realized as I became more reclusive, cut off people that I spoke to on a regular basis that something was wrong. Did part of me realize? Most likely but that voice in my head kept talking, kept telling me all the wonderfully wrong things about myself. My girls, they tried to reach out to me, they tried but I could not let them see me like that. They did though, cause I have some of the best girl friends on the planet bar none.

I ended up in the hospital that night. Was put on leave the very next day. I could not stop crying. I could not stop apologizing. Once more I had fucked everything up.

What happened to me last year was what I call my kaboom! I fell down. And let me tell you I fell hard. All those balls I was juggling came crashing down on my head. One after the other. When I woke up on the 24th, I had a massive bruise on my arm, my forehead hurt and there was a bruise and my tailbone. As you read this you are probably wondering what the hell I had done.

I literally fell down. I had pulled myself up off the floor (I had been hiding under the desk so I would not be on camera) and tried to sit on the chair.  Which rolled away from me and I hit the floor while cracking my head and arm on the desk. I had been trying to make myself throw up which did not work. I was in a horrific condition. How I still have a job I do not know.

At the hospital that night, I sat in the waiting room with two friends to see the doctor. I was not considered to be an urgent care so it was almost five hours before I was called to be taken to a room. I had a variety of tests done. Bloodwork. Urine. Heart. The concern was I could have damaged my kidneys. My heart was racing overtime. Never mind that I was groggy and really just wanted to sleep.

It was after midnight, Christmas Eve, by the time I got home. The friend who drove me to get my car followed me home and went through my cupboards. To ensure that I had no more pills. I threw out everything I had when I got up later. Not the pills I had been taking but Advil, PMS meds, if it was something that could be consumed and possibly get me high, I threw it away.

My Ex came through in a big way. He supported me. Not once did he call into question my ability to mother. Not once did he point a finger at me or make me feel that what had happened was wrong. He had been through this once before with me, but this time when I hit my rock bottom, I hit it hard.

Poor T. He was so lost and feeling like he had to make me feel better. I look at him now (I mean the poor kid has witnessed not one but two depressive episodes with me) and I fear that I have caused some damage. He does not like to be away from his dad or me for too long. He will only go on sleepovers to his best friend’s home, no where else. He gets anxious and has ridged rules which cannot be compromised. I need to tell him in advance if something is going to change in his normal routine. I did that to him and I do not know how to fix it.

I was abused by my father. I knew this. My mom knew this. My brother well he knows without knowing. I charged him. I went to court and testified against him. I chose not to follow through when enough evidence was found to go to trial. Than I spent the next 20 years or so until his death, fluctuating between wanting him in my life and wishing that he was dead. I shoved everything down.

In previous posts (from the start of the year) I have detailed my account of what happened. The voice that was on repeat in my head, was his. He told me as a child I ruined everything. I was made to feel small, belittled and abused. I kept all of this inside where it ate away at the fiber of my being.

I began counselling. I admitted that I had very little recall of my childhood. I remember select things, like my brother’s birth and my reaction. However I mean a little terrorist had just moved into the family (ha ha ha) who the hell would forget that? But my life except for certain things, before the age of about 12, is a foggy blur. Memory wise.

My counsellor explained that this was not unusual in abuse cases. That my brain was hiding from me what it felt I could not handle. I was not to go poking around trying to recall anything because well my brain would not let me. I was worried too, that I was making everything up, that none of this had happened. My fears were put to rest again by my counsellor when we discussed this. Never mind the fact that I could recall my statement to the police nigh on 30 years later.

The worst for me was a cycle of three days. Three days were I was slammed with memories that froze me. That made me scream. Quite honestly, I had one memory that actually made me scream in terror and pain when it hit me. I felt like a black hole had opened up and swallowed me. I doubled over with emotional pain, pulled my knees up and was in the fetal position screaming and crying.

The other two memories were bad but not as bad as the first one. The first one is when I realized/remembered/learned that I had been younger than 12 when this abuse started. That is the one that ripped a hole in me. The other two left me shaking and in flight mode as adrenaline coursed through my body. And while they were just as horrid, by day 3 I was nearly comatose. I was going through the motions. I was a robot. I was raw. And in pain.

Now let us fast forward to today. I have been pill free for a year. I am stronger than I have ever been in my entire life. I believe in myself and that fucking voice well it is gone. I have made peace with myself. I am confident and I believe (lol Eminem song every time I say that statement ‘I believe’ I hear him in my head) that I am worth it. I am worth time, care, love and a happy life. I am worthy to live this life. The chains of my past which had shackled me, held me down, they are gone.

I am in a really great space. I have learned to trust and love. I have learned who I can count on. Who is there for me even when I am at my most ugly. I have learned how to accept my emotions, my pain, my fears, to let myself feel them and deal with them, not hide from them. I have learned how to care for the small girl inside of me, who was so hurt and harmed, we have become one again.

So, happy anniversary to me. I am so very very proud of myself.

 

Mask Be Gone

Today will be another 2 post day but I will leave the second one for later on. It is a fun filled one about T and me last night.
I need to give credit where credit is due with regards to the posts where I have a lightening strikes moment and insight happens.  All of them, at the very least 99.9% of the time they evolve out of conversations that I am having with friends. They will make a statement or ask a question and suddenly boom there it is. And I talk it out with whomever I am talking to at the moment. The vast majority of them are broken down between two people of whom K is one of.
Today she is going to make cold calls for the company that she is working for. Dropping off flyers/information packets at the business around the area. When in the office for the most part she can go casual. Today though, she was not sure if it would be okay to wear casual or make a better impression if she dressed up. What did I think. And I thought about it.
Sales Person=Professional look=suits/slacks w/dress shirt for men. Pantyhose/skirt/slip/blouse/dress pants/blazer/dress/heels/flats/purse
for women. Damn uncomfortable being dressed up like that all the time. I have done it in the past and best place I have ever worked was for a company that was in production. I was in Customer Service but could handle this because I dealt with the salesmen not actual customers and I  could wear jeans and sweatshrits to work. I was in my glory. (To be honest the first day I started I wore dress pants in and was told I was dressed up too much.)
I explained that that was my definition of a sales person’s dressware and K agreed. She is going to throw her flair into it though and come out looking awesome. I began to think though as we are talking about what facades we put on. We are programmed to think and feel about certain people and careers solely based on how they are dressed.
Ex: A meeting is taking place between 2 competitors with a company. Person A arrives for the meeting casually dressed because he/she knows that the product they are selling is exactly what the companny requires and at a fraction of the cost even with a few bells and whistles thrown in of their competitor. Person B arrives for the meeting in business attire. Their product essentially the same as Person A’s but with extras that the company does not need nor will they ever use. And it costs triple the price. In the end despite the fact that Person A’s product is what they need for a great cost the company choses to go with Person B.
We immediately disregard people if they do not fulfill our preconcieved notions of how they should look. How does one know that the lawyer who wears jeans and tee shirts to the office did not graduate at the top of his law class while the lawyer in the $1000 suits who charges hourly did not? We give so much creedence to how we present ourselves to the world, that we forget who we are.
At work I have a facade. Chipper. Always happy. Smile on my face. Flying around here there and everywhere. Stopping to talk to people. Helping customers find what they need. This is the face that I wear day in and day out, 40 hours a week whether or not I feel like it.
Before Dec. 23rd, my entire being was a facade. I smiled and pretended I was happy. I laughed and talked and tried to be the world’s best problem solver. As I type this I recalled a moment just before that saturday which made me realize how much my facade was me.
I had been helping a customer and chatting away with them. When done I went over to another till to bag for one of my cashiers and her customer. All of us are chatting away and both of them mention that I am always happy. My mask slipped for a brief moment when I admitted that I was not really 100% me. And both of them told me that they never would have known. That I certainly did not show that things were not quite right.
Maybe if I had not been so intent on presenting myself as a strong and capable woman who required no assistance someone might have noticed a little earlier as the cracks began to appear. Maybe if I had been willing to be truthful with myself, I could have, no there is no could have. My facade had become me. I had become my facade.
Now I can look in the mirror and see me. This morning after I put cream on my face and set my glasses on my nose I took a really good look at myself in the mirror. And I saw me. The real me. The one who’s eyes are sparkling, clear, not fogged and drug numbed. I no longer look haggard and tired. I am still sleeping the same but again, there are no drugs at play deadening my sleep. I feel good. My hair is not looking brittle and ready to crack. Nor is it falling out in handfuls any longer. My skin is clearer and smoother as well.
There is another part of me that fell beneath the illusion of my facade and the role I was playing. That was my brain. My brain has been fooled and stupified and drug numbed for so many years I am damn surprised that it still functions. But it is there. With ideas and knowledge and truths that I fought to hide from for so long. I am open to the changes that are tearing down the ugliness that I wore to fool the world and replacing it with me. The real me.
I began thinking this was going to be a random reflection based on what K and me were talking about. Instead it opened my eyes further to the changes that I have wrought both inside and out. I am not going to wear masks any longer. What you see is who I am. I want to be accepted for the person that I am, not the person that society expects me to present to the world at large.

Mixed Bag

I have learned a lot in the last month.
I am still learning.
I am changing.
I am becoming braver.
I am being honest. With myself and others.
I am responsible for my feelings and reactions.
I am working very hard to slow down and think before I speak when I become annoyed with T or for that matter, anybody. This is hard as it is a habit/learned trait that I must consciously break. I will have to carry this technique over into the work place.
I am present. Working very hard to not plan. To not fret over the things that I cannot control.
I am looking after me. No more of this shit putting everyone else first as though they are more important than I am. I will not do that anymore. I do not need to bend over backwards to make people like me.
I am a wonderful woman with a wicked sense of humor, smart as hell and damn sexy. I will not allow anyone to undermine the foundation that I am building beneath me.
My definition of projecting:  Reading a statement and because of something that you fear within yourself, you color a person’s response/words to you with that fear.
Ex. I was explaining to a friend something that I had noticed she had a bad habit of doing. We are intensely honest with one another. After I was done she  thanked me with an exclamation point. I know how dare she be excited and show it with an exclamation point because yes I helped her. Yet I fear that I am going to annoy her because of all my advice and experience. But than I stopped myself and realized what I was doing. I was projecting my fear into her typed words and thought she was being sarcastic. She was not being sarcastic at all. Once I realized that and changed my mind set the fear was gone just like that. Bye bye.
I am learning that once you can recognize what you are doing, you being to pick up on it when you are doing it. Once you are aware that you are doing it you can change how you think, feel and respond. Once you begin twigging to when you start projecting and figure out why, you conquer that fear.
I am a mixed bag of thoughts and ideas.

Lessons Learned

This was a week of lessons for both myself and T. I think too that it has been a hard week for him as the amount of time the Ex has spent with him has been minimal. I cannot even work up anger. I am resigned. I am sad for T. I cannot make him change. I cannot make him see the young man who is growing up right in front of our eyes. T is playing Farming Simulator as I sit here typing this.

I was excited because I am able to listen to my music on my notebook while writing and also watch T play Farming Simulator. I believe I have explained before? Long story short you build up a farm. People create maps and you go farm. Drive around. It is a popular game judging by the amount of Youtube videos I have been subjected to. At the moment I am sitting here with our shared headphones on (the ones that cover the whole ear not inserted buds that would be gross) listening to Florida Georgia Line. Basically I load the entire album and start at the beginning. Today may be the first time in a long time that I get through the very long list.

We had two rather comedic episodes that left me gasping for air I was laughing so hard.

Yesterday morning I was about to wash the bathroom floor and asked T if he wanted to go use the bathroom before I did. He said yes. As he is climbing down his ladder I stand there  and tell him he is not to pee on the floor, the seat, the side, nowhere but into the toilet as I had just finished cleaning it. As a matter of fact, I suggested that he straddle the toilet and push it down to pee straight in. With hand pantomimes. T stared at me in absolute horror and as I turned away informed me that that was the absolute worst advice ever. And if I had one I would totally understand why. I giggled again typing this up.

Later in the day as I was driving him to the Ex’s for his night with him T was muttering away about what an absolute boring evening it was going to be. That none of his friends could come over. It was going to be dad, grandpa and grandma. I

I am trying something new. We are all programmed to notice the negative, the absurd, in other people’s pain. We mock others to make ourselves feel better about our own selves. When T and me had our long conversation the other week I told him that we needed to change. That we needed to look for the positive no matter how hard it is going to be. And it is going to be hard. I mock others. I make fun of them to others. I am no saint as I told K and P. It is a habit, a trait, who knows but it needs to be changed. Now the other day when I dropped T off at school I mocked the bright color of one of his classmate’s snowsuit. I tried to recover by saying at the very least we would not lose him in a snowstorm. Told him that he was not to make fun of the boy to which he emphatically told me he would never. I told him I was sorry. That I should never have made a comment and about a child’s snowsuit nonetheless.

So back to T and me, driving to the Ex’s. Grandma and grandpa are visiting. T is going to be bored. I suggest that he could hang out with grandma. And glanced over to see him looking at me like this. Yes I pulled over and took this picture. Mom, he leans forward his arm on the back of the seat, that male posture when they want to tell you something really important in the car, Grandma is old. And she is annoying. The laughter escaped me and I tried to stifle it. I looked at T and explained to him that grandma really loved him. That she wanted to spend time with him. As he is muttering away, frowny face on, arms crossed. That was when I learned something new about T.

I suggested (I am great for suggesting things) that he might want to spend some time with grandma because she would not be around forever. And he said no that was not true. Um yes, unfortunately we all die someday. Nope, we get another life. I looked over at T and said you think after we die we get a different life. Yep. So you believe in reincarnation. Yeah like having past lives and all that. We get to be together in the next life too. There are times when T reminds me how so very special he is. He also believes that had he been born a girl, the Ex and me would have still been his/her parents. The life would have been the same just pink. He expanded my mind right there.

Today he was annoyed that I had picked him up from his friend’s so early. Had thought that he was going to be staying there until 5 p.m. He was angry with me and refusing to talk. So I thanked him. I could have argued until I was blue in the face with him about his attitude but again I am trying different things to find what works for us. I want to stop that cycle I have seen myself falling into. But no, I thanked him. And waited. Finally he asked for what.

I told that I had taken his suggestion and had started writing a story the night before. Wanted to know what it was about so I gave him a quick a synopsis. Explained that what had started off as a short story about one thing had morphed into something else totally different. My main character had a story to tell we were just figuring it out. I thanked him again and he said you are welcome. I felt it was a small victory and we chatted and laughed all the way home.

Once home with chores taken care of I went to grab the headphones and T was loading his game. Asked where the headphones were. As if I didn’t know, he had taken them into his room one day watching Youtube and left them in there. He fought with me. Told me I had taken them and put them somewhere and it was not his fault that I could not remember. I took the remote for the XBox and sat down on the couch explaining that he could have the remote back once he checked his room.

He argued with me and I kept my cool. I did not yell. I did not let my temper get the best of me. I spoke calmly and repeated that he would get the remote once he had gone to look for the headphones. Finally I said that if he was sure they were not there could he please just humor me and go take a look. Stood in the door and said looked. Uh-uh get up there and look.

I heard him climb up into his bed and silence. After a few moments I got up and double checked the table and counter just in case I was being a hardass for something I had in fact done. I stood watching him from the doorway as he climbed down and threw the headphones at me. I think he thought I was going to crow and say I told you so. Or some form of that. Instead I said thank you I really appreciate that you looked for them. Warned him I might sing and was that okay? I was informed that it was most definitely not cool to sing out loud. I made no promises. He giggled.

I need to be his example. I cannot expect him to act one way and for me to act another. I will slip. I am sure that I will make a mocking comment about someone, and snort giggle when reading memes on FB again I am no saint. But I will actively work to do this. For both of us. And in a world full of negatives looking for the positive is hard. And that is when I learned my second lesson.

What I do now is easy. I am in my home. Being a good example is not hard when I am not interacting with others for extended time periods. I will be going back to work. I will be around toxic people who are going to attempt to shame me. Those who are going to judge me. Not celebrating with me as I recover from this bout of depression. That I am emerging a better stronger woman. And it is going to be hard to not to give in. To not laugh at that little aside about a coworker. A dis about an employee. An irate customer. Being tired. I could come up with a thousand reasons why I slipped back and forget what I was doing this for in the first place.

Yes in part this is a step in my mental health and realizing that I was following a cycle that my father got from his mother. I was yelling at T and several times during the week I cut myself off from phrases he said. I need to break it here and now. But this is for Tember. Our children are our future, and I want to encourage T to see the good first before having to process the bad.

 

She’s a little pushy

This is going to be a wee bit of a brag.

T has informed me that the time has come for me to move beyond my poetry to short stories. He would like to see me stories like his. The Adventures of Pickle. Kids book he has created.

I have been mulling over an idea or what I thought the idea was going to be. Last night I grabbed my notebook and opened up a new page in Evernote Notebook Fiction. I wrote for an hour. At times my fingers flew across the keyboard as my character began to take shape. Imagine my surprise when my main character morphed from male to female and the male lead is becoming a secondary character.

I wrote 1249 words last night.

I could have continued writing but than I would only be going to bed now. I have not written a short story since the early 2000’s. I am so excited and even now she is hovering at the edge of my conscious poking me as though saying ‘Hey Jay what are you doing? I am here, c’mon let’s get going I have so much to tell you.”

 

Ownership

I use to pride myself on not being a liar. That I always told the truth. But I realize that I don’t. I realize that a lot of the times I say what people want to hear rather that what I actually think. Why are we  programmed to hide our thoughts and feelings?
I was going through an old notebook and found some items that I wrote. It appears to be a list of some sort defining my beliefs on certain emotions and behaviour.
Never Lie: To lie means I am scared of the reaction of others. Yet when I lie, it will snowball rapidly until I am found out.
To lie is to give false comfort.
If I start lying to others, it makes it easier to lie to myself. I need to be honest when I look in the mirror.
Confidence: The belief in oneself. To acknowledge that I am good. I do not need to go out of my way to showcase my talents and abilities. They can speak for themself.  Whether at work or in my private life.
Toxic People: People who try to tear me down, make me disbelieve myself. People who make it all about themselves. These are people that I need to avoid. I do not need to allow them any access to my life or inner self. I protect myself.
Forgiveness: The ability to let go of past hurts. I carried mine around, extra baggage that needed to be looked at, examined and put away. I need to forgive myself for being so harsh. For the abuse I put my body through. I need to forgive myself for ignoring the voice that was screaming in my head for so long.
Trust: in this list I found I defined trust as allowing someone into my life and hold nothing back from them.
I feel that trust for me is now different. I am not sure how though.
Betrayl: in this list I defined betrayl as making a promise and than not following through on it. Thus breaking the trust between myself and the other person. There can be no friendship once a  betrayl occurs.
Friendship: Friendship is a two way street, each giving and receiving. There needs to be trust, faith and no fear that I am going to be judged when I really need to reach out. When there are problems (real or perceived) an open discourse must take place to enable the lines of communication to remain open.
I am not sure what I was going through at the time. I do not even know when I wrote this list out. Yet it is even more relevant to me now. Within this journey I am on, I need to redesign the way I view things. I need to make myself responsible for my thoughts and emotions. I need to take ownership.