Monthly Archives: March 2013

Happy Easter

I dug a little on the web. I have taught my children religious tolerance their whole lives. When they asked what eggs and bunnies have to do with Christ I explained the merging of Christianity with Paganism. So I will share with everyone.


Regardless of what you believe, I encourage you to be with loved ones today or at least call them to say happy Spring. We made it through the winter and new life is all around us so try to see the kindness and warmth the earth is offering today.


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Home for some not all

Italo Calvino said: The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts. Describe the ghosts that live in this house: Image credit: “love Don’t live here anymore…” – © 2009 Robb North – made available under Attribution 2.0 Generic

Blue devils surrounded by sparks of memories is all I have left. I miss my bright lights, their shining faces always under me,wanting something, always wanting. On occasion it was even important. I want to leave but a force is begging me to stay. Stay and see what I left unfinished, unaccomplished, under a tide of quiet desperation. I knew they were here, when the water filled my lungs and I heard the screaming coming from the back seat. I knew they would meet me here. Home is where we belong. Home, without the pressure of food and electricity. Home where I knew you would be, smiling, laughing, waiting for mama. I was so ecstatic when I felt myself being enveloped in warmth and the choking dark liquid that took us away. Away to here, home. Please come home beautiful honey eyed babies that love me in spite of the way I allowed you to be treated. Come home,

I will wait as long as it takes for you to find me. Then we can enter the kingdom together. I will busy myself getting ready for our lifting into the arms of the one we seek. I just need you to hear me, find me so we can finally go home.

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Fiction or Fraction?

I took a “inspire me” this morning from wordpress. It asked about a heart pounding time in your life. I wanted to share this fractured memory for the girls who know. And a prayer for those who will never, to stay that way.

The pounding was not stopping. At first I thought it was only in my head. The club came back to me in a sour tasting upward wrench from my stomach. No, someone wants in,who the hell tries to break down a door at 7:30 in the morning. Donna forgot her fucking key….again. Working opposite schedules with a roommate is fantastic and frustrating. “I am coming, chill out” Shit, where are my pants. Fumbling down the stairs, half dressed. I don’t remember opening the door, but I did. I completely expected an apology and a rush back in the house to get whatever she forgot.


I did not expect him. His eyes were strange, hyper focused. I could not look away. He was talking so fast I did not notice that the door was being shut behind him. What, who…he was dressed nice, did I meet him last night. He is talking about, what? He stopped, I tried to speak but I was so cloudy from last nights adventures. “Who are….” He asked for a beer, a beer at 7:30 in the morning. My heart-pounding was rising into my ears. I stood immobile, what had I done? Who is this guy. Why is he in my house. Over and over I kept asking. He is staring at me. Ok, get the beer, he seems nice, get the beer then make your way to the door while he is drinking….maybe he just wants a beer. When he took the beer he stood up and started upstairs. He reached back and grabbed my hand. Finally I got the courage “Who the Fuck are you …and..” Before another word was spoken, he smiled put down the beer and reached into his pocket. The blade popped up when he touched it. He leaned in and said “Remember you owe me one, you are such a tease”.


Survivor mode is easy for me . My childhood brought me to this moment. I could not run so I just went into my own head and quietly shut down, it came easily. The blood rushing in my ears was so loud . My body was freezing cold and stiff. I lay down as instructed, the bed was unmade. I could not hear all the words he seemed to be saying .Aids was just getting revved up and the scars and pustules on his back terrified me more than the penetration, Please God, I hope he used a condom. He finally finished, stood up and put his pants back on. My pillow was wet, I felt the cold on my face, the ac was running on high. I was so sore, my whole body hurt. My breathing never changed. I focused on my breathing, I did not want to upset him. The knife never left his hand. Did he actually just said “thank you” ?.


The door slammed shut, my chest started pounding harder, the convulsions started. The roaring ripping me in half, pain, I heard a scream, me, this, no. Anger has always been my friend and constant companion. I was raised with Hells Angels and Irish bulldogs. I knew how to defend myself. Fuck this I will call the cops…. But I let him in, I gave him a beer, I had the reputation, and the mollies in my purse. Had I told him to come over for this? He wasn’t my first one off. But no, there was a knife Goddamn it. No, I could never tell anyone, being wild is one thing but being labeled a whore by the police is another.


I saw him again a few months later, on TV. It made me proud to know there were women stronger than me in the world.


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Bodies and minds sometimes conflict

This morning has been interesting. I have a series of exercises I do every morning. I have two bulging disc in my lower back. I am supposed to do these exercises every day. What my physical therapist neglected to mention is I will not be able to get out of bed without these. I put on my front page who I am. My body not doing what I tell it to is part of the 51 acts like 12 year old. One thing I have learned is if you stop moving….you stop moving.

I see all these ads to build strength and add muscle. I have not seen any offering a program that allows you to just get out of bed without creaking and pain. I know there is a demographic that is ignored….me.  I have enough money to give someone for good ideas on this subject but they only want to give me drugs. It is as if once you pass a certain age you are then considered the drug generation.

I choose not to be a druggie. I got that out of my system in my early 20’s. So for now I will be thankful I have insurance and a PT that keeps me moving. Just wondered when my generation became the invisible one.

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Blog Spamming


One of the things I think all bloggers have to deal with is spam. I am on a mission not to lose the parts of myself that are kind and caring. This is difficult sometimes. My journey is medically altered at times, angry at times and very sad. The mania is still sorta fun but unhealthy. I get a lot of comments. I cannot tell what is real and what is not. It is for this reason I did a simple search and found this article. The reason I created this blog is to have a place I can chronicle my journey in hope that it will help me and perhaps others. It might even help with your blogging.

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Meeting needs

    As a child I was always told “God will meet your needs” now what they did not bother to tell me is God also decides the difference between needs and wants.  I want a Dr before my medication runs out , I feel this is also a need. But does God? Is there a reason in my progressive town filled with artist (whom we all know have issues), why am I so aware of the fact I have 8 pills left. 8 pills that allow me to be me but sane, with rational thought? I have been put on waiting list long enough to allow me a front row seat at a taping of “Saturday Night Live” or at least a J.T. show. These waiting list are to have initial consultations with Dr’s most of which do not take my insurance. My insurance that I pay over 400 dollars a month for. I am willing to pay the exorbitant prices they charge out of my very empty pockets. I want to be healthy. The American health consortium,(I know about price fixing-I have done it myself) and it is indeed that, does not care for my issues.  I am blessed with a Psychiatrist and a Psychologist in my immediate family. These are the people I ask when I am overwhelmed by the “no’s” and the “sorry’s”.  This gives me peace, not of mind but of spirit.

I am so worried about the state of our country. When  a person of my rank locally with insurance so good people take the job for the benefits, cannot get help what about the others? I am a peaceful (somewhat) happy (most of the time) bipolar. What about the others? My friends that left the hospital with the same 13 pages of Dr’s that said no and sorry? At what point do we  break. How many of us do not even have a friend we feel close enough to hug? These are the ones that pick up guns to use on themselves or others.

Please wake up and see we are hurting, we need you to see us and not judge us for a disease we cannot control.

For any of my brothers or sisters going through this or similar situations Please hang on. Lets talk to each other. As soon as I am healthy enough I will build a forum for you to use. One that allows us to not be judged or afraid to say things whisper in our ears or we really thing we could fly if the wind was right.

As I am writing this post. My brother is setting up an appointment for a Psychiatrist one that my therapist, the one I have never met, suggested. So there is your answer he meets your needs in a way that you know it was him. We have to have reminders that even though we often play God, we are not. 


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OOps I did it again

I call myself a God girl because christian has taken a whole ugly term although the Pagans might disagree it has always been a little ugly. But choosing that moncler makes me more responsible for my actions than …….well OK I feel it makes me more responsible. In actually you should all watch what you say and do the Hippo got it right “do no harm”.

I have a mouth problem and it has spread to my fingers. You need to know I was a drama queen before the phrase was invented. I started acting when I was 12 and my best friend wore ladies clothing, he did look better in dresses than I did. So what I am doing is apologizing.

Steve Moore I am sorry to tie you into my drama. I adore this man  the man has a wikipedia entry and has produced off Broadway for goodness sakes.

So anyone who was tormented by the previous post I am sorry to you as well. I threw a bit of a tantrum. I really should buy a legal pad for those days, write it down and throw it away. My hope is by continuing to write I will hone my craft. Someday I will be funny and insightful and learn new words and phrasing I may someday steal from myself to use in a more productive way. Until then go see some art, make some noise,take off your judge robe and giggle when you see things that are silly, kick a wall when you see things that make you mad, and yell really loud when you see things that are wrong.

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