When asked "don't you need a man"? My reply:
If I need a man
that tells me,
I need someone to
take care of me.
If I want a man
that tells me,
I want someone
to open up my
heart, soul
and world to.
That is the difference...
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
I Just Want You To Know...
I'm not a perfect person
There's many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know
There's many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you
I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
That's why I need you to hear
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
That's why I need you to hear
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is You
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is You
#Hoobastank (2004)
I remember after mom my passed in 2004, this song was on the top charts. I remember driving to school and hearing this song. I remember crying, knowing somewhere, deep in my heart, these words my mother had been singing to me at that time. I could feel her pain, the sorrow for her own misgivings, the guilt she carried for the life she lived. The live that I lived within. And it's not that I didn't know how sorry she was, I don't know if she knew that.
I remember for a few weeks following her passing, a gift she had given me four months ago at Christmas. It was a small porcelain angel with the word that said: Me love you. It kept falling at my feet, my eyes swollen in rivers of despair.
And then...it all started...and I realized what she was sorry about...
It wasn't the past, that had been long done and over. It was about what was to begin. I thought I understood the lifestyle of the poor and disadvantaged. Hell, I lived in it for 19 1/2 years. No, not that. Had I known not only would I lose this woman that mean the world to me, I would have been okay. Sorta.
The song would play. I would listen. And then danger, disaster always followed - lurking in every corner of my world. I thought - would I survive? And if I did, what would become of me?
And now I look back, today. Today because I heard that song again. That song that appeared to be a warning from the grave. From the past. Warning me.
Sorrow crept within my soul, and began to devour me. What tragedies lied ahead? How long would it last? The past, always lurking in the shadows of my mind. Of my heart. Of my soul. Always there.
Although no real tragedy arrived, disappointment did. The disappointment that I have had for sometime now. Even before the past. Before I had to fall to lose it all. And I have to ask myself - did it matter? Is it going to matter?
I know mom...I know...
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Saturn's Return....
Saturn - the big bad in astrology. The big bad in life. The task master. The one planet that returns to your natal chart every twenty eight years and sticks his foot up your ass until you get on the path you are to be on.
Yeah, Saturn - he's a bad ass. Think back when you were 28 years old. What was going on in your life at that time? Big life changes? Decisions? Life? Death? You name it - it is there. When Saturn came back to me at 28 - yes he stuck his foot up my ass for 4 years. I was 28 years old when I found that I could no longer tolerate the love of my life and his inability to keep his pants on. This time, Saturn knew...knew all too well that I'd return to him again. Except this time. This time he (the ex) got someone pregnant and it was then I knew I could not pro-create again. And that it was time to get sober.
Which leads me to my story...life is not nor has ever been for the faint of heart. Especially when facing down with the Big Bad. When Saturn returns a second time to your natal chart it is generally around age 56, but the process begins much sooner as with the first dance with him.
It is this time when the Fates step in - and if you do not do something to change your life Clotho (the spinner of life) Lachesis (the one who stirs desire) and finally Atropos (the one who cuts the thread of your life). Atropos is the one to fear now, for she makes this life/death decision that you could not make.
Back in September of 2014, I lost a very close and dear friend of 37 years. Why? Because he could not accept the changes that life was forcing him to make. And Atropos cut the string of his life.
Last night a very dear, long time friend of 38 years died last night. She too, could not bear the changes that life was demanding of her.
Martha - we went way back - I mean really back. Her brother was my first boyfriend when I was sixteen years old. Although Martha and I were the same age, she always treated me as if I was younger than she (technically by four months). But she died - a week before her 55th birthday.
We celebrated her life today and I still in the process of feelings. It took a week before I could come back and finish writing this. Why? Because I had so much unfinished business with her and needed to come to a realization that what is done is done.
When I was seventeen, I was pregnant by her brother. However, their mother had died on my mothers birthday about 5 months earlier. She was adamant that I abort this child, this child I had already fallen in love with. She and my mother (who did not want to lose her live in maid, and my pay check for her drug use) had forced an abortion on me. It was the most devastating event of all the events in my life.
It was like a slaughter house for the unborn. I remember waking up during it and screaming at them not to take my child. But they did. And the damage was done. Never again would I be able to procreate. During our adult age she would say she was sorry, sorry that I never had the joy of having my own children in one breath, and in the second that she was not. Yet we were always there for each other when ever one of us were in need, even in the end.
Martha and I had a falling out a few years ago over her need for Vicodin. Her obsession for it and for me to get scripts for it (the strongest drug I that I take for RA is Tylenol) got so bad that I had to sever ties with her again. But in the end of her life she came to me, she was so lonely, so afraid. She felt abandoned by her family and friends. I tried to be there for her, I really did, but again she wanted my clonzapam and I would not cave. So we would talk and I would tell her that everything was going to be ok. That she just needed to hang in there. But alas, she could not.
She called me a few times in December, but knowing I had started a new internship that I was working very hard at, she let it go. And that is when she let go. And for that I am sad. For that I wish I had been a better friend, took the higher ground. Yet when Saturn came, she was willing to go...
When you reach this age, this very, very important time - be careful to look for the signs that something in your life needs to change. Otherwise, it will be changed for you, and not as you or your loved ones would hope for.
For when Saturn returns \you need to get it together or he will take it apart...
Yeah, Saturn - he's a bad ass. Think back when you were 28 years old. What was going on in your life at that time? Big life changes? Decisions? Life? Death? You name it - it is there. When Saturn came back to me at 28 - yes he stuck his foot up my ass for 4 years. I was 28 years old when I found that I could no longer tolerate the love of my life and his inability to keep his pants on. This time, Saturn knew...knew all too well that I'd return to him again. Except this time. This time he (the ex) got someone pregnant and it was then I knew I could not pro-create again. And that it was time to get sober.
Which leads me to my story...life is not nor has ever been for the faint of heart. Especially when facing down with the Big Bad. When Saturn returns a second time to your natal chart it is generally around age 56, but the process begins much sooner as with the first dance with him.
It is this time when the Fates step in - and if you do not do something to change your life Clotho (the spinner of life) Lachesis (the one who stirs desire) and finally Atropos (the one who cuts the thread of your life). Atropos is the one to fear now, for she makes this life/death decision that you could not make.
Back in September of 2014, I lost a very close and dear friend of 37 years. Why? Because he could not accept the changes that life was forcing him to make. And Atropos cut the string of his life.
Last night a very dear, long time friend of 38 years died last night. She too, could not bear the changes that life was demanding of her.
Martha - we went way back - I mean really back. Her brother was my first boyfriend when I was sixteen years old. Although Martha and I were the same age, she always treated me as if I was younger than she (technically by four months). But she died - a week before her 55th birthday.
We celebrated her life today and I still in the process of feelings. It took a week before I could come back and finish writing this. Why? Because I had so much unfinished business with her and needed to come to a realization that what is done is done.
When I was seventeen, I was pregnant by her brother. However, their mother had died on my mothers birthday about 5 months earlier. She was adamant that I abort this child, this child I had already fallen in love with. She and my mother (who did not want to lose her live in maid, and my pay check for her drug use) had forced an abortion on me. It was the most devastating event of all the events in my life.
It was like a slaughter house for the unborn. I remember waking up during it and screaming at them not to take my child. But they did. And the damage was done. Never again would I be able to procreate. During our adult age she would say she was sorry, sorry that I never had the joy of having my own children in one breath, and in the second that she was not. Yet we were always there for each other when ever one of us were in need, even in the end.
Martha and I had a falling out a few years ago over her need for Vicodin. Her obsession for it and for me to get scripts for it (the strongest drug I that I take for RA is Tylenol) got so bad that I had to sever ties with her again. But in the end of her life she came to me, she was so lonely, so afraid. She felt abandoned by her family and friends. I tried to be there for her, I really did, but again she wanted my clonzapam and I would not cave. So we would talk and I would tell her that everything was going to be ok. That she just needed to hang in there. But alas, she could not.
She called me a few times in December, but knowing I had started a new internship that I was working very hard at, she let it go. And that is when she let go. And for that I am sad. For that I wish I had been a better friend, took the higher ground. Yet when Saturn came, she was willing to go...
When you reach this age, this very, very important time - be careful to look for the signs that something in your life needs to change. Otherwise, it will be changed for you, and not as you or your loved ones would hope for.
For when Saturn returns \you need to get it together or he will take it apart...
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Santa...
Santa Claus - possibility the most famous name ever mentioned in written history. But is there really a Santa Claus? I watched a show tonight on TLC about a woman's journey to find a man named Lucas A. Nast. The woman on the show was a news reporter who had covered a story about a mysterious event of snow in Arizona some years back. She had followed a trail to this man that she (I believe) was Santa.
Now whether or not the event that had happened to her was true or not - the events that she uncovered are quite mysterious. The show was about letters sent to the "Santa Program" put on by the Post Offices all around the country. This man Lucas A. Nast had been a part of it and many strange occurrence's surrounded letters written to Santa that he had fulfilled. At the end of the show, she had gone to a post office that was hosting it's first "1st Annual Lucas A. Nast" toy drive. When she arrived and when she told the detectives her name - they had revealed quite a tale!
A man that had been arrested last year on Christmas Eve and held until charges were to be pressed - had left her a letter. It contained a letter she had written to Santa when she was about seven - shortly after her parents had died. She had asked him to bring her parents back - and alas, he could not. But what he did do was send her a picture that was taken of with him a year before her parents died at a department store in New York. It was somewhat of a moving tale I am sure for most, yet not me.
I was five years old when I stopped believing in Santa - I think my father had a lot to do with that. Although I did not know then, what I do now (my father had developed schizoaffective disorder and bi polar II prior to my birth) is that I am sure much of his delusions had something to do with this. I know it is why I have always wanted to be in the world of psychology. He made me want to understand people - and why they do the things that do. Back to my story...
So on the Christmas Eve when I was five, I woke up suddenly and knew in my heart of hearts that I had heard the sound of reindeer on the roof of our home. But sadly, that illusion changed by morning. I never felt that way again. I remember watching "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer" as a child and always felt that I was the little lost doll on "Misfit Island". To this day, I still feel that way. So watching this show tonight, seeing how this "Santa" or as one person on the show had said "St. Nick" had answered all of these letters - how so many children had been touched by this mystical being - except me of course. I always dreaded Christmas - I still do. Although I must say that this year I am happier than I have been since I really don't know when.
I had confided in my therapist last year about this time of year that I felt like the unwanted doll on Misfit Island. She had no clue of what I was referring to - but it really didn't matter to me, I knew what I meant.
So this last week, at my new internship, as I am filling out paperwork for my new clients, I keep writing 12/14/14, instead of 12/11/14. I had mentioned this to the last client of the day and she had thought it was strange. In my mad hatter thoughts, I felt - maybe something special was going to happen on this date of 12/14/14. But alas - nada. Except maybe this show.
Once I became an "adult" (notice the quotes) meaning, on my own, job, apt, etc. I have always bought everything whatever I felt I needed or wanted, which left my family upset because they never knew what to get me. I think I did that because I needed to reassure myself that since Santa had never answered not one of my letters, I would make sure I got what I wanted.
So this year rolls around, same questions from my family - what do I want for Christmas? My youngest brother says - what do you want - I say - what I want - money cannot buy. And it is true.
All I have ever wanted was to know love - real love - no more false love. And so as another year rolls by, I am still the lost doll on Misfit Island waiting for someone to do just that. To want me, to care for me, to let me know what love is. But maybe it is not meant to be.
What I do know is that I will have the kids in my group write a letter to this "Santa" and maybe their wishes will be answered, since mine have gone unanswered.
Until then, I will remain - the lost doll on "Misfit Island"...
Now whether or not the event that had happened to her was true or not - the events that she uncovered are quite mysterious. The show was about letters sent to the "Santa Program" put on by the Post Offices all around the country. This man Lucas A. Nast had been a part of it and many strange occurrence's surrounded letters written to Santa that he had fulfilled. At the end of the show, she had gone to a post office that was hosting it's first "1st Annual Lucas A. Nast" toy drive. When she arrived and when she told the detectives her name - they had revealed quite a tale!
A man that had been arrested last year on Christmas Eve and held until charges were to be pressed - had left her a letter. It contained a letter she had written to Santa when she was about seven - shortly after her parents had died. She had asked him to bring her parents back - and alas, he could not. But what he did do was send her a picture that was taken of with him a year before her parents died at a department store in New York. It was somewhat of a moving tale I am sure for most, yet not me.
I was five years old when I stopped believing in Santa - I think my father had a lot to do with that. Although I did not know then, what I do now (my father had developed schizoaffective disorder and bi polar II prior to my birth) is that I am sure much of his delusions had something to do with this. I know it is why I have always wanted to be in the world of psychology. He made me want to understand people - and why they do the things that do. Back to my story...
So on the Christmas Eve when I was five, I woke up suddenly and knew in my heart of hearts that I had heard the sound of reindeer on the roof of our home. But sadly, that illusion changed by morning. I never felt that way again. I remember watching "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer" as a child and always felt that I was the little lost doll on "Misfit Island". To this day, I still feel that way. So watching this show tonight, seeing how this "Santa" or as one person on the show had said "St. Nick" had answered all of these letters - how so many children had been touched by this mystical being - except me of course. I always dreaded Christmas - I still do. Although I must say that this year I am happier than I have been since I really don't know when.
I had confided in my therapist last year about this time of year that I felt like the unwanted doll on Misfit Island. She had no clue of what I was referring to - but it really didn't matter to me, I knew what I meant.
So this last week, at my new internship, as I am filling out paperwork for my new clients, I keep writing 12/14/14, instead of 12/11/14. I had mentioned this to the last client of the day and she had thought it was strange. In my mad hatter thoughts, I felt - maybe something special was going to happen on this date of 12/14/14. But alas - nada. Except maybe this show.
Once I became an "adult" (notice the quotes) meaning, on my own, job, apt, etc. I have always bought everything whatever I felt I needed or wanted, which left my family upset because they never knew what to get me. I think I did that because I needed to reassure myself that since Santa had never answered not one of my letters, I would make sure I got what I wanted.
So this year rolls around, same questions from my family - what do I want for Christmas? My youngest brother says - what do you want - I say - what I want - money cannot buy. And it is true.
All I have ever wanted was to know love - real love - no more false love. And so as another year rolls by, I am still the lost doll on Misfit Island waiting for someone to do just that. To want me, to care for me, to let me know what love is. But maybe it is not meant to be.
What I do know is that I will have the kids in my group write a letter to this "Santa" and maybe their wishes will be answered, since mine have gone unanswered.
Until then, I will remain - the lost doll on "Misfit Island"...
Friday, December 12, 2014
Carry On Wayward One...
"Carry on my wayward son - there will be peace when you are done", no truer words have been sung back in the late 70's by the band Kansas . I heard that song today and began to pond on my life as it is today. I've often wondered what the peace would be when one is finally done. And what do I have to be done with?
A while back I had a very odd dream about my mom, grandma, grandpa and my sister in law's mother. Standing in the darkness - 4 coffins appear in from of me and opened - and there they all were. It was odd yet strangely familiar. Each one came out of their coffin and went off to pursue what ever it was they needed to do.
Without boring you with the odd deals of this dream, the end was most revealing. As it neared time for them to leave, they returned back into their coffins. I stood in front of my mother and asked if she would take me with her. Her arms opened up and I felt myself being pulled in...
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a man's hand lands on my left should and states: "she can not go with you now, she has gotten her masters degree and there are things she needs to do". And then my mom now holding a glass jug of Christmas hand towels. She handed them to me. That was the end of the dream.
The creepy part was when I had gone the local Kmart where my youngest niece works and after I walked through the doors - there they were - racks and racks of Christmas hand towels. I was seriously creeped out at that point. Yet it was at that point that I realized the meaning of the towels. I have to have holidays of my own before I can move on - before I can lay down my head to rest.
Yet isn't that what we all seek? Rest ? Rest from our daily troubles and worries. Rest from the hustle and bustle of life. Do we truly find this rest here? Or does it lay else where? I know I have more in this life to do, yet I too seek for the finality of rest.
Until then...
"Carry on my wayward one - there will be peace when you are done"...
A while back I had a very odd dream about my mom, grandma, grandpa and my sister in law's mother. Standing in the darkness - 4 coffins appear in from of me and opened - and there they all were. It was odd yet strangely familiar. Each one came out of their coffin and went off to pursue what ever it was they needed to do.
Without boring you with the odd deals of this dream, the end was most revealing. As it neared time for them to leave, they returned back into their coffins. I stood in front of my mother and asked if she would take me with her. Her arms opened up and I felt myself being pulled in...
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a man's hand lands on my left should and states: "she can not go with you now, she has gotten her masters degree and there are things she needs to do". And then my mom now holding a glass jug of Christmas hand towels. She handed them to me. That was the end of the dream.
The creepy part was when I had gone the local Kmart where my youngest niece works and after I walked through the doors - there they were - racks and racks of Christmas hand towels. I was seriously creeped out at that point. Yet it was at that point that I realized the meaning of the towels. I have to have holidays of my own before I can move on - before I can lay down my head to rest.
Yet isn't that what we all seek? Rest ? Rest from our daily troubles and worries. Rest from the hustle and bustle of life. Do we truly find this rest here? Or does it lay else where? I know I have more in this life to do, yet I too seek for the finality of rest.
Until then...
"Carry on my wayward one - there will be peace when you are done"...
Monday, October 27, 2014
The Bottom Line...
The bottom line - the last line on the page. The last thing said. But why the bottom line? Why not the middle line - "read between the lines"? Or the first line? Why does it all end in the "bottom line"?
Is it when we finally get to the end of what we are trying to say? If so why do we just not say it?
Are we afraid of the bottom line? Does it create a sense of fear of the unknown, one of a complete ending? But really - how many times have we said this and how many times have we had to say it to get to the "bottom line". The end of the road, the end of the tracks - regardless, it is the end. At least we'd like to believe it to be so.
I have said this many times and had to say it many times over just to get it. But what happens when we have said this so many times that Fate must step in and take over? When Fate says enough is enough and the bottom line has dropped.
I believe that my recent bout of illness was due to the "bottom line". I had spent many months at a site only to relentless say to myself that this is the "bottom line" - this is the end of the line. I guess I should have taken it more seriously.
Now due to my recent illness, I have had to put many "over the top" positions on hold due to this need to get real. Yet the grace of Fate has made this ok, actually made me feel a bit special in my universe.
And what I have learned from the "bottom line"? Say what you mean and mean what you say. Also be careful of what you wish for (time off from life).
Cause you just might get it...
The bottom line...
Is it when we finally get to the end of what we are trying to say? If so why do we just not say it?
Are we afraid of the bottom line? Does it create a sense of fear of the unknown, one of a complete ending? But really - how many times have we said this and how many times have we had to say it to get to the "bottom line". The end of the road, the end of the tracks - regardless, it is the end. At least we'd like to believe it to be so.
I have said this many times and had to say it many times over just to get it. But what happens when we have said this so many times that Fate must step in and take over? When Fate says enough is enough and the bottom line has dropped.
I believe that my recent bout of illness was due to the "bottom line". I had spent many months at a site only to relentless say to myself that this is the "bottom line" - this is the end of the line. I guess I should have taken it more seriously.
Now due to my recent illness, I have had to put many "over the top" positions on hold due to this need to get real. Yet the grace of Fate has made this ok, actually made me feel a bit special in my universe.
And what I have learned from the "bottom line"? Say what you mean and mean what you say. Also be careful of what you wish for (time off from life).
Cause you just might get it...
The bottom line...
Monday, October 13, 2014
Death by a Broken Heart?
Is there really such a thing? Death by the brokenness of one's heart? Surely this phenomena must exist. At least that is what I was told my the cardiologist during my current stay in the hospital.
Has my heart been so broken throughout the years that it felt the need to no longer go on? It is possible that this is my real condition? Or is it simply just a condition of the heart?
How does one survive a lifetime of brokenness, and continue to go on as if nothing has happened? How many others can say the same?
I was asked when it started, this condition. Originally I had felt that it was due to the recent death of a very close friend of 37 years. I had not grieved so much since the death of my mother 10 years ago. And as per usual, I do as I always do - keep going and never looking back.
Yet I believe it started before then, and this event only exasperated this condition. And the irony? I fear sleep, since my return home. I fear this heart of mine giving up due to the many trials and mountains I have been made to climb, only to slide back down and start over. I have never feared sleep nor death. Neither are adversaries of mine, nor have they ever been.
Sleep now appears to be the adversary - the one thing I am unable to do. The one thing that I run from. Yet is it sleep, the darkness of one's mind being sheltered from the world or is it that this sleep may give in to the brokenness of my heart.
Death by sleep or of a broken heart...
Has my heart been so broken throughout the years that it felt the need to no longer go on? It is possible that this is my real condition? Or is it simply just a condition of the heart?
How does one survive a lifetime of brokenness, and continue to go on as if nothing has happened? How many others can say the same?
I was asked when it started, this condition. Originally I had felt that it was due to the recent death of a very close friend of 37 years. I had not grieved so much since the death of my mother 10 years ago. And as per usual, I do as I always do - keep going and never looking back.
Yet I believe it started before then, and this event only exasperated this condition. And the irony? I fear sleep, since my return home. I fear this heart of mine giving up due to the many trials and mountains I have been made to climb, only to slide back down and start over. I have never feared sleep nor death. Neither are adversaries of mine, nor have they ever been.
Sleep now appears to be the adversary - the one thing I am unable to do. The one thing that I run from. Yet is it sleep, the darkness of one's mind being sheltered from the world or is it that this sleep may give in to the brokenness of my heart.
Death by sleep or of a broken heart...
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