We Are Going To Live ( So I Am Not Alone)

December 12, 2012 § 1 Comment

“It’s ok to tell me the good things too.”

The Builder says in one of our bed time conversations. I do make my husband out to be a monster. I do. Because I’m hurting and alone a lot and I don’t want people to think I’m ok. Then, they might leave me, might think I’m ok.

Someone has to be looking for me. Someone has to look OUT for me.

But there have been changes made. Things are better, and I am hopeful.

We are sober! I have a lot more energy and this strange sense of guilt and fear has slid away.

The babies, I feel so much more love for them. I am still craving my poisons, obviously. An addict is always an addict.

I am in group therapy. He is going to meetings.

It’s all emotional hard work, but the good kind. We are going to live, and that’s final.

That Time of Year

October 18, 2012 § 1 Comment

I met him thru my best friend at the time. He was her distant cousin. He was nice, shy, yet aggressive. And me, a broken depressed outcast fat girl, barely holding my own with the moderately popular people who were my friends. Well, I wanted to belong. And that means putting out.

So, I put out, early and as far as I dare go at the age of 15. 

But I felt overwhelmed. He called a lot. He told me he loved me. It was all too much.

I broke up with him. And that was it for three months. I thought he had forgotten about me.

I started to get weird phone calls. Hang ups, crank calls, shouting at me, once “You are a big fat whale” then they hung up, only to call back two seconds later; ” Once again, you are a big fat whale.”

One day, I saw him outside my school. He was standing on a parking lot directly below the tall, imposing junior high school. My heart leapt to my throat when I saw him, flattered he would be seeking me out.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

” I wanted to see you. I needed to see you.” Again, that rush, blushing and glowing that someone would NEED me. He rode the bus to my stop with me, across from the movie theater. We walked down a street with this “special school”, a field, a playground, basketball courts and tennis courts, even a tennis wall. Earlier that summer, I had taken to playing tennis by ramming the ball against wall. But I had no one to play with and I soon lost interest. I already had such negative connotations to that little patch of concrete behind a green wall with a yellow square. Already I had started my list, documenting all my failures. 

“Come in here for a minute, let’s be alone.” I can’t say no to men. We walk into the area. But we don’t sit. He rushes me, pushes me against the green wall. I see one yellow right angle from where he has me pressed against the wall, my cheek in firm contact with the green textured surface.

I struggled. I struggled hard. I broke away and made it three steps before he managed to get me on the ground. I continued to fight him, made it to me feet again. I turned to face him, my back against a matching green chain link fence.

He approached and smacked me across the face.

“This is not over till I say it is. You better not tell anyone. You understand?”

And I didn’t. I didn’t understand. Why? Why was he doing this to me?

“I’ll see you soon honey.” He said, kissed my cheek and left me there. I cleaned up my bleeding lip and went home. I told no one.

Lean Back

September 4, 2012 § 1 Comment

Earth
seems tilted
in the direction
of death.

Lean back.

A Period Piece

June 5, 2012 § 2 Comments

shed
lining.
I bleed
and dont die.

When the Crazies Are Normals

June 1, 2012 § 6 Comments

34 feels better than 33.

I was wondering about time passing and about medication, about attention and addiction. My life is so populated. I’m smoking and eating myself slowly to death. and maybe not so slowly. And its hard to stop. On the other hand, I am in therapy successfully for the first time in my whole life. I have overtime at work. I’m being honest and myself. I’m loving myself more despite my faults and self perceived imperfections. I have my husband, Big Daddy, my girls, my parents. I am a new Godmother. I’ve been wearing dresses and girly accessories. I’ve been going out in public and keeping my promises. I’m even and kind of freaked out that even when something “goes wrong”, I’m having a hard time getting my pity party on.

Huh. What does one do when one is used to hiding in depression? I’m forgiving myself, I’m trying to, gulp, like myself more and forgive myself for short-comings while working to improve. Imagine that.

Don’t think me so healed, ok? I might need you back in my safe place.

The Time of Come and Get Her

April 7, 2012 § 5 Comments

Holding on ragged merry-go-round
Long past the age of know better

And the sardonic quitting sound
holding on ragged merry-go-round
Hark the hammer manic pound
Long past the time of come and get her

Holding on ragged merry-go-round
Long past the age of know better

Balance

April 5, 2012 § 2 Comments

Sweet
Stands on
Bitter’s shoulders

Moment of Realization

April 5, 2012 § 3 Comments

Its all about
being bravest with
heart baring

The Tip

March 20, 2012 § 2 Comments

The bus is the usual level of crowded, all two-seaters partially occupied by loosies, us solo commuters. The new buses have this step up section in the back and “kids” still flock there. But its early and there are only two, sitting together.

Today I end up in the very last seat before the back section. This particular driver is young, and a fucking mad man. I find myself bracing my knees against the seat in front of me and closing my eyes to ignore the risky driving. Buses are big. And I’m getting old.

He pulls into the station. Collecting myself, I accidentally pull out my earphones. I’m holding my bus pass and iPod since I’m not wearing my jeans or coat. No pockets. Add my purse to the mix and all of a sudden, I’m a frazzled nerd back in high school. Until the next thing happens.

The bus has been emptying the whole time, another rule violation. I’m in the seat closest to the back door, I should be first out. That’s my perk. But my hesitation has cost me my privilege, so now I’m awkwardly waiting, my OCD brain telling me I better be poised to go, otherwise the bus might leave without letting me off.

“Go ‘head.” This school aged child, taking the bus with her brother (presumably) is smiling at me from the top of the stairs and respectfully waiting for me to go first. I smile and in relief scramble off the bus. She exits after and runs happily to catch up with her brother, her whole life ahead of her.

I think of how I’d like to reward her. Here kid, I think, have one of my life experiences. Maybe it will save you some trouble.

Her back pack bounces as she runs…

Sum/Some

February 12, 2012 § 1 Comment

That picture

That one
Rock star
Expression
Representation
Of me
Essence of me
Soul
Fluid vapor
Cup o’ words
Is one
Of anguish
Some think this tragic.

Some think this beautiful.
I think it’s beautiful.

Where Am I?

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