*~BlOgGiN' wHiTe TrAsH~*

Do you ever stop and think you could actually live the rest of your life (however long or short it will be), eventually cease to exist and be ‘Unfinished’?

Things that 20 years ago lay before you waiting to be accomplished and/or experienced and here you are, pausing for a moment and that potential and passion that once was, catches up to you, making you acknowledge it did at one time exist but is now faded and catatonic, life never breathed into it. Never will be.

Now this, too, is for now, unfinished…

I grew up in a Middle Class family with only one other sibling. My Dad was Air Force (then worked on base after retiring) my Mom didn’t go to work until I was around eleven, nursery work (flowers, not kids) and retail.  We lived good, but I was far from spoiled.  We never bought a ‘new’ car, only used, used the same furniture until it literally fell apart, etc.  My parents were pretty minimalist and plain of taste, only reasonably priced, but sturdy and durable, no worry about color or matching kitchen chairs or replacing the early 70’s wallpaper, wood paneling or floor tile. The one time we got new carpet it was replaced with the same color and only because thewy had considered selling briefly.  We never had a dishwashing machine or drapes that went with, well… anything. They too, were only for function and lasting power.

Anywho; with that as a background, I wondered at 16 if what I’d heard about different classes of people not really matching up together (like in all the movies) was true. I wanted to believe the movies and fairy tales. Who wouldn’t? I know now what the saying ‘Water seeks it’s own level’ really means and that no, rarely, if ever, do the classes mix in a harmonious and beneficial ecstacy.  At least no where around me.

I’d also dreamed of finding that rich, handsom prince, but at the same time, I did make my own money and rely on myself, always furthering my knowledge and growing as a person.  I’ve fallen repeatedly on hard times that have all but knocked me back to almost square one as far as finances and posessions go.  It’s happened so many times that I have recently come to believe that we are pre-destined to live in a certain ‘role’ throughout our lives.  Some get to go from nothing to wealth, some the reverse, some chug along middle class all their lives, happy as larks. Some have a wild rollercoaster ride to all extremes. Me? When I start getting too comfortable, too happy, too ‘above my station’ I get knocked back down.  I’m attempting to move against some set law in the Universe that will let me push/expand it to an extent, like the Universe does, then snaps it back in place when I attempt to step out of my place.

It makes perfect sense to me. I get it now.

I think realizing this, approxamatly a year ago, was also when I became aware that I was slipping away from my beliefs. For the first time, just 2 weeks ago, I openly admitted that I am Agnostic. That hurts in a way. I loved being a Spiritual person and all the trappings that came with it. I had felt I was growing and expanding and thinking for myself. I was raised Protestant. My Mother is Anglican/Church of England, my Dad LDS but never claimed it nor set foot in a church of any kind let alone ever said word one about his beliefs. In HS I dabbled in Satanism. Then I went completely the other way following a group of ‘Deliverance Christians’ speaking in tongues, breaking away in our own group, throwing out our concert T-shirts and my unicorn collection. Then I converted to Catholocism. Hot on the heels of that was Voudo; you can’t really be a good Voudoun unless you’re Catholic! WitchCraft (not Wicca) followed that, and there I thought I’d stay happily, until… I exceeded my Station in Life. Again. And again.  I fought it and fought it, and therein lies my problem.  Stop fighting.

It is too Hard to Live.

It is too Easy to Die.

Very few people publicly lay their intimate and personal secrets out for anyone to stroll by and read about, especially when it involves mental illness and/or learning disabilities, although there are a few, notable celebrity and/or higher profile individuals who have come forward and made it a little less of a dirty secret. Particularly when someone is trying to create and maintain an impression of intelligence and normalcy. For example, if I say I’ve seen a ghost, my story is taken seriously by more people whether they believe it or not, they believe I experienced something I can’t explain. Now if I say I saw a ghost and they’re aware that I am Bi-Polar (I am), they’ll most likely immediately dismiss my story entirely, believing I couldn’t be a credible and trusted witness with something like that clouding my ‘normal’ judgment and rationality. The same thing goes for other situations where if someone knew a person was autistic (I’m not) they would probably not consider them as intelligent as ‘normal’ people and that opinion would unavoidably cloud their view of everything the person had to say when discussing perceived ‘intelligent’ or ‘complicated’ and ’sophisticated’ subjects.

I’ve decided I am me, and need to accept who I am and what I am and absolutely not be bothered about what anyone else’s opinion of me and my abilities and intelligence is.  I also have grown tired of all the pretending and faking I’ve done throughout my life, trying to fit in and seem normal so as not to be viewed in a separate light as others, and by being separated, would be picked apart more.

So here, publicly but yet not, is a running list of everything we (my doctors, therapists and I) are aware of at this time. Oddly enough and even at my age, we’re still ‘discovering’ things.

When I was 16 a ‘Psychologist’ told my parent’s I had ‘no conscience’.  I was actually in a foster home at the time (that will be in a later blog) and our family and individual therapy was court ordered. He said nothing like this in front of me, in fact, I don’t remember seeing him more than twice for 30 minutes at a time, and I don’t remember seeing him as a family at all. I may have forgotten this (I forget a lot, and I remember vividly the most ridiculous and unimportant things!) and I don’t remember in detail anything we talked about!

I added this because for some reason, it’s very important to me. I resent that statement and for whatever reason it’s stuck with me and gnawed away at me for 24 years. Probably because I think my parents believe this too.

I have always known I was somehow different from most people and that I definitely thought and perceived things differently than everyone else I was around or could compare to. From the age of 4 I remember being fascinated with the ‘darker’ side of things. When I was 5 I fell in love with Vampires. I would also lead my younger Brother in archaeological-ish digs in our yard with the purpose of digging up the devil. I wanted to see Him and this Hell place. We’d hit a rock and one of us would screech ‘it’s a horn!’ my Brother would screech and jump back, I would become more excited and dig faster. At either 5 or 6 I ran away from home for the first time (I went to a friends trailer half a street up and sat on their stairs until it was full light, then came back home and snuck back to bed. Their Mom, a ’single Mother’ my parents weren’t thrilled about me taking up with her 2 girls, had answered the door woken from her sleep and told me they weren’t up yet and wouldn’t be for a while. I went back later that day and sat at her kitchen table watching her drink coffee, smoke & feed her Venus Flytrap flies. I enjoyed sitting with her because it was so different from my own Hell/home. I rarely went into their home, my parent’s didn’t approve of that.Kids just played outside from sun up til sundown, went in their own homes for lunch & dinner and never had sleep overs, although I did eventually start going to sleepovers and had one or two, they were few & far between and as time limited as possible.) at 6 I knew I didn’t belong in this World. I hated it, and most of all, I knew I wanted to be dead. So with all that mostly irrelevant information said;

THE LIST:

Bi-Polar (also known as Manic Depression)

Borderline Personality Disorder

Schizo-Affective Disorder

Dissociation Disorder (NOT the one formerly called Multiple Personalities)

Panic Attacks

Symptoms of; OCD, PTSD, Schizotypal Personality Disorder, Agoraphobia, Adult Attention Deficit Disorder, Dyslexia, Paranoid Schizophrenia.  Remember these symptoms could be created/caused from the main diagnosis’ so it’s almost redundant to keep adding names when stuff could probably be covered already. I just say I’m a DSM explosion, I got a little of almost everything all over me, and some more so, some less so than others, some missed altogether.

Physically, several of my problems I have now and am developing are a result of my weight gain and past drug use and probably, my age, 40 (12 years of erratic; as opposed to daily/steady/constant; Crystal Meth use).  My back problems, my weak bones, weak knees and developing knee problems, sleep apnea, fatigue, irritable bowel syndrome, history of ulcers/gastritis, endometriosis (I eventually had a partial hysterectomy after my 2nd Daughter was born with this as a secondary factor, the first was a prolapsed uterus. That pregnancy was a difficult one, but that’s for another blog entry.) I also have rosacea that has gotten progressively more pronounced in symptoms the last 10 years. I have a minor heart valve problem, I actually contracted Hep C (from drug use several years ago) and somehow fought it off before they put me on the medication for it, and most personally, the genital herpes I contracted from my rampantly cheating 3rd Husband in 1991. Now, I do have one of the Worlds Worst Memories and might have forgotten a thing or two, so I may have to revise this, but for now… this is it. Next blog I’ll tell you what all I take (meds) for this plethora.

***

It seriously has, over the years, seemed like I was ‘collecting illnesses’ and they popped up steadily adding themselves to the list. I know there are people who are much worse off with serious, painful and horrible illnesses, but this is just me. Just my life, just my story. I just don’t want it to EVER sound like I’m seeking any kind of sympathy or pity or whining (although I do enjoy whining within reason!) or attention whoreing. I simply wish to leave something of me, who I am, what/who I was and some of my life experiences. Why? Because I can. It’s pretty much that simple. We all want to be heard and recogniozed as existing, even if it never matters to anyone else, although, being of some positive influence from something one says is always a bonus.

A couple of nights ago C* and I were watching Ghost Adventures on the Travel Channel on this particular episode they were at the old WV prison and one of the stories they mentioned was about an inmate who died from a drug over dose. C* was puzzled about how that could happen (obviously she hasn’t been paying attention when we watch ‘Lockup’ on MSNBC!) she’s been under the impression that prison is just that, prison. You can’t get drugs. I told her, yeah, they can smuggle drugs in all sorts of ways, even though the CO’s have procedures and try to keep up with all the new ways of getting drugs smuggled in, it’s pretty much a game of wits & they keep coming up with new ways to get and do what they need. In fact, during the time my (estranged) Husband has been in prison, he’s personally known 2 people who have died from a drug overdose. C* looked at me, scrunched her face up and said; (referring to how inventive, creative and capable of complex thinking and doing we as an entire species are, not just prisoners with too much time on their hands) “Human’s are just a bunch of animals that can do too much! We know too much for our own good!”
I sat back, proud and satisfied that she just might come through this insane shopping, partying and MTV obsessed teenager thing with some intelligence after all.
It took me at least 10 years longer than her to realize the same thing.

I have no memory of giving my consent to be placed upon this Earth.
Believe what you want. And so will I.
I belong to no Man, I belong to no Gods, I alone own my body, my mind, my soul, my energy, my heart, my thoughts. Where I go, what I do, is my decision alone. I’ve had enough of others telling me certain things are NOT my choice alone. I do not accept that, and no longer wish to hear their opinions of what selfishness certain actions are when NO ONE owns my life but ME! I don’t want anyone’s opinion of what I choose to do with my own destiny or even what I think about inside my own mind and heart.
I need no lectures or opinions or condemnations. Choke on your words, I have no need of them.
I am not anyone’s property.
I am I.
In all it’s Complexity, and all it’s Simplicity.

The following was written by me on or about New Years Eve 0f 2006-2007.

I do not belong here. Anywhere?

I am not comfortable here.

I am not accepted here.

I am not understood here.

I am not wanted here.

I am barely needed here.

I am merely tolerated here.

I am mostly sad here.

I am not happy here.

I am not doing any real job here.

I am not listened to here.

I am not appreciated here.

I am ignored a lot here.

I would not be missed here.

Only briefly. It wouldn’t leave any permanent change to anything or anyone.

I do not feel loved here.

I do not feel safe here.

I do not feel whole here.

I have really tried.

I have done what I could.

I have asked for help, for guidance, for hope for a sign, a way, a light, an idea, for faith, to believe, to understand.

I’ve searched, I’ve dug, read, pondered, dreamed, thought, wrote, talked, listened, begged, screamed, silenced, meditated, divined, wandered, prayed. I’ve gave all I could- gave it up to god- nothing. I have nothing to help me.

I am tired.

I am so very tired of being tired.

I am alone. I am lonely.

I love more than I am loved.

It is draining me.

It is drowning me.

I try so hard to make the right choice, they are always wrong.

They don’t work out, they backfire, they collapse, they complicate.

I can’t do anything right.

This is my whole life. Since I was an ugly child and understood that.

I saw I did not belong here. I did not belong anywhere.

I felt it.

I cannot help anyone, even tho I try and I really do want to.

It is always wrong.

I have brought 2 children into the world who do not need me and have not learned anything I have tried and had hoped with all my heart to teach them. I thought they were my purpose for being here. I was wrong.

They mostly feel burdened by me and my problems and my looks and my life and what I am & what I have become. I am not good enough for them. I haven’t given them what they want for (in) life. I have only made their lives bad because I am fat, unattractive, poor, mentally ill; I repeatedly picked the wrong men to be with and made it worse. I am a loser. Nothing I do makes ANYONES life better or happier.

If I sell every single thing I have… Instead of never having money, for them- maybe they would finally get something from me (being gone)?

MONEY DOES BUY HAPPINESS. It does buy some form of peace and stability.

I am already alone.

Won’t hurt to really BE alone. Everyone WILL be better off.

Only my selfish missing them is what is in the way-

My selfish thinking that I had something to teach and pass on to my girls and now my grandchildren is all that has kept me here.

I was wrong. I have nothing to teach.

I love dogs. I have always wanted my own. I have tried to have my own. Even they don’t enjoy my company all that much. I do not feel them happy with me nor content, they are just there, I am just there, to them. I am not anything special. They could take or leave me. They would- if they could, pick someone else to be with over me- I am not theirs. It’s been this way with all the pets/animals I have had or tried to have. Perhaps they too know what my own children and family know and others around me who are unfortunate enough to know me.

That I would make wrong choices for them. That I cannot take care of them properly. I made them a promise to be responsible for them that I cannot keep and it is very unfair to them that I have subjected them to my financial, emotional hell. Made them also, victims of my poverty and hopelessness.

Men have no luck when around me.

It is strange how they have jobs, money, cars, lifestyles, etc. before & after me…but not with me. I must stop being blind to this.

Their families have never even accepted me nor wanted to. Even they see it and they tell them; she is ruining you, get away from her. You will be okay when you are away from her.

I am bad luck? I stifle life? Is this what I am doing to my kids too?

Can I stop this by going away?

What kind of curse is this and why could I not see it before I involved my babies in it?

Something DID try to tell me when I was 13. I did not listen. I should have! I should have! I SHOULD have! Standing on the beautiful cliffs of Cromer, on the East Coast of England, facing the North Sea, something told me, and I of course, made the wrong choice and failed to listen. This is my punishment. It would have been like flying. It’s just like flying. I should have listened and I should have let go. I would have just been flying. Maybe I could still fly? I’ve wasted all this time and space. I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I screwed up; maybe that’s why I’m cursed now. I didn’t listen. Now I’m paying for that. And part of the punishment is watching my children suffer and maybe telling me to get the fucking hint already.

Will my pain of trying to be a ‘normal’ person and not able to- go away? And all the bad luck and bad life I make on people I am around go away?

It is entirely mean and selfish of me to stay here and think it will change.

It has been 38 and (over) half years-

It is not going to change.

What am I deluding myself thinking?

I cannot force people to learn about and try & understand me & my problems- what good will it do them anyway?

I’ve already fucked up their lives enough anyway.

Because if they cared they would desire to learn.

They do not care.

Because I am not worth it. I am too bad to them. I bother them or mess up their lives, so the less they have to involve themselves with me, the easier their lives are.

They are forced to, to some extent, so they flee when they can.