HeLlO mY NaMe iS...

HeLlO mY NaMe iS...

Saturday, July 30, 2016

The Red Balloon with The Silvery Ribbon

She grabs tightly to the long, silvery ribbon of her bright Red Balloon.
And off she goes. Higher and higher into the billowy clouds.
Looking down, she waves goodbye to the world below her, smiling.
Laughing. Overjoyed at the feeling these heights give her.
The Red Balloon carries her far.
Showing her things she's never seen before. 
Brilliant cities below her.
Tall, green sequoias. 
Long, flowing rivers that sweep the leaves away in autumn.
Red Balloon makes her feel loved. Makes her feel alive.
Tempts her into all of the amazing wonders of the world.
Showing her the shiny people with smiling faces.
God, how she loves them.
They wave to her as she floats by.
Her long, brown hair, slipping across her neck; dancing in the wind behind her.
Absolute euphoria.
Her loving heart beats faster up in these starry skies, making music like the hooves of a horse as it runs free in the open country. 
The Red Balloon takes her higher, the stars seeming to smile at her; dancing around her, embracing her.







And she can see Jupiter's rings.
Running her fingers through them, collecting the kaleidoscope of colors in her hands.
They drip off her fingertips into the deep abyss of space.
Flying closer to the sun, The Red Balloon becomes fragile. Delicate. The ribbon starting to waste away.
She wants to touch the hot sun. Feel the immense waves of heat. Collect a piece of it in a jar.

Something to remember.

But The Red Balloon has lured her too far.
It lets her go.
And she is free falling to earth.



Down she goes.



Faster she's screaming.

The Earth's exosphere swallowing her whole. 
She is horrified. Helpless.
She closes her eyes and all she can see in her terrified mind is The Red Balloon. The pretty, silvery ribbon.
Trying to grasp only that image.
But something flings her eyes open, forcing her to see the blue below her.
The waves suspended in time as she nears the end.
What has she done?
Why does it have to be this way?
No one to catch her but the deep, blue sea.
And it feels like concrete.
The Water.
It burns her body, pulling her in deeper.
And it won't matter how many tears she lets fall from her vivid, sorrowful eyes.
And no one will hear her screams.

An Empty Cavern

She opens her eyes and the water encases her naked body like fluid concrete. 
The arms of the water pulling her deeper into her heavy, hollow surroundings.
"I've been here before." she thought to herself.
Eyes frozen open.
She could start to see the beginnings of her deep, cimmerian monster; coming towards her from the deepest part of the sea.
"he's here for me." she panicked.
the long, spindly tentacles moved mechanically up towards her frozen body; a hissing sound piercing the water, echoing through her frozen ears.
Sinking deeper, she felt her heart begin to race.
He almost has her.
She tried to close her eyes, she tried to swim away, but she was helpless. In a trance. Frozen in time.
A deep, dingy tentacle swirled around her torso.
"no..." she thought.
His grip tightened.
He pulled her in, down towards his distorted face.
"you are mine..." he hissed. but the words muffled through her ears.
Her racing heart was beginning to slow.
Something pounded against his chest, forming deep ripples across his void of a body.
Another pound. Down-reaching.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
Immersed in what she was seeing, the ripples opened up a hollow, dark cavity in his chest.
Her heart beat slowly.
A grin spread across his face.
He dragged her down towards the empty cavern of his chest.
She begs. Looking up at his immense dimensions, he says to her,
"You must feel the dark-ness, my dear one." The words slithering inside her head.
Swallowed whole by his cavern, she weeps.
His laugh only coming out like a deep buried whisper through the water.
The darkness closing in.
She pounds in slow motion, the walls of his dark cavity.
"You must feel the dark-ness, my dear one."

Friday, July 29, 2016

Keepin' It Real


Two days ago my Dog Baby, Hershey, was attacked by another neighbor dog. Hershey is a ten year old Yorkshire Terrier/Chihuahua mix. So he is small and very non-aggressive.
His back had a huge gash in it and needed emergency surgery. Fifteen stitches. Two big bites, tearing my dog up. He's back home now in recovery. And I'm pissed off. I'm pissed of because I did find out who's dog did this, and unfortunately there is nothing I can do about it. Legally. ;)
The morning that Hershey got attacked, I let him outside to go potty and he wandered away.
I figured he just went to his normal yard spot in our old neighbors backyard, so I went back inside to collect me and David's things. And that's when M comes in all freaked out with Hershey in his arms.
Hershey had wandered into one of our neighbors yard and their chained up dog, (Husky/German Shepard mix) couldn't handle it, and she attacked. Viciously.

M and I didn't  have the money for all the shit that needed to be done on Hershey. And the doc told us that if we didn't take care of him immediately, he would die of infection.

Heartbroken, overwhelmed, anxious, hopeless, guilty.

I didn't know what to do.
And what's worse is that I knew there was nothing I could do to make the bastards with their aggressive dog pay for what they did.
We had angels on our side this day because two lovely people who were also in the waiting room with us, helped us pay our medical bill.
And the Humane Society took care of the rest.
Hershey got his much-needed surgery.
Hershey is alive.
He is in pain and it pains me. I wish I could take all the pain and trauma away for him.
What's worse is that he has already been previously attacked by a Big Old Husky when he was just a puppy. So this whole event probably sent him to that horrible place, mentally. My poor doggie.

I am just so thankful that we got the help we needed and that Hershey is safe back home with us.

It's taken me some serious strength to not go over to that neighbors house and threaten them or do something.

But what's done is done and I leave the rest to the Universe.

On a lighter note, A finally got his cast off today!!! He also got his pin out...yes, his metal pin that was holding his bones together. Nerve-wracking! And disturbing! But now we have a happy boy on our hands.

Okay, back to a cheerless subject: My mom and I's mishap.
Basically I sabotaged any chance of a relationship with my mother.
You know what though, I really did consider taking the posts down until she had said some fucked up shit about me and was trying to blame me for basically ruining her life. Turning everything around on me as if I was the one who made her do all this shit.
It may be petty bullshit, but she refuses to have anything to do with me or my son until I take back everything I said on here.
Do I go back to pretending again?
Should I keep lying to my mom, just to spare her feelings?
I can't take back what she already knows I've said. It out there! It's done!
Whichever way I could have done it, whether it was over the phone, through Skype, email, or letter, this end result would still be the same. And you can't tell me otherwise.

I knew she would be hurt, I did. But I honestly thought we'd be able to move on and work from there.
Like I said, she is very stubborn.
I guess when she's ready to talk, she'll talk. Or maybe she won't.
But I can tell you right now that I'm better at this non-talking bullshit than she is.
I mean, what did she expect? That I was just gunna go through life, spewing bullshit out of my mouth to her about how I had such an amazing childhood with her? That I never worried about her, or wondered where she was while I was growing up?
If you read between the lines of those posts, you'll see that it's really all about me missing her. Needing her. Wondering why we weren't close.
And that THAT'S what I wanted. Together-ness. Open-ness. My damn mother!
I guess it's just time for me to focus my good energy on good things and not waste it trying to get through to an unmovable brick wall.

A blog, for me, is basically an online diary. I talk. I talk about shit that goes on in my life. Shit I think about. Shit I'm experiencing. Publicly. No holding back. Just being 100% honest, 100% me.
You can call me fucked up, but at least I'm real.
At least I try.
I don't hide who I am. I think it's silly to.

I'm going to stop there. I'm in a blah mood today. Lots of conflicting emotions.
But I hope you all are having a wonderful day/night, wherever you might be around the world!
I love you all and appreciate more than you know, that you guys are still reading.

Much love,

Sunday, July 24, 2016

You & All Your Pieces

Why, yes! It is indeed another Warpaint song! As always, please enjoy...

I know I'm afraid, I know I'm afraid,
I'm drunk and I'm tired,
And the city I walk in, the city I walk in,
It feels like it swallows,
With my hand in my pocket,
I feel like a shadow, I feel like a shadow.

Though I'm afraid,
Afraid that I have made mistakes.
Now there's nothing here for me.
The things you once told me,
The thoughts you once gave me,
Sound like the wind in my ears
That blows out the thoughts I've got in my long brown hair.

I feel like the shadows I don't even bother for anymore than that.
What did you whisper in my ear?
What did you tell me that I wanted to hear?
What was the answer you wanted me to find out?
There's no lies, the lies, the lies, the lies...

Brought back something,
A bit for you, a bit for everyone.
You and all your pieces,
You and all your pieces made me come,
And all that love you gave was strong enough to make me stay and now it will be alright.

I feel like the shadows I don't even bother for anymore than that.
I feel like the shadows I don't even bother for anymore than that.

What did you whisper in my ear?
What was the answer you wanted me to find out?
There's no lies, the lies, the lies, the lies...

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Broken Bones, Bikes, and Wanting That Cigarette...

I wanted to write a post about the depression I recently experienced and explain more in detail my food phobia thing. Maybe phobia isn't the right word, as I'm not deathly afraid of food. It's more of a food...aversion? A food intolerance? Reluctance?

Well, I'll get into that in a minute.

Okay, so I just had a really horrible depressive episode that lasted a good while. (That's why I haven't written in awhile).
It came outta nowhere, like usual. I don't think there was a set-off moment. But I know that things were happening during this time that was sending me down my spiral into the abyss.
And everything was becoming overwhelming. And there was nothing I could do about it.

The day that A broke his wrist, was originally going to be a beautiful day. I was forcing myself to go outside, and I figured if I was forcing myself, I should force J to come with me! And we could hang out at the park together and play with David.
Where's the Skelegro?!
The sun was out. I was really hopeful that this was the day I'd be given that breath of fresh air.
So when A called to tell me he was on the way to the hospital, I thought he was messing around.
He does that sometimes! But when I arrived at the hospital and saw the state of his wrist, I was repulsed and I felt my mother instinct click on.
Well, it clicked on, and like usual, there wasn't anywhere to place that mother-ness except right back inside myself.

I had David with me, and as soon as I heard what happened with A, I grabbed J from her house and brought her with me to the hospital.

She was worried, as I was. And she was his mother. She could take care of him and tell him that she loves him. Though I could tell he was embarrassed by his mother's cooing, there was a piece of me that wished I could be the one embarrassing him.

No, this wasn't what set me off.

We all sat and waited in the emergency waiting room; A, J, David, A's friend, and me.
A's crooked wrist swelling up, and he was starting to finally feel the pain. He got tears in his eyes and I could see the frustration in his eyes. I wanted so badly to hold him and reassure him.

The best I could do was, "Don't worry, bud. They'll call us back soon and take good care of you. Just try to not think of the pain. Focus all your energy on something else."

They called A's name and we all stood up.

We walked over to the doctor. "Who are all of you?" He said.

"I'm his mother, this is his step-momma, and his baby brother, and his friend." J told him.

He said, "I'm sorry but we can only allow so many people back here."

J went on and said, "Well, I'm his mother so I'm definitely going back there." And off they went.

I teared up. Sure, he wasn't my son. I am not his mom. But I was scared for him. I wanted to be there for him too. I wanted to stroke his hair and kiss him on the forehead. And tell him everything was gunna be alright.

Still, that wasn't what set me off.

David, his friend, and I all went back to our seats in the waiting room.
We waited for hours.
And I was waiting for M to get here because David was getting fussy and I had to watch A's friend.
J texted me, letting me know that they had to put him under sedation so that they could pop his wrist back into place.
And when he woke up from the sedation, he puked all over himself.
Then J told me that he was going to need surgery.

By this time, I had left David with M at the hospital and was driving A's friend back to where the boys ditched their bikes.

Their bikes were gone, and I automatically assumed they were gone for good, because people are assholes and like to steal kids bikes.
But I went in to get help from this lovely lady who was working inside this weird building.
I asked if maybe someone moved the bikes inside somewhere.
She told me she'd call me when she heard if someone put the bikes somewhere safe.

I drove A's friend home and told him I was sorry for being so quiet. And that I had racing thoughts.
He said it was okay and not to worry about it.
As I was dropping him off, I apologized to him about the bikes and reassured him that as soon as I knew where the bikes were, I'd bring his bike home to him.

And he left.

I was alone in the car.

I started panicking.

I thought maybe I'd just go home and smoke a small bowl to relax my racing mind. And since I was starting to panic, I figured it would be good for me to just be home and shut myself in the room and just breathe.

I pulled into the driveway and ran inside, the panic increasing in intensity. I was starting to hyperventilate. I couldn't stop seeing A's teary-eyed face in my head. And I couldn't stop hearing David's screams and cries. And M's face. The way A's friend said, "it's okay, don't worry about it." And the feeling of walking on eggshells everywhere I went. And K's pretty, thick hair and the way she looks at me. My mother's absence. My dad's several attempted suicides. Cameron jumping off that cliff. Zoe's terrible, unfair death. The immense loneliness I felt. It was all tumbling down on me.

I was standing in the bathroom, my bowl was empty, and my weed jar seemed less full, and everything crashed on me right then and there.
I saw red. And my fingers were tingling. And I was hot. On fire.
I ran out back to the car and sat there for a moment. Everything crashing down. Seeing red. Feeling like I was set ablaze.
And I lost it. Right there in the car.
And I couldn't stop. There was no stopping. It was coming out like vomit. Hot, putrid vomit.
I wanted it to stop. I wanted to shut up. I wanted all the thoughts in my head to go away and leave me alone. And I was repeating words over and over. Though I can't remember what the hell I was talking about now, K came out and tapped on the window.
I had no idea she was even home.
And I couldn't even pull myself together for her. Which only made me feel more rage.
I was humiliated. And full of rage and sorrow and loneliness.
I just wanted to apologize to K and tell her that I loved her. With all my heart. That I would do anything for her, she was my soul. Just like M, A, and David were.
But I was just babbling crazy nonsense at her.
So she ran inside and called M.
I didn't know what to do.

I have no idea what got me to calm down. I think I had called my dad and asked him to take me to the hospital when he got off of work. I was arguing with M on the phone. I was falling apart and he didn't understand. It was frustrating and felt hopeless. I just wanted so badly to be happy. Why couldn't I be happy? Why did all these feelings have to be so difficult to deal with all the time? Why could I never get my racing mind to just stop once? For just a moment. A moment of peace. Silence. Happiness. Tranquility. Shhhhh....it's okay sage. Everything is okay.
There was no angel there to embrace me and tell me that everything is okay.
To not think of the pain and to focus all my energy on something else.
This whole moment in the car is what made me think I was this-close to falling into a psychotic episode.
And I refused to be around anyone except doctors during my psychosis.

I drove away and bought everyone some burritos. I couldn't eat anything. I went to see A, because apparently, since M was now there, I could go back there.
He had his surgery. He was drugged up. He wanted to go home. With his mom. And she could take care of him there for a few days.
I waited for my dad to call me. He wanted me to come over and talk to him about what was going on with me.

Well, we did. Over a few beers. It calmed me down for the most part, but that tingly, apprehensive feeling in the back of my mind still worried about the psychosis. Especially now that I had a decent amount of alcohol in my system.

I asked my dad to take me to the hospital now that they were sending A home.

I checked myself in and they sent me back.
They put me in a small room with a small sink and a large, mirrored window.
I had a few doctors come talk to me.
I danced around the small room, listening to Warpaint.
I really wanted a cigarette. Really bad.
But I didn't want them to send me home. I was in crisis. I needed help!
But since I was not planning on killing myself, or anyone, they booted me out a couple hours later.
Fucking doctor sent me home with hydrocodone!!! For what??! I wasn't even in physical pain!!!
I walked home alone in the dark. Praying I'd stumble across a giving gentleman in the middle of the night who had an extra cigarette to spare.
I passed by a bar and had the slight idea of going into it. But I kept on walking.

When I got home, M and David were laying in bed, David sleeping peacefully.

I didn't want to look at M. I just wanted to pretend this whole day never happened. And I closed my eyes.

I tried to avoid K for the next few days as much as I possibly could.

I just wanted to hide.

When I got the flu a couple days later, I thought I was going to die from all the puking. I couldn't stop. Figured this was my death. But hey, at least no one would see me around anymore.

A few days later, three hospital visits because I was so severely dehydrated, and a doctors visit, I was finally put on Zyprexa. Which I refused to take because there was no way in hell I was going to take a medication that makes you gain a bunch of weight and may give you diabetes.

So the next day, I mentioned to my doctor about Lamictal. Because I'd heard such great reviews about the drug. Seemed like a good fit for me. And boom! I was taking Lamictal. I am taking Lamictal.
And I'm really hoping that this is the one for me.
I just refuse to take medication that will make me gain a shit ton of weight, or turn me into an emotionless robot.
I'd rather deal with my mania and depression alone than be taken out of my own body.

Now to explain the food aversion thing. I know, abrupt change in subject.

See, I never really gave a shit about food. Or more, the food I put into my body. To me, food was just food. You needed it to survive. Simple as that.

When I pregnant, I ate whatever I pleased. No care in the world. When I was hungry, I wanted to eat! And whatever I was craving, I needed to have! So yeah, I gained sixty-five pounds during the pregnancy. Was 110 pounds before, and was 175 at the end.
I felt horrible about that!
And what was worse is that after the C-Section, I lost fourty pounds in only a week and a half.
No joke. I'm not fucking kidding, here.
As you may know, losing too much weight too fast can make your skin saggy.
Well it did! My stomach took all it could handle and it just seemed to give up. I don't blame it!
It's not too bad now, but boy it was a scary sight to see every day for a whole year.

Okay, I'm getting side-tracked.

Food Aversion. Food Aversion. Food Aversion.

When I gave birth, everything changed for obvious reasons. And I had a set plan for how I was going to raise my baby boy. I wasn't so worried.
But after a few days of being home with my new baby and after my mom and my grandmother had already left back to their homes in Washington and New York, the panic set in.

Being a new mother was the most exhilarating, frightening, beautiful, messy, and tiring time of my life. That honestly hasn't changed much. There were new things I had to think about. New ideas, new dreams, new everything. Everything changed. Literally. And I became a new me.
That new me started developing weirder quirks than usual.
One of the main ones being food.
I told myself that David was only going to eat organic food. I was going to breastfeed him for a couple years, and home blend his baby foods out of organic fruits and vegetables and meats, gluten free pastas, non-GMO labeled products, etc., etc.

I refused anything otherwise.

But then a year passed and he didn't want breast-milk anymore. And I was blending his foods and feeding him proudly. Feeling like I was doing good. Putting no harsh chemicals into his tiny, baby body.

And things got harder. And more expensive. I couldn't keep up with his eating. He ate constantly. I would run out of fruits and vegetables. Meats and pastas.

That's when we started buying "normal" food. And I was feeding him crackers and pop-tarts and easy-mac, and packaged frozen chicken nuggets. I tried my best to keep giving him as much fruit and vegetables to eat, so I'd buy those pouches and fruit cups and steamed vegetable mixes and lots and lots of organic juice that had fruit and veggies in it. I dared not give him dairy unless it was organic, minus the easy-mac because, well, it was easy-mac.

But for the most part, I just felt like I was poisoning my son. That his body was impure because of what I was feeding him.
To me, all food was poisonous. Is poisonous.
And so every once in awhile, I'll have a freak-out over food.

Like once when I was in the bath, trying to relax and get my mind to shut the fuck up for once. And I broke down, sobbing, pounding the water like a cement floor I was stuck in. Freaking out over food.

Or the time I was sitting on my bed and started pounding on the walls about how I was poisoning my son. That food was poison. And why couldn't I just be normal for fuck's sake?! Don't feed him that!!! Read the labels!!!

And then the other time where I freaked out again, in the bathroom, again. Over chicken nuggets.
Sobbing on the bathroom floor, mumbling nonsense about frozen chicken nuggets. I cried so much my eyes almost swelled shut. Luckily I slept that off.

This food aversion nonsense bothers me. As stupid as it sounds. It really fucking bothers me.
I feel like I just can't trust anything anymore. The world has gone mad. All the food is fake. And it's killing us and giving us mental disorders and cancers and horrible debilitating diseases.

Having dealt with eating disorders before in my lifetime, this shit worries me. My compulsions that I have. I don't want to starve myself or my son. That's not what I'm saying. I don't want to gain anymore weight either. But I feel so frustrated at this food shit. I worry that I won't be able to get rid of this food compulsion in time, and David will grow up watching me and then he'll develop weird food aversions. Absolutely not!!!
I just have to tell myself that David is okay. He is healthy and happy and whatever I feed him, he will be fine.
And sometimes that works! But there's always that thought in the very back of my mind.

I haven't been able to see my therapist through all this chaos but will be seeing her this coming Monday. And god, how I have missed her. It's been such a struggle going through these past three weeks without her. I'm just thankful I have the Lamictal to hold me together. And David's smiles and soft skin. And M's heart-shaped lips. A's silliness. K's beauty.

I am okay. I always dig myself out or find a way back down.

No, I didn't fall into psychosis, thank god. Yes, I got the boy's bikes back.

It's still a struggle every fucking day, but I really am getting myself back to a healthy state of mind.
There's a lot to work on, but at least I'm working on it. I've realized how much I feel like I need to be in control. Not of people, but of things. I like things done the "right" way. Situations handled and taken care of. And when I feel like situations aren't under control, or when I see something being done the "wrong" way, I freak out inside.
But realizing that I can't be in control all the time, and realizing that, guess what, David's actually the one in charge, is hard for me to comprehend. Well, not comprehend, but....acquiesce....
I'm learning to let go of control a lot. On top of all this other shit I'm learning to do.
Phew! Breathe in. Breathe out.

And I leave you with this:

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards--"
-Soren Kierkegaard
(thanks wes)


Monday, July 18, 2016

Slow Dancing Trees

Waking up and seeing the sunshine...and it feels like the first day of your life, all over again.

Well I have a small update. Things have been....hectic. Yesterday was actually the best day I've had in a long time. For no particular reason either! I didn't do anything exciting, I didn't find money on the ground, I didn't go shopping. I woke up feeling.....in control!
About two weeks ago was a totally different story. I had been struggling for awhile, going through a major depressive episode. Completely embarrassing. Totally horrifying. Really fucking hard.
I found myself crying everyday for the simple reason of me just not being "normal" and happy.
And then I found myself on the bathroom floor sobbing and freaking out over chicken nuggets.
Yes. Chicken nuggets. I even recorded videos of me during this moment, in an attempt to show to M how bad it really was. I never showed him. But told him that, by the end of the week, I'm going to the hospital. 
See, I got set off by me cooking myself some organic chicken noodle soup, and frozen chicken nuggets for David.
It destroyed me. I lost it. In the bathroom. With David watching. 
I have developed some sort of food phobia since having David, and it really sucks. Really. 
And I know I can't do much about it except to tell myself that, "It's fine! It's food! Food is food, he's fine. He's okay."
And then I move on. Shivers.
From there, I felt myself starting to fall into a psychotic episode. And on top of that, I got a horrid flu.
I was severely dehydrated. And I had a breakdown in our car, parked in front of our house.
Guess who was home and saw the whole thing go down?
My step-daughter...sigh...
I hated myself for letting me fall apart like that and not being able to get myself together for her.
It will haunt me forever that she finally got to witness one of my episodes. 
For the most part, the kids just see me when I'm depressed, or when I'm "up." But they never see me alone when I'm depressed. Or when I'm "up." Because what she witnessed is what I really do alone in my depressive states. And no one really sees me when I'm alone in my "up" episodes. I refuse.
It was humiliating. Tiring. And I really just wanted to check myself in to the hospital.
Well, I tried. But since I had no thoughts of suicide or harming myself or anyone, they wouldn't keep me. And I thought to myself, isn't the feeling of not being able to take care of myself enough? 
When I wake up and wish that I would just fall into a coma because I'm tired of being in this deep, dark, tiny hole? Isn't that means enough?
That week was "Hospital Week."
I was in the hospital after that for three days in a row due to severe dehydration from this terrible flu I caught.

Nausea pills, hydrocodone for the pain, and lots and lots of fluids.

David caught my flu. He was waking up puking and screaming and crying and he was getting his back teeth in all at the same time. M was working a bunch of major projects at work. A broke his wrist. And by broke, I mean, dislocated, broke, and needed surgery for it.

I finally was able to talk to my doctor and am trying out the medication, Lamictal, since I have heard such great things about it.
It has been almost two weeks on my first dosage of 25mg. Then I move up to 50mg, and on until I find the right fit for me.
My mom is still not talking to me. Still. Still. Still.
And I've thought about just calling her, but I don't know what to say. I have said all that I needed to say. And no, not on here...
I just don't know what to do. So I am bothered.

But, I think this Lamictal is starting to flow through my system and I pray to god that this is the one medication I'll need.
And that Steven's Johnson Syndrome won't be the death that I receive. I made the mistake of looking up Google Images of SSJ, and I will never need to see that again, thank you very much.

I'd be more detailed about everything that's gone on, but honestly, it's just too fucking much. 
Yesterday, I used my dad's house to spend time with David in, and it was wonderful. I absolutely loved it. I made some breakfast, played with my baby boy, shared banana bread, listened to music, and put on a movie. The sun was shining. I was in my favorite neighborhood! The trees were swaying side to side like they were slow dancing for me and David. It really was amazing, simple as it was.
On top of that, K actually talked to me. Even sat beside me. It was really nice...
I love when I don't feel like I'm walking on eggshells around her. It's a huge weight off my shoulders.
Those moments with her don't come often but I do savor them. Very much. And hope to god she remembers these moments with me more than any other moment she's had with me. 
I have issues. She knows that. But I hope she doesn't grow up thinking that's all I am: One Big Issue.

Anyway, I know I haven't written in a long time. I haven't felt like it. Simply.
I've spend most the past month, crying over stupid shit, and making a fool of myself.
But....also pulling myself together. So that's gotta count for something, right?

I hope you all have a beautiful day!

(standing strong)

Saturday, July 16, 2016

The Wall Is Busting Open

Yet another Warpaint song <3

The war you fight is underneath
the water, getting deeper.
The wall, the wall, the falling wall,
the wall is busting open.
The wall is busting open.

In like a dull knife
pulls out all the stops
I fall out like
time running out

(even when I was whispering
you hold on, the water was slippery
you listen, the weather was answering
I let go, I wanna get into it)

You've got your reasons that, hey hey,
turned by the seasons and long days gone
too many minds in my, I don't know,
got in the way of my busting out

Cold and under, I almost forgot to
face up to what i ought to.
Willing and I do give offering to you
Willing and I do give offering to you
Don't know why I feel so different
Feel just like a different person
Willing and I do give offering to you

You're tied in a knot, can't throw you back here.
You've got the floor, they say. You gotta lock it up.
Late into the night you wore off that fever.
That fever.

You've got your reasons that, hey hey,
turned by the seasons and long days gone.
Too many minds in my, I don't know
got in the way of my busting out.

I'm over here by your way.
Tight as a knot, i want to fade.
I'm over here by your way.
Tight as a knot, I want to fade


Seems You Don't Want Nothing Good For Real

"The world is getting dangerous,
Sickness and disease so very contagious.
All these bad things happening just aint for us,
Can't help us out, can you pray for us?
I've got to...protect my life!
I've got to...love MYSELF!
My heart cries within me,
Love and respect: That's what you should be giving me.
When you hate each other, you don't know what you're doing to me.
If I allow this corruption, you'll surely ruin me."

You're still taking what's not yours,
Greedy though you got more,
Switching on me now,
Snitching on me now,
Picking up dirty attitudes,
What's yuh future,
Then I'm not sure..
Now you lurks on every corner,
Trying to make a dollar from them quarters,
Thought you were my friend,
Give yuh a helping hand,
Proved to be my enemy, you can't even trust anyone.

I've got to take myself away,
From all these things that's hurting me.
I've got to make my life so free,
Seems you don't want, nothing good for real.

I've got to take myself away,
From all these things that's hurting me.
I've got to make my life so free,
Seems you don't want, nothing good for real.

I waste no time on you,
Not behaving yourself having a crime on you.
Now there's a fine on you,
Now tell me what you gon' do?
Willing to help you and I don't want you to see,
The stupid things you do I just can't believe,
Seems you don't know what you really need,
Take heed remember life here isn't so sweet.
I was there to motivate you,
Seems you don't appreciate it,
What is it that generate you?
To do the bad things you do, I really hate it.

I've got to take myself away,
From all these things that's hurting me.
I've got to make my life so free,
Seems you don't want, nothing good for real.

I've got to take myself away,
From all these things that's hurting me.
I've got to make my life so free,
Seems you don't want, nothing good for real.

The world is getting dangerous,
Sickness and disease so very contagious,
All these bad things happening just ain't for us,
Can't help us out, can you pray for us?
I've got to, protect my life..
I've got to, love myself..
My heart cries within me,
Love and respect that's what you should be giving me,
When you hate each other you don't know what you're doing to me,
If I allow this corruption you surely ruin me..

I've got to take myself away,
From all these things that's hurting me.
I've got to make my life so free,
Seems you don't want, nothing good for real.

I've got to take myself away,
From all these things that's hurting me.
I've got to make my life so free,
Seems you don't want, nothing good for real.

I was there to motivate you,
Seems you don't appreciate it,
What is it that generate you?
To do the bad things you do, I really hate it.

I've got to take myself away,
From all these things that's hurting me.
I've got to make my life so free,
Seems you don't want, nothing good for real.

I've got to take myself away,
From all these things that's hurting me.
I've got to make my life so free,
Seems you don't want, nothing good for real.

Friday, July 1, 2016

Over It

I just don't want to do anything anymore. I look at all these people around me and it makes me feel so out of place. Surreal.
I hate this. I just wanna be with my son but I feel like I'm unable to really be there for him in the way I want and should be.
Because I'm dragged back down by the monsters in my head.
And even the doctors don't understand. They aren't there with me in my head.
Am I truly alone on this fucked up mental journey?
No one is catching me and I'm free falling from the stars.
I miss those stars. They used to twinkle at me. Now I feel like they are all frowning at me.
Where did I go? I just want to come back.
They wouldn't keep me overnight because I had no intention of harming myself.
But doesn't me not wanting to take care of myself and me not being there as I should be for my kids enough to get me the help I need?
I'm just trying my very best. But lately, I just feel like it's not enough.
I'm tired of the wars in my head. I'm tired of fucking everything up. I just want to be a good mom and a good person.