TIME

Everyone has a point in their life when they know it is "time". Whether it is because of an illness that has drawn on for too long or even life itself that has not produced any more than a strain on people you love and society. Do you just keep existing? That is the idea most people believe is the answer but if you are truly worried or scared of life do you just keep on living it? I am facing these decisions and I am not seeing a way to get out. I've been delusional for the past month, have tried to maintain a normal side of me when I'm around others to the best of my ability but that hasn't don't much good. I am what failure looks like. I am what failure is.

I realize someone who is depressed feels this way, and I admit that my depression has taken over to the extent that I am scared to live. I'm scared to do the littlest things in life right now. I am scared of my shower and that it will back up and make me deathly ill. I am being evicted for something I did not do but am getting blamed for having a party on Thanksgiving. I was home alone on Thanksgiving, so I'm not sure where the party comes into play. So,I have no options now. My family, whom I love, decided I need to try to get into a residential center *nursing home* and I am unable to sink my mind into that at all.

Delusions cause so many thoughts to run through my head that I am not sure what is real and what is not. Is it lying? Officially someone on the outside will think I am a liar but I don't know how to stop the stories. My brain chemicals are messed up, but I know that sounds like a cop out to others so I am too embarrassed to say it. I give hints to my psychosis but because I am able to hold a conversation with others I am not believed. Delusions are a tricky thing. My delusions convince me my life is going one way when in reality it is going another way. The way I realize it is when someone tells me what I am doing and I can recognize it doesn't make sense and that it is just made up. It is humiliating to me to have my behavior shown to me.

I guess this blog is about how I am finally tired. I've been tired so many times, but this time I have to stop pretending I can fix something that is so much bigger than me. I have to quit trying to play like I'm living when in fact I am just putting on a show for others to make them happy for me. I am tired. My delusions make me into a big liar. My depression makes it hard to be around others. My anxiety keeps me paranoid. My OCD is not making sense to me now and I am unable to finish a ritual now. Think this time I am going to Seroquel OUT!

Logorama from Marc Altshuler - Human Music on Vimeo.

funny

http://vimeo.com/9752986

HOARDER NEXT DOOR

I know I have talked about the old lady that lives by my old lady next door who is a hoarder. Now, on this day I was going to take her some beans and rice. When I got over there I couldn't find a spot to put the meal. This space is just the kitchen. That path where she is standing is honestly a path and it starts at the front door, to that area and tightens up from the living room to the bedroom. The clutter and smell is overwhelming and it has began to show its ugly head outside where she throws out pieces randomly.

Trying somehow to make sense of this mess outside of her front door is like being low IQ and trying to understand Quantum Physics. I sometimes think she is trying to decorate her front lawn or possibly doing a bit of landscaping. My heart goes out to her because she is obviously dealing with dementia/Alzheimer's and that scares me because I never know what to expect. She is a dear soul and a lovely lady but she doesn't know what she is doing. 

More of my Internet finds. ENJOY

Because I love anything that is beautiful and works with my senses as far as color, rhythms, and even movements I have stumbled upon a great artist who can produce tears to those who see his works. The word PERROQUET with all of his talent has quite possibly the most beautiful works I have witnessed so far. There are stills and slow motion videos that are out of this world. I would just suggest you sit back and get ready to have your mind blown by the beauty of this amazing website. 

Another beauty I found on the Internet is for anyone who loves art or gardens or both. There is a man in Australia who has combined the both to give viewers hours of beauty. Brunos Art and Sculpture Garden has over three hundred amazing photos of amazing beauty. I know you will enjoy this tremendously.

JUST SOME FUN STUFF I'VE RAN ACROSS

http://www.pixolu.de/

this is amazing...it is something i love using every day. it has amped up the pic catalog by 100%. just type in what you are wanting to see a pic of and sit back and watch what happens.

THINGS I LOVE

It is no secret to those who know me in real life that I love fingernail polish, nail art, anything that has to do with fingernails. I have this desire to try every design I see out on my left hand. I have thought about taking pictures of my designs, but I can change a design more than 14 times in a day when I can't stop the rituals of my OCD. The art, the paint, the design, and the layers are all encompassed into this ritual that takes a life of it's own frequently. I can go through a bottle of nail polish in one day if I am out of control. 

I decided with this blog I would show you some of the designs I have tried on my fingernails, which are no less than 15 mm from the quick at all times. I try to keep them between 15mm and 25mm for my own comfort but always the exact same length with every nail. If one breaks, I will cut all of them off so they can grow back at the same rate. This rarely happens because my nails are quite possibly in the best condition where breaking is not common.

I keep square shaped nails so that I can keep an exact amount of length on each nail. I obsess over the shape almost as much as I do over the length. I find that a fingernail file allows me to perfect both. The above photo of the fingernails would never work out for me. Although the design is amazing and I happen to love both color and design, if you look closely you can see that nearly each  nail is of different size and shape with the thumb nail too close to the quick. I have tried this look on my own nails, and because I am limited to polish color occasionally the results came out a bit different. It still looked quite beautiful to me and I kept it on for close to 30 minutes before moving on to another design and color.

 Okay, so blue is not my color, but I wanted to show how natural nails can be painted to look like fake nails. I figured this out by painting the tip edge to make it all rounded and seem thicker. This was two coats over a base coat followed by a top coat to seal it. They look quite dull but  this was after a full day of wearing this. Notice the squareness of each nail and the exact length of 18mm on the left hand. I am not quite sure why my thumb is not in this picture, but I can tell you it is the exact length as the rest of them.

Another thing I love to do is make the henna hand designs on my left hand using Elmer's glue. After I am finished designing the patterns that I look up online, I then spread the glue all over my hand and allow it to dry completely. Once it is dried I will find the perfect part to pull up and try to pull off all the dry glue in one pull. This has never actually happened to me but I always strive to do just that.

Mimic Octopus

MULLET MONTAGE

EXTREME MULLET

This is a bad mullet hair day

SAHWEET

JOE DIRT BLEND

Starting a new chapter:

Not another boring blog today. Have you ever taken a ride with someone that gets on your nerves? I have spent the past 4 hours with an old man and his many stories. Now, don't get me wrong, I love to hear stories but not at the risk of a head on collision caused by his insistent need to keep looking at me while talking. In all, I have probably consumed 4 times the limit of air from gulping in from all the near misses today. Glad it's over and glad my son is here with me.

Today's travel was with a prison minister. Don't get me wrong, I love ministers. I also think it's cool to be called to minister in prisons but I honestly don't have the slightest curiosity about how hard the criminals are, sitting with someone on death row, and even hearing about their death threats. I don't work at a prison for a reason, and that simply is because I am too compassionate and too trusting. I would not last in that environment. It doesn't mean that I don't think people can be reformed because I do believe that; I just know I would be conned all the time.

So, here we are stuck in a car with a Mickey Rooney look a like and who's smell could pass as that of wet dog odor. He had old man smell, and I know it's not his fault because he's old. His car, well that is a story all in itself. He was bragging about how his car has over 400k miles on it and he has AAA for emergencies. I would hope so. I not only prayed for my life but for his car as well. We had bible lessons all the way down there, all of which pertained to prisoners.

I am proud to say that we in no way harmed any animal that lay dead in the road or on the shoulders. 

CAN'T REALLY BE SERIOUS TODAY

something to think about.

Every so often I get to run across a gem like this. Now, the reason for this picture is to stress that not always are the weight limits on baby items real. This is a nice example of how this stroller can withstand 30x's the official weight limit.

Okay, this was a ridiculous plug on my book, but doesn't it make you want to go out there and buy a copy?

Okay, to be fair, everyone know's that I am an OBAMA fan, but because I love funny pictures you have to admit that little girls head on the bottom right hand corner is going to be very famous.

Is it just me or does that hat really make his face POP

EXPLAIN PLEASE

I have always had a hard time trying to explain myself. It isn't because I am complicated that it takes more descriptive words, it's because I do everything to my own beat. A few weeks ago I went to one of my most dreaded places on Earth; Wal Mart. To some, this shopping center is such a delight that there are people who actually don't have anything to do and choose to go for enjoyment. It is something I do not understand, but more than that, I don't want to know the reason why. That is why I don't understand when someone asks me to explain what I am thinking or doing at the time. I have never found my actions to be that entertaining, nor my thoughts and words. 

Getting back to the story that I was beginning, I went to buy groceries with my mother a few weeks ago. I have found a way in which I can shop without coming unglued by the fact that other's have touched the products before I. If I have witnessed someone touching something I need to buy, I will use a bag as a glove to hold it long enough to put into the basket. This has taken some of my panic and anxiety out of shopping. I still feel like taking someone down if they touch me and I realize that is something I have to work out. To be in a fight with someone in my mind and the other person has no idea is not only a bit weird, even for my standards, but not conducive to my mental growth. So, I have perfected the way I can go to a store to get items I need without wasting any time or energy on things I don't need or want. 

You may be asking yourself, "Where is she going with this?" I feel the need to set up the baseline of the story so you can see how frustrating my day can be and how hard it is for me to explain myself. At the time I have finished placing the items in the basket in a specific order, I now have to find a cashier that I think will be my friend for the amount of time it takes to get things placed in bags and paid for. When I am out in public, no matter how insignificant or small the place is, I always pick out the good guys and my enemy. That is with any store. It's a mental list that means nothing to anyone else, it's my inner self that does this automatically. The majority of times I am in a mental fight with the person in line who runs to get something else and makes everyone behind wait for her to get back with the stupid product.

To continue the story, I am in line with what I considered to be a very unremarkable. The line wasn't as long as most, there were no screaming dirty smell kids in the line, so I wasn't in a fight with the mother. When it is time for me to start placing items upon the conveyor I methodically do so in a way that makes all the sense in the world. I place same items together. I realize my "same" and other's "same" is different, and I never think it is that important. What's important to me is that now I have my selected items placed exactly how I need them to be bagged, I watch with horror my enemy. The enemy showed itself and the mental fight was on. She was scanning each item too fast, not looking at what she was picking up, putting the items in a bag that I could never pick up because it was all wrong. She was trying my patience and looking at her did not seem to get her attention that she is getting a mental ass whooping. 

My heart is beating so fast I want to choke someone. How can someone be so inconsiderate that they do not take in consideration the amount of time and energy it takes to have a basket of groceries grouped perfectly and then placed on a conveyor in an order that would be easy for any cashier to work with? The chaos is so much that I really am beginning to dislike this woman with each beep. I refuse to pick up the bags to place in my empty basket, so she stops scanning and starts loading the bags herself. I am still in shock at what I am witnessing and we are not even halfway through. I need her to slow down. Watch the insanity you are making. I can't yell loud enough in my head for her to hear me and how she is the luckiest woman on earth right now because I am on medication that keeps me from being physically and verbally violent. She is oblivious of the fact that she is ruining my day with each scan and beep. I watch her taking things out of bags I purposefully put them in because someone had touched it before and now there were two different hands on my purchased item. I want to kick someone, a baby or something and I feel my eyes well up with tears. 

I am smart enough to know it isn't right, the way I do things, or the way I am. I get that, I am not in denial that the quirky things that are normal to me make others stare and wonder what is wrong with that woman. Just ask me, that's all I need. Let me explain please so that I don't hate you and you not even know it. I have fights in my head, and the victim is unaware. 

PROUD!

PROUD, that is what I am, proud. Proud of myself, proud of my mind and proud of my accomplishments. Okay, maybe that is a a bit obnoxious, but there are things that I have done lately that I have amazed myself of. First, I want it known that I am not a braggart. That being said, I am going to proclaim my accomplishments loud and proud, the way they deserve. It would be nothing less of foolishness if I did not do them justice.

After 18 years, I have stopped smoking. Not once have I freaked out about stopping or had the horrific withdraw symptoms associated with quiting. I found a will power I did not know existed inside of me that has bloomed. The number of times I have tried to quit in the past is too embarrassing to admit, but I will say it was more than I should have. I realized that smoking was tying me down. I couldn't feel 100 % when I was dependent on a cigarette. I was poisoning my body and mind. Prayer and more prayer gave me the encouragement and strength to stop the habit. So, I am proclaiming today, this perfect day, that I am smoke free. 

Over the past few months, I have taken certain things out of my diet. Until recently, I didn't know how my body was working on the inside. When I had some lab work done, I realized my health was not going to allow me to do the things I want to do. I took out meats, and although I occasionally will eat meat, I never buy it or stock it in my cabinet. I eat it when I am invited to someones house or out to eat. Milk has been another thing I have taken out of my life. It was amazing how much better my body felt without the two of those foods. Over a period of a few months, introducing those foods into my diet proved too hard for my digestion so I am back to no meat or milk. I can't really call myself a vegetarian because I am way to fat to be one, but I am on the road to getting my cholesterol down. I am just glad that I don't have to worry about high blood pressure or diabetes right now.

The third and final thing I have to talk about is I have finally found a peace to my life. For longer than I can remember, I worried about everything. I worried what people thought, heard, said, felt  about me. I can honestly say that my doctor gave me peace a little over a weak ago at my mothers begging. I had no idea she was talking to my doctors to take me out of the misery in my  mind, but she could see I was suffering. I was not aware I was suffering because I was in the middle of the war. I am not slower, and for a while I was scared of this feeling. I didn't understand this feeling and how it would affect my every day life. I am thankful for this peace, something I wish I would have been able to have years ago. The imagination can completely affect your decisions. I would tell myself that certain psych medicines would take away my creativity and caring, but I was ignorant. Ignorant to the fact that to slow the brain means I can now see things clearly. Instead of a rush of different images or thoughts, I now have those same thoughts and images but can actually appreciate them. I do not  have to race to hold on to them. I can let them dance in my  mind, give them a stage and allow it to play out the way it is supposed to. Before this new medication, my thoughts were flitting, never long enough to make much sense to others. I couldn't keep  up with my mind no matter how hard I concentrated. I have my mind back, although still ravaged by OCD and other mental illnesses, but it is livable. No need to pray each night to no wake up in the morning. I have something to look forward to, something new to experience, something more to say, something more to believe in. 

So, I brag. Proud of something I never felt possible. Proud I have found this path, this new road for my journey. Proud that I understand for the first time what it is like to not be in a constant state of agitating euphoria. I am now peaceful. My mind is peaceful, my images are peaceful, and my creativity is peaceful. How great that is, to be able to finally say, "I am at peace."

A STORY OF DISCONSOLATE pt.1

It is often that I get emails from individuals who I only know from networking sites. Few actually get my attention, and those that do are so alarming that It actually seeps into my soul. I am not sure how someone can be affected by someone else in a way that warrants a reaction, either by emailing or responding. I am going to give you a peek into some of my HOPELESS emails I put in a safe cyber file. The first one I will allow you to read is the first of many emotional letters I make myself read all the way through. It is the hardest emails or collection of thoughts for that matter that I read. I don't choose or ask for these emails, just as I don't know why I am the one who has been chosen to help those who need it. I never know if my response will be accepted, ignored, or inspirational. I fear the worse with every email in this category. I fear because I hear the desperation, the guilt, the fear, the despondence of depression. In each of these emails, I will however, allow you to know the outcome, whether good or bad. I give you this because I can't get rid of the visions, the hurt or the chaos in my head and heart until I put it down. I am putting it down for you, the reader. I will not say enjoy, but I will say respect. Respect the courage someone had to put to paper real thoughts, emotions, personal feelings. Respect the way depression grips your choice of words, the vocabulary that does not necessarily need to be understood by all. This, I'm sorry to say, is the first of many blogs that I am getting out. Hang in there with me, and see if you see or hear something that I have missed, something I didn't understand. 

11 November, 2009

I am writing this to you because I don't know who to talk to. I am (sic) added you as a friend for a long time ago (sic). My life is in pieces and I don't know how to fix it. I wrote a bad check. I promised my mom I didn't and now they know I did and my mom can't know I lied. I am too scared to say I lied. I can't go to jail because my world will fall apart. Is there an easier way because I would like to know. For 4 days I know the police know (sic). I don't want to leave a note because I don't know what to say to her. It is just us. I am too shamed by what I have done. I send you this because I think you will understand me, because you have felt the way I do. I want to, but I'm scared. I have to but I wish I didn't. I'm not making much sense right now, but I have a question for you. How do you say goodbye? How do you say I'm sorry but I have to leave? It is okay if you don't have the answer. I don't have the answer. Will you say a prayer for me?

__________________________________________________________________________________

Okay, so I picked this one to start with because it was the first one I corresponded with. At first, when I read the email, I thought I was dealing with someone quite young, just by the way the words were put together. It wasn't until after I responded did I find that she was in her late 20's. Without telling the entire reasoning she had for wanting to die, I will say that she made a mistake. The lady bounced a check, and in my mind I don't see it as such a dire problem. Let me clear that up by saying I don't think it's a good idea but if it is by accident, isn't maliciously done it can be taken care of. All the time I was reading it I just focused on the offense of insufficient funds. I didn't realize that what she was trying to tell me was that her offense was LYING to  her mother or being caught in a LIE. Do you see why I am not cut out to help people? Do you see why I am haunted by the fact that someone out there has given me a key into their life and I don't know what I am supposed to do with that key. There is some pattern though to these emails, all of them think I understand or that I have been where they are. Is this the path I am supposed to go on? This young lady that wrote the letter, did in fact, attempt to swallow more than the recommended dosage of pain relievers and consequently was found by her mother in time to rush her to the hospital. The last I heard from her was that she was going back to school to study, and I am not making this up people, psychology. After I received our last correspondence, she informed me that she was going to close out her account. I haven't heard from her or what has happened since, and although I am not using her name, if she does happen to read this by chance I would definitely love to hear an update.

CRYING

 DO YOU KNOW THE EFFECTS WORDS HAVE ON THE PEOPLE THAT CARE ABOUT YOU? IF YOU KNEW THE WORDS AND THE PATH THOSE YOU HAVE CONTACT WITH WERE A STRUGGLE DAILY, WOULD THERE BE CRITICISM? WOULD YOU BE ABLE TO SAY I BELIEVE IN YOU? COULD YOU SAY I BELIEVE IN ME? ANSWERS NEVER COME EASY. A TEAR FLUSHES THE EYE, BUT IT ALSO EXPRESSES THE FEELING FROM DEEP WITHIN. IT CAN BE OF HURT OR HAPPINESS. DO YOU CRY WHEN NO ONE IS AROUND? DO YOUR TEARS FALL FROM YOUR FACE IN SECRET? WE ARE TOLD TO STOP CRYING, BE STRONG, DON'T SWEAT THE LITTLE THINGS. WHAT IF THOSE LITTLE THINGS ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS THAT ARE WHAT DRIVE US TO SPILLING OUR HEARTS OUT THROUGH OUR TEARS? DO YOU SACRIFICE YOUR FEELINGS IN ORDER TO STAND STRONG FOR THOSE AROUND YOU RATHER THAN OWNING YOUR OWN FEELINGS? IT SEEMS LATELY I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET ANSWERS TO THINGS THAT SHOULD BE SO EASY TO ME, BUT HOW DO YOU BEGIN? I DON'T WANT TO FAIL, I DON'T WANT THE FEELING OF FAILURE AGAIN. THAT WORD "AGAIN" IS SUCH A DEATH SENTENCE. WHY DOES THERE HAVE TO BE THAT WORD IN MY VOCABULARY. BEING SCARED OF FAILURE IS MY BANE. IT HURTS TO THINK YOU HAVE PUT YOUR HEART INTO SOMETHING, GROWN IT AND MOLDED IT ONLY TO HAVE IT PUSHED OVER, PARCHED, ALONE, SILENTLY DYING. THIS BLOG SEEMS VERY DARK AND I KNOW I HAVE TO EXPLAIN WHAT IS GOING ON.

I TRY MY HARDEST TO BE THE PERSON I CAN BE PROUD OF. OF COURSE, THAT CAN BE  TAKEN ANYWAY DEPENDING ON WHERE YOU ARE IN LIFE. I AM TRYING TO CLEAN MY BODY AND MIND. WHO KNEW HOW HARD IT WOULD BE?  RESEARCH GIVES ME AN OUTLET TO FIND WAYS TO PURGE MY FAULTS BUT THE FEAR TAKES OVER MY MIND SOMETIMES. SO THE NEGATIVE IMAGE IS OF A TEAR, BUT IT CAN BE TEARS OF DREAD OR HAPPINESS. IT IS ONLY TEARS. CRYING DOES NOT DEFINE YOUR FEELINGS, IT JUST SIGNIFIES OUR EMOTIONS. NEVER FORGET TO TELL THOSE WHO MATTER TO YOU THAT YOU LOVE THEM, NO MATTER WHAT YOU FEEL IS THEIR FLAW. WHO CAN SAY THE FLAW YOU SEE IN THEM IS REALLY A FLAW? DON'T POINT OUT THEIR STRONGHOLD, IT WILL ONLY BECOME YOUR STRONGHOLD.     

MY JOURNEY

What do you do when the inside of your body hurts? Not the kind of hurt from a heart ache or such trivial reasons as that. I am talking about a pulsing, driving ache that is with you constantly? You know that there is something you have to do for it, but you are lost in what that is.

For a few weeks now, I have had that ache. I've been asked if I am depressed, and I can truthfully say that I am not. I ache for something that I cannot see though. There is something out there I am supposed to do or say or be that I can't get to yet. It is an overwhelming feeling that I am not used to being tuned in to.

Sometimes, I feel as though I am on the right track, and although I look and sound like I am confident, my path seems a bit too complicated to me. I know what I feel I should do with my life, but I am not sure how to incorporate it into my daily living. How contrite I sound even talking this way, but it is that weight, that anchor that is heavy inside of my body that I hear, feel, even hold.

It is a weight, and yet it is also an electrifying feeling that I know something is around the corner for me. I have that feeling a child has looking at the presents under the tree and wondering what is behind the beautiful packaging. So, I spend my days waiting, watching and hopefully reading what it is I am supposed to be doing.

While I write this, I am sitting in the front room looking out of the front door that is open. There has been a slight overcast and the wind is blowing the clouds toward me. I say me because it is my world that I am living in. I watch as the ex marine rides in his hover-round with his missing legs, both from the knee down and ask myself why I have never told him thank you. It is because it would take me outside of my world, where there is safety and quiet. He is a very kind man. I met him once while doing laundry. He had a small cardboard box full of wash rags and kitchen towels that needed to be washed. I watched silently at first as he tried to maneuver the washing machine while his automotive seat hindered some of the buttons needed. I slowly rose from a bench I was on and took his laundry soap and finished the job for him. It wasn't until I was through that I realized that maybe he didn't want help. He had a smile on his face and thanked me. ME? I only did what my mother would have done, what she taught her children to do. 

It was that day, with the ex marine who had sacrificed his lower limbs while on duty, that I began to ache inside. I still don't know what it is, but I bet it has to do with someone other than myself. It will come to me, I just don't know when that will be. I've went over so many scenarios in my head until it too felt a burden. Do we all have that ache? I've never discussed it with anyone to know how prevalent this ache is. I don't even know what words to use for it. Me, someone who can describe anything, and I can't describe this stupid ache that I am having.

So, my ex marine is riding around outside, just looking at nature, feeling the wind blow against his body, letting the sun nourish his body and he looks as though all is great in the world. For some, I think it is. I think he has the right to finally feel his world is great. In my selfish mind I wanted to feel sorry for him, wanted to think he needed my help, wanted to be important. I never thought about his perspective. I've never seen him without a smile on his face. His daily activities seem to stay the same, not a lot of change and it looks like he feels fine with that. He seems happy, and yet I look at him and wonder where I have the the audacity of ever being depressed, or sad, or even upset. 

So, my path is beginning to become wider. I've came out of the narrow and straight to one that gives me a chance to look around, see more than what is in front of me, see others as they are and not what I imagine them to be, see things clearly and without a distorted glass to hide behind. I am ME. I say that a lot and now I mean it. I have a place to go, a place to be and I'm on my way. I just wish I understood what this ache is that I have, that my body feels, that my  mind cannot figure out. This ache is my path, it will show itself one day and I am no longer on that narrow road so I should be able to see it's light when I get there.

WALKING UPRIGHT

It is June now, and what a great month it has already started out to be for me. I have actually went a week without falling. Some will feel that is embarrassing to do, but to me it has always felt like slap-stick comedy. I actually feel bad when there is no one around to witness it. I probably find it more amusing than others do.

I have to clean house today because my therapist is coming over my place for therapy. I like that a bit better but I am cool with either one. I'm wondering what I want to talk about with her. I have a few things on my mind this time. Of course we will talk about the boring stuff first, the new medication and how I am feeling. I hope to get that out of the way first off so we can discuss new and exciting things.

Have you ever fell in love with someone? It seems like an easy question, but I am talking about the type of love where your stomach gets sick just talking to that other person, just talking about that other person? Is that an odd reaction, to feel the need to run to the bathroom quickly? I've wondered that for a long time, and although it happens to me, I am not sure what that signifies. 

If you spend many years with someone, love them more than anything else, and then the bottom falls out of the relationship and it ends without ever really ending, what does that mean? The two of you are no longer together, but  you can't stop loving no matter what you try, how do you get through? What if the other marries and still calls and tells you he loves you? How do you get to the point where it does not matter? 

I have been transitioning my life and lifestyle. I am finally feeling good about myself, a feeling I haven't had in many years. I feel I deserve more than I gave myself over the years. I know I am not the best looking woman out there, and yet I feel I am still a great person. I may not be comparable to others physical standards but I am a great person. I am great because I love. I love people for who they are, not what I want them to be. It took years for me to understand that. Many years, in fact, to believe that I was worth love. 

Do you believe someone loves you when they say they do? I know when someone loves me, but I also have a hard time seeing when someone says they love me for what it is. I tell everyone I talk to on the telephone before we hang up that I love them. It is genuine, it is felt, and it is something I say in case it is the last time I get to speak to them. Saying I love you though is not being in love. I tell myself I do not want to be in love, yet I know that if I were to get that one call, that one knock, that one person who tells me, then I would be in it to win it. 

I guess I can say I don't want to be bothered because the truth is, I don't want to have to go through the motions. I don't want to meet someone and then find out there is a discrepancy in each others feelings. It would be hard and damaging to an ego that is trying to grow. I'm not sure that I feel uncomfortable saying ego either. It's something that needs to be nurtured sometimes, right? 

So, every now and then, I get a phone call. A phone call where my stomach feels ill, my heart beats faster, my feelings torn up in shreds like confetti. It is that call that I dream of. The call that comes but doesn't deliver. So, I joke at the beginning of this post about not falling. It is not a joke. It has more than one meaning to me. I have begun to walk upright.

I love myself enough to know that words are not necessarily what we need to hear to feel what we need to feel. Actions, although sometimes may be hard to see, should be what we base our true feelings on.

So:

I get a call;

one that says I love you;

one that says he want to come by;

one that says he will always love me and I should know that;

one that says baby, if you love me you will take care of me;

one that says if you change your mind you know how to reach me.

Such a waste of time, trying to love someone who has no true love for me. I am not blind, I am not dumb, I am not impaired to where I don't know the deal.

I am walking upright again, not stooping or falling for the same thing over and over. I stand straight now. I don't want to be pushed over so I can tumble. My feet are planted, and although erosion is hard to fight off, I am determined this time to stay put. It has taken so long to get where I am now that to destroy it would be like ripping an infant from the womb when it is not ready. Does it give me strength? I hope it has given me the strength to stay on the right path without falling.

So, I walk, and while I walk I do not fall. I am walking upright for the first time in a long time and it feels so good.

WHAT EXACTLY IS BEAUTIFUL?

Have you ever seen anything that took your breath away? Something so beautiful that you don't even know where to begin to describe it? A beauty that makes you feel. What about a sound? Have you ever heard something so great that you were brought to tears? A sound that you wanted to hear over and over again and would never get tired of it. I will not go into touch and taste for obvious reasons.

I thought about what it was that I found beautiful, and what sounded so pristine to me that it would stop me in my tracks. Of course there are the obvious, a smiling baby, a lovers look, a beautiful person, artwork. That is too easy to answer. Be original, think outside of the box. Make it difficult to grasp so that no one else would understand your reason. I chose the UDJAT. It is the most perfect symbol, with it's lines and measurements that are purposeful. It, of course, has meaning to many but to me it is just one of the most beautiful pieces of perfection out there. It saddens me when I see someone wearing this symbol as a tattoo and the artist doesn't understand that each stroke, each  movement of this symbol has a meaning, the exact measurements are what this symbol means. To get it right, you can't copy it from a picture. You have to use mechanical drawing skills. It is one of the hardest things to draw, yet one of the most serene images ever drawn. Pure beauty, not the kind that you have to fix up, not the kind of beauty that is an occurrence. Babies of any kind are adorable, a fashion model is pretty, a person is attractive, a painting is flawless or flawed to a degree that it is pleasant to your senses. I just measure beauty in a way that makes sense to me. Of course, by this time next year the beauty may change.

I have a story about a sound. I know it is weird to try and explain something so intangible, but just bare with me for a minute. There are some people that can sing and make you feel good. Most likely one of your favorite artists, someone paid extraordinary amounts of money to sing into a microphone in a studio somewhere and let others alter or tweak, just a bit to perfect the song. I know that the sound of hearing a baby laugh is a great sound, I know this. Some may say the sound of thunderstorms or even rain is the best sound of all. I have to agree, all of those sounds are nice and pleasant to my ear. But have you ever witnessed a most beautiful sound? I have. Now, I realize witnessing a sound does not even make sense, but hang on and let me explain. When you are shocked, sitting in a pew at church and someone stands in front of the congregation and begins to sing, at first you think, okay she can sing. But when the sounds that are made reach your body and all you can do is cry and every hair on your body has decided to stand up for this music, then you know you have witnessed the most beautiful sound in the world. It rarely happens, and it doesn't have to be in church either, but when it gets there, when it is the only thing you want to hear and it saddens you that it has faded then you know you have witnesses sound. Sure, I love rain and thunderstorms, little animals, smiling babies, a beautifully laid out place setting, even a great art piece. Beauty to me, though, is intangible. If you can touch it then it can be marred.    

SOMEONE TOLD ME YOU CAN CURE OCD

Today, I was told there is a way to cure OCD. Now, I don't think I know everything, and I will admit that I don't. I do know some things and I know OCD is here to stay. It has been in my blood for 39 years and has no intentions of leaving this body. I do believe, though, that some forms of OCD can be cured. Sometimes situations are what cause anxiety in which a mild form of OCD occurs. That is understandable to me. My OCD, though, gets mad if I don't at least recognize it the first thing I do in the morning and the last thing I do before sleep arrives. 


Why do I doubt this "cure" that is the craze since HOWIE MANDELL's admission? Well, I've had mine before he came out of the crazy closet, and I can bet that he is taking a pill cocktail like I am that helps relax the brain so that certain OCD'S are not needed. How this works, I'm not sure. I read up on this all the time, and wonder where is my wonder drug, my hypnosis, my cure? It doesn't exist for everyone. I guess it's kind of like that wonder drug made a few years back called VIAGRA. Now, Viagra was meant to be for heart problems in the early stages and through studies found that it helped with erections. It helped so well that they started producing the drug and advertising it for men who have a hard time with their erections. There is a BUT though, not everyone can take this medication. Not everyone will be cured of erectile dysfunction. Not everyone will be cured of OCD.


I know it was a bit lame to put those two in the same category, but you have to understand how my mind works. In order to read my blogs, you have to clear your mind of normal thinking and see that I go in directions that make no sense to those who have no mental illness. I have been told on many occasions that I loose people. I don't see it and never know when it is that they get lost.


I made this blog specifically to talk about mental illness, but there is more to my life than just that. Am I supposed to follow protocol that I set up or can I give a glimpse into my real life? I have Facebook, and although I use it like most people work, it is a very impersonal avenue for me. I made it for networking and honing a craft I felt was my calling. I am now lost; that calling wasn't for me and it made me look like a terrible person. So, I get real in my journals so I am going to be real with my new blog site. Hold on for this ride, because you are about to get to know the real me.


Today in therapy my mom and I were trying to go down the list of all the jobs I have had throughout my adulthood. We laughed at this because how I achieved the positions I did was amazing. I could bullshit my way through just about anything and be believable. Once, and this is the truth, I became the AD for a nursing home. Yes, I know you are sitting back and thinking how in the world did she get that job with no experience.  Here is how I did it: I called another nursing home and asked for their AD. When we were on the phone, I was asking her all kinds of questions about the job and what all it meant to do the job. When I applied for the position, I had the information needed to write on the resume. Was hired the next day for the position. My mom, of course, is mortified by how I scammed businesses by getting hired for positions I was never qualified for. I will say this, I never put any false college degree's on my resume'. I just put that I was still in college, which isn't really a lie, considering I can go back at any time. I never kept those jobs though. It would become  obvious I was in over my head, or I wouldn't show up for work half of the time. Let's just say I haven't a very good work record. Possibly one of the worse ones out there if the truth be told. 


It used to bother me that I couldn't hold a job for long. I understand why it is now, but for years I felt like a loser. Now I tell myself I am doing what I am meant to do, and that is, well nothing. I don't work. It's not because I am lazy. I just can't keep attempting to work and have employers train me only to waste their time with me quitting. There is no reason to waste their money or time. I don't work because I get stuck in my house. I have said that so many times but it is true. If there were a cure for OCD I would be the first in line, you can believe that. 

RUNNING TOGETHER

How do you tell your mind to slow down? There are medications that I take that is supposed to slow my thoughts, and although they do a great job, my mind still races at a different pace. I start so many things, have so many ideas, study so many things but never do I finish anything. It is like my brain wants so many things at the same time. When there is this need for so much at the same time it is impossible to focus on one thing. Those who have followed me, know me, or just read about me realize this to be true.

I know that the only thing I am good at is journaling. It used to be the feel of pencil on paper would be enough for my journaling. I still make my lists with pencil on paper. I don't think I will ever be able to change that to the computer. I have to be able to see, to read, to change, to arrange and to add to my lists. My journals, though, have taken on a new venue which, although I am not touching the words like actually writing it on paper, I am about to get it out of my mind. It ended up doing what it was supposed to do; get thoughts out of my mind so I can move on.

I will admit that I love art, history, and science. They are not always in that order, but they are still on the list. Love of art to me is quite possibly different than it is to anyone else in the world. With art, I love to find the patterns, the mistakes that make the picture perfect, the rhythms of the stroke that make the movement, and the background of a picture that no one notices. Art keeps me busy in the best way possible.

With history, I love the personal side of any story. At first, when I was young, I believed everything I was told. I think that is how it is supposed to word though. We are built as children to believe those older than we, those who know more than we, those who tell the stories. As we grow older and mature though, our minds find out that some things we knew as children are just stories with no substance. There is no Santa, no Tooth Fairy, George Washington was not the first President. When history became interesting to me was the discovery of the lie of the first Presidents. Since that discovery, my love of facts have been somewhat an obsession. I have to research until I find the truth.

Science has only been a passion of mine for a few years. It took the internet to introduce me to science. I started out wondering about certain chemicals and minerals that the body needs and doesn't need. Then it began to grow to chemical compounds, what certain things happen when mixed together. How to make fun things like slime, silly putty and many other fun things. It also led me to love watching certain shows on television that use science as a show.

I have always loved to study other cultures, and that means their language as well. The bad part about that is I always start out gung-ho but move on to another language before really getting around to really knowing how to hold a conversation. I guess that is why I have always felt that I never complete anything. I start so much, but fail at finishing. The question is, this flaw of mine, will I ever accomplish anything other than getting my journals published?