chapters

i know that everyone has their own hidden stories and secrets they keep locked up in them.  shared only by those that were involved in that time and place.

when i started this blog, i had meant it to be a way for me to get all those stories out.  to release all of the bad (and some good) energies, thoughts, etc that i had been carrying for 26 years.

less than a week later, i found out i was pregnant and well, my focus shifted.

today, while driving around running errands, i let a lot of memories come back and play in my head.  good memories, not really but memories that i can look at in a different perspective than i could have even 4 years ago and definitely a more distant viewpoint that doesnt carry quite so much pain with them.

i think i am ready to begin.

my chapters wont play out in chronological order, maybe someday, but for now i will let them come as they do and replay them.

enjoy.

ever wake up and just want to scream?

no particular reason behind anything.

in fact, it’s probably really a good day.  you just want to let the fuck loose and scream until you lose your voice?  or maybe im just the only one?

i got to sleep til almost 9am.  my baby snuggled up next to me and didnt demand more than snuggling til ten am. then she dressed herself…in a crazy outfit but whatever that’s the norm for us.  crazy outfits chosen by an almost three year old and me going okay, you really want to wear my fuzzy socks with a tutu and supergirl shirt? okay.  I GUESS IT BEATS FOOTIE JAMMIES!!!

i got to do two of my besties hair in amazing colors and cuts that both turned out great.

my hair was done….yeah, hot pink, pearly dark blonde and black!

my kid screamed most of the day…

she’s been talking all kinds of baby gibberish lately.  im not sure where it’s coming from but it pisses me off.  i cant be the only parent who wants to smack their child with the rubber end of a chuck taylor.  i know this much.

other parts of me just feel ugh.   like i expect too much out of things that really arent.

my mind plays out it’s own scenarios and i dont like it.

i dont clarify things and never have and it always comes back to bite my own “feelings” in the ass.

yep.  dumbass me.  and my feelings.

 

i remember a point in life where these things didnt even exist.

back before “therapy” and “working on my issues” even were thought of.

maybe ignorance IS bliss.

or maybe i hurt myself for so long, nothing even matters anymore.

i play back things that happened years ago that no man would ever want to hear the woman they are spending time with now did.  and though i may not be that same young, stupid girl anymore i still feel shame and wouldnt really blame him for not wanting to be with me.  i mean, unless it was secret.  and then, really, it just perpetuates my whole entire shame cycle.

the “i’m not good enoughs” echo in my head.  okay, maybe more like screech owls, a shrill voice pierces my entire body and reminds me who i was, what i did, and well you’ll never outrun it, ever.

 

maybe it’s just a full moon and im drunk and need to go to sleep.

 

ru tatted on his chest

at the almost the tail end of my “extra” days i finally crossed paths with a man i should have met years earlier.

for the sake of anonymity we will just call him ru.

the first time i noticed him, and the fifty leventh time he noticed me but talked to me. (apparently he thought i swang for the opposite team and was just extra girly) i made him come get me from my house in the hood.

he pulled up in a lexus. i walked out at 5am. hoes on the corner. crack house in full effect across the street. and him just cracking up that my extra white ass lived in the middle of the hood. the real hood and wasnt joking when i said yeah, come get me.

but my ass is going to have a few drinks and pass out.

years later, that still makes us both laugh.

because that’s what happened.

at the time i started rehab, he may have been one of the few people that understood.  he’d been blurped and was going to diversion classes.  he saw me at some pretty ugly moments and a few times even rescued me from strange situations.

even gave me money to get away from a situation, but i never felt completely right because i snorted his money up my nose.  somehow, i think he knew thats what was going to happen.

he’s in prison now.  ive wrote him a few times and honestly, im not sure what i can say positive anymore… at one point i thought i wanted that “thug it out bitch” life but i dont know i dont want to pay for your phone calls to my phone.

yes, a gangsta can be a gentleman but really do i want that in my life?

i have not wrote him since april.  im not sure what more to say to him than shit just really wouldnt work with us…like unless when you get out you want to get a job, a real job and go past affiliations.

christmas eve tears

the last time i laid next to a man on christmas eve and fell asleep with the intentions of waking up together on Christmas morning,  i was 18.

i am now 30.

i laid in my tub today, almost two weeks after i tried to hide my teary incident from him, and tried to put together the things that made me cry.  because crying isnt a normal thing for me.  once or twice a year yes, but laying in bed next to someone, no.

ive pieced together some of what i was feeling:

my friend has been married with children, i have been alone with a child.  i do not know what it is like to be active in a child’s life and have that taken from me.  i was feeling sadness for his loss, especially because i knew it was eating at him.

my brother had his daughter for the first christmas he has ever spent with her, and she is almost 5.  my brother is a good father, he has never batted an eye at being financially there for his daughter.

my friend met all of my family for the first time.  no man has given that much of a damn in EVER.

matter of fact, no man has ever willingly gone out of his way to visit me at any time of the year, ESPECIALLY a major holiday.

and then i knew he had to leave Christmas morning and it would be a while before I would see him again.

maybe, im just too attached.  he cant possibly be that interested in me.

my daughter screaming for me when i left her at my grandma’s house. serious waterworks and all.

a little too much to drink, not enough sleep the night before.

christmas stress.

all this circling around in my head and me not making any sense of it.

i cry.

he wakes up and asks whats wrong and why i am crying.  all i can say is “i dont know”

i KNOW this makes me sound like im a blubbering idiot.  but I cant explain everything Im feeling without crying EVEN more.

step forward almost two weeks in my bath today…

I have never had a “real” adult “relationship/interaction” with a man.

I have never been married, nor do I see it anytime in my future and I wonder if some part of me is defective or broken.  I see the updates on facebook of people i graduated from school with that go from single to in a relationship to engaged to married.  i am sometimes silently jealous.

It seems like I must have pissed off the fate gods because my romance/love/relationship ticker has always read “he only comes over when he wants some ass.”

But really, I did it to myself.  I sabotaged any chance of receiving more than easy and casual relationships by carrying myself that way.  by only interacting with men who wanted ease.

until now.  and maybe im wrong.  maybe i am just easy.  im nothing more than right now.  a few months into something i dont expect declarations of love and lifelong plans because if that was happening i would RUN full speed in the opposite direction.

so yes, i cried.  my distraught appearance was really just absolute confusion of conflicting happy and sad emotions duking it out in my brain.

shut up, brain.

I never really look down on a person for not having the things that I am fortunate enough to have, materialistic of course.  I have a car that runs, decent clothing, standard household possessions and well I live in public housing, I dont have the nicest appliances, my tub is worn and torn and my walls have been patched in places (probably from domestic abuse situations)

My parents had normal things while I was growing up.  Well from the age of ten on, my middle brother and I lived pretty comfortably.  Not high end by any means, we had a house, my parents had reliable cars, we had a boat for the lakes.

I never felt less than.

Today, I looked up “Viking Ranges” and I feel like a complete charity case.

Thanks, brain for making me think that his exes expensive choices in how she prepares meals and my rent-free, government funded project stove somehow makes me less than.

remnants

 

somehow though, it just seems right.  we both deal with remnants of shattered dreams and hopes of our pasts and at first i felt i was just an escape from lonesomeness i dont feel i could just be that.  there is more.  it’s unspoken on my part and shown through actions on his. 

down, even to the way he touches me.

 

how i can give into what he wants even though my own head has always played back incredibly pain filled memories because he calmly reassures me that he’s right there and wont hurt me. 

ive heard that before, many times, but with him, i actually believe it.

ive always been a passive lover. in this ive always felt used and apart from the acts. with him my passivity and submission is not taken from me ungratefully.  i wouldnt want to be with a man who isnt domineering, i want a man in my bed and my LIFE.

im laying wrapped up in sheets and covers that play back our last few nights together, my incredible gift of his sacrifice to spend time and effort to see me and im almost choked up at how much i miss him right now.  how much i will miss his scent when it wears off the bed and for the next few months that i wont see him.

 

the cure?

I can imagine the loneliness that comes along with decisions and directions that people’s lives take them.

Or maybe I cant, isnt loneliness sort of self inflicted on us by the choices we make? Not always bad choices but choices we’ve made and have to deal with.

And being alone isnt always so bad.

But that ache for another person to share your thoughts, your feelings or just to know there is someone else there seeing what you are seeing, breathing from the same air space as you, or as simple as reaching out and touching them with the tips of your fingers while they sleep soundly.

That ache, is one that can’t be filled with JUST an available body.

Believe me, I know that loneliness.

Whether I am surrounded by friends or isolated.

How do I treat this ailment? The invisible disease that infests the darkest parts of the pieces of ache that catch my breath and hold it captive.

Is it you?

Or will I only allow a wound to open and fester, reeking of further loneliness.

how my adult fairy tale brain functions

yeah.

i said it, my adult fairy tale brain.

i like to actually think of it is as why in the fuck did i not realize these things YEARS ago and what if I had, where and who would I be now?

would i be happier than i am today? because i really do feel happy today.

would i be living a better life? but what exactly is a better life?

it’s like my brain plays out these “butterfly effect” scenes where I chose a different option than the one i chose in a specific moment.

and then my kid throws a ball at my head or craps in her pants and i crash back into reality.  not a bad reality, just reality.

because i dont date anyone in this tiny little town i live in i therefore have had very limited intimate relationships the last three years of my life.  (read: sex with me is like winning the friggin lotto…maybe even better…maybe)

so, hop forward in my story, it’s not just about sex, or fairy tales, at least i hope not…but knowing me it’ll go somewhere else completely.

I have not felt like an attractive woman (like hey i could get some ass right now if i wanted type attractive) for quite some time.  I know Im cute and stylish and all that but attractive to the opposite sex….eh, not really.  I share my bed with an almost three year old who has a tendency to stick her foot in my butt crack to keep it warm and my boobs, oh they are awesome balloons (so says the kiddo) for her to blow up.  wait, kiddo, my boobs are NOT that saggy! I wear period panties all month long because no one ever sees them but me.  I brush my teeth and wash my face every night but shave my legs or underarms…BLAH.  I dont think about this stuff.

I guess if i tried harder, like actually put myself out there, I could find some unfortunate person to take home with me if I went to a bar or something.  (im joking here, the mu’fucka would be lucky!!!)  But then who wants a relationship that starts in a bar? On some one night stand type shit? Why would I want my relationship to start off with me meeting that person when Im probably shitfaced.  Im a fun drunk dont get me wrong but uggh.  Not really my style now days.

So, how do I get men to sleep with me? I already know them, they just happen to be in the area.  Maybe it’s best for me.  My grandma seems to think the best relationship that someone with my temperament should have is where I only see my significant other for like 5 days a month tops. Once is probably best.  Uh, DAMN, grandma.  I dont know whether to be sad that she feels that way or if she’s really forward thinking in her 76 years of age and maybe she is right.

But why cant I have my fairy tale?  Maybe my fairy tale is just different.

Laying next to someone does something strange to my whole electrical system.  It makes me fall asleep with a smile on my face.  It’s not even just the act itself, it’s someone else touching me and figuring out what makes me work.  It’s being able to close my eyes and lose myself in the situation RIGHT THEN.  It’s something that doesnt occur often.

I joke on myself that Im going to grow into the crazy old cat lady with no cats, and sometimes, I really think that’s what is going to come of my life.

I passed up so MANY good SOLID men in my life in search of hurt that Im stuck in a place where I dont open myself for anything other than unavailability.

beyond lust

Passion (from the Ancient Greek verb πάσχω (paskho) meaning to suffer or to endure) is an emotion applied to a very strong feeling about a person or thing. Passion is an intense emotion compelling feeling, enthusiasm, or desire for something. The term is also often applied to a lively or eager interest in or admiration for a proposal, cause, or activity or love. Passion can be expressed as a feeling of unusual excitement, enthusiasm or compelling emotion towards a subject, idea, person, or object. A person is said to have a passion for something when he has a strong positive affinity for it. A love for something and a passion for something are often used synonymously.

taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Passion_(emotion)

i have a passion for many things in my day to day life. and every once in a while i get to experience physical passion.

 i love my job, in it i deal with making people feel good about themselves.  i enjoy the outcome of hair color and styling. taking something dull that a person hates and them leaving my chair with a huge smile and the fees and  tips i get arent so bad either  i can say that this is the best career for me

being a mother i have great love and adoration for my child something that cannot be felt by anyone who hasnt spent countless nights and days worrying over the well-being of the little creature they made.

id never thought id have the passion that i do for learning again. ive always enjoyed reading but that’s different than taking what ive read, comprehending it and discussing it in class.  i look forward to hearing new ideas and it’s such a strange feeling when lessons and real life coincide. 

the sexual passion shouldnt be anything new to me, ive had plenty of sex in my life with plenty of people.  thinking on past experiences i realize that lusting after someone and feeling those feelings during sex are completly different than LOVING that person with all their faults and all their greatnesses and both FEELING that. 

i dont think about sex, lust and relationships often because i just dont have the time.  i do know that i will not actively seek out a lustful relationship ever again. if passion built from layers and layers of love isnt out there in the right form for me, i dont want it.

death

Sometimes I lay next to my napping child and my mind just wanders. I take trips back in time. It’s funny how I faced certain situations scared out of my mind and not showing it. Or maybe I did.
I sometimes feel the anxiety and pain that used to rise up and leave my throat tied in a knot, my head racing towards something but not sure what that something was supposed to be. I quietly screamed, not quietly more like silently.
I lost so much in a matter of time, my choices lined up in an intricate pattern of dominoes all took one easy push to clink clank zip down the line.
I was kicked out of rehab, evicted from an apartment, interested in tricking, living in a place I didn’t want to be, in a relationship that was rooted in hate and anger towards someone, kicked out on the street, running drugs and weapons, visiting county, running bad checks for money, being told I was worth nothing, threatened, humiliated, degraded, staying high…
I don’t think anyone truly will ever realize who I was then and who I am now. There’s two different people. I killed that person so I could live.
And as my sleeping baby stirs, the homocide I commited by killing the beast that I let control me really has let me control me.