I sit here watching you and think "So close and yet so far." I imagine that if I just touched the TV, just put my hand there against it I would feel you. I can't say what makes me think this, it's just a feeling. I cried during "SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT" and "POLLY". I typically cry when they talk about your death. It's all so cold and impersonal. . . KURT COBAIN shot and killed himself. KURT COBAIN commited suicide." It's cut and dry. These are the facts but I cry. So tonight there was none of that, just a show, the one from Paramount 10/31/91. . . 20 years later on the exact same date. And yet, I have this feeling that you being gone know something that I don't yet know. You possess some knowledge of life and death that I don't. The cat was chasing something or nothing, but I wondered if it was you. Wondered if you were here as I cried and if she was chasing you, if that was why I was convinced I could touch the screen on the TV and feel you there. Maybe I cried because it's Halloween and at it's basic level, it is a night to celebrate the dead, even if that actualy happens a day or two later. Maybe it's because I've been watching so many near death experience shows "I Survived: Beyond. . ." Or maybe it's that space time continuum show I watched on the History II channel. Maybe it's a combination of these or none of these. All I know is that I've found myself in this place again, the place where I go often, where I contemplate life and death and time and space, though I'm back in the chair writing this looking directly across at the TV and still expecting it. You're voice is squeaking as you scream "GOTTA FIND A WAY, A BETTER WAY, BEEEEETTEEEEEER WAAAAAAY!!" It's the end of "TERRITORIAL PISSINGS" and I smile at the squeak you've done. I adore it, think it's 'cute' and 'adorable' and the way the song is jumping, the instruments, it's like their three people of their own, jumping up and down of their own acord as you scream. This thought really does make me smile. And now we're into the thick of "ENDLESS NAMELESS" The word "DISTRUCTION" is really what pops into my head here. It may be "ENDLESS" and "NAMELESS", but DISTRUCTION is what comes to mind anyway.
I wonder if when I was born in 86 if my parents had any idea, even a tiny inkling that 25 years later I'd be sitting here glued to the screen contemplating this performance and you as though under a microscope, a dissection project I'm getting graded on and have to get right. They probably didn't but that's no matter. I think the real contemplation tonight is this: What if you did give me my answer? I still feel you here, am positive the cat was chasing you, you were playing with her and though she's quieted, I can still feel you as "ENDLESS NAMELESS" comes to a close, the final strains of it being pounded out in slow motion. It's really over now and the audience roars.
Thank you for being with me tonight, for contemplating with me though I have no idea what the answer is. Besides, like I said, what if you did just give me my answer?
PEACE, LOVE, EMPATHY,
Chelle
Monday, October 31, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Chap1
She stood over the third body this week. Three bodies, 7 days. . . this wasn't good.
And it was only going to get worse.
Her radio crackled to life. It was the Captain.
"We got a fourth vic Mel. Corner of Serano and Pedro."
She sighed.
"K Cap. . . Be there when I'm finished here."
She looked down again. Why a little girl? What could a little girl possibly do that would warrant being abused like this? She remembered reading a book on a rap star. The author noted that men were believed to be much more violent than women. Apparently not true.
Mel headed back to the car. She wondered where the hell her partner was! He was supposed to be her partner anyway. . . bastard had missed again! She slammed the car door. She'd fill him in later.
The fourth vic was another adult. Back to adults??? Why pick a child at all then!!
Now it was 4 bodies in one week, two in one day! If she had thought it wasn't good before, it really wasn't good now.
Mira smiled to herself. She had cooked up the best plan yet and couldn't wait for her twin Mel to find out. She clapped her hands together and shouted "Yaaaaay!!!" to her silent apartment. Mel was a seasoned homicide detective. Mira was a seasoned. . . well, Mel would find out soon what she was.
She hopped in her truck prepared to drop off 8 more vics. The only downside. . . she should have dumped them sooner. They were decaying and it didn't exactly smell like roses! She's have to wash the truck bed down after she left them. Even better than that though, was where she would leave them. . . Mel's doorstep and better still??? The DNA Mel's cop buddies would find. . . would be Mel's!!!! She smiled to herself again. Oh she couldn't wait for this little discovery!!
And it was only going to get worse.
Her radio crackled to life. It was the Captain.
"We got a fourth vic Mel. Corner of Serano and Pedro."
She sighed.
"K Cap. . . Be there when I'm finished here."
She looked down again. Why a little girl? What could a little girl possibly do that would warrant being abused like this? She remembered reading a book on a rap star. The author noted that men were believed to be much more violent than women. Apparently not true.
Mel headed back to the car. She wondered where the hell her partner was! He was supposed to be her partner anyway. . . bastard had missed again! She slammed the car door. She'd fill him in later.
The fourth vic was another adult. Back to adults??? Why pick a child at all then!!
Now it was 4 bodies in one week, two in one day! If she had thought it wasn't good before, it really wasn't good now.
Mira smiled to herself. She had cooked up the best plan yet and couldn't wait for her twin Mel to find out. She clapped her hands together and shouted "Yaaaaay!!!" to her silent apartment. Mel was a seasoned homicide detective. Mira was a seasoned. . . well, Mel would find out soon what she was.
She hopped in her truck prepared to drop off 8 more vics. The only downside. . . she should have dumped them sooner. They were decaying and it didn't exactly smell like roses! She's have to wash the truck bed down after she left them. Even better than that though, was where she would leave them. . . Mel's doorstep and better still??? The DNA Mel's cop buddies would find. . . would be Mel's!!!! She smiled to herself again. Oh she couldn't wait for this little discovery!!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Gorgeous Day Turns To Swamp-Rot!
I'm posting this, HERE, ON MY BLOG, BECAUSE I CAN!! Swearing and mentions of cutting and pill taking! If you don't Desire to read it, get the hell off my page!
As you may have gathered, I posted this on some forums and they had problems with it, which is why it's getting posted here.
To those who do read it, thank you. I feel honored and privileged to be witnessed by you!!
So. . . I wrote this a few weeks ago before VPBC started, but then
found out we had no swamp forums. . . However, it's a few weeks later,
I've seen the swamp mentioned despite us newbies not knowing 'exactly'
what it is, and for me I've also read about it on the boards, but Mama
doesn't go in depth till you take Mastery.
Point is, I had this swell Brag!!!!! Then I hopped in the shower this
evening and my brain said: "Fuck this shit! I'm fuckin' pissed!!! I
usually don't mind thinking in the shower as I usually think good
thoughts and when I lay down to Self Pleasure I start focussing on
that and everything else can take a backseat most of the time. Today
was a pretty good day to, so I'm not sure where the shit even came
from. Of course. . . Pussy got pissed and said: "Fuck this!!! Your
pissed and I'm in no mood for sex!" I carried on anyway and did
eventually orgasm, but unlike those women who have sex when their
pissed, it didn't work for me. I got out of the shower and was still
pissed. About anything and everything! I've been saying "I'm
beautiful." and "My Body is beautiful." for weeks now when I get in
the shower. I've tried variations to, but I was washing my hair
tonight, said it once and thought: "Bullshit!! What the fuck is
this??? I don't even believe in this bullshit and I've been saying it
for like 3-4 months now!!" Of course, I haven't been able to come up
with anything else to say, so I've just stuck with it. Even my "I have
the most gorgeous Pussy in the world! I give her the greatest of
Pleasure and she gives me whatever I Desire!" isn't working. It does
work better then the other two, I do at least feel it sometimes when I
say it, but the other two are awash completely.
Anyway, point is, I have no idea what's going on, I'm totally enraged
and feel like putting my fist through a wall or something! So here is
what I originally wrote and my swamps.
Originally written 9/9/11: No wonder I was swamping, my brother died
9/7/09 of an overdose!
I love SG.com, I really, really, really do and I looooove Bragging,
giving Gratitudes and Desiring!!!
However, may I just say, I've been waiting since Febuary when I joined
the global forums to SWAMP!!!! I wasn't swamping in private, just like
I haven't been spring cleaning with 'myself'.
So thrilled the VPBC forums are open for business!!!!!
I swamp old songs that are absolutely fabulous but that remind me of a
time I desperately miss!!! And/or people who are no longer with us!
Selena's "I Could Fall In Love With You" is what brought this
particular swamp out. I'm sitting here weeping and thinking of my
brother and Selena, who had an amazing career just waiting for her!!
She was amazing and her career could have been so much more then what
it turned out to be!
I swamp old thought patterns wherein the new SG part of me shouts to
the rooftops: "I Desire a fabulous Birthday!!!!!!!!!" only to have
Kosmic Killer Kim *AKA my mother* drop into my head and say: "You've
rarely had a fabulous Birthday! What the fuck makes you think your
going to get one now!!??? Or in fact, what the fuck makes you think
you deserve one???"
I swamp not crying exactly when I Desire to because I fear losing
control and drawing attention from my family!
I swamp that when they were gone over Labor Day weekend I was feeling
great because I was alone and now this damned swamp comes up!
I swamp not calling forth these swampy emotions when they were gone so
I could scream, yell, throw myself on the floor and have an all out
temper tantrum!!!
I swamp procrastination!
These emotions have been in me forever but I've continually fought the
urge to write them down!
I swamp the cost of the Raleigh in Miami which freaked me the fuck out
when I discovered how bloody expensive it was!
I swamp allowing Dad's money issues to get into my head as well, which
is what got me freaking out about Miami and thinking that even if I
had the money for the room I wouldn't have money for ANYTHING else,
eating, shopping and most importantly, getting myself to and from the
hotel to the airport/airport to hotel!
I swamp not cursing as much as I Desire to!
This swamp would look like an Eminem song if I allowed it to but I haven't!
I swamp not having an SC partner!
I swamp anger, guilt, pain, regret, self-loathing/self-hate, lack of
transportation, being a virgin, fucking flies that KNOW I hate them
and buzz around my head with impunity also KNOWING I can't see them
and therefore can't KILL them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I swamp rageaholic tendencies that I don't unleash, my inability to
break, crush, smash, demolish and otherwise destroy everything in my
path, rippin' it all up by it's fucking roots and setting it all on
fire!!!!!!
I swamp surgeries and the feelings of ugliness, worthlessness and
brokenness they leave behind!
I swamp uncaring, unfeeling, fucked up, apathetic humanbeings who
won't pull their heads out of their asses long enough to turn around
and look at me and say: "I see you. . ."!
Three little words that they won't fucking say!
I swamp the feelings of rage, homicidal and suicidal tendencies that
have off and on plagued me since I was a tiny girl!
I swamp motherfucking cocksucking mental illness in all it's forms
that has ripped me up inside and laid waste to my mother and brother
and nearly took me out as well!
I swamp not being treated like the Sister Goddess I am, all the time, 24/7!!!
I swamp that the next thing that pops into my head after I write that
is: "Get the fuck up and start fucking serving me noooooooow! Right
fucking noooow!!!"
I swamp not being cared for in a proper manner after surgery, learning
from a young age to bury my feelings of agony and anguish deep down
inside where noone would see them!!!
I swamp not having friends since I was a little girl!
Anyone can acrue the false, fake ones who pretend they'll be there for
you, and I did to, but not having a handful of great friends who live
nearby and share my interests??? It pisses me off!!!
I swamp thinking that others are 'better' and 'deserve better' because
they 'are' better then I am and that's why they have friends close by,
family who actually bends over backwards for them the way they bend
over backwards for said family, and the reason I don't is because I'm
a worthless piece of shit whose only job in life is to kneel down and
lick the shit off someone else's boots while they kick and punch me
with their words!
I swamp the world in all it's hatred and evil and murder and bloodlust
and thereby find that I am even swamping myself, for I am rage and I
am hate and I am murder and I am bloodthirsty and power/money hungry
and a ravenous bloodsucking bitch!!!!
Add ons for this EARLY morning 10/4:
I swamp that I don't fucking care that I'm a bloodthirsty power/money
hungry ravenous bloodsucking bitch!!!! In fact, I want more and I want
it now!! From my bloated putrid self to your ears and back again!
I swamp shitty birthdays and a shitty mother, shitty false friends
from school and asshole adults who thought bullying me was just a case
of kids will be kids!!
I swamp no sense of safety and security, no sense of self worth and
self confidence, and noone realizing the hell I was suffering in as a
child!
I swamp people knowing my hell now but still appearing not to care, or
not to care 'ENOUGH' to help me/give me advice on how to fix it!
I swamp repeatedly reaching out, asking for help and advice,
confessing that I don't have all the answers and getting nothing in
return but empty meaningless words.
I swamp receiving words where I desire actions!!
I swamp the feeling of guilt that rises as I commit my true feelings
to this blog and wait for it to be taken down, or for someone to tell
me 'how good' I have it!!
I swamp that it was more alright to show rage in my family then it was
to show agony and yet here I am with all this rage, so it appears I
haven't yet raged enough even though I did rage!!!
I swamp feeling like I've turned my world upside down and being 4
weeks into VPBC and feeling all these shifts and changes, but not
understanding where I'm going or even who the fuck this bitch is
writing this blog tonight!
I swamp being the happy girl when the truth is, waaaaaaaaaaay deep
down inside, I still feel like cutting or taking a few pills 'for
fun'!
I swamp that for me, true Pleasure, Ultimate Pleasure, still lies in a
very few things: being at a rock show, holding a Baby Human/Animal,
and yes, I'm saying it, taking a few pills. I resist the urge when I
have pills around me and when I don't have them there's nothing to
resist because they aren't there, but I still equate them with. . .
not even fun, just 'feeling better' then I do. Cutting isn't even so
much 'fun' as it is relief. It doesn't even hurt and because it
doesn't hurt, as my brother once said, watching and in my case,
feeling the blood run down my arm takes the pressure off. It takes
away all this emotion I don't know how to release. Hm. . . the thought
occurs to me, perhaps I'm not SC'ing enough? There that word goes
again, 'enough'.
I swamp 'enough' and what it implies, to me the same thing as 'lack'
or the idea that I'm 'not doing something right'! I HATE that feeling!
I swamp telling you all this and then Desiring mightily to retract it
so you won't 'worry' about me!
I swamp inconveniencing you all!
I swamp still not having a roommate for Miami and thinking I won't get
one, let alone two or three because one I don't deserve it and two if
there was a roommate out there for me after she reads this blog I can
kiss her goodbye!
I swamp my brother's death, KURT's death, Snowball and Grace's and
Duke Senior's deaths!
I swamp the feelings that come with them, that in all but one case
*KURT'S* I didn't do enough, didn't try hard enough, didn't do my
absolute best for them!
Snowball had a vet apt for December 3rd and died the day before
Thanksgiving 2009. Grace died 1/23/09 at 4:45PM.
I swamp that I sat on her paws that morning when I went to check the
answering machine and she didn't growl at me like she usually did and
I apologized and moved on with my day.
I swamp that I didn't give her a bath like I had planned to before she died.
I swamp that I spanked her really hard for biting Izabella and even
made her cry and she was abused so I shouldn't have spanked her,
EVER!!!!
I swamp that I feel like I 'should have known' that she was going to
die that day, simply based on the small things like her not growling
at me or not moving around as much and therefore should have
apologized again for punishing her though that was probably a year
before she died and I should have apologized for not giving her a bath
and for sitting on her paws!
I swamp the weird things that get stuck in your head when someone dies
like that, the things I find myself fixating on even years later, like
sitting on her paws!
I can't even say this stuff out loud without bursting into tears and I
swamp myself for being so weak!!
I swamp not getting her to the vet fast enough!
We called them and they gave us the number to the emergency vet, but
noone was on call until 5.
I swamp Rebecca grabbing me and holding onto me and crying that Grace
wasn't dead, she just wasn't breathing and asking me to agree with
her, to tell her she was right and Grace just wasn't breathing!!!
I swamp that in that moment I hated her for it and wanted to hit her!
I swamp wanting to kick Becca who was lying on the floor bawling like
it was her Baby that had died and it wasn't, it was mine!
I swamp that I wasn't the one on the floor!!
I swamp my inability to hide with Grace in my room, to just run into
my room, slam and lock the door and just lay with her body forever and
ever!!!
I swamp all the times I didn't go visit Mark *my brother* at his house!
I swamp all the times I didn't hug him tighter, longer, all the times
I didn't say I love you, all the times he wouldn't let me be there for
him!
I swamp the last time I ever saw him, I hugged him and told him he had
to get and stay clean, to take care of himself and he said: "I will. .
." and he left and the next thing I heard he was dead!
I swamp not knowing!!! If I had known, I'd have stood in our driveway
holding him and NEVER letting go, EVER, for anything!!! I would have
died with him!
I swamp letting Duke Senior off the hook so I could hook Sadie up for
her potty break, which allowed him to run to the junkyard and that
when he was making his run back to our house, that was when he got
hit!!
I swamp not finding the bastards who purposely struck him and killing
them like they killed him!
I swamp my sister sitting out in the frigid November air, holding his
body for hours and just one week and three days later having to say
goodbye to Snow, again because of my horrible oversight!
I swamp how incompetent this all makes me feel and how much it all hurts!
I swamp that my family treats death the way others treat sex, that it
is NOT to be talked about, ever, under any circumstance!
I swamp that that attitude has allowed this to build up and blow out
tonight of all nights!!!
I swamp being so fucking attached to people and animals, that it hurts
sooooo badly when they die that it kills off pieces of me in tiny bits
and humongous chunks!
I swamp that I really am hopeless, because even hearing people talk
about KURT'S death kills me!
I swamp being totally swamped out and wishing to just crawl into bed,
hide under the covers and cry until I can't breathe and the snot
covers my entire face and the sobs drown out everything else in me
from my heartbeat to my thoughts!
As you may have gathered, I posted this on some forums and they had problems with it, which is why it's getting posted here.
To those who do read it, thank you. I feel honored and privileged to be witnessed by you!!
So. . . I wrote this a few weeks ago before VPBC started, but then
found out we had no swamp forums. . . However, it's a few weeks later,
I've seen the swamp mentioned despite us newbies not knowing 'exactly'
what it is, and for me I've also read about it on the boards, but Mama
doesn't go in depth till you take Mastery.
Point is, I had this swell Brag!!!!! Then I hopped in the shower this
evening and my brain said: "Fuck this shit! I'm fuckin' pissed!!! I
usually don't mind thinking in the shower as I usually think good
thoughts and when I lay down to Self Pleasure I start focussing on
that and everything else can take a backseat most of the time. Today
was a pretty good day to, so I'm not sure where the shit even came
from. Of course. . . Pussy got pissed and said: "Fuck this!!! Your
pissed and I'm in no mood for sex!" I carried on anyway and did
eventually orgasm, but unlike those women who have sex when their
pissed, it didn't work for me. I got out of the shower and was still
pissed. About anything and everything! I've been saying "I'm
beautiful." and "My Body is beautiful." for weeks now when I get in
the shower. I've tried variations to, but I was washing my hair
tonight, said it once and thought: "Bullshit!! What the fuck is
this??? I don't even believe in this bullshit and I've been saying it
for like 3-4 months now!!" Of course, I haven't been able to come up
with anything else to say, so I've just stuck with it. Even my "I have
the most gorgeous Pussy in the world! I give her the greatest of
Pleasure and she gives me whatever I Desire!" isn't working. It does
work better then the other two, I do at least feel it sometimes when I
say it, but the other two are awash completely.
Anyway, point is, I have no idea what's going on, I'm totally enraged
and feel like putting my fist through a wall or something! So here is
what I originally wrote and my swamps.
Originally written 9/9/11: No wonder I was swamping, my brother died
9/7/09 of an overdose!
I love SG.com, I really, really, really do and I looooove Bragging,
giving Gratitudes and Desiring!!!
However, may I just say, I've been waiting since Febuary when I joined
the global forums to SWAMP!!!! I wasn't swamping in private, just like
I haven't been spring cleaning with 'myself'.
So thrilled the VPBC forums are open for business!!!!!
I swamp old songs that are absolutely fabulous but that remind me of a
time I desperately miss!!! And/or people who are no longer with us!
Selena's "I Could Fall In Love With You" is what brought this
particular swamp out. I'm sitting here weeping and thinking of my
brother and Selena, who had an amazing career just waiting for her!!
She was amazing and her career could have been so much more then what
it turned out to be!
I swamp old thought patterns wherein the new SG part of me shouts to
the rooftops: "I Desire a fabulous Birthday!!!!!!!!!" only to have
Kosmic Killer Kim *AKA my mother* drop into my head and say: "You've
rarely had a fabulous Birthday! What the fuck makes you think your
going to get one now!!??? Or in fact, what the fuck makes you think
you deserve one???"
I swamp not crying exactly when I Desire to because I fear losing
control and drawing attention from my family!
I swamp that when they were gone over Labor Day weekend I was feeling
great because I was alone and now this damned swamp comes up!
I swamp not calling forth these swampy emotions when they were gone so
I could scream, yell, throw myself on the floor and have an all out
temper tantrum!!!
I swamp procrastination!
These emotions have been in me forever but I've continually fought the
urge to write them down!
I swamp the cost of the Raleigh in Miami which freaked me the fuck out
when I discovered how bloody expensive it was!
I swamp allowing Dad's money issues to get into my head as well, which
is what got me freaking out about Miami and thinking that even if I
had the money for the room I wouldn't have money for ANYTHING else,
eating, shopping and most importantly, getting myself to and from the
hotel to the airport/airport to hotel!
I swamp not cursing as much as I Desire to!
This swamp would look like an Eminem song if I allowed it to but I haven't!
I swamp not having an SC partner!
I swamp anger, guilt, pain, regret, self-loathing/self-hate, lack of
transportation, being a virgin, fucking flies that KNOW I hate them
and buzz around my head with impunity also KNOWING I can't see them
and therefore can't KILL them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I swamp rageaholic tendencies that I don't unleash, my inability to
break, crush, smash, demolish and otherwise destroy everything in my
path, rippin' it all up by it's fucking roots and setting it all on
fire!!!!!!
I swamp surgeries and the feelings of ugliness, worthlessness and
brokenness they leave behind!
I swamp uncaring, unfeeling, fucked up, apathetic humanbeings who
won't pull their heads out of their asses long enough to turn around
and look at me and say: "I see you. . ."!
Three little words that they won't fucking say!
I swamp the feelings of rage, homicidal and suicidal tendencies that
have off and on plagued me since I was a tiny girl!
I swamp motherfucking cocksucking mental illness in all it's forms
that has ripped me up inside and laid waste to my mother and brother
and nearly took me out as well!
I swamp not being treated like the Sister Goddess I am, all the time, 24/7!!!
I swamp that the next thing that pops into my head after I write that
is: "Get the fuck up and start fucking serving me noooooooow! Right
fucking noooow!!!"
I swamp not being cared for in a proper manner after surgery, learning
from a young age to bury my feelings of agony and anguish deep down
inside where noone would see them!!!
I swamp not having friends since I was a little girl!
Anyone can acrue the false, fake ones who pretend they'll be there for
you, and I did to, but not having a handful of great friends who live
nearby and share my interests??? It pisses me off!!!
I swamp thinking that others are 'better' and 'deserve better' because
they 'are' better then I am and that's why they have friends close by,
family who actually bends over backwards for them the way they bend
over backwards for said family, and the reason I don't is because I'm
a worthless piece of shit whose only job in life is to kneel down and
lick the shit off someone else's boots while they kick and punch me
with their words!
I swamp the world in all it's hatred and evil and murder and bloodlust
and thereby find that I am even swamping myself, for I am rage and I
am hate and I am murder and I am bloodthirsty and power/money hungry
and a ravenous bloodsucking bitch!!!!
Add ons for this EARLY morning 10/4:
I swamp that I don't fucking care that I'm a bloodthirsty power/money
hungry ravenous bloodsucking bitch!!!! In fact, I want more and I want
it now!! From my bloated putrid self to your ears and back again!
I swamp shitty birthdays and a shitty mother, shitty false friends
from school and asshole adults who thought bullying me was just a case
of kids will be kids!!
I swamp no sense of safety and security, no sense of self worth and
self confidence, and noone realizing the hell I was suffering in as a
child!
I swamp people knowing my hell now but still appearing not to care, or
not to care 'ENOUGH' to help me/give me advice on how to fix it!
I swamp repeatedly reaching out, asking for help and advice,
confessing that I don't have all the answers and getting nothing in
return but empty meaningless words.
I swamp receiving words where I desire actions!!
I swamp the feeling of guilt that rises as I commit my true feelings
to this blog and wait for it to be taken down, or for someone to tell
me 'how good' I have it!!
I swamp that it was more alright to show rage in my family then it was
to show agony and yet here I am with all this rage, so it appears I
haven't yet raged enough even though I did rage!!!
I swamp feeling like I've turned my world upside down and being 4
weeks into VPBC and feeling all these shifts and changes, but not
understanding where I'm going or even who the fuck this bitch is
writing this blog tonight!
I swamp being the happy girl when the truth is, waaaaaaaaaaay deep
down inside, I still feel like cutting or taking a few pills 'for
fun'!
I swamp that for me, true Pleasure, Ultimate Pleasure, still lies in a
very few things: being at a rock show, holding a Baby Human/Animal,
and yes, I'm saying it, taking a few pills. I resist the urge when I
have pills around me and when I don't have them there's nothing to
resist because they aren't there, but I still equate them with. . .
not even fun, just 'feeling better' then I do. Cutting isn't even so
much 'fun' as it is relief. It doesn't even hurt and because it
doesn't hurt, as my brother once said, watching and in my case,
feeling the blood run down my arm takes the pressure off. It takes
away all this emotion I don't know how to release. Hm. . . the thought
occurs to me, perhaps I'm not SC'ing enough? There that word goes
again, 'enough'.
I swamp 'enough' and what it implies, to me the same thing as 'lack'
or the idea that I'm 'not doing something right'! I HATE that feeling!
I swamp telling you all this and then Desiring mightily to retract it
so you won't 'worry' about me!
I swamp inconveniencing you all!
I swamp still not having a roommate for Miami and thinking I won't get
one, let alone two or three because one I don't deserve it and two if
there was a roommate out there for me after she reads this blog I can
kiss her goodbye!
I swamp my brother's death, KURT's death, Snowball and Grace's and
Duke Senior's deaths!
I swamp the feelings that come with them, that in all but one case
*KURT'S* I didn't do enough, didn't try hard enough, didn't do my
absolute best for them!
Snowball had a vet apt for December 3rd and died the day before
Thanksgiving 2009. Grace died 1/23/09 at 4:45PM.
I swamp that I sat on her paws that morning when I went to check the
answering machine and she didn't growl at me like she usually did and
I apologized and moved on with my day.
I swamp that I didn't give her a bath like I had planned to before she died.
I swamp that I spanked her really hard for biting Izabella and even
made her cry and she was abused so I shouldn't have spanked her,
EVER!!!!
I swamp that I feel like I 'should have known' that she was going to
die that day, simply based on the small things like her not growling
at me or not moving around as much and therefore should have
apologized again for punishing her though that was probably a year
before she died and I should have apologized for not giving her a bath
and for sitting on her paws!
I swamp the weird things that get stuck in your head when someone dies
like that, the things I find myself fixating on even years later, like
sitting on her paws!
I can't even say this stuff out loud without bursting into tears and I
swamp myself for being so weak!!
I swamp not getting her to the vet fast enough!
We called them and they gave us the number to the emergency vet, but
noone was on call until 5.
I swamp Rebecca grabbing me and holding onto me and crying that Grace
wasn't dead, she just wasn't breathing and asking me to agree with
her, to tell her she was right and Grace just wasn't breathing!!!
I swamp that in that moment I hated her for it and wanted to hit her!
I swamp wanting to kick Becca who was lying on the floor bawling like
it was her Baby that had died and it wasn't, it was mine!
I swamp that I wasn't the one on the floor!!
I swamp my inability to hide with Grace in my room, to just run into
my room, slam and lock the door and just lay with her body forever and
ever!!!
I swamp all the times I didn't go visit Mark *my brother* at his house!
I swamp all the times I didn't hug him tighter, longer, all the times
I didn't say I love you, all the times he wouldn't let me be there for
him!
I swamp the last time I ever saw him, I hugged him and told him he had
to get and stay clean, to take care of himself and he said: "I will. .
." and he left and the next thing I heard he was dead!
I swamp not knowing!!! If I had known, I'd have stood in our driveway
holding him and NEVER letting go, EVER, for anything!!! I would have
died with him!
I swamp letting Duke Senior off the hook so I could hook Sadie up for
her potty break, which allowed him to run to the junkyard and that
when he was making his run back to our house, that was when he got
hit!!
I swamp not finding the bastards who purposely struck him and killing
them like they killed him!
I swamp my sister sitting out in the frigid November air, holding his
body for hours and just one week and three days later having to say
goodbye to Snow, again because of my horrible oversight!
I swamp how incompetent this all makes me feel and how much it all hurts!
I swamp that my family treats death the way others treat sex, that it
is NOT to be talked about, ever, under any circumstance!
I swamp that that attitude has allowed this to build up and blow out
tonight of all nights!!!
I swamp being so fucking attached to people and animals, that it hurts
sooooo badly when they die that it kills off pieces of me in tiny bits
and humongous chunks!
I swamp that I really am hopeless, because even hearing people talk
about KURT'S death kills me!
I swamp being totally swamped out and wishing to just crawl into bed,
hide under the covers and cry until I can't breathe and the snot
covers my entire face and the sobs drown out everything else in me
from my heartbeat to my thoughts!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Thank you Dear Readers!
Hello Readers!!,
So I HAD a schedule when I first started posting here! The deal was I'd post every Monday. Wednesday and Fridays were possibilities, but taking a lesson taught me by a friend and coach, I didn't want to lock myself in to early and get overwhelmed and not have things to write about, or alternately, overbook myself.
*Before we go any further, please don't mind spelling! I'll do my best to fix it as I pride myself on being a great speller, but I'm on my 'old' Dell Inspiron Mini 10, and the keyboard is crap. It isn't really old, it was just bought in January of 2010 when I was down at the louisiana school for the blind. My 'New' Dell Inspiron Mini 1018, which I just bought this Febuary, has lost it's arrow down key, which is very very bad, because almost every command I use, involves that key! Lol. Examples include arrowing down through text on Facebook and here at Gmail, or lists of song or movie titles in my music and movie folders. I also use it in conjunction with the F key to page down and I use it and the home key to read an entire text document *like this blog when I'm done typing it*. So you can see why I had to switch computers! But, on this keyboard, though no keys are 'missing', my S O and I keys aren't working properly, so if you see any of those letters missing, that's why. I have to press down on them harder than on my other keys to get them to type! Lol. Yes, I'm kinda rough on my poor keyboards! Great news is that I have bought a new keyboard for the Dell Inspiron Mini I'm on now. The bad news is I can't find a keyboard for the 1018! CRY! Lol. Oh well, it shall arrive under grace and at the perfect time*!
Anyway, back to my life.
That WAS my schedule, until my stepmom went into the hospital. To make a very long story short, she went in for a surgery to remove a tumor the size of a watermelon! *Good news, it's benign*! However, she has had asthma for a looong time now, and it picked that day to act up. She was on the OR table when her airway and one lung collapsed. She was at 35% oxygen for aprox. 35-45 minutes. When they got her stabalized and moved her out of surgery, she was taken to the critical care unit.
She got out of the hospital Tuesday night *it's been two weeks now*, and has been home resting comfortably since then. The brain damage is minimal thus far, she has trouble remembering where some things are located and what some things are called, but other than that she's doing well.
Needless to say, I'd been writing about surgeries and I was hit with the realization of just how much I've disconnected from them. That doesn't really make sense I know, but I have. I worry about pre-op. Will they get a needle in on the first try? If they don't, how many times will they have to stick me? And post-op. How much pain will I wake up in? How long will I be restricted from the foods I love? How long before I can go home? Did they remember to give me anti-nausea meds along with the anesthesia?
I don't worry about 'the ssurgery' itself. I don't think: What will happen on the table? I'm thinking about when will I wake up, not WILL I wake up? So I realized that even though I've told you all stories, I've just bearly scratched the surface of what really goes on.
Part of it is that I don't know what goes on. Thank Goddess I've never woken up in the middle of a surgery or anything terrible like that. But on the other hand. . . my body has completely disconnected from it and I've disconnected from my body.
Once I had that realization I didn't know what to do with it and it took nearly three weeks to discuss it with my coach.
I'm thrilled that I've discussed it, I just don't know where to go from here. Or rather, what to write about. I feel like I need to satisfactorally close this chapter, but I don't know how to.
I have more surgeries to come, so even if I do close it here, it won't really be closed.
I don't tend to write in a linear fashion, but I'm not sure what to say after that.
The idea that we almost lost her shook me up good.
The idea that I was so disconnected from my body, even more than I realized shook me up and made me feel like a bit of a fraud *in terms of writing here*.
I don't feel like a fraud anymore, and I'm not all that shook up about my stepmom now that I know she's alright.
There has been a lasting impact on me though, and I'm not sure how to put it into words, which is rarely a problem for me.
I'm not even sure how to wrap up this post. . .
This is all I have for now though, and I hope you all enjoy it, at least to the extent that you know what's going on with me.
Thank you very, very, very much for reading and commenting and if any of you are sharing my blogs, thank you for that to!
With more to come,
Chelle
So I HAD a schedule when I first started posting here! The deal was I'd post every Monday. Wednesday and Fridays were possibilities, but taking a lesson taught me by a friend and coach, I didn't want to lock myself in to early and get overwhelmed and not have things to write about, or alternately, overbook myself.
*Before we go any further, please don't mind spelling! I'll do my best to fix it as I pride myself on being a great speller, but I'm on my 'old' Dell Inspiron Mini 10, and the keyboard is crap. It isn't really old, it was just bought in January of 2010 when I was down at the louisiana school for the blind. My 'New' Dell Inspiron Mini 1018, which I just bought this Febuary, has lost it's arrow down key, which is very very bad, because almost every command I use, involves that key! Lol. Examples include arrowing down through text on Facebook and here at Gmail, or lists of song or movie titles in my music and movie folders. I also use it in conjunction with the F key to page down and I use it and the home key to read an entire text document *like this blog when I'm done typing it*. So you can see why I had to switch computers! But, on this keyboard, though no keys are 'missing', my S O and I keys aren't working properly, so if you see any of those letters missing, that's why. I have to press down on them harder than on my other keys to get them to type! Lol. Yes, I'm kinda rough on my poor keyboards! Great news is that I have bought a new keyboard for the Dell Inspiron Mini I'm on now. The bad news is I can't find a keyboard for the 1018! CRY! Lol. Oh well, it shall arrive under grace and at the perfect time*!
Anyway, back to my life.
That WAS my schedule, until my stepmom went into the hospital. To make a very long story short, she went in for a surgery to remove a tumor the size of a watermelon! *Good news, it's benign*! However, she has had asthma for a looong time now, and it picked that day to act up. She was on the OR table when her airway and one lung collapsed. She was at 35% oxygen for aprox. 35-45 minutes. When they got her stabalized and moved her out of surgery, she was taken to the critical care unit.
She got out of the hospital Tuesday night *it's been two weeks now*, and has been home resting comfortably since then. The brain damage is minimal thus far, she has trouble remembering where some things are located and what some things are called, but other than that she's doing well.
Needless to say, I'd been writing about surgeries and I was hit with the realization of just how much I've disconnected from them. That doesn't really make sense I know, but I have. I worry about pre-op. Will they get a needle in on the first try? If they don't, how many times will they have to stick me? And post-op. How much pain will I wake up in? How long will I be restricted from the foods I love? How long before I can go home? Did they remember to give me anti-nausea meds along with the anesthesia?
I don't worry about 'the ssurgery' itself. I don't think: What will happen on the table? I'm thinking about when will I wake up, not WILL I wake up? So I realized that even though I've told you all stories, I've just bearly scratched the surface of what really goes on.
Part of it is that I don't know what goes on. Thank Goddess I've never woken up in the middle of a surgery or anything terrible like that. But on the other hand. . . my body has completely disconnected from it and I've disconnected from my body.
Once I had that realization I didn't know what to do with it and it took nearly three weeks to discuss it with my coach.
I'm thrilled that I've discussed it, I just don't know where to go from here. Or rather, what to write about. I feel like I need to satisfactorally close this chapter, but I don't know how to.
I have more surgeries to come, so even if I do close it here, it won't really be closed.
I don't tend to write in a linear fashion, but I'm not sure what to say after that.
The idea that we almost lost her shook me up good.
The idea that I was so disconnected from my body, even more than I realized shook me up and made me feel like a bit of a fraud *in terms of writing here*.
I don't feel like a fraud anymore, and I'm not all that shook up about my stepmom now that I know she's alright.
There has been a lasting impact on me though, and I'm not sure how to put it into words, which is rarely a problem for me.
I'm not even sure how to wrap up this post. . .
This is all I have for now though, and I hope you all enjoy it, at least to the extent that you know what's going on with me.
Thank you very, very, very much for reading and commenting and if any of you are sharing my blogs, thank you for that to!
With more to come,
Chelle
Friday, July 15, 2011
Abandonment, Books and Divorce
The last two weeks have been kaotic ones, so a post on surgery is postponed for now.
Thank you J for the inspiration to finish this painful, but very relevant post!
I started discussing my fear of abandonment with my coach Kimberly two weeks ago, and in unravelling it, it seems I've opened a Pandora's box of emotions upon emotions!
I started reading "Joy For Beginners", written by Erica Bauermeister, and this is what Caroline *one of the main character's friends and her friend Marion had to say on divorce.
"So. . . Why do you think people do it?" She asked: "Leave each other."
"I don't know." Marion answered.
"But you've written articles about it."
"That doesn't mean I know anything."
Marion's tone was light.
Caroline looked over at her, waiting.
After a while, Marion gestured out toward the ocean beyond the windows.
"I think love is kind of like those waves out there." She said.
"You ride one into the beach and it's the most amazing thing you've ever felt, but at some point, the water goes back out. It has to. And maybe your lucky, your both to busy to do anything drastic. Maybe your good as friends so you stay. And then something happens. Maybe its something as big as a baby, or as small as him unloading the dish washer, and the wave comes back in again. And it does that over and over. I just think sometimes people forget to wait."
Copyright 2010 Erica Bauermeister
Note on Copyright: The Amazon.com hard copy edition states that it was actually released June 9th 2011 and 288 pages, where as the Reviewer states it was released in 2010 and 269 pages. I'm guessing there was a paperback release first and it just isn't showing up on amazon.com as being available in that edition at the moment.
Taken from "Joy For Beginners" by Erica Bauermeister
Released 2010
Read a review here:
http://bookclubclassics.com/Blog/joy-beginners-review-free-giveaway/
I'd also like to thank Kristen, the author of this review, as I had initially misspelled Marion's name as Mariane since I'm listening to the book through Random House Publishing, not reading it in Braille.
I haven't finished the book yet, but I HIGHLY recommend it! Anyway, it got me thinking about myself and this fear of abandonment. It also brought up a multitude of questions, questions I was determined to put to bed long ago.
Is love really like that with a partner? Does it absolutely have to ebb and flow? It's like when I was little and my sister and I would fight. I'd ask her why we had to fight, and she'd say: "That's what sisters do." To me that logic sounded stupid and assinine! I always wanted to shout back: "WHY!!!! WHY do we have to fight!??" It made me wonder what the hell was wrong with her!??
I realize that all relationships are different, but I adore my best friend, and I was once in love with her. In fact, I still love her, I just dropped the 'in love' so I could maintain a fabulous friendship with her, but I still love her! I would still crawl through fire and to the ends of the Universe for her, and do anything I could to make her life a happy one! I just would!
I adore my Dad! Without question! Our relationship doesn't 'ebb and flow'. I always love my Dad, every single day! I'm always excited to see him when he comes home from work, and I love going places with him and doing things with him.
So if that's the case, then why does a married couple's relationship 'ebb and flow'? And, more importantly, how does the wave go out and never come back in?
This ties into abandonment, in the sense that if a marriage does fracture, there's a wrong and a right way for things to dissolve. I can't tell anyone whether they should or shouldn't get a divorce, so this post won't answer that. What I can say though, is that there is, as I said, a wrong way and a right way. The right way would be sitting down with your children, TOGETHER, and explaining, age appropriately of course, what's going on with Mommy and Daddy. *Why your getting a divorce*. I don't mean explicit details either, of torrid affairs, or even how he wronged her and she wronged him. I mean giving the children a simple, but true explanation as to why your getting divorced and then explaining that it is not, and will never be, THEIR fault.
My parents didn't spend 25 years fighting every single day with each other, but they separated a billion times before my mother just up and left when I was 18. They split twice when I was a baby, then again when I was three and for good when I was 18. My home life, viewed from that lens, was never stable, ever! And my fear of one or both of them abandoning me for good was overwhelming. My mother would tickle my Father and instead of me being able to view it as a happy thing that couples did, when they both started getting loud and boisterous I'd start freaking out and asking them if they were getting divorced. And when they did actually argue, I was even more terrified. I'd ask my mother if they were getting divorced and she'd say coldly: "Go ask your father!" So I'd go ask him and he'd say everything was alright.
So, at age 25, I wonder: Can I ever be successful at my own "marriage"? Do I even desire to get married? Do I even desire a partner?
I remember when I was a little girl, I desperately desired first and foremost to be a mother, PERIOD! Forget the 'Father', I'd just be asexual and have my own baby, by myself! Lol. When I realized that wasn't possible, I started trying to think of other ways, a sperm donor, a one night stand, anything to ensure I wouldn't "have" to get married. And when my parents marriage ended, and concerns arose about me being able to have a healthy baby with my birthdefect, I thought of throwing in the towel altogether.
Nevermind the physical, mental and emotional abuse I suffered at school, mostly by boys. Or my mother telling me she'd been sexually abused, which made me fear for my own Body's violation. She didn't give details, just stories of the aftermath, which was frightening enough.
So all this to is part and parcel of my fear of abandonment. I alternate between clinging to tightly to people, and then telling them my whole life story before pushing them away *not returning emails, phone calls, etc*. Though that mostly has happened with a couple guys, not girlfriends. I tend towards more explicit trust with them and I cling to tightly.
I also know that's part of the problem. I'm afraid to get close to a man or woman, I've been in love twice, once with a man and once with a woman, and though neither of them left me, things didn't work out, and I'm afraid to get to close to someone again for fear that things won't work out, again, and I'll have to suck up the 'in love' feelings and trade them in for friendship, or worse, lose the person altogether.
This of course, brings us to that lovely quote: "It's better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all."
I sometimes think whoever wrote that must have downed an entire bottle of Tequila beforehand. Do they know the agony that comes with loving someone? The way your heart cracks open and spills blood when the person dies, leaves or is themselves hurt by something that has happened in their lives? Yes, of course there's the hetty experience of falling in love, walking through snow, but in your mind it's a field of grass and the birds are singing merrily, or the way when he or she takes your hand you feel like your walking on air, or the touch of large, thick, soft hands against silky smooth skin. . . Or the way when they kiss you you get that blood rush like you've just stood up to fast, but you don't care! Of course there's all that. . . When they leave though, or when it doesn't work out. . . For me, I don't desire anything but chocolate. Instead of crying in my beer you can find me crying in my glass of milk and eating 5000 pounds of milk chocolate! I wish I were dead or at the very least in a coma, so I won't feel it. It's like being burned at the stake or rolled out on the rack! It's like Vlad Tepis has come back to life to impale me!
Ultimately, these are all things that have to be worked out in your own mind. My way isn't 'the right way' and yours isn't 'the wrong way'. We all do the best we can with what we have, and we act and react the best way we know how at the time these circumstances arise.
As for me, I could never take myself off the market. Remembering what it was like to feel E's lips and embrace. . . I couldn't. In fact, I'm going to see him on the 12th of August, and I'll still have the butterflies to contend with. Once a person is in my circle, whether or not it 'works out', their in for good.
Much love,
Chelle
P.S, if anyone else finds answers, please drop me a line! Smile.
Thank you J for the inspiration to finish this painful, but very relevant post!
I started discussing my fear of abandonment with my coach Kimberly two weeks ago, and in unravelling it, it seems I've opened a Pandora's box of emotions upon emotions!
I started reading "Joy For Beginners", written by Erica Bauermeister, and this is what Caroline *one of the main character's friends and her friend Marion had to say on divorce.
"So. . . Why do you think people do it?" She asked: "Leave each other."
"I don't know." Marion answered.
"But you've written articles about it."
"That doesn't mean I know anything."
Marion's tone was light.
Caroline looked over at her, waiting.
After a while, Marion gestured out toward the ocean beyond the windows.
"I think love is kind of like those waves out there." She said.
"You ride one into the beach and it's the most amazing thing you've ever felt, but at some point, the water goes back out. It has to. And maybe your lucky, your both to busy to do anything drastic. Maybe your good as friends so you stay. And then something happens. Maybe its something as big as a baby, or as small as him unloading the dish washer, and the wave comes back in again. And it does that over and over. I just think sometimes people forget to wait."
Copyright 2010 Erica Bauermeister
Note on Copyright: The Amazon.com hard copy edition states that it was actually released June 9th 2011 and 288 pages, where as the Reviewer states it was released in 2010 and 269 pages. I'm guessing there was a paperback release first and it just isn't showing up on amazon.com as being available in that edition at the moment.
Taken from "Joy For Beginners" by Erica Bauermeister
Released 2010
Read a review here:
http://bookclubclassics.com/Blog/joy-beginners-review-free-giveaway/
I'd also like to thank Kristen, the author of this review, as I had initially misspelled Marion's name as Mariane since I'm listening to the book through Random House Publishing, not reading it in Braille.
I haven't finished the book yet, but I HIGHLY recommend it! Anyway, it got me thinking about myself and this fear of abandonment. It also brought up a multitude of questions, questions I was determined to put to bed long ago.
Is love really like that with a partner? Does it absolutely have to ebb and flow? It's like when I was little and my sister and I would fight. I'd ask her why we had to fight, and she'd say: "That's what sisters do." To me that logic sounded stupid and assinine! I always wanted to shout back: "WHY!!!! WHY do we have to fight!??" It made me wonder what the hell was wrong with her!??
I realize that all relationships are different, but I adore my best friend, and I was once in love with her. In fact, I still love her, I just dropped the 'in love' so I could maintain a fabulous friendship with her, but I still love her! I would still crawl through fire and to the ends of the Universe for her, and do anything I could to make her life a happy one! I just would!
I adore my Dad! Without question! Our relationship doesn't 'ebb and flow'. I always love my Dad, every single day! I'm always excited to see him when he comes home from work, and I love going places with him and doing things with him.
So if that's the case, then why does a married couple's relationship 'ebb and flow'? And, more importantly, how does the wave go out and never come back in?
This ties into abandonment, in the sense that if a marriage does fracture, there's a wrong and a right way for things to dissolve. I can't tell anyone whether they should or shouldn't get a divorce, so this post won't answer that. What I can say though, is that there is, as I said, a wrong way and a right way. The right way would be sitting down with your children, TOGETHER, and explaining, age appropriately of course, what's going on with Mommy and Daddy. *Why your getting a divorce*. I don't mean explicit details either, of torrid affairs, or even how he wronged her and she wronged him. I mean giving the children a simple, but true explanation as to why your getting divorced and then explaining that it is not, and will never be, THEIR fault.
My parents didn't spend 25 years fighting every single day with each other, but they separated a billion times before my mother just up and left when I was 18. They split twice when I was a baby, then again when I was three and for good when I was 18. My home life, viewed from that lens, was never stable, ever! And my fear of one or both of them abandoning me for good was overwhelming. My mother would tickle my Father and instead of me being able to view it as a happy thing that couples did, when they both started getting loud and boisterous I'd start freaking out and asking them if they were getting divorced. And when they did actually argue, I was even more terrified. I'd ask my mother if they were getting divorced and she'd say coldly: "Go ask your father!" So I'd go ask him and he'd say everything was alright.
So, at age 25, I wonder: Can I ever be successful at my own "marriage"? Do I even desire to get married? Do I even desire a partner?
I remember when I was a little girl, I desperately desired first and foremost to be a mother, PERIOD! Forget the 'Father', I'd just be asexual and have my own baby, by myself! Lol. When I realized that wasn't possible, I started trying to think of other ways, a sperm donor, a one night stand, anything to ensure I wouldn't "have" to get married. And when my parents marriage ended, and concerns arose about me being able to have a healthy baby with my birthdefect, I thought of throwing in the towel altogether.
Nevermind the physical, mental and emotional abuse I suffered at school, mostly by boys. Or my mother telling me she'd been sexually abused, which made me fear for my own Body's violation. She didn't give details, just stories of the aftermath, which was frightening enough.
So all this to is part and parcel of my fear of abandonment. I alternate between clinging to tightly to people, and then telling them my whole life story before pushing them away *not returning emails, phone calls, etc*. Though that mostly has happened with a couple guys, not girlfriends. I tend towards more explicit trust with them and I cling to tightly.
I also know that's part of the problem. I'm afraid to get close to a man or woman, I've been in love twice, once with a man and once with a woman, and though neither of them left me, things didn't work out, and I'm afraid to get to close to someone again for fear that things won't work out, again, and I'll have to suck up the 'in love' feelings and trade them in for friendship, or worse, lose the person altogether.
This of course, brings us to that lovely quote: "It's better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all."
I sometimes think whoever wrote that must have downed an entire bottle of Tequila beforehand. Do they know the agony that comes with loving someone? The way your heart cracks open and spills blood when the person dies, leaves or is themselves hurt by something that has happened in their lives? Yes, of course there's the hetty experience of falling in love, walking through snow, but in your mind it's a field of grass and the birds are singing merrily, or the way when he or she takes your hand you feel like your walking on air, or the touch of large, thick, soft hands against silky smooth skin. . . Or the way when they kiss you you get that blood rush like you've just stood up to fast, but you don't care! Of course there's all that. . . When they leave though, or when it doesn't work out. . . For me, I don't desire anything but chocolate. Instead of crying in my beer you can find me crying in my glass of milk and eating 5000 pounds of milk chocolate! I wish I were dead or at the very least in a coma, so I won't feel it. It's like being burned at the stake or rolled out on the rack! It's like Vlad Tepis has come back to life to impale me!
Ultimately, these are all things that have to be worked out in your own mind. My way isn't 'the right way' and yours isn't 'the wrong way'. We all do the best we can with what we have, and we act and react the best way we know how at the time these circumstances arise.
As for me, I could never take myself off the market. Remembering what it was like to feel E's lips and embrace. . . I couldn't. In fact, I'm going to see him on the 12th of August, and I'll still have the butterflies to contend with. Once a person is in my circle, whether or not it 'works out', their in for good.
Much love,
Chelle
P.S, if anyone else finds answers, please drop me a line! Smile.
Monday, June 27, 2011
The Downward Surgical Spiral
In my autobiography with the working title: "The Messenger Unveiled",
I wrote on surgeries:
"You can hate hospitals, needles, that smell of alcohol that follows
you everywhere, the taste of surgery that invades your mouth and
crawls right down inside of you. It becomes a part of you just like
your breath coming in and out. So, you can despise that, you can push
and fight it off, or you can sink and give into it like I did. You
can learn to accept it for what it is, and see it as a part of you, of
your life, which is what I did. I see it as part of me. I know it as
well as I know the house I live in. I know it as well as I know the
smell of someone who's part of my inner circle. I could draw outlines
for you, make you feel it too, taste it, touch it, hear and smell it.
I could bring you so up close and personal with it, you'd either never
want to experience it again, or you'd become fascinated with it.
Either way, once I lead you there, you'd know that you'd been there,
and you'd never forget it. Never forget the fear and the pain."
Having written that, it's still hard for me to "take you there".
Funny, I've only done this 66 times, but the truth is, it NEVER gets
any easier.
Try these flashbacks on for size. . .
I'm a tiny girl, maybe 3, maybe 4 and Daddy is taking me for a ride on
the little train they have at Motts Children's Hospital in Ann Arbor.
We're riding along and I'm happy, but my tummy isn't. I know what's
coming. I know it's going to hurt. Most people go into the hospital
with a problem and come out feeling better. I go in feeling fine and
come out of surgery feeling terrible! How exactly does this work?
So we get to our destination, the pre-op room. Finally, and their
giving me nasty medicine to drink. It's the sleepy medicine. It's
supposed to relax me. Odd, I don't feel relaxed. Tricked maybe, but
not relaxed.
They take me into the operating room and I'm still awake. Daddy comes
in with the mask and the booty's on, that whole keeping everything
sterile and antiseptic and all! Yuck!
They put the mask with the ether in it on my face. I don't remember a
warning, I don't remember the discussion. One minute Daddy's with me,
the next this evil smelling mask is over my face and their telling me
to breathe deep.
I'm breathing deep alright, but I'm screaming: "Daddy!!! Daddy!!! Stay
with me!! Don't leave me!!"
I feel like I sound covered up, muffled from under the mask. I feel
trapped, stuck, bound!!!
And then I wake up.
And this I know from many surgeries. I wake up and I taste the
breathing tube. I wake up with sores where it rested in the corner of
my mouth, and with the taste of surgical instruments and sutures and
whatever else they saw fit to pour over me, on me and in my mouth as I
"slept" if you can call it that.
Oh, and there's blood, the taste of blood. Apparently your mouth and
face bleed a lot. Who knew?
Another surgery, another time. . . The nurse tells me: "We have
flavored masks!! Which flavor would you like honey?" I want to scream!
This lady, with her happy friendly manner, her glee over flavored
masks!! Who the fuck does she think she is??? Flavored masks?
Yippee!!! I have too much control now!! I just can't take it! Are you
going to let me pick what time the surgery is scheduled for to? Can
you let me pick the nurses that will attend me? Can they all be as
friendly and bubbly as you???? YAY!!!! I'm jumping over the fucking
moon with excitement! And my inner bitch shrieks: "Bitch!!!!!!!"
I hate this nurse, hate her friendliness. It feels fake, forced,
false! I'm going under the knife here! I'm getting sliced and diced
and dissected and she's throwing a motherfucking parade????
Of course, I'm too young and too polite to say all this, so it's all
inner dialogue, dialogue that I can only spew forth now, as an adult,
with a full grasp on what I was feeling and thinking back then, and
the ability to articulate it now.
Another time, now we're at Bowman Gray Children's Hospital *which is
now Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center* at Wake Forest University
*which now is comprised under the Baptist Medical Center title* in
North Carolina.
I'm 9 if memory serves me and it's one of the first times of having
surgery in a different hospital, but with the same doctor. He moved
from Motts to Bowman.
Anyway, the anesthesiologist is friendly in the waiting room. He's
telling me what his job is and what he's going to do to put me to
sleep. Fair enough, but there's more. . . MUCH more!
I make it all the way to the operating room without incident. Then,
then comes the time for the mask. I was still young enough that they
were doing mask before I.V.
He asks me how many siblings I have and I tell him. He asks where I
live, and perhaps another question to shoot the breeze. But then he's
ready and I'm not.
They get me to lie back on the bed and the mask comes, but I fight it
and fight it hard! I fly up and grab him in a hug! I cling! I cry! He
tries to get me to lie back down, but I won't.
So the nurses push me down! They push me down and hold me down!! It
feels like there' are a million hands holding me down! And then I can't
breathe. The mask is on me, I'm hysterical and then I'm waking up.
And that ladies and gentlemen, is how you break a bitch! No matter
what your goal is, that's how you break someone in.
I felt violated and abused, but enough about me. Let's discuss the
weather instead, shall we?
Who cares how I feel? Who the fuck cares!!!!!!!!!!
All the times since then?? I come into the pre-op room laughing,
happy, smiling. I'm thrilled!! I make the nurses and doctors laugh in
the operating room. I lay there in my cold steel prison, on my bed
with my warm blanket and as they pat my hands and tell me to pump my
fists so they can find a good vein, I tell them about my favorite
bands. I tell them about my family and my kitties and doggies. I feel
the cold alcohol swab; feel the icy gel of the leads to the heart
monitor being placed on me. The blood pressure cuff grows really tight
and I can feel my pulse all the way through my arm and I smile! We're
all happy! I'm going to club med! YAY!!! I say: "Let me know when you're
going to stick me!" And to them I sound normal, happy. To myself I
sound high-pitched. My stomach clenches and I tell myself for the
thousandth time that they'll find a vein and everything will be
fabulously fine! My brain screams at my veins telling them this is NOT
the time to role over and play dead, and that if they do, they're going
to receive a severe beating as soon as I get the time and energy back
to do it!
But I don't cry anymore. I tell them what medications I'm allergic to.
Augmenten, Keflex, Tylenol 3 and Diflucan. I repeat this 20 times over
from the receptionist to the anesthesiologist. It's a game we play
because the bastards at the front desk forget to update the bloody
computers and/or the bastards who come to give me my I.V and discuss
surgical procedures haven't picked up the fucking charts and read
them. Either way, I repeat, repeat, repeat 27 thousand times! But we
don't talk fear. I don't cry on anyone's shoulder, not even my
parents, which is another blog post entirely. I smile and act happy
even as my stomach rumbles, first from hunger, then tightens in the
opposite of anticipation. It's still cold in here as I hear the oxygen
level indicator they've put on my finger start to beep. The medicine
finally kicks in and my chest burns with that warm and fuzzy feeling.
I start to relax. I smile and now I tell them that if they can't find
a vein, I'll let them put the mask on first. They can do whatever they
want as long as I get out of this freezing cold room. Never mind the
trauma that stupid mask has brought me.
They ask me to slide up on the table so my head is in that squishy
spongy thing that holds your head secure. They strap a belt around my
waist like I'm going into outer space or something. I have no underwear
on, but that doesn't matter. You lose all semblance of modesty when
someone takes skin from your butt cheek! I know they've seen my vagina
to and why not? I'm open for inspection! Might as well get the gyno in
here to. I mean, if you're going to do it, you might as well do it up
right! Get the dentist to inspect my teeth, the ENT to inspect my ears
nose and throat. Maybe we can find a neurologist, a cardiologist, a
gastroenterologist, a Podiatrist and a proctologist. Did I leave
anyone out? Ahhh, yes! The pulmonologist!! Ok, did I cover everybody
now? Does everyone get a look?
You should, I mean, it is "your right". It isn't MY body; it's yours
to do with as you please. I feel used, owned, cheap, but who cares
about that!!
And that is the truth about surgery, the truth about how it makes me feel. 66 times, and it's not done yet.
Just one more to close my palate, but the area is covered in scar tissue that can't be removed, so it could be two more, or maybe three.
Nobody knows, nobody cares. Let's just get it done.
Up next part three.
Stay tuned,
Michelle
I wrote on surgeries:
"You can hate hospitals, needles, that smell of alcohol that follows
you everywhere, the taste of surgery that invades your mouth and
crawls right down inside of you. It becomes a part of you just like
your breath coming in and out. So, you can despise that, you can push
and fight it off, or you can sink and give into it like I did. You
can learn to accept it for what it is, and see it as a part of you, of
your life, which is what I did. I see it as part of me. I know it as
well as I know the house I live in. I know it as well as I know the
smell of someone who's part of my inner circle. I could draw outlines
for you, make you feel it too, taste it, touch it, hear and smell it.
I could bring you so up close and personal with it, you'd either never
want to experience it again, or you'd become fascinated with it.
Either way, once I lead you there, you'd know that you'd been there,
and you'd never forget it. Never forget the fear and the pain."
Having written that, it's still hard for me to "take you there".
Funny, I've only done this 66 times, but the truth is, it NEVER gets
any easier.
Try these flashbacks on for size. . .
I'm a tiny girl, maybe 3, maybe 4 and Daddy is taking me for a ride on
the little train they have at Motts Children's Hospital in Ann Arbor.
We're riding along and I'm happy, but my tummy isn't. I know what's
coming. I know it's going to hurt. Most people go into the hospital
with a problem and come out feeling better. I go in feeling fine and
come out of surgery feeling terrible! How exactly does this work?
So we get to our destination, the pre-op room. Finally, and their
giving me nasty medicine to drink. It's the sleepy medicine. It's
supposed to relax me. Odd, I don't feel relaxed. Tricked maybe, but
not relaxed.
They take me into the operating room and I'm still awake. Daddy comes
in with the mask and the booty's on, that whole keeping everything
sterile and antiseptic and all! Yuck!
They put the mask with the ether in it on my face. I don't remember a
warning, I don't remember the discussion. One minute Daddy's with me,
the next this evil smelling mask is over my face and their telling me
to breathe deep.
I'm breathing deep alright, but I'm screaming: "Daddy!!! Daddy!!! Stay
with me!! Don't leave me!!"
I feel like I sound covered up, muffled from under the mask. I feel
trapped, stuck, bound!!!
And then I wake up.
And this I know from many surgeries. I wake up and I taste the
breathing tube. I wake up with sores where it rested in the corner of
my mouth, and with the taste of surgical instruments and sutures and
whatever else they saw fit to pour over me, on me and in my mouth as I
"slept" if you can call it that.
Oh, and there's blood, the taste of blood. Apparently your mouth and
face bleed a lot. Who knew?
Another surgery, another time. . . The nurse tells me: "We have
flavored masks!! Which flavor would you like honey?" I want to scream!
This lady, with her happy friendly manner, her glee over flavored
masks!! Who the fuck does she think she is??? Flavored masks?
Yippee!!! I have too much control now!! I just can't take it! Are you
going to let me pick what time the surgery is scheduled for to? Can
you let me pick the nurses that will attend me? Can they all be as
friendly and bubbly as you???? YAY!!!! I'm jumping over the fucking
moon with excitement! And my inner bitch shrieks: "Bitch!!!!!!!"
I hate this nurse, hate her friendliness. It feels fake, forced,
false! I'm going under the knife here! I'm getting sliced and diced
and dissected and she's throwing a motherfucking parade????
Of course, I'm too young and too polite to say all this, so it's all
inner dialogue, dialogue that I can only spew forth now, as an adult,
with a full grasp on what I was feeling and thinking back then, and
the ability to articulate it now.
Another time, now we're at Bowman Gray Children's Hospital *which is
now Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center* at Wake Forest University
*which now is comprised under the Baptist Medical Center title* in
North Carolina.
I'm 9 if memory serves me and it's one of the first times of having
surgery in a different hospital, but with the same doctor. He moved
from Motts to Bowman.
Anyway, the anesthesiologist is friendly in the waiting room. He's
telling me what his job is and what he's going to do to put me to
sleep. Fair enough, but there's more. . . MUCH more!
I make it all the way to the operating room without incident. Then,
then comes the time for the mask. I was still young enough that they
were doing mask before I.V.
He asks me how many siblings I have and I tell him. He asks where I
live, and perhaps another question to shoot the breeze. But then he's
ready and I'm not.
They get me to lie back on the bed and the mask comes, but I fight it
and fight it hard! I fly up and grab him in a hug! I cling! I cry! He
tries to get me to lie back down, but I won't.
So the nurses push me down! They push me down and hold me down!! It
feels like there' are a million hands holding me down! And then I can't
breathe. The mask is on me, I'm hysterical and then I'm waking up.
And that ladies and gentlemen, is how you break a bitch! No matter
what your goal is, that's how you break someone in.
I felt violated and abused, but enough about me. Let's discuss the
weather instead, shall we?
Who cares how I feel? Who the fuck cares!!!!!!!!!!
All the times since then?? I come into the pre-op room laughing,
happy, smiling. I'm thrilled!! I make the nurses and doctors laugh in
the operating room. I lay there in my cold steel prison, on my bed
with my warm blanket and as they pat my hands and tell me to pump my
fists so they can find a good vein, I tell them about my favorite
bands. I tell them about my family and my kitties and doggies. I feel
the cold alcohol swab; feel the icy gel of the leads to the heart
monitor being placed on me. The blood pressure cuff grows really tight
and I can feel my pulse all the way through my arm and I smile! We're
all happy! I'm going to club med! YAY!!! I say: "Let me know when you're
going to stick me!" And to them I sound normal, happy. To myself I
sound high-pitched. My stomach clenches and I tell myself for the
thousandth time that they'll find a vein and everything will be
fabulously fine! My brain screams at my veins telling them this is NOT
the time to role over and play dead, and that if they do, they're going
to receive a severe beating as soon as I get the time and energy back
to do it!
But I don't cry anymore. I tell them what medications I'm allergic to.
Augmenten, Keflex, Tylenol 3 and Diflucan. I repeat this 20 times over
from the receptionist to the anesthesiologist. It's a game we play
because the bastards at the front desk forget to update the bloody
computers and/or the bastards who come to give me my I.V and discuss
surgical procedures haven't picked up the fucking charts and read
them. Either way, I repeat, repeat, repeat 27 thousand times! But we
don't talk fear. I don't cry on anyone's shoulder, not even my
parents, which is another blog post entirely. I smile and act happy
even as my stomach rumbles, first from hunger, then tightens in the
opposite of anticipation. It's still cold in here as I hear the oxygen
level indicator they've put on my finger start to beep. The medicine
finally kicks in and my chest burns with that warm and fuzzy feeling.
I start to relax. I smile and now I tell them that if they can't find
a vein, I'll let them put the mask on first. They can do whatever they
want as long as I get out of this freezing cold room. Never mind the
trauma that stupid mask has brought me.
They ask me to slide up on the table so my head is in that squishy
spongy thing that holds your head secure. They strap a belt around my
waist like I'm going into outer space or something. I have no underwear
on, but that doesn't matter. You lose all semblance of modesty when
someone takes skin from your butt cheek! I know they've seen my vagina
to and why not? I'm open for inspection! Might as well get the gyno in
here to. I mean, if you're going to do it, you might as well do it up
right! Get the dentist to inspect my teeth, the ENT to inspect my ears
nose and throat. Maybe we can find a neurologist, a cardiologist, a
gastroenterologist, a Podiatrist and a proctologist. Did I leave
anyone out? Ahhh, yes! The pulmonologist!! Ok, did I cover everybody
now? Does everyone get a look?
You should, I mean, it is "your right". It isn't MY body; it's yours
to do with as you please. I feel used, owned, cheap, but who cares
about that!!
And that is the truth about surgery, the truth about how it makes me feel. 66 times, and it's not done yet.
Just one more to close my palate, but the area is covered in scar tissue that can't be removed, so it could be two more, or maybe three.
Nobody knows, nobody cares. Let's just get it done.
Up next part three.
Stay tuned,
Michelle
Monday, June 20, 2011
What Is a Tessier Cleft?
I was born with a Tessier Cleft. It is also/otherwise known as a Craniofacial Cleft.
Craniofacial indicative of both the skull *cranium* and face, facial.
Let's break this down even further.
What is a cleft?
"A cleft is a gap in the soft tissue, bone, or both." *Patricia Bacon Smith, Mother to a child with Cleft and author of Tessier Cleft Info (Page 1)*
So, a Tessier Cleft is a cleft "that involves the mouth, cheeks, eyes, ears and forehead and continues into the hairline." *Patricia Bacon Smith, Mother to a child with Cleft and author of Tessier Cleft Info (Page 1)*
Now, in lay terms, I always describe mine as an open-faced baked potato without the 'good stuff', such as bacon, chives, cheese and sour cream. *See my About Me Page:*
When you hear cleft you may think of a cleft lip or palate. These clefts are very common. In fact, stats from the CDC show that 1 in every 600 births in the USA results in a baby with cleft lip or palate. This number increases when discussing families of Hispanic, Asian and Native American origins.
These clefts are also known as orofacial clefts *Relating to the mouth and face*, and are the most common birth anomalies in the United States.
Funny then, that we don't hear more about them, or see public service announcements. . .
Before we go any further down this path of discussion, it is only fair that I say this.
There is NOTHING a woman can do to prevent a cleft. Let me repeat this, there is NOTHING a woman can do to prevent her child from having a cleft.
Whether it's a cleft lip or palate, or a severe cleft like mine, which is very rare *between 10-20 people in the world have it*. These stats are based on stats I received from my doctor. Oddly enough though, he didn't tell me I had a Tessier Cleft even. He simply said it was a "Craniofacial Cleft". It took me going to Cleft Advocate and reading about a couple other families stories to find out for myself.
I feel it's very important to establish this fact, simply because so many women have either felt guilty beyond words and/or been asked by other people if they took drugs, drank or smoked. Being born with a Cleft of any kind is like anything else. Some mothers never drank, smoked or did drugs a day in their lives/during their pregnancies and had a baby with a cleft. Other mothers smoked, drank and did drugs and their babies came out healthy.
In my next post I'll get into the nitty gritty emotions, something I'm much more famous for as opposed to research. I can, will and do do research, but it is by no means my forte.
Please stay tuned!
Michelle
References:
Tessier Cleft Info:
http://www.cleftline.org/docs/tessierinfo.pdf
Cleft Advocate A Program of Ameriface
http://www.cleftadvocate.com/
Definition of Orofacial from the Free Online Medical Dictionary:
http://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/orofacial
Craniofacial indicative of both the skull *cranium* and face, facial.
Let's break this down even further.
What is a cleft?
"A cleft is a gap in the soft tissue, bone, or both." *Patricia Bacon Smith, Mother to a child with Cleft and author of Tessier Cleft Info (Page 1)*
So, a Tessier Cleft is a cleft "that involves the mouth, cheeks, eyes, ears and forehead and continues into the hairline." *Patricia Bacon Smith, Mother to a child with Cleft and author of Tessier Cleft Info (Page 1)*
Now, in lay terms, I always describe mine as an open-faced baked potato without the 'good stuff', such as bacon, chives, cheese and sour cream. *See my About Me Page:*
When you hear cleft you may think of a cleft lip or palate. These clefts are very common. In fact, stats from the CDC show that 1 in every 600 births in the USA results in a baby with cleft lip or palate. This number increases when discussing families of Hispanic, Asian and Native American origins.
These clefts are also known as orofacial clefts *Relating to the mouth and face*, and are the most common birth anomalies in the United States.
Funny then, that we don't hear more about them, or see public service announcements. . .
Before we go any further down this path of discussion, it is only fair that I say this.
There is NOTHING a woman can do to prevent a cleft. Let me repeat this, there is NOTHING a woman can do to prevent her child from having a cleft.
Whether it's a cleft lip or palate, or a severe cleft like mine, which is very rare *between 10-20 people in the world have it*. These stats are based on stats I received from my doctor. Oddly enough though, he didn't tell me I had a Tessier Cleft even. He simply said it was a "Craniofacial Cleft". It took me going to Cleft Advocate and reading about a couple other families stories to find out for myself.
I feel it's very important to establish this fact, simply because so many women have either felt guilty beyond words and/or been asked by other people if they took drugs, drank or smoked. Being born with a Cleft of any kind is like anything else. Some mothers never drank, smoked or did drugs a day in their lives/during their pregnancies and had a baby with a cleft. Other mothers smoked, drank and did drugs and their babies came out healthy.
In my next post I'll get into the nitty gritty emotions, something I'm much more famous for as opposed to research. I can, will and do do research, but it is by no means my forte.
Please stay tuned!
Michelle
References:
Tessier Cleft Info:
http://www.cleftline.org/docs/tessierinfo.pdf
Cleft Advocate A Program of Ameriface
http://www.cleftadvocate.com/
Definition of Orofacial from the Free Online Medical Dictionary:
http://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/orofacial
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