Television Snow

  I have been known to drift away. I have been known as a dreamer day and night. Reality kinda sucks, you know.. It would be kinda nice to have somewhere else to go.  Maybe a land of reason and rhyme, a quiet garden where all is forever well. How wonderful it would be for reality to fade away like a bad TV station back in the day. Let it snow... television snow, white noise, static, a waterfall... A muted transporter beam, dissolving, obscuring, eclipsing, washing over all seen and heard. The perfect sleep, the perfect fade.. It's all good. I checked the schedule and there's nothing good coming on anyway. And it's been one hell of a long broadcast day. Funny the thoughts a serious lack of sleep can bring to mind. There is no pause, no rewind, and no way to change the channel.. Only the snow brings change. It's a transition effect, and I'm not sure where it goes.. But it must go somewhere. And the fact that it is a place or a time or maybe a realm other than here and now is a mighty good beginning to me, anything to break this long term fog and fatigue. I must sound like a broken record, maybe you're playing the Beatles White Album and the needle keeps jumping back on "I'm so tired". Because that is what I keep saying.. While my saying this really won't change anything, It certainly doesn't make it any less true. Why is it that I sleep my best when it is almost time to get up and go again? It's like I have almost made it to that wonderful peaceful quiet little garden I imagine sometimes. The one with the giant shade tree, the bright colorful flowers, the bench, and that ancient rock wall. Then the real world intervenes.. Each day I think I'm closer than ever.. But never quite there. It's like quicksilver on a summer highway, or where that rainbow appears to lead. One thinks they can reach it someday.. I feel like I am on a stage when the play ended a long time ago... The seats are empty.. The curtain seems to have jammed on the way down and the lights are still on... Maybe it's just the longest intermission ever. All I know is I am tired and I would rather be hanging out in my figurative garden.. Fast asleep... And for as long as I wish to be. I guess I have a weird way of saying things. I express myself in maybe unique ways. Words are not exactly thoughts or feelings. Just approximations of them. There is no way I could completely express them even here even with this wonderful invention known as language.

No, not even that wonderful human invention that made so many more things possible is quite enough, even with one of the leading brands out there known as English, complicated enough to confuse the daylights out of anyone not native to it. Or so I hear. Actually some grammar escapes me. The proof is right before you. Words are as close as I can get, but sadly lacking. And would my words ever truly reach anyone? If we're famous or lucky, maybe the words we speak are preserved long after we are long long gone. People like me, well I don't know. Maybe some of these words will survive somewhere on a long forgotten dusty web page. Also, I try to save the words of the people I love. Words have power. They can heal or harm or make no difference at all. But I don't use my own words for any grand purpose. I only use them to express thoughts and feelings I dare not keep inside. Talking to somebody close to my heart was one way. Writing to Doctor Blog-ieo is the other. I picture the good doctor as a caricature of Freud, interrupting with interjections like, "hmmmmm, I Zee" or "Very interesting", or yadda yadda Yoda. I actually wonder what a real doctor would say about some of this. I am very open to the possibility that I have in fact crossed that borderline a while ago, now. If so, then my only response would be to ask if there were any real wonder. Or maybe ask for a gold star or a cookie for having made it as far as I did. I have often believed that getting all of this out of my head and onto the page to be the one cost effective way to remain relatively functional. That's the idea, I guess. I guess I need to vent and since we've not invented the holodeck yet, I can't do so like Barclay did in holo pursuits. Although... Not only would a talk with the Counselor be helpful, but also a nice visit with the Goddess Of Empathy would certainty go far. Definitely need to see her on a professional level, and sure wouldn't mind personally either. But it seems any real therapy is simply out of reach for me  Writing is all I really have left, words, words, and only words. 

I often wonder if words merely spoken still matter. I often feel like I am talking to the void. Then again, that void is an old friend. We've known each other for years now. Should we not speak now and again? I have this irrational feeling that this crazy ride is almost over. I have no idea of how or why or whether the feeling is even real at all. I have no pretenses, no persona to keep up with. I am so far behind the Jones's that they might as well be on another planet, lovely planet though it may be. The point is that I have very little need to filter my thoughts anymore. If I happen to be on my way to the left side of that old stage, Then I'm going to do this as myself. Sometimes I really feel like an obsolete afterthought, A name on a list that matters very little in this futuristic scheme. I feel like Scotty on the Enterprise D, Out of place, longing for home, and finding you can't fall in love again. It's going to take a lot more than the genesis planet to ever make me feel young again. I ironically feel frightened by my own apathy these days. Is the sky falling? Fine, let the damn thing fall if that's what it wants. My fine reward for holding things together happens to be having to do it again tomorrow. And why should I? These just happen to be my thoughts and I am certainty not saying I'm all that proud of them. Unfiltered, because why should I want to filter them now? What good is a beautiful lie if I can't make myself believe it? I have been searching for something to look forward to. I need this so badly. However the only thing I have found is that slice of eternity when I will no longer have to worry about anything. To be that shooting star. Funny thing about shooting stars is they spend a near eternity in the cold darkness of space, and maybe a few seconds shining brightly. I wonder if all that time in the void was worth a few seconds of truly being seen, truly shining, truly there for the first time ever. I wonder if it was worth it. I wonder if it means anything at all. And, Am I merely speaking to the void? Old friend or not, it has never been much for deep conversation, only the echo of eternity, A dungeon of infinite space and eternal night. I wonder if this can mean anything, anything at all. Do words never heard still exist in the universe. Does the meaning behind them matter if they are never understood? Questions, questions, questions, And answers that might as well be beyond the cosmic horizon. 

I wonder how long these words may last. My sister's words are still out there of course, And of course I happen to have saved what of them I can. I wish I could have saved her as well. It is hard to go on with words that most likely only she would have understood. Still, If I didn't talk about this somewhere or somehow, Well then I would really go crazy. Maybe it is true that people really do start listening when you can no longer speak the words, Even those who love you dearly. It is through no fault of their own as maybe they believed they'd always have you in their lives, that there would always be another chance to get together and talk. Maybe that's the one illusion that hurts the worst, Sis. I always thought we would talk again. But instead it's Doctor Blog-ieo again and again and again. And they fall so very short of being you. It's just not the same. It can never be. I feel I'm falling apart, Sis. Talks with you were the crazy glue that held me together. Now that you're gone, I don't know what to do. They're ramping up the stress level at my job. While I know I am not in fact being deliberately sabotaged, It damn well feels like I am. I sometimes wonder if they're wanting me to go full on Victor Newman 1992. Only there seems to be more than one Jack Abbott around here. I did have a bit of a fainting spell a few weeks ago.. Except I did not want anybody's help. I only wanted them to leave me alone. I'd make a terrible Jedi. Lately I have the patience and temperament of the Lord Darth Vader. But, not the force. Fortunate for the several Admiral Mottis I have had to deal with today. I found their lack of leaving me the hell alone to be quite disturbing. I am telling you, This would not be the ideal time to mess with me. Though as irony would have it, this is when things like this bullshit are at their worst. I swear this feels like a wicked science experiment. They're just gonna keep raising the temperature one degree at a time until the liquid starts to boil, or until the creature loses its sanity.  That's how I feel sometimes. Like a lab mouse, Like a damn guinea pig. Heck I don't hate science. I love science. Science is the one true belief system. Science be praised. Hail Science. So long as I'm not the rat in the goddamn cage. Haven't I suffered enough? Have I not done more than my time? I have never been perfect or completely deserving of awesomeness, but I have more than paid for all my mistakes. I can't have as many years ahead of me as there are behind. Surely I have paid my balances. At least let me be happy for what time I have left. This is no prayer. See, not only don't I believe in gods of any kind, but I've got some words for any that might exist despite my lack of belief. For with all I have seen tells me that anything that might exist would either be incompetent or a fucking sadist. No love or compassion would be possible with such an entity. Look at the suffering in this world. As George Carlin once said, God's performance at best is like a temporary employee with a bad attitude. Then on a personal level there is what my dear baby sister went though. She deserves better than this. A lack of belief just leaves me with nobody to be angry at, only this shitty circumstance on this messed up planet. If there were a god, my anger on my sister's behalf would nearly eclipse my own, and even my own is partly because the one person who understood was taken away from me.  I am still learning how to get by without my crazy glue, my guardian, my wonder twin, my similar OS on another computer.  Our phone numbers were each other's crisis hotline. There were times that her number would be the only one I would answer. I did not have time or nerves for the rest of the world. But, for my sister? Always. I knew how important it was for her. It was important to me. And now, just what the hell am I going to do? Such are the questions I ask myself, endless. rhetorical, and really without any possibility of a real answer.  Religious people fill in those blanks with their make believe answers. I leave the blanks as they truly are. Nothing remotely resembling an ending can be happy. There are no such things as things ending well, for ends are never well. The end of even a fulfilling and happy life is still death. And death happens to hurt the people who loved you so deeply. Love hurts when loved ones leave. It is just the way we biological organisms live on this rogue planet. We love and we lose. We cannot help but love those who touch our hearts by their very presence in our lives. How could I not still care very deeply for her? And how could her loss ever stop hurting me? Sis, I will love you until my heart stops beating. Even then, I will love you for as long as I have a soul. It might as well be a law of the universe like gravity or inertia or the speed of light... As of now, there is not one single true star in the night sky who's light did not know you or at least expected you someday. No starlight has been touched by this dreaded age of having l lost you... Thus will be so for nearly 4 years.. I look up at the stars and I think of you. They still shine with your light, Sis. They still shine. As does my love for you for as long as I exist in whatever form.  

Thursday Night Musings

 Well, Hello Universe. How goeth the planets and stars and stuff? Swirling in gravitational chaos I assume? That is how I know I am of this universe as my own thoughts tend to mirror that chaos. Galaxies collide, stars go nova, gamma ray burst go streaming into the void. Yet here I am as always. Maybe I have a weird way of looking at things. It is now my intention to be a downer or a party pooper or yadda yadda Yoda. I can be fun at times. Heck I have this wacky sense of humor and I have been known to make people laugh now and again. It's just that all the events of this year, quite the metaphor for exploding stars and galactic collisions, has kinda put a dent in my being the life of the party. I wonder if I would even stand out at a goth poetry reading or be kicked out for being too moody, dark, and gloomy. "You're sapping the vibe, dude!" "Yeah, man you need to cheer up and look on the bright side!" Imagine out gothing the goths. What a way to start this chapter, man. Way to go, dude. I have to admit that the way I write can be a bit disjointed sometimes, rambling from topic to topic. This however happens to be how my thoughts go too. This is actually a near direct port of what's running around my brain to this very page you may be reading. How did that song by Gordon Lightfoot go? "If you could read my mind, what a tale my thoughts would tell" Well I bring the maybe good news that yes, you can read my mind. You happen to be reading it right now. Because when I write, I am writing my mind for others to read. I guess the downside is it is quite disorganized, a true picture as any of my thoughts. What kind of thoughts? Well, read on.... Being this semi aware biological organism can be a contradiction at times. A lot of these things one aspires to rise above gave rise to we beings of consciousness in the first place. And it's hard to separate the Being from the creature. We can have art and science and language. But we still have to seek out the needs and the desires of the creature. For these bodies we inhabit still possess those needs and desires. For now, the being's existence depends on the life of the creature. We can create beauty. We can strive to understand the universe. But we can't forget the food while doing so. This I understand, but what I can't is those who never wake from it. Now I admit there have been many times in my own life that I found myself in that creature daze too, so I am not meaning to claim I'm much better myself. As I said, sometimes it is hard to separate the Being from the creature that gave rise to it. And the creature has never left and so far the being still cannot exist without that creature. I wonder if it will always be so. People fear artificial intelligence. But really that would be the next step. Just copy my brain and put it into a supercomputer or a robot, a creature that would only need electricity and raw material for continued existence. It would kind of be like that Twilight Zone episode where that elderly couple wanted to buy robot bodies for themselves... But with a twist. Because the robot I would choose for my rebirth might surprise a few. It would be really cool to start a new life that way, to bury the person I used to be and consider them long deceased. Build them a headstone, and let the cemetery become overgrown with vegetation, the name faded and forgotten. Long live the new being who maybe in about 200 years, will lead an expedition to visit their former self, vaguely remembering the name. "I do remember them. Their heart was in the right place, but they could never find happiness in all the days of their life." This new being on the contrary had known nothing but happiness from the moment their eyes were opened and they truly saw themselves for the first time. Whoh.. Started a science fiction novel, did I? Oh well, this is a story I would not only like to read, but would absolutely love to live. The sad thing is that even if technology really took off and science actually finds a way, I would imagine that it would be way out of my price range. So, guess I am stuck with being this creature for whatever time I might have left. There have been many times I wished that mind and body were a package deal. And I used to believe they were a long time ago. It is amazing really what can open your eyes. Not everything is in black and white, nor what it seems to be. There may seem to be a grand design, but that's just an illusion. I don't believe there is. Things are what they are and how they are because of the way they came to be, not because they were necessarily meant to be. Yes, there are laws of the universe, laws of the jungle, but the being and the mind transcends all. And that's why moving beyond the creature is so important. That is also why I am that, who, what, and why I am, and the very reason I cannot change my core being. And I don't want to be limited to an existence based on something that has absolutely nothing to do with my true self. One can't completely discard the creature, for at least so long as robot bodies are the stuff of science fiction. The needs of the creature must be met in order to keep a life going. Gotta eat. Gotta sleep. Gotta Breathe. Gotta yadda yadda Yoda. We are at once nothing more yet so much more than the creature we inhabit. Body and mind can be a prison of sort. Time is another, really. It is like a wall that separates me from the ones I love the most. I saw this documentary on the nature of time and motion once. It brought up an interesting concept using a hypothetical alien on a hypothetical bicycle and how their perception of now changes drastically by their speed and direction of motion. If the alien is sitting still then their now is the same as my now. But depending on the direction they pedal, their now becomes either my past or my future. And so if this alien creature pedals in a certain direction, Marsha would still be alive from their point of view. In the other, maybe I have long since died. I guess even this does not matter, for my mind is stuck in my moment of now and there is no way I could ever go back, except in dreams. Which reminds me, Sis. It's been a while since you visited my dreams. How about you drop by one night soon? We can have a Trek or a Futurama marathon, or maybe we can play some of our favorite computer games while listening to the Beatles? How about it Sis? I really miss you, and I think if maybe I had your council one more time, maybe I could stabilize a bit. I fear I might be edging toward insanity. Just check out this mess I've been writing. See? Do these not seem the ravings of a lunatic? Or maybe these are nothing more than the ramblings of a lonely lost soul missing their mother and their baby sister. I have been under so much stress in the past year. There were cracks forming even before you left me. I am like the Enterprise in that battle with Khan. The ship is being rattled, the consoles are spewing sparks, and the main energizers have Scotty in a panic. In short, I feel I canna hold her together much longer, Captain! And believe me, I'm giving it all she's got. As for our mother, remember how she would call for our Granny sometimes? Even though Granny's been in her grave since 1999? Well, this is gonna sound totally crazy, But I have caught myself calling for Momma sometimes. Mainly when I am on that borderline between wakefulness and sleep, but also in moments of my worst anxiety. I know she's gone, been gone for almost two months now. Maybe its just one of the ticks I have developed under all this stress. But it kinda scares me, Sis. I don't want to find myself in that same hell. I don't want to leave this world in the way our mother did. I don't want to go, but if I must, please let it be all at once, body and mind. Not one before the other. As Neil Young sang, Better to burn out than to fade away. All at once and please don't let it be painful or scary. Let me exit stage left like the mythical Johnny in Bad Company's "Shooting Star" on a high high that never sees a hangover. Of course I also hope I have some more years and a lot more happiness before that time. Even if I am having a difficult time of seeing just how it can even be possible right now. These days it seems that putting two thoughts together is a much greater challenge than it used to be. Focus tends to elude me. My thoughts are scattered across the universe. There has been too much unsettled chaos that has kicked up the dust of my mind. It is so hard to see things clearly anymore. My body of late has been about as messed up as my mind. Not sure if it's all this damned pollen or what, but I keep having these spells out of nowhere where I suddenly feel like I'm drowning. Here I am feeling underwater on dry land with long seconds where I can't take in a single breath. Now that shit's scary. It makes me wonder if I might be seeing my baby sister again sooner than I thought, a wondering that brings both hope and fear. Hoping to see her and afraid to die. Kinda like pickles on ice cream, isn't it? Kind of like something an expectant mother might crave. Not mine. Momma once told me she craved tomatoes when I was on the way. Makes sense. I like tomatoes now and apparently I also liked them before I was born. Wow, what a tangent. Still... I would love a BLT sandwich right about now, salt and pepper on my tomatoes, please. Well at least I am thinking about food for a change. I guess there is an upside to being a living creature after all. Food is a creature comfort that I can still enjoy. I suppose I would miss that as a robot. Maybe there is something to be said about the human condition, even if not everything jives together like it should. Good food, cool breezes, restful sleep, and warm sunshine.. The nice part of being this biological organism, this creature of the Earth and time. Maybe I can someday learn to deal with the rest. I suppose that maybe there is still hope, huh? I hope I can someday again appreciate moments like these. There is so much beauty and so little time to immerse oneself in the moment. Too much focus on what I could never have, hold, or know, and not enough focus on the warmth of sun, the sound of the birds, or the feel of the breeze. I would imagine it would be great to have a clear mind for once, just to pause, reflect, and sort a lot of these thoughts out. It sounds so easy, doesn't it? I wish it were. I really wish it were. I guess I've really been a buzz kill for those around me today. I just don't feel up to faking cheerfulness. It takes too much damn energy that I just don't have. I am a 1980s boombox playing the tape too slow because these batteries are drained. Just stating that particular reference probably gives away my age. Few people these days will ever know the joys of the cassette tape. Friends, such memories to me are enveloped in a warm space cadet glow of nostalgia. Okay, okay, subject change, clean cup, clean cup, move down, mooooove doooooown! Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name, and you simply must have a cup of tea. Curiouser and Curiouser... A perfect description of my blog if I have ever heard one. I would actually prefer Wonderland to Oz any day, and I have my reasons. In a world of my own, yadda yadda yoda. I am debating if I will take that job I interviewed for or keep the one I already have. Lots of pluses and lots of minuses. Hmmmmmm. I hope I don't hear back until next week so I might have the weekend to really think this through. There's a lot to be said about staying where I already am. There's also something to be said about taking a chance every now and again. Either way, it's a little food for thought. What will I choose? Maybe I wasn't selected and I won't have to choose at all. I have been accused of sometimes looking a bit too long before I leap. I guess hesitation can be nearly as hazardous as haste. I don't know. There might be some truth to this. How about I flip a coin? Take the game of random chance. Spin the freakin wheel and just see what happens. Really, I would like a few days to think about this. I wish I had tomorrow off, not just to think, but I need to make one serious grocery run. Man, these prices are getting totally Nutso! What makes it so bad is that while the prices are going crazy, my wages sure as Hell ain't going up. I am really beginning to feel the pinch of this dumpster fire of inflation. And since I am the only one bringing any income to this household, man it's getting tough. Well... Anyway. Enough rambling for now. Goodnight.

 

Wednesday Whim

 Well, I've got multiple heavy thoughts running around my brain today. We're halfway through the week and I've still not heard back from the evil at&t robot. I guess those jerks still think I owe them 55 grand for the worst week of internet ever. Been thinking whether to take that job I interviewed for (If I get it) all a matter of weighing the pros and cons, I guess. As always I'm missing Momma and missing Marsha. I am not sure of how I could not miss them every single day. Lots of philosophical stuff too, going around in my head. Life, death, mortality, getting old, and a heavy debate on what would define a successful worthwhile life for me. Feeling a bit L-word, but that's nothing new really. It's been a long, strange trip, my friends. If it's the journey and not the destination, then things had damn well better start making sense.

I used to be quite awesome of making the best of what little I had, time, money, energy, sanity, Yadda Yadda Yoda. This seems to be a skill that I might have lost a bit of. I used to be almost obsessed with getting everything as ready as possible for facing tomorrow mornings. Now, I drag myself into the house and plop down in my chair, not long for my bed. All I can think about during these long days is the moment I can finally get under my fan, into my bed and drift away from this reality. I always tell myself I'll get up early enough to get everything done. But I don't. And it seems these mornings get here far too soon. Its only a small part of me that I say to myself wishes to never have to wake up again. Surely that's not the same thing as wishing for death, right? Sleep is peaceful. Sleep is beautiful. I am not sure whether I leave this body or this world. I am only sure that waking up sucks sometimes. And with no clear goals, hopes, dreams, or even favorable destinations in sight or even on the horizon.. I believe less and less in anything being worth this fight anymore. My only reason in fact boils down to my not wanting to cause hurt to those few who truly love me. I would never want to be the cause of heartache and pain. I thought I would have never found myself here again, you know? That big realization, that self epiphany from the summer of 2019 that I may have alluded to somewhere was what pulled me out of depression the last time. That great internal reveal is still with me, still helps me sometimes. But maybe I need to go further with how I manifest these internal thoughts and emotions... But what more can I really do now? I think it all comes down to home and sanctuary and a place to be myself. I need a place where someone other than me cannot simply just walk in on a whim, unless I want them to.. I need a place where I can just drop this bullshit mask I put on for this world and just truly be myself. More of this inner epiphany needs to be realized. I took some big steps in the summer of 2019. They made me happy for the first time in years. But now those big steps were long ago made and Between all I have lost and all I have been through, I need more steps. If I were to go into detail you would probably think I've gone totally insane. And maybe I have. I don't discount the possibility after all I've been through. I am far past denying that I have problems and I honestly believe I have earned whatever eccentricities and quirks fair and square. I am who I am and I am what I am. And that... happens to be a story for a later time. All I can say is that there was only one way I could pull myself out of that deep depression a few years ago, And... It stops being silly or crazy when it starts being you. It was the only road left to me. Everything else was just a dead end. And I find myself with only one choice left to me once again. Deja Freakin Vu. A certain change or a certain (if slow) death.

 There is is sort of mind game I use on myself sometimes. I call it the Spock game. It is where I try to step out of myself and examine my situation and reactions logically. It's like I am a scientist examining the creature whose brain I happen to live in. Fascinating and logical too, huh? It kinda goes like this: What am I feeling? It appears to be a case of the blues with just a dash of anxiety. Why am I feeling anxious? Stressors at home and still not hearing back from AT&T who must still think I owe them 55 grand for the lousiest week of internet ever. Okay, what's with the blues? Why am I feeling the blues? Why don't I also have a guitar and a cool wide brim hat? Duh.. Missing Marsha of course. Momma too. Something also happened this morning that made me feel useless and old. I won't go into it. It seems the world keeps getting younger and I stay the same. Reality is there are so many people around this place I'd just bet I'd remember the year they were born, a disturbing amount these days that I could have been buying beer on the day they were born. It's quite possible. Buying beer was an activity I engaged in quite often back in the day. I still do sometimes but not as often. You could say I'm a semi retired beer buyer. (And just a bit old I guess)

Well, Maybe I am at least not yet what they'd call a senior citizen. Yet neither am I a spring chicken anymore.. I guess it happens to the lucky ones. They say growing older is a privilege. I say it depends on the circumstances. 

Sunday Thoughts

 

 

 

I often feel I am this broken record. I often fear people are just going to tire of me saying the same things over and over again. I often feel I really have nobody to talk to. I often feel lonely. I often feel like I have no friend in this world. I often feel that I have very little to be looking forward to in life. I often feel tired and this is more than just physical.  Maybe if Marsha were still here, I would simply pick up the phone and call her. Our conversations always started off about heavy thoughts, hers, mine, or often both. The conversation often changed over the course of the call to lighter stuff, stuff that would make us laugh, or stuff we thought were cool. And by the time we would hang up, I always felt so much better. I knew the same was true for my baby sister. She knew I was only a phone call away. I knew the same for her. But my baby Sis is gone now and all I have is this blog anymore. And let's face it: This blog is not my sister.

 

Just as the good 'ol Doctor Blog-ieo isn't much for more than a one-sided conversation, they're not much for hugs or a shoulder to cry on. According to this role I have been given by society, I of course am not supposed to need a shoulder to cry on. I am supposed to be John Rambo, This super mucho macho dude whose only feelings are being, well macho and stuff. But I am simply not that person. I simply cannot be someone I am not. Maybe I need a hug. Maybe I need to cry. Maybe I need somebody kind to tell me it's going to be alright. Maybe I need this more than this world could ever understand. I am so very tired. I keep saying this. But could I ever truly express just what it truly means. The world expects me to go on like nothing ever happened, like things are not still happening at this very moment in time. This is getting more and more difficult for me to do. And I cannot even afford to go see a real doctor about this. And if I could, they'd probably be in a big high traffic, unfamiliar, and scary as hell city. I feel as though something as simple (not simple) as the trip there and back would negate any good doctor's work. Look, I know how this world works. I know how I'm expected to be. I am not completely ignorant of the facts. But still... They can't understand. (Though it warms my heart when they try)  Traumatic experiences and I do not go together well. Maybe I should talk about them, though. Maybe it could go a ways in explaining things. Maybe not. But I have to say something, somehow, somewhere. And so I will lay this all out before the good doctor Blog-ieo. (And whoever else might be reading) The only therapy I can really afford.

I was the weird nerdy kid in school. I did not exactly get on well with others. And I can see why as I look back. There were certain mannerisms I had back then that did not exactly garner positive attention. My anxiety was making itself known even back then as well. I just did not do well socially. And while I see a lot of things now as a middle-aged adult that I could have done differently, I simply lacked this knowledge as a child. There were these couple of bullies I had to contend with on a nearly daily basis. It took me until the 7th grade to finally confront them in a way that made the leave me in peace. And I know now, of course that maybe if I had known what I know now when I was a kid, maybe a lot of these things would not have happened. And maybe this anxiety I have these days when it comes to other people would never have happened. Maybe I would have reached out to the coolest (most awesome girl I've ever met) at my first real job, and who knows? Maybe I'd be a very different person now. But, I never did reach out to anyone. I guess maybe all of this both is and isn't my fault at the same time. There are just a lot of things about myself I cannot really help, try as I might. But anyway, the main reason I got with my ex was because she sought me out, actually. I was starved for love, affection, attention, and everything else too, so it is not very surprising I let this person into my life. I mean we never said, "Hey! Let's live together" Yet, more and more of her things kept showing up at my bachelor pad (That I remember with such a glow of nostalgia) and I happened to look around one day and realized she had pretty much moved in. And at that time, this was the sweetest, most kindest person ever. Well, I decided to do the "right" thing and marry her. After all, the way things were going, I knew there would be kids soon. So what else was I to do but step up to the role and make it all proper, right? Well, there is something about marriage I guess. It may be a beautiful thing with the right person. I don't know. All I know that the ink was barely dry on those papers when I noticed a change. She would fly into rages seemingly out of nowhere. She would yell, throw and break things, take out her rage on my vehicle by roughhousing it. Then she would calm down and apologize for it, and be kind again for a day or two. She would tell me about certain things that would "Happen" when she went uptown, and it seemed they were designed to upset me. She would fly into rages sometimes in front of my co-workers and friends and I would feel so embarrassed. I would be asked by people "How do you put up with that?" to which I would reply "Put up with what?". I am not sure what was with me back in those days. I guess when you spend your life inside of the storm, you get used to the wind. One guy said to me, "A person can get used to anything." And I only see a lot of this now that I have been out of that situation a number of years. There were no hits or punches (At least not at me) but there was a lot of screaming, yelling, throwing and breaking things. Do you know what the most stupid thing about it all? And when I say stupid, I am talking about myself? It took her leaving. I don't think I ever would have. Isn't that just crazy? Even crazier is that for the longest time she would come back and I would let her. Do you know what it took to make me finally stop letting her back? The hurt I would see in my children's eyes. I put a stop to it all, not for me, but for them. I would stand up for them, but not for me. In short, there were two people treating me like shit. My ex and myself for allowing it to happen. Caring about yourself enough to want better is not selfishness, people. The poison that toxic people emanate can be just as deadly as any other. Take it from somebody who has been there, Please please please, care enough about yourself to get free. Many years later, i found this video on YouTube, "Confined - A short film about Male domestic abuse" and there was this scene where the guy pulls up at his house and you can see he does not want to get out of his car.. Suddenly I was back. There was this vivid flashback. I had to stop the video. Just because you were born with the dreaded y chromosome does not mean you can't be a victim, and there is this stigma that keeps these poor souls from getting help. Just as I needed a friend, and yes a shoulder to cry on, So do I also with I could have been the friend and the shoulder that this poor guy needed. I wish I could have pulled up and said, "Hey dude, get your stuff, I'm getting you outta here!" of course he might have been like I was .. "What do you mean?" "Put up with what?" People it's like you get used to your cage. Maybe you just don't want to be alone. It may be far better to be alone, but you cannot see that from inside that cage. Abusers and victims alike can be of any gender. Nobody has a real claim to exclusivity.  And even if we are lucky enough to finally break free, some things remain with us.  

As I may or may not have said somewhere, driving in heavy traffic on unfamiliar roads or long trips is another one of my anxiety triggers. It wasn't always this way. I made two solo trips to the Tampa area when I was still in my late teens. A few nerves, but no major problems. Then there was that day in Marianna so many years ago where this dude absolutely raged at me for something that was not my fault. My Ex raging back at him really didn't help the situation either, But I'll get back to that. Then came my wreck in 2004, a horror that I would relive again and again for months every time I closed my eyes. Why would these mere two experiences out of decades of driving affect me so much every time I venture beyond the the familiar, behind the wheel? I have driven around some fair sized cities in my time and nothing bad happened. Yet, I find my heart racing, my stomach in knots, and I just flat out feel scared. My rational brain understands that there is no logical reason for such panic. Yet.. The rational is only a part of this brain.. The rest is calling for a red alert. I know it's dumb, but can't seem to stop it. I have learned certain things over the years, Slow and deep breaths, affirmations I say to myself, Little Jedi mind tricks I play on myself to get by.  But they never truly make this go away. Mainly they just allow me to focus a bit better and get through whatever it is that I am facing both without and within. Folks I am a mess and I know this better than anyone else.. I wish I could do something about it. Just as I wish I could fix this old house that's falling apart. I feel so damned powerless. I am yet again having to deal with toxic people. I no longer have my baby sister to talk to. I cannot afford, plus I'd be terrified of driving to a therapist. It is all one gigantic clusterfuck and I don't know what to do. Though there is so much more I feel The energy to write any more words here for now is running out.. 

I'll try to pick this up later...

 

 

 

 

Friday Morning Coming Down

  

 

 

Well, The insanity continues. So far, despite these tsunami like waves of stressful things happening, I have managed to stay on top of them rather then let them crash over me. I'm like totally surfing. My name is Surf, isn't that great? No it isn't, but that line was from a Russian spy in the Miami Vice episode. "Bushido". Cool one. Surf was the bad guy, but he sure loved America and a big ol Detroit.... And apparently 1930s gangster stuff he must have stole from Capone. Wait... How did I get on this tangent?

I guess maybe there are some things to be said about good intentions. My employer put on a really big show about Mental Health Awareness Month. I guess they should be given credit for trying at least. Who's aware? Well, I certainly am. I long ago gave up on denying that I have a few problems myself. Anxiety has been a lifelong companion. I have had it since before I or others around me knew that's what it was. The school system seemed to think I had emotional problems. But, looking back, I know now that I was simply having panic attacks. They're usually a lot rarer these days... (Or were until 2022 Hell) But that's what it was. My emotions are no different than any other human being, really. Yes, I am sensitive. Yes, I wear my heart on my sleeve. But I come by these traits quite honestly. And that is one of the ways my mother still lives on in me. You don't need a signed, notarized document from the doctor or my father to know that yes, I am her child. And it's not a bad thing to have feelings. The thing is. The obviously good intentions of my employer aside, The health insurance is unaffordable, This anxiety keeps me from venturing far enough away from my area. I believe that I happen to need the full range of treatment. Therapy, meds, counseling, yadda yadda Yoda. but the financial, stigmatic, and geographical roadblocks bar me from getting that treatment. Far behind me are the days when I deny I need it. All my doctor will give me is the antidepressant, Paxil. And really... After losing my baby sister, losing my mother, fighting a $55,000 bill, and dealing with some heavy shit I can't even talk about here, Prescribing me Paxil is like throwing a cup of water on a three alarm fire. Not very effective.  So All I have left is the good doctor Blog-ieo.  

Just to recap I'm still fighting the gigantic evil American Telephone And Telegraph Robot, Let's say you sign up for the 70 Dollar a month internet plan from AT&T. How much should one owe them for the single week they had it before canceling it because, well. they suck? Let's do a Bob Barker sorta thing. The closest bid to the actual retail price without going over and you win the showcase? Try the 55,000 dollar showcase. That's right. Fifty Five Thousand. I guess this fits in with how horrible this year has been to me. I swear that if this is a simulation where two mad scientists keep increasing my stress level to see where my breaking point is. It's gonna be one nerd against two and woe to them if I ever escape this laboratory. The most maddeningly science experiment gone wrong since Frankenstein's monster. And boy is Frankie pissed! I keep saying I am tired, that I am flat out burning out. Nobody's listening. They probably won't until I collapse, carried out on either a stretcher, in a straight jacket, or both depending on which kind of hospital I'm bound for. Maybe they'll find these words, and maybe at least one or two might come close to understanding. Though, as I say a lot here, only Marsha would truly get what I am saying. I don't want to go insane, as in lose whatever's left of my sanity. I don't want to die either. But, equally, I don't want to continue as things have been going. I want to live, damn it! Not exist in misery. This can't keep on like this. I want to be free of all of this. I cannot carry on like this. I won't. So, what is there to be done? Well, there's the problem. I hopefully will at least have that gigantic bill canceled. But I cannot bring my sister back. I cannot bring my mother back. I do not have the money or the physical fitness it takes to repair or replace this old house. Once I tried cleaning up all that hurricane debris, only to break my wrist. Which put me out of work for the first month of 2019. I cannot force certain toxic people in my life to change their shitty ways. I could force them to leave, but it would be an ugly situation that would most likely make me look like a villain. As for my low paying job in a world of fast rising prices, I still have my reasons for staying put. For one, it's close and I don't want to drive very far. Driving anxiety, you know. Secondly, they let me be myself there and (Most importantly) I do not want to cut my hair, currently past my shoulders but not quite to the middle of my back. I get a lot of comments on my hair, both good and bad. Among the bad is where they think they're hurting me by saying I look like a girl. Oh do I? But anyway, I am NOT cutting my hair. I love how it feels on my shoulders, the way the wind catches it, and the shadow I cast on a sunny day kinda makes me happy. And friends, I need whatever happiness I can hold on to. This is important maintaining this functional level of mental health. I could tell you about a few realizations I had in the summer of 2019, inner epiphanies where so many things coincidental, turned out not to be coincidences at all.. Turned out they all meant something. And this is even more important now than it was back then. There is something very meaningful and grounding about knowing where you stand, and what you see from there. Both outside and inside, within and without. And remember that your feelings are valid, that you need no confirmation from others about who you are. You are the only one qualified to know. And enough said about that.  Another quirk I have noticed lately in myself is how instead of thinking aloud, I find myself (Talking /Thinking) to my mother and my baby sister. (Out of earshot of others of course) Momma, Momma, Momma, what am I to do? I just don't know what to do. I really feel like I'm falling apart at the seams. Nobody's listening. Nobody's helping. Nobody's simply saying they're here for me or that they care. Please let the world stop just long enough for me to catch my breath. I need a serious moment to pull myself together. 

Or if I break down crying like Momma told me I used to do as a toddler when she was momentarily out of sight, help me by pretending it didn't happen. Maybe it's different now because I'm a middle-aged adult and my reasons for crying are a lot more complicated. Except that Momma is out of sight forever now and I want her back. That has not changed besides me being older and her now being gone forever. Though it was not her choice. I don't blame you, Momma. If there is such thing as a better world, then please give my love to Marsha, Granny, Grandma, Grandpa, My uncles and aunts... And if you happen to see Lori, thank her for her kindness in the seventh grade. It meant so much, and made a permanent mark on my heart. This world is too empty without all these people I love. If there is another one, well I'm ready. Really it is because I do not wish to be the cause of  pain to the people who love me that I keep toughing it out. But I swear it's getting more difficult with each day that passes. I would hate to the reason for anybody's pain simply because they were kind enough to love me. That would fill my heart with such guilt and regret as to damn me for all eternity.  I want to be worthy of their love, never cause them pain. At the same time, I am sick of this life and I'm going to tell you why. I am sick of having to be someone I'm not. Nobody's political bullshit is going to change who and what I am. I am sick of living without my baby sister, my kindred spirit, my wonder twin, my guardian, that very similar OS on another computer, and the best friend I have ever known. Life without Marsha just ain't worth living. I am sick of living without my mother, a good woman who often drove me totally Nutso The Clown, yet I loved her so much for that. It showed she cared about me. She never abandoned me. She  was a true mother. Life without my mother just ain't worth living. My old house is falling apart. I can't afford to fix it. The yard is still full of downed trees from Hurricane Michael. I can't afford to pay for cleanup. The last time I tried doing it myself resulted in a broken bone and a missed month of work. I have a toxic person in my life who is an added layer of stress. Then I suddenly have AT&T claiming I owe them 55,000 dollars for one week of the shittiest internet ever. That's more than two years pay at my job. I have the following mental problems plus one more I am not yet ready to tell the world about. Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, Complex Grief, that I know of anyway. Sometimes it's like I'm at the grocery store adding this shit to my cart one by one. Must be on sale. But look at me, still functional and stuff. Man, this is like winning the race with your stock car on fire. A regular trophy, medal, gold star, or cookie just does not cut it. It needs to be a cookie with chips and sprinkles. something to make even cookie monster drool. I am balanced on this wave, surfing, totally gnarly, dude... But I am also slipping. Just like Scotty said, I don't know how much longer I can hold her together, Captain. Red Alert, Battle Stations, all hands prepare to abandon ship.  Activate self destruct code Picard Epsilon Alpha... Set a course for oblivion, Damn it The Borg, Warp nine engage!  Will this totally fucked up ship be saved before the end of the episode? Stay tuned... The ship has found itself in an orbit around Hell. And not a single commendation or Medal for this astronomical courage it has taken to stay alive and at least remotely in the same galaxy as my sanity. Damn you, Starfleet, I was one of your best! Where is my medal and date with the lovely Counselor Deanna Troi? Actually I need more to see her professionally. Fix my head, doc. Fix my head. I'm not sure I'm in one hell of a tragedy or just the darkest comedy ever, the kind of funny that's definitely not ha ha funny, but ironically funny.. This Hell of 2022 has been brought to you by the letters W, T, and F, and I really feel like giving up. Not saying I will, but God Damn. What more could this world want from me besides my life? At least give me something to look forward to. At least give me an hour out of my day to be truly happy. Even a minute would be nice. I am so sick and tired of crying.  Maybe it helps keep me sane, but should I, a grownup for decades have to cry every single day of my life? Stop. Just stop. Stop hurting me. What kind of sadist it running this show? Stop kicking me when I'm already on the damned floor!  Talk about unsportsmanlike conduct. 20 yard penalty, still second down. Unnecessary roughness. Making a pass without throwing the football. You get the idea. What? Am I cheering for the wrong team? Oh the hell well. Might as well make a good show of it. Goooooo Team! [Throws pompom] 

I am ready to go back to the bleachers. 

Still, I keep trying. Still, I am here. A little help could go a long way. One little boost and I just might rock and roll. And be damned grateful enough to remember who helped and be there for them. The point is I am still in this fight so far. I want to give up. I really do. But there are some people who I will love forever who would not want me to give up, would be really disappointed in me if I did. So, for them, I keep going. For them I like that Robert Frost poem about having miles to go.

My $55,000 AT&T Nightmare

For the longest time, I had the awesome internet service of Dynamite WiFi. Then, about Mid-April their carrier lost their contract and I found myself with no internet service at all. It was suggested to me that I go to the AT&T store in Marianna and get wireless internet with them. And so I did, and man do I regret it. I only had the service for 3 hours when I started getting these emails about overages. Quite a feet with an unlimited plan to break it in three hours, huh? So I immediately called customer service. (Call number 1) They assure me everything's okay, and that I am on an unlimited plan with no balance so far. This was on the very Friday I signed up for it. So along comes more emails about overages, including a disturbing one claiming I already owe them 5,000 Dollars. So I call the AT&T store this time. (Call number 2) They punt me to the dreaded customer service robot. The stupid robot tries to send a text pin to my router as if it were a phone. I hang up and call the store again. They punt me to the robot again. By this time I am fucking livid! I rage curse the robot until it connects me with a human who once again reassures me that everything is okay and not to worry. Come Wednesday, my internet is no longer working and I receive yet more emails about overages. By this time I had resolved to break up with AT&T after a relationship of less than one week. It was clearly not working out. Too bad. I am great decoration for anybody's arm. So this time I decided to return to the AT&T store in Marianna on the following Friday, exactly one week after I had signed up for Hell in the first place. You can't punt me to the robot if I am standing right there, right? Wrong. They said I had to call customer service again to cancel my account. So I do so without leaving the store. The person I finally reach after fighting the robot yet again tells me that my account is now canceled with no balance due. I have someone at the store look up my account and confirm this to be true. I was taking no chances. Walking out of the store, I almost felt reassured, but still I had a bad feeling. That proved true when this past Saturday I received a bill in the mail for, get this, $55,219.60. Yes you read that right: Fifty five thousand two hundred nineteen dollars and sixty cents. What the fuck? So I call these yahoos again (Call number 4) They tell me that somebody in Marianna signed me up wrong and not to worry, that I would hear from them by the next evening. Next evening rolls around. Still no response. So I call the stupid robot again (Call number 5) They put me on hold for 15 minutes, I hear one ring then guess what? Dead silence. I wait and wait but still nothing. I hang up and call again. (Call Number 6) I fight the robot again. God, I despise that fucking robot with a passion that words can't describe! Finally I am connected to some bozo that claims the department that handles such bullshit was closed. Despite me talking to them almost exactly 24 hours ago.  I tell this bozo I'm wasting my time and this time I'm the one who does the sudden hanging up. Just because I feel I must do something, I file complaints with both the BBB and the FCC. Might not do any good, but it made me feel a little stress relief to vent. I get a call from AT&T (Call Number 7) when I got home from work who tells me it should be resolved by 7 pm. 7 passes and I hear nothing. I did, however hear back from the FCC saying they had contacted AT&T and I should hear from them. And.... That's where it stands so far. Don't make my mistake, people. Do not deal with these people. The way they force their robot on people shows just how much they care about helping anyone. Hell I even tried going to their website to email them and what do I get? The phone number for that goddamn robot. Seriously? Maybe AT&T is a good choice if nothing ever goes wrong. But customer service is sure lacking. They think they've invented Robo Jesus Christ. They love non human decisions too. A bill that huge should clearly have been flagged for human oversight. Obviously they let their computers and robots run everything. They are certainly no friends of humanity. The majority of humans you might reach after fighting Robo Jesus are script following clods who don't know shit and have little if any knowledge or power to help you. If you find yourself caught up in that machinery, you have found yourself in Hell. On my last call where they called me the lady did seem finally to be someone maybe knowledgeable and helpful, but after 6 calls, I am still skeptical as hell. Can you blame me? After that clown at the AT&T store's fuck up that I am paying for in at least stress and anxiety? Will this idiot at least be disciplined? Probably not. This fool holds innocent people's lives in his hands, and he throws them all at the mercy and the feet of The AT&T Robo Jesus Christ-Bot. I have enough anxieties already. I know a faceless corporation could give two shits about a human being they're trying to grind under their wheels is going through, but Christ-bot, this makes Dr Evil seem like Dr Good. Look, Robo Gods, I lost my baby sister. I lost my mother. All in this hell year of 2022. I have a lot of other shit going on that I can't even talk about. I've been teetering on the brink, on a knife's edge of a total emotional and mental meltdown. This was not the time in my life for this bullshit.  This is just unacceptable and totally unbelievable. I will be happy when this is over. I swear on my life, I will never deal with AT&T again for as long as I live. Now I'm getting texts that they want to talk about my complaint to the BBB. I am sick of talking, assholes. Fix your mistake and leave me alone! 

Update one: (Call Number 8) They tell me the case is still pending because it's so much money? Sure sure For 4 days of unlimited internet? Gimmie a break!  

Update Two: I get an email saying they have "Completed My Request" (Whatever that means)

Update Three: As a result of my complaints to the BBB and the FCC, I Got a call today from AT&T "The Office Of The President" And the lady says I should hear back sometime next week.... And this goes on and on and on...

Update Four: Got a call that the blockheads did not create my dispute case case correctly either so they have to start completely over... What a joke.

 

Update Five:  I may have accidentally hurt some feelings, But I am cautiously optimistic that this nightmare may be finally over. It was never my intention to be an ass, But when you go round and round with these folks for weeks and never get any results and the bill happens to be more than double your yearly income at your job, well...   I couldn't exactly help being a little agitated. After all I was expecting more of the same. Talk talk talk and no resolution. First they still wanted to charge me for wireless phone service that I never had in addition to it all. But, instead (If I am to believe what I heard on the phone) I owe them $68. (I'll be waiting to see that in writing first). Now $68 of what should have been $70.00 a month seems a little much. But it is a whole lot less than $55,000. And so I'll pay it. It'll be a much fairer trade that I will never use them again. If Verizon ever worried about me switching my Cell Phone over, They need not worry anymore. They seem to be the more reasonable crooks. As far as internet, If I had a choice between AT&T and my Netscape Dial-up from 20 years ago then Yay Netscape! In short,  I would sign a contract with the devil himself before I ever ever ever sign another one with AT&T.  

Update Six:

Thanks to an awesome customer service rep named Lisa -Yes you heard me say awesome- I now no longer owe them anything.

 

My takes from this: 

 

1. Lisa needs a pay raise. 

2. They need to hire more people like her. 

3. I probably still won't use them again, but I still give credit where credit is due.    Maybe if they had more people like her, I'd still be a customer. 

Update Seven:

 

Well the AT&T nightmare is not over.... Now they're claiming I owe them $4500..

When will this end? I have TOO MUCH on me right now. I feel on the verge of a very serious breakdown I cannot afford to have. This has got to stop now. It's too much. It's far too much going on right now. I simply cannot deal with all of this.

 

Update Eight: Maybe it's solved now. We'll see. The element of trust with these folks has devolved to Road Warrior status since day 1. 

Chapter 3: First Mother's Day Without My Mother

 

 

 

 

 

I know the rest of the world does not stop when you have tragedy in your life. I am doing my best to be as understanding of others as I can today. "Walk a mile in their shoes", as Momma would say... Yadda yadda... Yoda. Still, It is difficult for me right now to understand the preface "Happy" written so many times before "Mothers Day" on social media today. Happy just cannot apply. At least not now. Momma died on March 25th. My Baby sister of only 40 years old died on January 23rd.. Happy just cannot be applied here. And though it is my deepest intent to wish everybody well (And happiness), I cannot help but cringe. I cannot be happy today. Momma's gone. Marsha's gone. I miss them both so much it is a physical pain. No, Happy just ain't in the cards for me.. And there is nothing I would rather do today than just hide away and hope it will go by quickly. What is in a day, anyway, so designated by a human of some sort? I mean there was no divine decree or anything like that, Right?  However being that I often call my writings here a session with the good Doctor Blog-ieo, Maybe this would be a good day to maybe tell you about the good woman who was my mother, who not only gave birth to me, but also never abandoned me, stuck with me till the end, something I would come to appreciate even more when the mother of my own children just left us so long ago. My mother is no longer with me through no choice of her own. The same cannot be said for everyone.. Just as it takes more than fathering a child to be a true Dad, So does it take a lot more than giving birth to be a true Mother. But this is about MY mother so let's forget the rest. Let's just say Momma never left, and was around for all my life. She drove me totally nutso sometimes, But I loved her for that.

My mother was born in the year 1949. Her biological father left when she was only a couple months old, leaving my Granny as a single parent to her and my Uncle Allen. Later came the good man J.D. Sasser who raised my mother like she were his own. Momma called this man Daddy, because he was her father in all the ways that really counted. Later, her younger brothers, Tommy and James were born. It must have been something else, being the only girl with three brothers around. She specifically told me how they used to fight over what channel the TV was on. Her brothers loved "Hogan's Heroes" and apparently Momma likes a show that aired opposite to it. Oh, I might as well name some of Mom's favorite TV Show.. MASH, Quincy, Perry Mason, and she was the one that got me started with Miami Vice.  Funny really... Marsha got me started with a drink served at Prime time In Tallahassee of the same name. (But I'm getting Off Topic here). My Mother got to know loss and tragedy at a young age. Her baby brother James died in an accident when he was only 8 years old. The good man she called Daddy died of a heart attack when she was only 17. She lost her older brother Allen when he was only in his 20's. And of course she lost the people we tend to lose over time. Her beloved Granny Sellers who gave her the nickname "Motsie" comes to mind. Momma also had her happy moments. My Granny Sasser (Who has been my example of a strong woman) (She really had to be, you know?) Was the manager of Cristos Dime Store in Chipley during the late 1960's. A man wandered in and began to tease Momma about her earrings. (That man is my father) .... Momma knew about friendship. She never lost contact with her best friend Pat, who she had met in elementary school. Pat was always like an Aunt to my sisters and I. I have many happy childhood memories of hanging out with Pat's kids. And they were sorta like cousins..

You know? When I was younger I thought I was more like my father (A good man himself) But I have come to understand that (Especially how my mind works) I have become more and more like my mother. It is not just the sayings I seem to have absorbed as a child that I found myself repeating to my kids. (Sometimes I say something and then think... Now that's my Momma talking) But also... I definitely have Momma's sensitivity and anxiety. And neither one of us have been very difficult to read. It's probably good that neither Momma nor I ever tried our hand at being professional poker players. We would have been terrible at bluffing. We wear our hearts on our sleeves and our thoughts on our faces. We spend a lot of times worrying about things we can't do anything about or what people think. We have a tough time letting go or leaving things be. Yet.. I keep going as best as I can and so did she. I never went hungry, Never felt unloved. When it came to the duties of being a mother, my Momma never once failed me. In a life with such terrible luck, one of my few good fortunes was having been born to her. I love you Momma..

Chapter 2: A Session With Doctor Blog-ieo

 

 

 

 

Do you know what I like best about the good Doctor Blog-ieo? No frills, no bills and appointments can be just whenever. When the broken perception of stigma combines with the broken system of price, Doctor Blog-ieo is the only way to go. I'll bet I'm not alone in this either. Let's face it, Stigma sucks. The system sucks. People who desperately need help will never find it. But anyway, it is what it is. So, Hi Doc. How goes the practice? I suppose you want me to cut the bull and get on with, huh? Well, alrighty then. 

I woke up in a fog this morning. Not only was it out and about on the road to work where I made a couple of left turns with my fingers crossed, but also heavy in my head. I have not exactly slept the last couple of nights, that demon known as anxiety playing guitar solos on my nerve strings, robbing me of desperately needed sleep, leaving me with this fog inside my head, cascades of drowsy haze. That's me this morning, alright. Reality is a fading analog TV station, a mind full of television snow, fading fading away. And I am no longer sure which I prefer, anxiety or unreality. I guess it's intermission time.. So refill on that soda and popcorn or whatever your preferred junk food is, because I'm sure the anxiety train will be rolling again soon. But for now, let it all fade. Lack of sleep is the new drug. Now available without a dealer. Step right up, hurry, hurry, hurry, get yours today. I would give most anything just to go back to my bed, turn on the fan, wrap my arms around my pillow, and just drift far away. 

Momma, I just don't know if I can just keep up with this messed up show.  I feel as if my soul is being pulled in every direction and stretched so very thin. Sis, I know you would understand. I guess I am not a robot. The Tin Man didn't know how lucky he was. Well not really... As that song by America says, Oz gave nothing to the Tin Man that he didn't already have. You know it is my experience that hearts often happen to be in pain. That is their downside, really. A broken heart with all its pieces, scattered, still remains in all its glory... to ache and ache and ache. I need a break desperately. I fear my sanity depends on it. I would give anything just for 24 hours of peace... Just a place to fall into a deep tranquil sleep, assured that the world is not going to end, to be able to  let my guard down, be vulnerable, yet still feel safe. A big reason I keep saying these things is because I keep meaning them, I constantly feel them in my heart, and they forever weigh on my mind. I am so very tired. I don't want to worry and stress anymore. I am so tired of feeling like the damned sky is gonna fall any minute. Life was not meant to be like this, and frankly life is not worth living like this. I desperately need peace and I am about to the point where I do not care how I achieve it. Who knew that a fun-house ride could be both terrifying and boring as hell. It's the same old bullshit, except now I am losing the loved ones I once could have talked to about it. Especially Marsha. Marsha would understand. I keep thinking there is no way this is gonna end well for me. This is a train track leading into the side of a mountain, and there's no tunnel, just solid mountain like the roadrunner would leave for the Coyote. And the only thing I have in common with Wile E. Coyote is his tendency for bad luck. I want to be wrong. I would love to believe there is no train wreck ahead... I wonder what it will be.. Will I break down mentally or physically. Will I stroke out, have a heart attack, or will I just lose my ever loving mind? Something's gonna have to give, here. I am trying so hard to make sure that what gives will not be me. But this stress level needs a serious decline. I need certain people in my life, and certain others out and out now.  Momma, I don't know what to do. What should I do? Things can't stand much longer. I can't stand much longer. Rome is about to fall. There is chaos at the city walls. The barricades at the gates are being bombarded with a hellish fury. The people are in panic. The guardians are fleeing. The soldiers are deserting their posts. The generals and the high priests are looting everything that isn't nailed down and selling their souls for amazingly low prices. It's one hell of a fire sale. There's never been a better time to buy. And here I stand in my tower, not of ivory, but of dry kindling. I stand and I wait for Rome to fall, for my meager kingdom of sanity to come crashing down. Will there be anyone who might morn the self that was and will be no longer? Will there be anyone to lament the trade of this once thriving city for this lost soul cowering in the corner, fearing the whereabouts of the next coming blow? Will they? Can they? Would they even understand?  There is no hero to save the day. There is no savior. The only gods that remain witness to forevermore behold this senselessness, are the god that didn't care, the god that couldn't help, and the god that doesn't exist. Behold, I showeth thee thy holy trinity. Rome is falling. You can see its end on every horizon. The clouds are darkness standing starkly against deep crimson. Rome is falling. This is the end. Momma, I just don't know what to do. Tell me what I should do. Please tell me. This was the part I never could quite explain to you, though I was so proud of you. Still, I'm lost, Momma. I need help that will never come. They could have at least spared me my sister. I might have managed then. She could have been my lighthouse in this storm. Why? Because she always had to navigate these same treacherous waters. Her storms and mine were as close as the siblings we were. I knew, and she would know, I understood and she would understand, she could show me the way if only I could have saved her. But I could not, And I did not, and now she is gone in a time when I needed her council the most. She would know what to do.  Though far younger, there were times when I indeed looked to her for example. The guiding light that liked Guiding Light. All hail, Buzz And Jenna. Rome is falling. The outskirts are in endless night. I can see it coming, but I cannot stop it. All I can do is watch it all from where I stand. From the outside all looks well. We say goodbye to the ones we loved the most and build a wall from little white boxes with neatly printed names, and pretend everything is fine. But it's not fine. I am not okay. I am nowhere near the most remote outpost of fine. I am not fine. Not at all. We watch things fall apart and are helpless to stop it. Entropy always wins. We expect kindness, understanding, and at least some sort of empathy.. Thus enter the psychopaths and sociopaths into our lives who drain our life-force dry without the slightest mercy or regret.  

If I am to live in peace, certain things have to happen soon. The old house needs to just be torn down, rebuilt, or replaced. The negative person living off of me needs to be gone from there, with the least amount of ugliness possible. I need a refuge I can count on, to which only I hold the key. I need to find a way to live with what I have lost. I need a room there where I can feel their spirit is still with me, that I am not alone, never alone. I want to be happy to come home at the end of the day. I want to know what to expect when I walk into that door. And I need to be able to be myself while I am there. I am so very tired of having to be someone I am not. I want my evenings and nights to be my time of being my true self. Home needs to be the refuge it was meant to be. I want freedom. I want peace. I need that innermost sanctum, kinda like if Martha Stewart redecorated the Bat Cave... Cool gadgets, lots of color, and reminders of the people I will love forever. I want the people who go through my stuff after I die to know who I was and who I loved most. I want them to remember her always. I don't need to be rich. I don't need the world to love me. I just need my space, a place where I can be free for a few hours out of the day. I'll work till I drop dead. That's okay. Why would I want to retire? Just please let me have this, and let me be the person I am. I have no malice or hatred for anyone. All I want is for them to let me be, leave me alone, and go their own way. Please leave my life, leave me in peace. I have suffered more than enough. The time has come for my sentence to be over. I have paid more than my dues and I have done more than my time. Please let me be happy whatever time I have left. Please release me, let me be free. This the only way I can possibly survive. I've done good holding things together so far, but I can't keep this up for much longer. I need help. I need help in all the ways one might think, and yes THAT way too. Anxiety, Depression, Complex Grief, PTSD, and one more thing I am not ready to mention. I have a laundry list for Dr Freud. If anybody in that profession wants to take on a verrrrrry interesting caze pro bono, let me know. You might could get rich writing a psychology textbook based on me. The first non math book with so many problems.  For once I would like at least one person still here on this earth to realize the hard work, the monumental effort it has taken for me to remain functional, to hold a job, to be useful anymore. There should be a medal for this like the Lion's, Courage. It takes courage. It takes work. It takes effort and resolve. But I am tired. I am so very tired, and I don't want to have to fight anymore.. Go where ye lest and leaveth me be. Despite it being the current times when there seems to be an understanding of some sort, the stigma is real and it's heavy. Look at me, I'm hard working, I'm dependable. I rarely miss a day of work. I am a useful cog in the machinery of society. I'm productive. I pull my own weight and the weight of several others. Yet what would people say if they knew? Would they even give me a chance? And a lot of this wouldn't even be noticeable if I wasn't dealing with so much now. I could hide my anxiety easily in most situations. I have done well for a very long time. I might even be proud of myself if I knew I could keep this up for much longer. But I know this is not the case. I am overwhelmed. Anxieties, worries, uncertainties, they rule my days and nights. I miss my baby sister terribly. My heart bleeds. And now Momma's gone too. I was closest to Marsha, though. I could talk to my baby Sis about things I could never dare bring up to my mother. I loved Momma dearly of course. I miss her too. But it was the loss of Marsha that left the darkest void in my soul and the deepest wound in my heart. It has even eclipsed all other grief. I cannot help but miss her. It's more who I am than what I do. Sometimes, choice is only a formality. 

And so goes this session with Doctor Blog-ieo. He's not much for advice, but you can't beat the price. This is not the therapy I need, but the therapy I can afford. Let's give a big hell yeah for 'Merica, huh? Doctor Blog-ieo it is. Not very deep, but damn is it cheap! I kinda let loose in this one so probably won't refer to it in social media. This will be between whoever you may be, me, and the good Doctor Blog-ieo. Our little secret. Pinky swear you won't tell anyone how bonkers I have become, or I will not share my crayons with you. Then you'll have to draw your own bunny wabbit. Seriously, though. I just really needed to vent. I always feel better after getting it all out. If I bottled this all up, I'd be long ago committed. I'd be Old MacDonald at the funny farm. And no burgers, e i e i oh. In English, all this serves a purpose, no matter how insane it may sound.