Merry Jingly!!

 

Cold air dances around a relaxed form as fingers dance gracefully along black keys. The haunting sounds of Metallica's, "Enter Sandman' weave through the small speakers placed delicately within the ears; drowning out the white noise of the day.

My 29th year... How spiffy is that? (And yes, ever so shocking I know lol)

It's Xmas Eve O Doom and so far, I'm havin' a pretty decent day ^_^ Sure, there's no nifty xmas tree with shiny light bulbs and shiny breakable things my two feline boys would gladly destroy in the name of sheer joyful insanity *chuckles* But ya know what? I'm just a happy munkee ^_^

I've got good music, cool sea kissed winter air and a yummy caffeine filled Monster of Doom.

I'd try to write sumfin' cool and shtuff...but the mood I'm in (where my brain is literally running around in circles) I can't really pinpoint anything interesting lol

I hope ya'll are havin' a Great Merry Jingly!!

*huggles*

-Adieu-

Can I Dream?

Darkness surrounded and consumed me, traveling on naked feet, lost and confused as I walked the broken streets. A sense of danger swirled around me, faceless demons laughing in the dark.

I pulled my jacket close against the chill, but there was no wind…no sound, as if the world had become hollowed out and I was the only one left.

The scene before me shifted and faded, transitioning into another dream before my very eyes. I didn’t like where this was going…

I found myself at my old house, a group of friends there…suddenly surprised that I’d returned. What I thought was a celebration…perhaps based off my birthday… It was, but not for me. I was unwanted. Unwelcome. Cast out…from where I thought I belonged.

I felt something inside me snap as I watched them drive away…

My vision blurred and in the next moment I was left standing there, brow furrowed as something warm began dripping from my hands.

...I’ve never seen so much blood...

My head fell back in a scream… I felt my vocal chords strain with the sound… But the air contained emptiness. There was nothing…not even a whisper.

All except for the sound of my heart beat and the gentle pattering of living crimson falling at my feet.

*  *

That’s when I woke up.

*sighs* I hate nightmares…

-Anon-

Coffee and the Ability to Think Clearly

 Yes...This is Me, Right Now...Mmm Coffee... O.o lol

Weird dreams again... There was struggle, there was searching... There was hiding away and protecting someone... There was passion and need; feeling safe...loved. Then there was panic, there was waiting... Things were going to happen... And there was so much blood. There was a switch, and the ending seemed to change, we were being rescued...

Then the typical brain fart, where the dream is releasing toxins from the mind... I was suddenly at my mother's house, she came home, but it physically wasn't my mother. As soon as she walked in, everything changed. So much negativity... I turned my back on her and began walking away... That's when I woke up.

Too tired to really analyze what I dreamt; seein' as I only slept 4 hours in total. Now, desperate to be conscious, I drink my coffee...thinking about the mind-screw of yesterday. Thinking about my emotional break toward the end of the night... Disappointed in myself for allowing myself to share it.

I don't like worrying people. I know I should express my emotions, especially in the state I was in last night. And yes, it did help to get it out. It helped calm me down, knowing I'd released it and I didn't have to hold it in anymore. But the one thing I didn't like, was concerning others. This isn't a Pride thing, I've always been like this. Heh, ask my Sister Krys, she'll tell you *chuckles*

I keep most of my worries and pain in, away from those I love... Because 1, I don't want you worrying. And 2, I realize how many wonderful people are in my life and willing to reach out to me to talk. And I am incredibly humbled, and grateful to be so blessed... But I don't know how to handle it. Seriously, I become embarrassed, and slightly overwhelmed by your warmth... 

I'm trying to understand why I react so strangely to loved ones reaching out to me, letting me know I'm not alone...

I think some of it stems from several different factors. Having to deal with my own pain growing up, silently deciding I didn't want others to worry so I dealt with it myself. Ever since I was 7 years old. And later when I started getting violently bullied in the 4th grade... I decided Not to tell my mother, who was a single parent, going to school to be a nurse so she could support my older brother and myself. Unfortunately, we lived with my Deda and his wife Olga; my Step Grandmother. 

Hmm... Let me go back further, 6 years old my Mother takes me and my brother with her to the desert. We move in with my Deda and Olga... And that's when I began to learn my 'Worth' as a human being. Everything seemed great at first... Of course I didn't know any better at the time, not until after my 7th birthday. Olga took it on herself to 'Teach Me' what I wasn't learning in school yet (And My Mother wasn't there, she trusted the woman to watch over me). At 7 years old, I was forced to learn how to Multiply and Divide at an Epic scale, even though we weren't required to learn Math like that until the 3rd grade. I also learned that if I was wrong in my answer, that I would be Beaten with a Wooden spoon until I could barely sit so 'My Brain would go back into my head'. Gawd... I remember that day so clearly... 

She asked me what 4 times 4 was...and I was so excited, because I loved learning, I Thought it was 18. She asked me one more time what the answer was and so I repeated, 18. I remember I was happy, smiling, thought she would be proud of me...

The next thing I know she grabbed my upper arm, hard enough to bruise, jerked me out of my chair, dragged me into the kitchen, grabbed the biggest, nastiest wooden spoon and literally started Beating Me on the ass with it. I was in shock. The person whom I looked up to for love and protection, was attacking me and I couldn't defend myself. I had no idea what I had done wrong... And with the last crack of the spoon, she growled at me to do the problem again, and maybe I'd get it this time because she had to beat my brain back into my head. She forced me to sit down on my incredibly sore bottom, tears streaming down my face and onto my paper, trembling and hyperventilating that she was going to beat me again... When I did the problem, and saw I was Wrong. The Answer was 16. I was off by 2...

And this was only the beginning. Not only was I abused by this woman, bullied constantly by her 'old ways' and verbally cut down every chance she got, I had no one to protect me. When I was in the second grade, I was known in school as the little Girl with long hair that Beat up the Bullies. I'd see them picking on someone and would literally Head Butt them to the ground. I'm not kidding, I'd kick the dirt under my feet, lower my head and charge them. I was literally acting like a little Bull *chuckles*

Somehow, she'd overhead me talking about how we'd all chase each other at Recess. That I would chase the boys for chasing the girls. It was totally innocent, we were all a bunch of goofballs. I don't know what this Woman (Olga) was thinking, but the rare time my Father was able to drive the two hours to come and visit for the weekend, she'd told him this elaborate story about a boy who lived down the street, came to our house with his father in Tears, that I been chasing him and beating on him at school. (All of which was made up) My Father thought this was true (Why would she lie about something like that?) and I remember him being disappointed in me... That was her way of 'Teaching Me' I should act like a Lady and that's what I get for chasing boys...

As the years passed, the abuse continued... And when I was forced to switch elementary schools because my Mom finally found an Apartment a little ways across town, starting 4th grade was a fucking nightmare. The first day I went, I was targeted for my weight, my gender and my race. I remember being pushed face down into the gravel, spit on, and had rocks thrown at me by three little Hispanic boys. I was just trying to make friends and was met with violence. I was Unwanted and they made it painfully aware that I knew it.

This went on, everyday, and because of my negative connection with Math, I had a mental block when I tried to do it. I felt like I was too stupid to know what I was doing and was terrified to ask for help; I didn't want to get yelled at and beaten again for it. I figured if my so called 'Baba Olga' could do that to me, No Adult was to be trusted. Period. And it didn't help that the bullying wasn't just at Recess, it was in the classroom too. At 10 years old...I just wanted it all to stop. I wanted it to end.

Things turned around when I got pissed off one day at Recess at the end of 4th grade. One little boy yelled out like normal, "Hey Fat-Ass! You gunna sit on me?" Something inside me...snapped.

I grit my teeth, turned, tiny hands bawled into white-knuckled fists and let out a bellowing roar, "Ya, I am!" And charged after him. His eyes went wide and those three bullies Scattered like rats on a sinking ship. 

They learned very quickly, that it was a Very bad idea to Piss Me Off.

The other thing that helped turn this around, was the Talent show. The 1st time I could sing in front of anyone other then my Mom. I had sang in the past, to my so-called 'family' but Olga told me singing wasn't going to help me do anything. She always made it seem as though I wasn't good at it, and that it wasn't realistic. Telling me that even if I sang, there were better singers and I'd never be anything. That I should focus on learning how to be a proper lady, and not be so fat, so I could be a Good Wife someday. 

Ya...fucked up, I know.

But when I did the Talent show... Kids changed toward me. For the very first time, I was accepted... I had something they didn't, and I was actually praised for it. I finally had something special about me... I had Worth.

It did get better after that. By 5th grade, the bullies were easier to deal with because they started to soften toward me (All except for one short, chubby boy named, Valentino; who just hated me for some reason) and I had friends.

The abuse from Olga didn't stop... At one point, again I remember this so clearly... She had come over to the apartment, and yes, we were cluttered and a little messy (It wasn't that bad actually, well, not yet) and she'd come over to bring something... And I remember her standing on the porch, my Mom nowhere in ear shot (Olga had waited to have me Alone) and literally told me, "I met your neighbor and I didn't want to tell you this, but she had to tell me that she was concerned. She said she saw your home and it's so messy, it's disgusting, and she said You were, what's the term...yes, she told me You are like White Trash. I didn't want to tell your mother, it would break her heart." 

Yes, this Woman Said This To Me. 

Oh and Yes; She Completely Made That Up.

She didn't like that we were a little messy, she didn't really like me, so she thought she was 'Teaching' me another 'lesson'. Heh...fucked up, huh?

I didn't tell my Mom. She made me promise Not To. She told me that Lie, to make me feel like it was all My Fault. Why? To her, my big Brother could do No Wrong. I literally was Worthless in her eyes.

Wow... I can't believe I still remember all of that...and trust me, there's soo much more, but I'm not in the mood to tell you my life story. I think that was enough 'Debbie Downer' time for one blog...*smirks*

So, I guess I'm a little screwed up. I don't deal with things like most because I never have. So if I get a little weird, just know that I'm okay. I'll be a little better about NOT spewing my emotional brainfarts all over the place, because the last thing I want is to really worry anyone I care about. You guys mean the world to me, and you have your own shit to deal with. I don't want to add to it, ya know?

*Huggles her Angels tight*

And honestly, writing about it here, in a calm, narrative state... Kinda helps. And, it won't embarrass me or freak anyone out. Nice, calm and detached. Makes things easier to digest, especially when it's not the most pleasant thing to read about someone.

Well my luvlies, I'm going to get another cup of coffee and find some mindlessly silly cartoons to distract myself with.

And know, I cherish all of you very, Very much. Thank you for being the reason for me to look forward; for being my light in the dark.

 Turtle Huggles!!

*Smiles*

-Adieu-

The Joys of Chaos; Hand Delivered by The Fates

I’m at a loss… 

Because you see, I began my day with a surprise I received in the mail; from Marlboro of all things. I remembered signing something more than a few years ago (due to a survey I was handed by a very sweet young lady after being given a free lighter) and when I opened the small box…this is what I found.

An unexpected surprise. And these are my favorite kind of sunglasses. They’re not cheaply made either, which is cool.

But as I browsed the always brain-melting ‘Facedesk’ I noticed something made for a friend… Picture… And focused on what was written on it.

My heart dropped.

A very dear and beautiful friend, had unexpectedly passed away on Sunday…

Trying to deal with the sudden loss, I began writing… A small poem of goodbye, and had wanted to write more when my Insensitive, Male Parental Unit suddenly wanted the computer. I told him of the news, and it didn’t seem to have any affect. He just didn’t care.

I guess Beer kills Empathy.

I thought perhaps he wanted to use the computer to continue his story, so I wasn’t that upset. I encourage him to write.

But instead… He needed the computer, so he could go into a chat room and ‘talk’ to his new friends…

For two hours I had to sit and stew in my broken thoughts, needing an outlet…so while it was just so fucking important that he ‘chatted’, I sat in the living room, on the floor and wrote in my journal. And then something sweet happened.

Gir snuck up to my right, sat down; facing me, and gently began cleaning a spot on my right arm, causing me to stop writing. He does this when he’s trying to comfort me. I literally felt the anger and tension leak out of my body by his silent gesture of understanding. He knew exactly what I needed…

After a minute, he stopped and curled up next to me; gazing up at me with concern in his feline gaze, telling me without words that he understood and was going to be there for me by staying close.

And this is why I Love Animals so much. They understand me without the need for Human Speech. I feel Blessed to have this connection with my Animal brethren…but also incredibly hurt that my Own Father becomes an insensitive, mean-spirited Cave Troll when he’s had a few beers. And it’s been getting steadily worse lately… To the point that I’ve become his Verbal/Emotional punching bag for no reason at all. Everyday. Like clockwork.

I don’t even want to go out, have a potentially really good day, only to come home and get verbally cut down. It’s been happening every fucking day now.

And to top it off, I don’t want to speak to my Mother anymore. Not until she goes to a professional and gets therapy. Because after calling her yesterday and trying to talk to her like an adult, she decided it was okay to verbally attack me. For no fucking reason. I wasn’t being mean in any way, I was speaking very calmly about my worries and concerns for her well being, and she thought it was okay to throw incredibly hurtful things at me… Acting like a fucking child.

I love her, but I will Not tolerate such immature behavior, especially from my Own Mother. And I don’t want to hear any more excuses. She’s an Adult, she needs to start attacking like one. The same goes with my Father.

I’m completely done with the constant abuse.

*growls* The Fates are really startin’ to get on my last fuckin’ nerve…

*takes a very deep needed breath, and lets out slowly*

I was supposed to go to my Aunt’s tonight…but I’m going to cancel. I’ll let my Cousin know that today’s just not a good day and I’ll try to swing by sometime this week.

I’m going to try to find something else to ease this inner conflict before I go off on my Father for his behavior.

-Anon-

Painful Dreams Induced by Distorted Body-Image

You ever have one of those mornings where... You cling to sleep, the dream pulling you back, your bed is warm and safe...and you're fighting yourself when your heartbeat begins to kick up and your body heat rises, pushing you back to consciousness?

I struggled to fight the urge, the gentle pulse in my bladder... Telling me I had to pay homage to the porcelain god. *chuckles and takes a sip of her rich, strong coffee that feels like a warm hug as it pools in her stomach*

And it was strange dreams that tugged at my sleeping mind. The kind that showed me something I doubt I'd ever have. And I think it's best to write it in story-speak to be better understood.

*  *  *  *  *

The doctor smiled; warm, chocolate brown eyes encased in thick, delicately placed lashes that appeared to wave every time she blinked. "Let me do this for you," she offered in that gentle voice, a motherly tone that was as calming as her presence, "you deserve to feel beautiful."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. This beautiful, intelligent woman, was offering to give me a very expensive surgery for Free. I'd been mulling over this since I was Seventeen years old. I also didn't understand why this was happening, a part of my brain realizing that it was okay to allow this strange scenario to play out because this was a fanciful reality... That I was in fact, dreaming.

So I made the decision to go forward. "You know what?" I announced thoughtfully and gave the gracious woman a nervous smile, "I'll do it."

Her eyes seemed to sparkle at my words. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed with a soft clap of her hands and motioned for me to follow her. "Come, let us begin."

*  *

Since I knew this was a dream, my usual worries and anxieties were non-existent. As though I was living in a medicated induced fantasy, where pain was non-existent and nothing could really touch me. Had it been real-life, I'd have suffered a panic attack from what was being offered me. Gotta love how the mind works.

I remember walking into a room, which looked less like a surgery room and more like a bed room. I laid out on the bed/table and the next segment was kind of a blur. Seeing as this was a dream, I was awake for the surgery I received...and the only way I can describe it, is I could almost see what she was doing, but my chest was blurred out. As though my mind had censored it for me.

In the next segment, I was dressed, out of surgery and didn't feel the pain I had expected. And as most dreams go, I was already half way healed.

I was surprised and shy at first, knowing that the people I cared about were going to notice that I'd seemed to have had a 'growth spurt' at 28 years old. But I went about my day, also remembering how it didn't strain my back like I thought it would. I also felt better about myself... Seeing my reflection (and even stranger, it was Me in the mirror) and smiling at what I saw. It was nothing too drastic, I just filled out my shirt very nicely without the need of a padded push-up bra. I was finally content with what I saw, being in my own body, feeling truly feminine for the first time in my young existence...

*  *  *  *  *

The rest of the dreams aren't that important, in fact they became more random and strange as they went on. But when I awoke and realized it Had been a dream... My hands instinctively went to my chest...and I felt my stomach sink at the truth beneath the palms of my hands.

It's sad that as a child, I was engrained by everything around me, that women were meant to be curvy and voluptuous. And not in the heavier sense... In the proportionate sense.

Even when I was over weight, my breasts didn't get much bigger than a small D cup. They didn't quite fit with my small waist and thick thighs and butt. Most of the emotional damage to my self-image started before I developed... And became worse when I finally hit puberty at 14 and a half, but didn't fill out properly until I was 17 years old. 

I was brain-washed to think that a Woman's Strongest asset was a Full Bustline... And it was a Bustline... I just didn't have. I also didn't understand why someone with an hour glass figure, didn't have the proportionate breast size to go with it.

I inwardly felt like I was deformed, that something went wrong in my Genetic Makeup and it was my fault as to why I didn't have a correct breast size for my frame. It didn't help that some of my closest female friends had already developed years before me. But I didn't blame them for my lack of Breasts. Even at that age, I was intelligent enough to understand that it was just how I was built...no matter how much I hated it.

Also, hearing this over-used explanation for Years from my very Close Guy Friends didn't help my self-esteem either;

"You're a Great friend Erin. I don't want to ruin our relationship, you're like one of the guys." Which I knew was a big Compliment. Until they added, "but your friend (so and so), I'd like to get to know her better." Which in Young Guy Speak actually meant, "I like you allot, but your friend has bigger Breasts than You, so you're really Not attractive enough for me."

Due to the constant rejection based on my lack of development, I hated my body even when I finally Did develop something akin to a Bustline. And as a young adult, even when I could wear something that really hiked them up (wearing a Corset at Renaissance Faires for instance) I would try to cover them up. I felt that it was False Advertising. That because they weren't the size I felt they should be, I shouldn't flash cleavage and gain attention for something I didn't feel that I had. And even with certain bras that made them appear a cup or two sizes larger, I refused to wear them. I didn't feel it was right, to appear like I had a proportionate chest size, only to remove the bra and see the heart-breaking truth.

It's obvious I've struggled with this for a very long time. I've actually accepted my shape and 'lack' of breast size and have been content with what I can't change. I know it's my own inner distortion of myself, a type of Body Dysmorphia I continue to suffer from. People think it was just an awkward stage I went through like every other teenager and that eventually, I'd grow out of it. Unfortunately in my case, I haven't. I'm just better at hiding it. Unless you're very close to me and know me, you'll know I still struggle with this even if I never talk about it.

I've had to self-teach myself the difference between the Media's distortion of what 'they want us to think' is 'beautiful' and what Real beauty is. 

They've shoved these so called 'beautiful images' of 'Beautiful Women' into the faces of women of all ages, to convince them that they 'Should Look' this way and women wouldn't give it a second thought if the advertisers hadn't also geared it toward Men. Men will look at women, doesn't matter what they really look like... If it's appealing and showing any kind of skin (Seriously, just a patch of skin and they'll be drawn to it) Men Will Look. It's genetic. And the fucking Advertisers KNOW IT. So then Women will Notice Men looking at these Distorted Images of Beauty and will want to see why they're looking...(A woman's natural curiosity) And will then see they, themselves, look Nothing Like That...and will Want to Change themselves to look like the Distorted Image of False Beauty, so that Men will find them More Attractive...

...and the cycle of destructive self-image is born...as well as Booming Sales on Bullshit Beauty products for Women who've been convinced they are Not born Beautiful and Need what the Advertisers are Selling so they Will Be Beautiful. Predatory Companies making a Profit off of their Victims. 

It disgusts me...

Because I too fell victim to their sugar coated lies. I was so sensitive to my environment, I was down right Positive (No Joke) That I was incredibly Ugly. Due to outside influences (and some family members) I was Convinced that my Teeth were too Crooked, the small gap in my front teeth was Hideous, I had Terrible Skin, I was too Fat to ever be beautiful, my Breasts were too Small, my Thighs were too Big, I had Bug Eyes, I had a Pig Nose, my hair wasn't Straight or Curly Enough, my natural chestnut brown hair was an Ugly Color, my skin was too Pale, I had Fat Fingers, I had too many Acne Scars...and the list goes on...

It's very sad to think that it wasn't just the Media that convinced me there was so much wrong with me Physically. Kids are always going to be vicious to each other, so that was hard enough to stomach growing up... But Adults, people I trusted and were supposed to protect and nurture me... My so-called 'Family', told me how truly Ugly I was...and because I wasn't like them, or what they perceived as 'Perfection' I would never be good enough. I was a disgrace. I was the Black Sheep; an Outcast. 

What hurt the most, is not only kids saying, "Erin you're kinda pretty, but if you weren't Fat, you'd be Really Pretty." But those same family members constantly told me that no one would ever marry someone as Fat as I was. This started when I was 8 and didn't stop until I was 17...

So for years, those painful voices from the past would echo ruthlessly through my mind, especially at my lowest points, reminding me of all of my Imperfections... Of what I'll never have.

Huh...seems this new Blog is akin to the one I just wrote. Heh...how interesting.

It hurts to acknowledge these inner truths, my distorted imperfections. However, I find it a healthy way for others to get a better understanding of not only what I've gone through, or what I still go through from time to time, but to know... You are Not alone. If anything, I am more self confident Now, than I ever have been. And I really Do have things to be insecure about. I suffer from an Incredibly Rare (Genetic) Skin Disease that there is No known cure for, and is not only painful (and can be completely debilitating) but leaves many a terrible, irreversible scar in its wake. But I accept it. It's part of me, and that's okay. I really mean that. Honestly, it'd be great if I didn't have it, but it is what it is. I've also developed small dots of Eczema that randomly pop up around my tummy and hips, beneath my breasts and sporadically on my legs and thighs. Again, no biggie. Usually it's due to Stress, or Hormonal fluctuations. And I'm sure changing my food intake and living situation will help ease it. So I try to not get too upset over. It comes and goes. 

So there's a large percentage of myself that calmly, and proudly, accepts my broken body for what it is. It is My Body after all. *Small smile* And sure, after gaining and losing a great deal of weight... In January of 2009, I weighed a whopping 237 pounds. Three years later, I weigh 160 pounds. I've dropped almost 80 pounds... And 160 looks pretty damned good on my 5'6 and half inch frame ^_^

Sadly, I've lost breast tissue from gaining and losing the weight that I have, so my already semi small breasts are smaller than they originally had been. *lets out a soft sigh* Eh...it is what it is.

I guess what it boils down to is... No, I don't have the breast size I Feel I should have with my Hour Glass Figure. I honestly Love my Shape, I just don't enjoy the fact that my breasts don't go with the whole package. Generally I really and truly do Not think about it. Not consciously. So I suppose that's where the Dream came from. 

My Subconscious addressed a buried insecurity that was brought back up by seeing pictures of an unknown Female, that has a naturally different build than me...and it was by someone who I still love...showing me he Really enjoyed looking at her body... And somewhere in the back of my seriously complicated and sometimes violently destructive mind, a psychological switch was triggered.

*lets out a dark chuckle* Ah...the human psyche... What truly complicated webs we weave.

*Shakes her head at herself and finishes the rest of her now, luke-warm coffee*

Awaking to find that dream was only just that; a dream. Touching my chest and fighting the sting in my half opened gaze... Due to the painful realization that I found myself in the same body; genetically cheated from having the breasts I'm 'Convinced' I deserved and not the pathetic size that I'm stuck with... (...Yay for brainwashing...)

*lets out a defeated sigh* It just...really hurt.

"Thanks brain! Thank you soo fucking much for reminding me of the things I cannot change Naturally." *lets out a frustrated growl* "Asshole..."

Ya...it's been a fantastic morning. *grows a dark smirk and scoffs* Heh...figures.

Well, on that up-lifting note...*shakes her head with an unpleasant smile*... I'm gunna post this and try to find ways to ease my tormenting thoughts and find something Silly to distract myself with.

*Waves and Vanishes*

-Fades to Black-

...A Painful Reminder of what I'll Never Be...

It's early afternoon, warm sunlight trying desperately to push through a thick marine layer as a cool breeze showers me in fresh sea air. I focus on the day, the gentle light streaming in through the open window as I work on my second cup of rich, strong coffee. I think of my day; spending time with my Aunt Ester at 3pm, helping her set up for Christmas. Then have dinner with her and my Cousin Antoinette. I'm really excited about it ^_^

However, as pleasant as this late morning has been... Something so small, blind sided me and threw me off. And I took a moment to myself (an inner step back, so-to-speak).

It's obvious that I've been dealing with a few things, mostly internally until I can get my thoughts in order and my emotions are leveled enough to speak about it without causing myself more grief. Today I was honestly feeling a little better, clearer and balanced. Until I saw something appear on my Feed on Facebook...

It was innocent enough, seeing that someone had 'Liked' a few pictures on Instagram. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of taking a moment to look (Just to clarify, it was public; for everyone to see) and it made me stop.

I understand my reaction and squashed the anger that rose the instant I realized what I was looking at.

Let's see if I can explain this in a way that's easy to understand. My 3 year long relationship ended on Friday, November 23rd. It didn't end on bad terms, quite the contrary. And yes, it was My doing, not his. I realized that due to circumstances, I didn't know where I fit in His life. We both needed time to grow in our own ways, and I had been feeling very alone and lost for quite some time. I found it best to end it in a good place, rather than continue on because it was expected of me. I need to get my life sussed out, work on my future and I want him to do the same. And yes, I'm still struggling with the emotional aftermath of my decision.

Now...a little back story; He's always been very appreciative of the female form. One, he's a guy, and Two, he's an artist. It took me a long time to be slightly okay with the fact that he actively looked at other females pictures. And it was females that I'll never physically look like unless I paid thousands of dollars for a new 'chest'. Yes, this was My insecurity. I even discussed it with him on more then a few occasions, calmly and rationally, of why it bothered me but I would never expect him to stop looking at them. I also understood where he was coming from.

Here's my weirdness... I've gone out of my way to make sure he Never felt that kind of insecurity. He knew the only men I've had a thing for was the Winchesters (Supernatural) and Riddick. He also understood it was from an artistic viewpoint, (fictional characters I enjoyed borrowing for stories) so it wasn't a big deal. But I didn't post half naked pictures of them, or gush over a hot guy whenever I saw one on the TV. I expected the same courtesy... But I've also taught myself to realize, you can't expect people to think like you. So even after I had discussed that him going overboard with comments over a female with his friends in front of me...that it was a bit too much, that he could at least wait til I wasn't in the room... It didn't really sink in. I tried my best to just accept it, accept him and quietly deal with it myself. Surely it's just my insecurity talking. I should just ignore the comments, the pictures, because it's no big deal...right?

Apparently it was a big deal... Because it really did hurt me. Again, men looking at beautiful women really isn't a big deal. It's natural. That's how they're wired. Hell, I look at beautiful women too. I appreciate Natural beauty. So I understand.

Of course there's other things that add to this, but they don't need to be addressed here for the public.

What it all comes down to, is that I saw he'd 'Liked' several pictures of the same female, who's obviously well endowed and barely wearing any clothing. Now, I know I have no place to say anything, we're not an item anymore and he can do whatever he wants. It just...hurt me on a level I'm honestly uncomfortable with. I shouldn't be reacting like this, or feeling this... Sadly I am, no matter how hard I rationalize it and think logically... Emotions do whatever the hell they want. And it honestly really fucking hurt to see that. The part of my brain that's still very wounded and has been trying to heal...after seeing that, felt as though he took a blade and gutted me with it.

*sighs* I feel as though I have no right to feel this way. I already hate myself enough, convinced myself that I am a Monster... So perhaps I deserve it. Knowing what I gave up for the better of both our lives.

I've been trying so fucking hard to keep it together, to keep myself restrained and quietly sit in the background.

But seeing that...even if it was completely innocent... The darker side of my brain snarls, "See? You weren't good enough to begin with, no wonder he's looking at Real Women. You'll NEVER look like that and that's why he kept looking at them when you were together. You could never give him what these women can. You were never good enough."

Ya... *lets out a growling sigh due to the chest pains* I have a very nasty mind... And it takes great joy in attacking me when I'm not my best.

So it just hurt me to see that... I understand the rational side, the logical side in all of this. But my emotional side...just more fuel to the fire that's burning me from the inside out.

He didn't do anything wrong, it's this fucking brain I'm stuck with. And I'm fighting it as best I can to not lose it and revert to damaging, self-destructive behaviors.

It started out as a good day, a few mishaps on top of that; Nightmares, wrong number waking me up before my alarm, the coffee pot taking a shit and setting up another one that didn't work properly until almost two hours later and a note on our apartment door stating they were shutting the water off from 10am til 5pm to work on the plumbing. I was really focusing on the Positives of today...and all it took was a fucking Instagram update on my news feed to bring my emotions up like a nest of angry hornets.

*Takes a calming, deep needed breath and lets it out slowly; feeling herself shutdown*

My Emotions are My Own. I am the only one responsible for them. No One Else. I Will Not, Place Blame on Him or Anyone for that matter, for My Reactions.

So with this blog, I've addressed My Issue, sussed out the reasons for my reaction and I'm done. Rationally, I'm fine. I'm a Big Girl. I'm going to suck it up and get over it.

And on that note, I'm going to go, post this, and keep my emotions shut off. They're just useless...a weakness. They leave me feeling vulnerable, and I can't afford that right now.

-Anon-

Coffee Inspired Musings

Emotions take on the sting of a Blade as it cuts deeper with every breath I struggle to take. There's a desperation inside, a silent wail for salvation from this travesty I'm drowning in.

But the blame resides within the crimson that streams from the wounds of my decisions.

You'd think it would be healing, taking the next step toward a hopeful unknown...

Leaving bloody footprints in my wake as I drag myself away from the Light...

Back to the comfort of that all encompassing black... Hollow me out, tear these unwanted emotions from my chest...

...Let me be stone...

I'm seeking that shimmering blue-fire to guide me away...

Dearest Kindred, guardian of me dreams, if you can hear me...

Riddick, please... Take me home.

*  *  *  *

I wrote that November 30th as I struggled with the conflict that continues to rage within. I also find it so interesting, that it takes painful emotions to get me writing again. And not just any writing, but my most honest, heartfelt and generally the most painful. The kind of writing that digs deep into all who read it and begs to be felt, to be understood.

You write the best, when you write what you know. I suppose in my case, I write the best when I write what I Feel. Sure, it's mostly cryptic... Using animals or beastly creatures in a twisted setting. But for those that really know me, can see and understand the truth behind the descriptive prose.

*takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly*

Day by day, I find myself struggling. But like most who are faced with unfortunate events that leave them feeling wounded, I try to continue forward in silent contemplation. And quite recently, I've realized something about myself. Though, I've had this realization before, I always made an excuse for it in some fashion. This time I make no excuse. I simply and humbly, accept it.

I tend to go inward, into the silence of my mind, a darkened landscape encased in living shadows. They know me there and welcome me without words. They know I'm seeking sanctuary from all the light and the noise... That within this pitch black void...I'm seeking peace. I appear to shut off to the outside world, but in truth, I'm more aware than normal. Every sense is heightened and I feel as though I'm drowning within a sea of overwhelming white noise.

So I retreat, becoming the quiet shadow in a crowded room... Watching in silence as the world bustles on and in that moment, I'm content. I don't withdraw because I can't handle curious eyes or concerned hearts. I pull back because it allows me to heal, in my own way. And as each day passes, I'm able to understand myself a little better, my head becomes clearer and I'm able to verbalize my inner conflict to a selected few.

I used to think that shutting off was bad, because that's what others have told me. But honestly, it's my own personal way of dealing with hardship. I'm not pushing anyone away. This is just who I am. This is how I deal with myself. I understand it's not healthy to keep everything bottled inside, and I don't. Again, there are a Very Select Few Souls I can talk to. And it's only in glimpses due to still trying to work through things in my head.

Perhaps this is why I identify with Riddick so much. Why I find a kind of peace whenever I write his character. There are many similarities between us that essentially, he's become the True muse of my darkest emotions. His silence, his complexity...has allowed me to safely and creatively, vent the darker parts of me. Through his predatory gaze, I'm able to release the angst...that snarling anger that claws at its metaphorical cage. Through his otherworldly strength, his animalistic ferocity... I don't feel as powerless. He allows me to release the darkness in me, through him. It may sound strange, but he's the healthiest outlet for someone who doesn't vent like most.

*smirks and shakes her head*

Nothin' like a good cup of coffee, good music and a need to transform thoughts into words.

I think I'll stop here, for now... And mayhaps I'll find more musings later on to entertain you with.

-Adieu

A Cycle of Change

Golden streams of early morning light dance over a tired form as crisp December air sneaks in through the open windows. The mind is filled with a thousand mechanisms; a living computer working constantly to keep its vessel alive.

Though, this early in the morning... I appear more like a Thriller Zombie than a functioning human being.

*chuckles and sips coffee*

Something interesting is going to happen later this morning. For the first time in my entire existence thus far... I will be meeting my Dad's Sister for the first time... My Aunt Ester and her Daughter, (my Cousin) Antoinette.

I've always felt very alone due to my Mom's side of the family. Surrounded by Aunts and Uncles and cousins... I was never truly family to them. Because we weren't blood. The only True family link was my Deda, my Grandfather. I never truly felt accepted by the rest of the family, never quite felt the bond only blood can bring.

Speaking to my Aunt Ester and Antoinette on the phone a week ago... I KNEW they were Blood. I could literally Feel they were my family and we instantly clicked on the phone. Not only was I suddenly aware I had Blood living in the same town as me, I have several cousins my age (Antoinette's children, making them my second cousins)... Family I've always been desperate to have on my Dad's side of the family.

Growing up around my Mom's side of the family, as fun as it was (Think my Big Fat Greek Wedding) I never seemed to fit in... Or ever felt 'Good Enough' to be in their presence, because I couldn't speak Slav and I was my Mother's Daughter. Without realizing it, they treated me as an inferior... As if my Worth as a Person was determined by my Gender. Very traditional, I was seen as a Child that should only speak unless spoken to and was to be 'Trained' to cook and clean so that I could 'properly' take care of my future husband.

Ya...that didn't go over too well. 7 years old, I was already an intelligent little person that bravely spoke her opinion even when faced with a punishment by wooden spoon. Many a wooden spoon were sacrificed over my bottom due to a certain Matriarch thinking she could 'Beat' the defiance out of me. Or in most cases, beat some 'Sense' into me.

That didn't work too well either *chuckles*

The thing is, I was a very sweet, loving child that just wanted to make everyone around me happy. I was always trying to please these people... I wasn't a perfect angel, I was stubborn and spoke my mind (Ya, that hasn't changed much lol).

So for years, I'd always hoped there was other family out there, real Blood family that might actually accept me and appreciate me for who I am.

And it all started with a phone call... Aunt Ester called to let us know my Great Aunt Alice, whom I had spoken to for the first time 3 years ago, had passed away on Friday, November 23rd...a day after Thanksgiving and the same day the state of my relationship changed. I had always wanted to meet my Great Aunt Alice, because when we had spoken on the phone, I felt as though I was talking to an Older version of me.

It's strange how things happen... Always changing, a continuous cycle interwoven with the energies of a living universe. Too many things happen, too many things I've experienced to merely pass off as mere 'coincidence'. I truly feel everything happens for a reason...

So who knows...maybe this is a sign of good things to come.

*smiles*

-Adieu-

Faceless Cruelty

Days and emotions blur; a churning conduit of sensation...blinding what's left of a fragile sanity. Blood drips in fading lines along the flesh, wounds reopened...the healing all in vain. This precious cruelty of thoughts...spinning a relentless madness, tearing away at a flickering spirit fighting to remain.

To peer within this endless void...some Thing peers back. It stalks its internal cage of black; clawed paw prints cutting lines of tireless frustration in its wake. There's an anticipation to its calculated movements. Slinking back and forth with focused embers, flickering dangerous intentions toward the unsuspecting prey.

Focused and silent, the ancient ambush predator will continue lying in wait. As the heavens shift from day to night, the faded memories of distant stars, dancing gently along a forgotten landscape.

Words trickle and sway, weaving through the catacombs behind this unfocused gaze as nimble fingers dance along black keys. Typing out the pain...allowing the poison to seep and fall away. But does it make a dent? Does it allow the venom to drain?

There's no rhythm within this mindless rhyme. Just words, sweeping along a ghostly screen. Does it mean anything?

*sighs*

I speak in poetic prose...hoping that some will understand my cryptic song. This long winded description of internal struggles; the bloodied remains of a beaten soul.

It's done. The battle with the Id. The fight raging so deep within. Why fight something you can't see? Knuckles bone white as I clutch the metaphorical blades... Crimson defiance dripping from the scars...a reminder of what I've survived. But there's nothing left to fight for. To be better then the ancient within? How terribly prideful...

There's no longer a difference between me and this living abyss. There never really was... A sad attempt at reaching toward a salvation...a higher level of purity. Trying to go beyond who...or I should say, What...I really am.

She Is Me, my eternal nemesis. The Beast and all her magnificent cruelty... Is just the Darker side of Me. And I think it's time I take a step a back and let her take the reigns.

And maybe...end this weakness of the brain. Let her devour these emotions... Let her Set Me Free.

*  *

*smirks*

Gotta love creative expression.

-Anon-