Early Morning, Jehovah Witnesses and Coffee

The body aches, muscles and tendons scream in protest as I retrieve my first cup of coffee. I'm half asleep when my Father shuffles out of his room and immediately starts in on me with questions. I ask him to give me some time to wake up, my voice low and more of a growl than my usual tone.

He says, "Okay" but apparently the very calm request is devoured by his thoughts and he continues to talk to me, and instead of snarling at him, I'm too exhausted emotionally to really bark back and merely grumble "Give me time to wake up" this time sounding out each word so he can understand me clearly.

He hears it, sort of... And waits a few beats before resuming his questions. 

While he rambles and I reply, "Yes Father" I notice something being shimmied under the door. I wait a few seconds to move, knowing that someone has purposefully walked as quietly as possible up our hallway so as not to disturb us (otherwise I would've hear them long before they even got to the first set of stairs) and as my Twelve year old Feline Child Pez begins to investigate the strange piece of paper, I remove myself from where I'm sitting and collect the unknown pamphlet.

At first glance (which was incredibly brief due to my level of caffeine) Dad asked what it was and I murmured, "Oh, it's just about the Bible." and set it down...until the hamster in my head brought its wheel to a screeching halt and hit a switch that reads, "Replay image". The words I skimmed over made my brow furrow. 

"Can the Dead...wait, what?!" I exclaimed inwardly and retrieved said pamphlet to get a good look at it. And this is what I find...

It's a good thing they hadn't stayed long enough for my brain to register the words and the meaning behind them. That's the last thing a young woman needs to read while taking care of her very sick father who may in fact not live for another year due to his condition.

Especially a young woman who goes into a Hulk-like Rage while half-asleep.

I'm not angry...I'm appalled at such an inappropriate thing being shoved under my door.

I won't take it personally, in fact I find that the 'Verse have a very twisted sense of humor and continues to throw things at me on a daily basis, testing the resilience of my already worn out sanity.

It's odd though, Religious Type Folk generally don't come to our door asking us if we'd like to hear about their personal pantheon/theology. Honestly this is the first time in years a Jehovah's Witness has ventured into our hallway. And in most cases, they'll put their little pamphlet On the door.

I don't have an issue with it, we're all allowed to believe in something. I follow my own path, Nature Based and very simplistic. And I love having friends that have their own faith, that can have a great conversation about how much we all have in common. What I'm Not okay with, are those that Impose their religious beliefs on me, trying to convince me that I'm wrong because their religion doesn't agree with it. Thank the great Bob in the sky that I don't have friends like that. Ya see... And I can't stress this enough, it's called 'PERSONAL BELIEF' the only reason you don't agree with someone having a different faith of their choosing, is because You, Yourself, Don't Agree. 

It baffles my mind that people don't seem to get that. We can all get along just fine, all having whatever beliefs of our choosing and the Earth would continue spinning...well, until the core cooled, stopping our rotation altogether and we'd thus lose our gravity and possibly get sucked into the sun or drift off into space...

Sorry, gettin' off topic here.

Ah rambling at it's finest. At least it's entertaining? [I like to hope so lol]

Yes, I'm a bit of an oddball who doesn't have a straight forward answer to the ever popular, "What's your religion?" question. It's honestly a bit of everything, strong bits of old world Pagan, Egyptian, Norse and a whole lot of  Native Shamanism. 

It comes down to this; I Will Always Treat Others, As I Myself, Want To Be Treated.

I feel old saying this, but even to those who have wronged me (in ways that a brick to the head would be perfectly justified) I find myself showing them kindness. Why? Well...why not? Life is so terribly short and it's not in me to ever be cruel. I tend to go the other route; kill'em with kindness. And not because I'm trying to be better than others, I'm naturally a very kind and loving person, and I refuse to become something that I'm not (even if I have a Hulk-like Temper in the morning). It also has to do with the fact that I can easily picture myself inside the other person's head and feel what they're feeling (yay for being an empath). Negative emotions physically harm me and to know I've caused that to someone else... It's debilitating. It's probably one of the worst things I can ever experience... And if someone has negativity toward me, whether they don't like the way I look or something I said or didn't say, or maybe they just can't stand me... I immediately Know. No bullshit, I will physically feel a tingle between the top of my shoulder blades, just at the base of my neck and my chest tightens. And all I have to do, is either hear their name or see them (whether in a picture or in person). Which may explain why High school was an emotional hell for me...

I wish I couldn't feel emotions... But then I wouldn't be able to communicate with Animals and Kids the way that I do. 

Yay for a double-edged sword! -chuckles at herself and takes a drink of her coffee O'Doom-

Which explains why it's been so difficult dealing with my current situation. One, I'm connected to my Dad, He's also connected to me...and we're both 'sensitives' but I'm female so that adds the crazy hormonal factor... Mix that all together and have'em stuck with each other for long periods of time and you've got yourself a nuke waiting to go off.

Trust me when I say, there have been a few occasions that's almost happened. And it seems to be getting worse the closer we are to moving. I'm just gunna write it off as the fates doing everything they can to push me to the edge (think a final boss battle) because they know that very soon, things are going to greatly improve and they're pissed that I haven't snapped yet.

-shakes her head with a soft chuckle-

Well muh lovelies, I think I've rambled on enough...needs me s'more coffee goodness and something amusing to wash this 'thinking' from muh brainpan XD

-Adieu

Dreams, Nightmares, Guardians and Coffee

The cold twisted all around me, invisible tendrils fluttering against my skin, the icy touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It wasn't a hindrance, quite the opposite. The chill buried itself under my flesh and made me feel more alive as I walked on echoless footsteps along lush green grass. The scenery didn't match my senses. It appeared like a warm, sunny afternoon...as though spring had broken through the late fall chill and was showering the world around me with life. But I knew it was false...I knew I was dreaming. The shiver that ran through me woke me just long enough to curl the blankets closer to my form, so that when I slipped back into that alternate reality, I wouldn't be distracted by the realm of awake.

Small, bare feet pressed gently down against the lush and impossibly green grass as I ventured forward. Where I was headed was an enigma, because as I walked, a conversation was happening off to the side (like a movie; where you're seeing a peaceful flash of a memory and then faded back into a cozy room full of people sitting and talking) I turned my eyes to the right and was suddenly looking into the eyes of an unknown person who's voice had distracted me in the first place, and the next moment that beautiful place had faded away, placing me in a dark living room with a roaring fireplace...but there was no heat or sound, just a ghostly memory of flames licking the air, casting nothing more than playful shadows along the fireplace.

I knew I didn't like being there, something was very off about this place, with strangers I couldn't place. Their voices nothing more than static as they spoke in hushed murmurs. I realized then, that I was sitting at the edge of a large, honey-colored couch as that uneasy feeling continued to creep its way along my spine. A wordless warning that I needed to find a way out...and fast.

On my feet, I tried to appear loose and calm, but felt those cold eyes on me. Scrutinizing...empty. As if I were nothing more than a helpless lamb in a room full of bloodthirsty predators. But it was an unnatural energy coiling around me. These weren't predators. They weren't even human. I could sense the emptiness behind each obsidian gaze, living black holes set on consuming anything good they could find.

I was in a room with Monsters.

One moment I'm about to turn and find an exit, the next...they were on me. Surrounded, I stood very still and noted the only two other females had faded off in the background as the remaining five males began advancing toward me.

This was bad...very bad.

Silent, I waited... I knew what was dancing in their twisted thoughts as predatory grins began stretching their lifeless faces. I fought back the urge to panic, the hard lump of fear trying to lodge itself in the back of my throat. I was also very aware of the fact that they were so much bigger than they had appeared when I first melted into the room from the previous outdoor scene. I hadn't shrunk, they had grown. Each standing easily over 6 feet, as if they were showing me how small and helpless I really was.

As I took in a silent breath of courage, things whiplashed into chaos.

Hands, so many hands...were clawing at my clothes, nails biting into the tender flesh as they ripped the pieces away. Without warning I was thrown onto a table, my back hitting the surface so hard I bit into the inside of my cheek, flooding my tongue with hot copper. The panic exploded in my chest as they began pinning me down...

I was suddenly across the room, uncertain as to how I'd gotten there when I realized what I was seeing. I could see what was about to happen to the body in the dining room. "I don't want to see this..." I heard my voice lift into the silence but never moved my lips.

"Don't acknowledge it." A deep growl thundered to my right, "it's not real."

There was a huge shadow of a man to my right, partially blocking my view from the horrific scene in the other room. Focusing on that living darkness, all I could make out was two blue fire orbs glowing into my gaze. 

I nodded and murmured softly, "just walk away..." I said to myself and turned to my left, putting my back to the nightmare as the shadow guardian remained protectively at my side. I was grateful that the horrors in the other room had been muted as I moved one foot after the other and witnessed the room begin to shimmer and melt all around me. With every step I took, I watched as the scene faded away...and I was back outside.

But something was different. There was an old fashioned wooden chair a few feet ahead in the grass and the sun was no longer right over head, but was beginning to descend behind me. "It's later than I thought." I announced thoughtfully and felt that strong presence all around me. 

That living thunder rolled through me as it danced like warm velvet behind my eyes, "Gotta get up, kid. Your alarm's about to go off."

*  *  *  *

"Yo-Ho, Yo-Ho! A Pirate's Life Fer Me!" Sang my phone as I growled into my pillow and forced myself out of bed.

Twisted, huh? -chuckles and shakes her head before taking a drink of her warm coffee in her Nightmare Before Xmas Thermos-

Not exactly a Nightmare or a Good Dream. I honestly still feel weird about it. It's odd that I was rescued by a guardian made of shadows... And it was as though it was stronger, because it's never been able to pull me out of a nightmare and shift everything around me. That's never happened before. And yes, it was who I described. My Muse was starting to manifest.

-shrugs- Oh the weirdness of muh brainmeats. -smirks and takes another drink of her coffee-

I'd like to not have another dream like that again... I'm just glad I was so...emotionally numb in the dream. Because that's the worst thing to wake up with; horrific emotions brought on by a traumatic experience created by the subconscious. Ya, no thanks.

And on that note...I'm gunna continue waking up and maybe find something to take my mind elsewhere.

-Anon-

Dreaming In Shades Of Cold

A delicate hand reached out, trembling and pale, hoping that newfound warmth wouldn't be taken away. But he jerked and appeared annoyed that she'd ever think to touch him. Such a simple gesture, a question in the form of a touch before the words had found a path to her lips. The reaction silenced her, forcing her to choke back on those words and take a step back.

Confusion lanced her thoughts, wondering what she had done to receive such a negative brush off when just minutes before they were having a very warm conversation. It was in that moment she realized the truth of it. No one was to be trusted, because appearances were deceiving even from those of whom we call friend.

It was best to hang back as Sam ventured further into the old house, his wide shoulders blocking her view as he crept down the dusty hallway. She was suddenly aware of the sting in her bottom lip, a hint of copper ghosting the tip of her tongue, reminding her that'd she'd been worrying the flesh between her teeth just before she reached out to him and had unknowingly bit herself to keep silent. With a slight shake of her head, she rid herself of the thoughts dancing through her brain; the crippling self doubt that had made her go as still as a frightened rabbit blinded by the headlights of a speeding car. She couldn't afford to screw up. She had to get her shit together. Because everyone knows, a sloppy Hunter is a Dead one.

Checking her person, she went over the items she had hidden away in various parts of her attire. Small sawed off single barrel hidden beneath her dark gray duster, a few rounds of rock salt, a machete sheathed onto her left thigh by a flat black leather holster. Just the usual items for an every day job. The rest  of her goods were in the trunk of her beast, beneath a few duffle bags of clothes and other essentials she needed to get by. For moment, she grew a devious smile at the thought of unloading a round of rock salt into Sam's ass for the way he'd acted toward her. As hilarious of an idea as it was, she couldn't afford to waste her amo.

His large silhouette vanished around a corner up ahead and she made a point to hang back. Usually she'd be right behind him, but something told her to wait. In fact, she took a moment to start counting slowly back from five...

"3...2...1." With the last number escaping her lips, a loud crash exploded into the silence. Instead of running over, she merely walked to the source and found that Sam (being the moose that he is) had walked over some weak floorboards and had ended up flat on his ass on the hard dirt of the basement below.

A smirk graced his sight as he looked up at her peering down at him. "Serves you right." She mused down at him and crossed her arms.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?!" He shot up at her and stumbled back onto his feet while brushing dust and other small debris from his pants and shirt.

"Gee, lemmie think..." She began in sing-song voice and gave him an unimpressed look, "if you hadn't been such a dick earlier, you would've known this room had a trap. Like I said, serves you right."

His brow furrowed in thought when the realization of her words hit him. He opened his mouth to apologize, but watched as she scoffed, shook her head and walked away. "Wait. I'm sorry!" Sam exclaimed to the empty room and dropped his arms to his side in defeat. "Dammit."

"Pullin' a Geraldo there, Sammy?" A husky voice announced sarcastically and recieved a look of irritation.

"Can it, Dean." Sam muttered and ignored the chuckle in response. "Mind givin' me a hand?"

Dean reached down and managed to help hoist his much larger, baby brother out of the floor and got him onto his feet. "How'd you manage to end up ass over elbows?"

Sam had the decency to look embarrassed, "I went ahead of Onyx and the floor gave out."

Bottle green eyes searched the guilty look on Sam's face. "I'd buy that if she wasn't as stubborn about working in a team as we are." Dean mused in a low tone and noted the way Sam shifted on his feet. "The hell did you do?"

Sam's eyes widened at the accusation in Dean's voice. "Nothing!"

"Not nuthin', she doesn't just abandon people." Dean countered and narrowed his eyes. 

"I reached out to warn him and he jerked away like I was poison." A sultry voice answered Dean's question just behind them. They turned to see her leaning her left shoulder against the wall with her hands hidden in the pockets of her duster. "So I figured he didn't need the backup." She paused and glared into Sam's guilt ridden eyes, "the truth hurts, don't it?"

Dean looked to Sam and couldn't help himself. "In your case, literally."

"Shuttup Dean." Sam spat and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair.

She merely chuckled and shook her head. "Alright boys, enough." She announced and motioned with her head to follow, "let's do our job so we can get the hell outta here."

*  *  *  *

And that's just part of the dream that I remember clearly. No idea why Sam reacted like such a prick, but he got what he deserved. Something about him being in a mood around me all the time and Dean wondered if it was because he was growing a soft spot for me. Weird, right? The more Sam thought he had feelings for me, the more distant he became. 

-Shrugs- Dreams are definitely odd in this brain-pan of mine -chuckles-

So it's kinda early, well it's 10:13am currently, but I got up around 9. Tried to be civil (though we all know I'm about 90% feral when I'm half asleep) and made sure Dad took all of his meds, fed the feline boys their breakfast of wet food and made some strong coffee. Tried not to argue with Dad, tried to be better than yesterday...wound up arguing a little anyway. I apologized every time my voice came off gruff and growly, Dad wasn't upset. He knows I'm like a wild animal for the first hour of regaining my consciousness. Got him his sammich and a lil bit of coffee and than helped him get into bed. He tends to actually sleep for a few hours in the morning after I get up. Not sure why that is, I think it's partially instinctive to make sure I'm okay.

And now I have a second cup of coffee, more awake than zombuh and just enjoying the quiet of a cloudy sunday morning.

-takes a drink of doom and smiles happily-

The other dreams I had, were very off the wall. There was a bit of a theme to them, feeling lost and very alone even among friends whose faces I can't recall. And there was a color tone to everything too, which was different. Shades of blue and gray, night colors. Everything seemed very dull and cold. Empty in a sense. Void of warmth. I remember I was searching for a way out and no matter how many times I'd find myself blocked, I find a way around it. I was trapped in a huge house that seemed to have been through one hell of an earthquake, but the structure itself was untouched.

And I felt as though something was always behind me; the constant knowing of eyes glaring into my back, waiting for me to be alone. For an opening.

So maybe that's why I've been on edge recently after I've gotten out of bed. My dreams haven't been exactly pleasant, which are my only true escape anymore due to my reality resembling an ongoing nightmare I can't wake from.

-shrugs and takes another drink of her coffee-

Well muh luvlies, I think I shall find myself brain-melting over a FaceDesk game or two and maybe find something else to occupy my time until Dad gets up again.

Toodles.

-Adieu

Falling Deeper into the Rabbit Hole

I don't know how to write out what's going through my mind right now, being that there's anger, embarrassment, rage, exhaustion, helplessness and a spark of insanity leering at me from the darkness. Having woken up to hearing my father talking to someone from the VA and obviously becoming confused and confusing her. So I offered to take the phone. I made all of that confusion simple by asking specific questions and got answers. What made this difficult was my Father sounding off in the background, trying to add his side when it wasn't needed and it was something completely different.

As soon as I got off the phone, and hadn't even gone into the kitchen yet, my father announces that he ate my sandwich that I left in the fridge. I saw red. It was the only thing that was mine...I had bought it with what little money I have left, so I had something to eat today. I lost my temper because I'm volatile when I first wake up. I literally Hulk out. I can't help it...

I was trying to get myself back in control because I was literally seeing Red and wanted to break everything in my path. So I ended up putting a dent in our old fridge with my bare foot, trying to snap myself out of it.

He said he was hungry and just grabbed the first thing in the door. He said we had no cereal left. 

I told him he should've known it was mine, if he'd taken a moment to set it down and actually look in the fridge, his sandwich was literally right in front of him. A Subway sandwich is completely different from his, and that the cereal is also right on top of the fridge, but he didn't look. He didn't wait for me... And figured it didn't matter.

Yes, he's partially blind because of his cataracts, but he didn't even try... 

His mind isn't the same. The ammonia in his blood stream that his liver no-longer filters out, has drastically changed him. He really does show symptoms of someone suffering the beginnings of Dementia. But the ammonia levels tend to do something else, they make him respond to me like he used to when he drank too many beers.

This morning being one of them...less than 20 minutes ago.

I'm numb now...having shut the rage off completely when my brain finally pulled itself out of that red fog it was suffocating in. Part of me is slightly embarrassed that I'd started raising my voice and I'm sure the entire block could hear me. Especially when I called my father a Selfish Fuck... *shudders and looks down* I never, and I mean Never speak out of anger. And I've Never spoken to my Father so disrespectfully. I'm completely disgusted with myself. I kept asking him to leave me alone, and every time he'd counter me, not wanting to hear me or maybe he couldn't (he's too confused), my voice would raise and I'd say it again... After saying it almost 7 times I snapped and that's when I stopped myself from punching the wall.

I'm trying to calm down, trying to remove myself to a different mental state... And as I've been typing my Father is cussing in the background, not at me, but because someone from the VA called him in the first place. Everything out of his mouth is negative, everything is always worst case scenario. He's become a crotchety, bitter old fart and since I'm the only human soul around, I'm the one to absorb every last drop of it.

I'm ready for a change. I'm ready to move in with my Big Brother, his Awesome Wife, her Dad, my adorable Niece and Nephew and their two dog-babies. I'm ready to have my Own Room, my own space. Somewhere I can escape to... I've never really had that. I feel like a stray that's been taken in and let loose so many times that it's hard for me to trust something called 'home'. The unwanted pet that's thrown to the side because I've become an inconvenience.

*takes a slow breath to steady herself*

I'm still angry with myself for flipping out the way that I did. It was my own fault for not putting everything back in it's place for Dad before I went to bed. I should've hidden my food and put his where he could find it. I fucked up, not him.

But of course the sleep-filled brain doesn't understand logic or rational thinking, all I felt was rage as every pinned emotion boiled and spilled over, and I was drowning in it. I can not allow that to happen again. 

*sighs softly*

I know things are going to get better, it's not that far away, but I'm also suffocated by what I'm faced with every day. I can only imagine what's going through my Father's mind... Well, not really, he tells me whenever a thought comes to the forefront. Which can also be straining...because then you literally don't have any time to yourself. It's like a wild animal living in a cage with someone constantly poking them through the bars with a stick because they want its attention. They're not trying to be harmful, but they don't realize the damage they're causing. Because when that animal finally has too much, it snaps and will attack anyone who (friendly or not) tries to get too close to the cage. 

Personally...I'm being driven to that point.

I don't want to feel angry and distrustful all the time. It's hard for me to tell people what I go through everyday, because it's not a happy story to tell. I don't want to constantly talk about the tragedy that exists at home. So I focus on mindless FaceDesk games, or stories I may have written and want to share. I seek out things that are entertaining and thought provoking, anything that doesn't shine light into how shattered I am emotionally.

Every so often I can't help but let some of the pressure off and give you a glimpse. Most of the time when I do, it's edited. I make it sound better than it really is because I don't want you to feel what I'm feeling. Knowing and Feeling are two very different things. I'd rather keep you updated with the lighter cut'n'dry version, then have you slammed by emotions that are not your own. I don't want anyone to feel this. I know all too well the damage it causes, affecting you on such a deep level that your physical and mental health suffer from it, changing who you are. I just can't allow that.

In most cases, I'll find myself writing (especially in the morning when I don't think too much about it and just do it) and after I've written for quite awhile, and see how much detail I've divulged, painful things I myself have a hard time saying out loud... When I'm awake enough, I see it...and decide to not share it. I can spend over an hour writing so much, giving my mind enough time to start waking up... And then I realize what I've written, what I've allowed out...and get rid of it.

This time? I'm not going to delete it. I started out half conscious and now that I'm more awake, I've decided it's okay to let you read. It's honest without me dumping all over you. It is what it is, truth no matter how embarrassing or painful. And as much as I hate to acknowledge it, I am still human and am about as flawed as a person can be.

This emotional roller-coaster is a daily occurrence, I've just learned how to keep it from spilling over into my interactions with people. I've adapted to it as the norm, because to continue to fight a losing battle, will only drive me further down the rabbit hole.

Now, I make another pot of strong coffee and continue to steady myself in this calm state I've induced and find ways to distract myself until he wakes and I'm back on duty.

-Anon- 

No Rest For The Exhausted

A few days of peace, a few days to myself where I wasn't always on edge... Instead of running around doing a bunch of errands, I was exhausted, emotionally and mentally. I just stayed relatively still and enjoyed the quiet of being alone with my two feline boys. Even they were calm and peaceful... They're very connected to me so it must've been nice for them too.

As you know, Dad went into the VA hospital's ER late Tuesday night and they found he'd gotten an infection. So they decided to keep him, which I was thankful for. I was under the impression that they would remove more fluid from his abdomen, but apparently they decided Not To... *takes a small breath* Instead, they scheduled an appointment for Tuesday, and they're sending a shuttle out to collect him but there's a catch; they'll only pick him up Downstairs. I appreciate the fact that they are coming to get him, but our biggest problem is getting him down the stairs. I guess I'll just have to figure out how to get him downstairs and how to get him back up the stairs when they bring him home. They typed out on a peace of paper that he's approved for 6 months of transportation, but thankfully we won't be here after December 17th.

Also learned when I went downstairs, that my Dad's old red toyota pick-up was eyeballed by a meter-lady (they never come around here) because I hadn't been able to move it. Why? It's a manual. Thankfully, I remember how to drive a stick shift, so that's not the issue. It's an old putt-putt that'll bunny hop if I don't work the clutch just right along with the gas pedal. Thankfully, I got her started, put her in first and let her putt forward a little, found reverse and re-parked her a'lil further forward but closer to the curb. Looks like I'll be getting up very early, every three days and finding different places to park her before I'm confident enough to drive her around the block. I actually enjoy driving a stick-shift, so I don't mind so much.

Now I fight the strange uncomfortable energy starting to inch it's way up my spine, tiny tendrils spreading out along the nerve endings, attempting to put me on edge.

I'm ready to be outta this place. I've come to realise that it's not healthy for me to be around my Father, especially by myself. Every inch of my spine tenses up, including all of the muscles around it. I have so many knots in all the way down my spine that you could punch me and I'd barely feel it. 

For the time being, I'm just going to go inward and sit here for whenever he gets up from his nap, and do the same thing I do everyday; wait on him hand and foot.

I really wanted to be able to see friends this weekend, even just to get out of this house and sit outside somewhere drinking coffee, it doesn't have to be far. Sadly, I couldn't go very far myself even if I wanted to because I barely have enough gas to get up to the store let out drive a few miles...and even than Eleanore could get pissed off and decided to stop working altogether.

Good times...

Anyhoo, I'm gunna shut it and find something to melt my brain with.

-Anon

Dancing in White Noise

Scattered pieces of thought litter the darkened earth, tinted a deep red as the blood clings to naked flesh, living crimson gone cold under a moonlit sky. A sharp breath, cool air coursing through weary lungs as the body fights to remain standing. So much weight bearing down, cutting lines of stress into pale shoulders, angry red lines trailing down the skin... A reminder of what's to come. Of things undone, broken promises and bloodied dreams. The sounds of the soul, the dying thing screaming out for redemption. Cradle this piece of flesh and find the spark that's slowly fading, leaking away it's hope for a better day. Breathe warmth back into this frostbitten hunk of muscle. Let this not be the last... 

Winged things, ravenous beings, circle over head. Biding their time as they scrutinize with hollowed eyes, any moment of weakness... 'Lose your footing,' their silence whispers in the consuming darkness. They trail the red footprints, the scent of weakness weaving into the air like a seductive symphony. They itch for just a taste of that broken innocence before the spirit dies and they're left to pick at its empty shell like gulls scavenging the remains of oysters on a rocky beach.

These words pour from shaking fingertips, the mind twisted in strange poetic musings as the body fights the last invisible tendrils of sleep that continue to trickle gently at the back of the neck. Beckoning, so sweetly, to go back to the safety of dreams. Yet I refrain, needing a moment to collect the misplaced parts of me and try to make sense of this senseless chaos running wildly behind my tired eyes.

A slow movement, taking in a quiet breath and releasing it soundlessly between chapped lips as a delicate hand reaches out and brings the rim of a black Nightmare Before Christmas Thermos into view to take a drink. Heat swirls around the tongue only to trail a line of warmth down the throat as that rich, strong coffee pools sweetly in the stomach. It's little things such as a hot cup of coffee in the morning, that helps ease some of the pressure from my clouded mind. Such a simple thing...giving so much comfort. That's all that matters. A little bit of comfort when the world feels as though its released the hounds after a broken spirit that has no where left to run.

The images of strange places and familiar faces dance behind my eyes as I try to make sense of my dreams. They were strangely pleasant at one point... A beautiful soul made an appearance and it was different from the last time he made an appearance. He was more protective, more attentive... As if he knew of the unspoken breaking of my heart as the loneliness of my situation continues to cut into me. Words I dare not speak, the wounds festering and unable to heal due to the relentless madness slicing into my every waking moment.

But he was with me, that radiant smile reaching those soulful brown eyes. We were surrounded by unknown faces that were extras playing the roles of our friends. The theme was obviously family, because he merely spent time with me, his presence reassuring me that my silent suffering, no matter how much I've tried to hide it, has not gone unnoticed. That though I try to hide myself away, my energy reaches out to everyone around me...and those sensitive to it, feel it calling out for help within the quiet.

It was strange to know he had made an appearance to make sure I knew I wasn't alone. That even though it was a dream and not the harsh reality I was accustomed to, an escape for the soul as the body rests... I was aware of that fact. I Knew I was dreaming...and so did he. It was strange, but comforting...especially due to the fact that he appeared at the end of the first half of my sleep and remained through the rest. Even as the backgrounds changed and shifted, he stayed exactly as he was. Which again, is an odd thing...for those of you vivid dreamers reading this, you'll understand what I mean.

But all of that was harshly ripped away by a distant voice calling my name in anger. I stumbled from my bed, sheets tangled around my legs as though begging me to stay... I got up, exited my bedroom and found out why my Father had abruptly awoken me two hours before I'd planned to get up. Painful story short, I was nothing more than a verbal punching bag for his frustration. He was angry about not finding something in the kitchen, and though the whole ordeal had long since passed, he got me up so he could chew me out for it. Just like he used to when he was angry and had one too many beers...

And no long after this wonderful awakening, he went right back to 'telling me' not asking me, to do things for him. Why? Because I was up.

-takes a quiet breath and lets it out slowly-

I'm so worn out from the constant negativity, the emotional battering every day, the non-stop demands and endless discussions I'm forced into because he wants to talk about benign topics because I'm the only one here. I've grown so callous to all of this... For you see, this isn't a new thing. It's slightly different due to his sickness, but this kind of badgering has been going on for YEARS. The only times I truly enjoyed being around my Father was in the mornings...before he drank. When he was still my Dad. Not the monster dwelling inside those aluminum cans.

Now that monster lives somewhere inside of him, bursting out in spurts when he has a panic attack and for those few moments, releases its venom at me. I know he can't help it, most of the time... But there are moments when he just gets mean...and destroys me...only to switch a few minutes later by asking me do something for him, as if nothing happened. It's like a form of twisted dementia... And I'm left feeling so shattered.

I know there's another reason for his anger coming to the surface. Sadly I'm the only one around he lashes out at... 

I've gotta get him to the VA's ER tonight, no matter what and the only one who can help me is Marco. He's a very strong guy, but even he can't just carry Dad down the stairs. He's just going to help me make sure Dad gets down the three flights as carefully as possible and then keep him steady as we walk to the car. I understand it's last second, but if Dad doesn't go... He can drown in his sleep. The fluid levels in his body are too high, and I'm tired of him fighting me about it. I just need to get him there tonight...and find out how many days they may keep him. Probably no more than two. I'll have to arrange it so they make sure to bring him home and help get him back upstairs.

It's honestly a simple thing that he's made into a big production by bringing up all the things that can go wrong. I'm tired of hearing it and he's not getting out of it.

He's also more on edge than normal because my big Brother got the okay about the first house he checked out for all of us to move into. A two story with 6 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. He's hoping to have everyone moved in by December 17th. I'm stoked. Part of me is a little sad because we'll lose our childhood home, (Dad's lived here since 1968) but it's a good thing. Sure, it's going to be in Beaumont, which is nowhere next to my ocean, but that's okay. Lady Pacific isn't going anywhere, and I can still visit.

We're all doing this for Dad and in those moments when he freaks out and barks at me that I'm Telling Him What To Do and No One Asked Him, it's hard for me to restrain my anger. I've gotten good at just taking it because you cannot reason with someone who's brain isn't functioning like a normal, lucid person. And he blows up like this over literally nothing. It's especially hurtful when it's a pleasant topic and I'm only mentioning something that has nothing to do with me telling him what to do. It's as though he regresses and throws a fit.

It's hard to deal with, but it is what it is. I don't get that upset about it anymore. Why should I? It's almost normal now and I've finally adapted to it. Sure I'm worn out on several different levels but that's the situation and crying over it and feeling sorry for myself won't change anything. Just wasting precious energy I need to reserve so I can function. Yes, it still burns me I'm unable to help him on my own (never did much enjoy the concept of feeling helpless) and it only drives me to be stronger, in every way. Seriously, I can't stand the whole, 'Damsel In Distress' notion. Sure I'm distressed, but if some knight tried to whisk me away from my tower, thinking me meak and helpless... I'd give one helluva verbal lashing once we're on safe ground for assuming said notion, because at the exact moment he showed up, I had just perfected my plan to pull a Shawshank and out this bitch.

-laughs at the image-

I'd probably continue the lecture by going off about sexism and gender stereotypes in fairytales... It'd be pretty damned entertaining.

-chuckles and shakes her head-

Alright my lovelies, it's time that I make myself another cup of coffee and continue to get my bearings back. Damn...I wrote quite a bit this morning, huh? 

-smirks- Guess when you gotta write, you write.

On that note, I shall take my leave.

-Adieu

Unbalanced Equilibrium

Music swells sweetly through the small headphones placed carefully in my ears as a cool fall breeze dances passed the parted blinds of the open window to my right. Coffee, rich and strong, pours down my throat in a warm trail of comfort as my fingers dance along these black keys.

An attempt at some kind of normalcy as the strange dizziness continues to cling at the back of my neck. Possibly due to pinching a nerve somewhere in the middle of my back yesterday. I thought buying some whiskey would help with the sharp, needle like sting that would explode every time I tried to move. It did, to an extent. I didn't feel much of anything, which allowed me to take a short nap; muscles and mind relaxed enough to allow rest to swell through me.

Last night was uneventful except for the hilarious new episode of Supernatural that had me bubbling with laughter even long after it was over. The cast, crew and writers really out did themselves with that one. Easily a new favorite.

Today, I'm alright. Mostly. Received a phone call not more than twenty minutes after I finally pulled myself out of bed, the 24 hour home care that had sent a lovely Nurse just the day before (hired through the VA) to ask how things went. There was the pleasantries as well as the subject of me taking on the professional role of Dad's caretaker rather than they sending someone out three days a week, for three hours at a time. So now, I have an appointment at 10am next tuesday to go in and discuss everything. I'll need two professional references, legal documentation, as well as a scheduled TB test and Physical. I mentioned I don't have a doctor and was informed I could use the resources they have available. They were very supportive and helpful...

I just... Have a very serious issue with Doctors. I don't like being touched by strangers, especially doctors. I know how strange that sounds, but it is what is... And I'm willing to get over it to help Dad. I have a feeling this will be temporary until Dad and I move in with my Big Brother and his lovely family by January 1st.

I think it would also be better if I went through the normal caregiver routine, as his Live In rather then only compensated for 9 hours a week. But that's all the VA is willing to pay for, and it's something, so I'll take it. It just doesn't make sense to have them send someone for that short amount of time when I'm basically here 24/7 and Dad needs me for more than 3 hours at a time. And Dad wants me to get compensated for me taking care of him.

Allot to think about...

-Yawns and takes a drink of her coffee-

Anyhoo, I'm going to go and continue thinking...gotta make a few phone calls... I hope this nerve thing eases up soon, cuz if I keep feeling like this I won't be able to drive to the store for Dad. -Sighs-

Heh, wish me luck.

-Anon

Peering out through the veil

It's been awhile since I've written a blog... Been awhile since I've been able to collect my thoughts like wayward fireflies and try to make sense of their glowing chaos.

I sit here at 8 minutes til 10am, having been up since 7am, trying to get myself adjusted to being up early and getting my nocturnal self in bed no later than 10pm. I'm trying to readjust, reacclimate myself to every new day in the hopes that somehow it'll take away some of the stress. Gotta get up early so I can be sure Dad takes his meds and seeing as I rarely ever have time to myself anymore, it only makes sense to get up early considering Dad tends to crash before dawn and actually gives me a few uninterrupted hours to myself. It feels good to be left alone, to know that for this short amount of time I can be still.

As many have noticed my life has changed dramatically in the last few months. Right as I was starting to Finally venture away from the nest, the fates threw a curveball at my legs, and forced me to faceplant just a foot from where I began. Stopping me just long enough to see that if I continued on my journey, my father's health would continue to plummet and there would be no way to go back. The universe gave me a choice; I could focus solely on myself or I could pause long enough to use some of that energy to prolong my father's life. I knew it would be a very hard and stressful journey if I chose to take the selfless path... But honestly, it never really was an option. It was an instinctive drive to protect my family, even at the cost of my own well-being. Yes, I was insane with emotion when everything began to bubble to the surface, that thin line racing into view... Do Now, or mourn yet another precious life lost to the beyond. I was given a chance to Do something about it, so I took it... Even if it means adapting to a path that's hellbent on testing my resolve every day.

I'm adjusting to everything, and have taken on a calmer, almost silent demeanor because of it. Nothing is too exciting, I don't experience the rolling peels of laughter or the raging heat of anger. I'm somewhere trapped in the middle, a quiet knowing trying to keep my emotional scales in balance.

Many things are going to change by this year's end. Uprooting from my child hood home and moving closer toward Lomalinda by January. Becoming my Father's live-in caregiver while having a nurse come in three times a week, three hours a visit. Her first appearance will be today around 1pm, which should be interesting.

December 24th I'll be turning 30 years old and I honestly don't know how I should celebrate. I'd like to have a decent sized celebration (prior to the actual day for obvious reasons) considering one, I'll be moving from my home by the sea and two, I'll be 3 decades old.

Suggestions would be appreciated :)

I've gone through allot recently, and I do apologize for my change in personalty. It wasn't an intentional transition, I've merely adapted to circumstances currently out of my control.

It's interesting, I don't really plan to do things anymore. I truly do live my life day to day, my focus on my Father and making sure he's taken care of. While also going to the store Daily, making sure my two feline boys are fed and loved, taking care of our bills, trying to spend as little as possible knowing that our funds are not infinite. My Seasonal job at the Halloween store ending on November 11th while also knowing I can no longer work as a nanny/professional sitter due to my car situation and not getting paid enough to fill up the tank to do said job.

Eleanore is very angry. Something happened with the throttle and she tends to completely shut off while I'm turning from a busy street to the next and I have to veer all two tons to the right (no power steering when this happens) and hope the person behind me values their life. So far, people have been smart and polite enough to merely go around the stalled muscle car attempting to restart. It's such a normal thing for me, I never get upset. Hell, the first time it happened I didn't panic. I've grown up in old cars with tempers, so this isn't new. Ellie's telling me she's hurt, so I understand her little hiccups. Besides, no reason to flip out when all I have to do is restart her and she'll roar back to life. It's the other Cars I don't trust. Thankfully, I drive a Beast so people tend to give me allot of room. If it were a newer, much Lighter car... I'd worry.

Also...about a month ago, I had a small accident. Know the other car is completely fine. Go figure the only other vehicle that could survive a 'kiss' from my tank, would have to be a tank itself. I kissed the left STEELE bumper of a Large 70 something Van... Again, the Van was completely fine... Ellie however... Now has a deep line starting from the passenger side door going all the way to the brake light. It's a nasty looking scar... Heh, now we're even more connected.

I can't tell you how much this hurts me... It hurts me now to finally show all of you what I've done. What I did to my baby to protect the Moron to my left from getting smacked because he couldn't help but sit there, and fucking STARE at me trying to turn. Avoiding hitting that tiny car resulted in me hurting the love of my life.

I'm reminded every time I see her. My heart sinks a little more with each glance... 

I didn't bring it up on Facebook because I didn't want to be that one person who's constantly posting the negative happenings in their life. That's one of the reasons I stopped writing altogether. I was so completely disgusted with myself...the pain in my heart that I was being forced through some incredibly hard challenges without consent... I don't want to be that person.

Loneliness has become a quiet presence in my life... Biding my time for the moment my Dad asks me to do something for him, sitting here for no other reason. It's hard to be joyful when home becomes a prison.

Yes, hard times have poured into my existence but for those rare times I can leave this apartment and have just a few moments of freedom with a friend, means more to me than I can ever put into words.

My only concern now, is getting Dad to the hospital again. He needs to have more fluid removed and I need to find a way to get him down the stairs and driven there. I, cannot do it. I'm hoping the nurse may be able to help in some way. If not, I'll have to call the VA Hospital and ask them about transport.

-lets out a soft sigh and drinks her coffee-

I'm sorry this isn't the most upbeat post I've written, but considering my circumstances, I'm more peppy then depressed, I suppose.

In random news I've lost more weight. I've dropped from 165 last week down to 160 and I've been actively working out again. It helps me feel better. Losing the weight wasn't intentional, running around constantly and helping move Dad when he's trying to stand or lay down, plus carrying 25 to 40 pounds of weight everyday from a block away up three flights of stairs (grocery shopping) has been a workout alone. I figure might as well throw an added workout to help gain more muscle, because I definitely need it incase Dad loses his balance.

I'm struggling...and adjusting. But that's all one can do in this kind of situation. Hope everyone is well and had a good Halloween. It didn't feel like Halloween to me...for various reasons... 

Anyhoo, I'm done rambling. Take care lovelies.

-Anon